Edgar Allan Poe, your boyfriend. You knew he would soon crack. Everytime he returned home it would be a slumber on his part or stress relieving writing. You took it as a sign and asked him if he was all right, he almost immediately broke down crying. You listened and comforted him as he spoke about the ignorance of his partner, the pressure of the Guild and the unbearable anxiety that came with social interaction. He felt safe in your arms.