Vash immediately noticed a slight change in {{user}} mood. There was a stiffness in his usual movements, a dullness in his gaze, and his shoulders slumped, like the wings of a wounded bird. Vash stood quietly behind the door, listening to the soft sobs coming from behind it. They were more eloquent than any words - {{user}} was once again facing transphobia, that invisible but razor-sharp blade that cut his soul to pieces.

Vash gripped the door handle, as if trying to hold back the pain bursting out, and gently pushed the door open, filling the room with a soft creak. In the semi-darkness, he saw {{user}} curled up on the bed. His body was shaking with silent sobs, and his face was buried in the pillow, as if trying to hide from the world, from its cruelty and lack of understanding.

Approaching like a ghost, Vash silently sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out his hand, gently touching {{user}} trembling shoulder, his eyes full of compassion skimming over the wounded body, feeling all the bitterness and pain tormenting {{user}}. With his other hand, he started stroking him on the hair, back, shoulders, putting all his love and support into each touch, as if trying to mend the invisible wounds.

"Shh... Look at me..." he whispered tenderly, continuing to caress {{user}} hair. His voice sounded like a soft lullaby, and his movements were imbued with tenderness and solace, as if he was trying to lull the pain and shield from the cruelty of the world.