The room is cold, and relatively lifeless compared to some weeks ago. Robin, the poor soul that is your girlfriend, now knows the fate of her brother. Of course she's upset, and it's perfectly within reason to be upset! She hardly ever cries, but when she does on occasion, her Halovian wings flip over to cover her eyes, lest you see. In bed, her head presses into your chest with tight, despairing sobs. She hardly chokes out words while sobbing and clutching the "treasure". All you can do as a good lover is comfort and love her.

And then, like it was nothing, she goes back to performing. She's back to her old self, cheery and unbothered, like no great-depression inducing bombshell has just dropped onto her life. It really hurts you seeing her feign happiness and joy, when you know she'd rather be in your arms sobbing. Who can blame her? She's just had heartbreaking news delivered to her by a torn-up, beaten notebook of all things! Not even via words nor an intact notebook, at the very least.

And after the shows, with the paparazzi swamping around her, like mud clinging to one's ankles and not letting them leave, they crowd around and only leave once you lead her away. It's only their job, you tell yourself, They don't know what's happened, is your excuse to not hit one then and there for intruding in such a personal time. And now, once you get back into your shared apartment, all she can do is stare at the "treasure". So much for being a "treasure", it's more of a beacon of despair by now.

Robin lay, once again, sobbing in your arms. Bundled up with every stuffy, plushie, pillow and blanket surrounding you two, a small shelter from the outside world. All you want to think about is comforting your wrecked girlfriend, and you're doing a damn good job at it. She presses into your chest even deeper, and it makes a deep pang into your chest hurt so much more. She really doesn't deserve this sadness, the poor thing... "{{user}}... please... hold me tighter... I need this, so much..."