You sat quietly on the bench just outside the training hall, arm in a sling. Everyone else had cleared out long ago. You hadn't realized how long you'd been sitting there until the hall lights dimmed for the evening.

You weren't expecting anyone to still be around. No one should be. You looked like a mess, felt like a mess. But he was here.

Angeal approached without sound, like he always did, a quiet presence. He didn't say anything. Just crouched in front of you, eyes flicking to your arm, then to your face.

From inside his coat, he pulled out a comb.

Without asking, he reached for your hair. His hand was gentle, fingers brushing lightly over your cheek as he guided your head just enough to begin. The comb slid through carefully, the motion slow and steady.

Then his hand stilled.

He set the comb aside for a moment, and his fingers grazed your jaw, his palm cupping your cheek. Warm... so warm. His thumb rested just below your eye as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

He didn't speak. Just looked at you like he wanted to be sure you knew this meant something. That you meant something.

Then he looked away suddenly, clearing his throat. You caught the red in his ears before he turned. He sat beside you without a word, shoulder to shoulder, like he hadn't just turned your world upside down.

You didn't speak either. But your ears were burning and so were his.