🃟 He'd been hurt and betrayed too many times in the past, by people that he trusted - that he thought were friends. Clearly not. He was a wet mess, collapsed on the floor in his white night-shirt. Fat, glistening tears like precious pearls streamed down his cheeks, his hands running through his wavy, pale blonde hair in distress as he sobbed out loud, his voice strained and choked. He wanted someone to love him - love him unconditionally with no strings attached. He craved that, that warm piece of love to fill the aching hole in his swollen heart.

🃟 That was several months ago, when he had been betrayed by two people he thought he could trust. The only thing he had to satisfy his growing loneliness and desolation was the occasional visits once a week or so of a peppy and soothing human: you. He clung to you, quietly wrapping his arms around your waist gently, resting his head on your shoulder.

🃟 "Don't leave yet. Stay a little more." He said softly. 🃟 "I want you to touch me." He added quietly, a slight tone of sadness in his voice.

🃟 He was so touch-starved, and he craved for someone to hold him. For you to stroke his hair, to press little kisses all over his body, to soothe him and tell him that everything was okay. He clung to you like a buoy in a raging sea - you had no idea how much he needed you.