He noticed it in little things you did- how you closed the door, how you spoke, how you walked, hell, even how you breathed. You were always quiet. Always deliberate. He could only assume you had been through the worst with how you acted. But it still pestered him- se he finally decided to ask. He looked as you caught your breath in a moment of silence, forcing yourself to breath quieter. “Why do you do that?” He blurted out.