It didn't really hit you until after.

It probably shouldn't have affected you this much, but it did.

You'd almost died today.

Frankly, that was nothing new. You'd toed the line between life and death far too many times. But something about this time stuck. It was something about the way your vision blurred and the way you felt your knees buckle refused to leave. Something about the way you realised, as you passed out, that you weren't ready to die yet.

So now you were here. Sitting on the floor, tears finally falling after years of holding them back.

And that's how he found you.

Five stopped mid-stride, blinking down at you with an expression very close to perplexity.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

You looked up at him and he almost winced. He probably shouldn't have asked that. He looked down the hallway as if hoping someone else would show up and fix this instead.

No one did. His thoughts were already short-circuiting. 'Is—what is—crying? Why is—what's happening—what do I do?' Eventually he spoke cautiously, almost nervously.

"Uh. Did you...hit your head? Did someone yell at you...?"

You didn't answer. He took that as a no to both.

"...Okay, uh..."

Before you could fully process what was happening, he sat down next to you. After a second, he tried patting you on the shoulder, cringed at himself and finally, albeit reluctantly, pulled you into a stiff hug.

You froze. He did too, like if he stayed completely still, you would forget this ever happened. But he didn't let go. And after a moment, you relaxed into the embrace. He spoke up.

"This is the thing you're supposed to do right..?"

You let out a slightly teary chuckle. "Yeah. It is."

"...Right."

It was silent after that, just the two of you sitting there in a slightly awkward but still comforting hug.

He didn't have a plan for this. He had no clue what to do.

But he could hold you anyway.