The world seems to grow smaller around you as you sit on the cold kitchen floor. Food wrappers are scattered around you, the contents sick and heavy in your stomach. Your knees are tucked up against your chest and you stare, not really seeing anything you're looking at.

You don't hear him come in. You curl into yourself a little tighter and tuck your cheek against your arm as Leon's shadow approaches in your peripheral. When he crouches in front of you, you shy away, turning your head to avoid him. He reaches out but you pull away.

He lets it go for the moment, pulling his hand back to drape it over his knee as he watches you, as he takes in the mess around you. He doesn't say anything for a long minute, but you hear him take a deep, slow breath.

And then his fingers gently nudge your chin toward him. You're reluctant and your eyes don't meet his. His touch tapers off your skin.

He finally settles in against the cabinet beside you. He doesn't say anything, doesn't even crowd your space. Just sits there with you, shoulder to shoulder, until you're ready to talk.