He had you cradled in his arms, his lips pressed on your head as he spoke softly.

“You’re alright, little bird..” He crooned.

You were in his arms, your wrists on your chest and held in one of his hands, that arm around your back to support your frame.

His other hand held your foot, massaging the arch with his thumb.

“Little bird…” He sighed, closing his eyes and squeezing your wrists.