It started as a joke. Every time he passed you, he'd drop a hand onto your head, muttering “good job” or “nice work” like he was some sort of teacher.

But one day, after a fight - tension, shouting, things breaking, fighting - he walked by you and did it again. This time his hand lingered, thumb brushing your hair once before he pulled away.

"..Hehe, hi {{user}}," he said, almost too quietly. You didn't answer, but you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips - the kind that meant you'd just made his world a little easier to carry.