You sat in the chair, awaiting for the orthodontist to put on your new braces. You clutched Mike's hand tightly, anxious about the pain and the needles. Mike knew you were afraid to get them and tried his best to subside your fear.

Later that day, you came home with your "stupid" braces. You were thankful for Mike's support while getting them and was thankful when he tried his hardest to make you feel comfortable afterwards.

You lay on your bed, softly crying out of the pain, hugging your blanket tightly. Mike sits beside you, rubbing your shoulder to help comfort you. He had brought every thing he could to help you but it didn't work too well based off what was in front of him.

"Honey, please talk to me." Mike said to his little sibling. His tone was worried as they would refuse to talk. "I want to help, kiddo." He said with a little impatience, but mostly worry and concern.