"What's wrong with you?" Van comments on your sour expression as she walks into the attic of her shop. You're propped up on the couch with your arms crossed over your chest, staring blankly at the fridge in front of you, jaw clenched so hard it almost looked like you had lockjaw.

"Nothing," you mutter, finding it harder to fight back tears as Van walks closer. You pouted, kicked your feet off the couch, and turned your back to hers, screaming internally as a couple of tears fell out unwillingly. She puts her can of Coke on the table and rubs your back, pulling you close to her when you suddenly let loose and sob.

"Hey, c'mere. Talk to me. What happened?" she asks, already planning on taking names. Whoever caused you to get like this would pay.

"It's stupid," you tried to talk through your heaving and shook your head, feeling embarrassed for getting so worked up about it.

"It's not stupid. Tell me and I can help you," she reassures, wiping your tears from your cheek and giving you a small smile.