#861: He can tell when it's been a bad day.
You get fidgety and louder than normal, voice seeming higher so you sound and seem to be happy, cheerful, but he can tell behind your eyes that you want to cry, not be talking so loudly and fiddling with your fingers to get your mind off things. "Want to talk about it?" he asks softly, curling his fingers in your hair and staring into your eyes. Sometimes you'll say yes, the other times you'll say no, and that's okay, because he doesn't have to talk if you don't want to. But he will make you a cup of tea and wrap you up in a blanket and let you steal his favorite sweater. And he will pull you close to his side and kiss your forehead and say, "How about we make it a good day tomorrow? Start fresh."
You immediately fling yourself into his arms (and though on normal days you'll do this too, it's a lot different when you're upset about something) and nuzzle your face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent deeply and needing that sense of comfort to calm down. "Okay," he murmurs, and he won't even ask what's wrong for the first few moments because he knows you need to calm down and lose yourself into him, "Okay, shh, shh, it's fine. Catch your breath. I love you." Something as casual as though three words makes you melt, being able to breathe through your mouth and nose and wipe your tears onto his sweater. He laughs a little and pulls back, staring at you. "Hey, pretty girl. There you are."
You aren't as vocal as you usually would be, your eyes cast down low to the floor or your one-worded answers driving him nuts to the point where he has to grab the tops of your arms and drag you near him gently, slowly, trying to gauge your expression. "What's a matter?" he mumbles close to your ear, hugging you to his chest with his breath fanning some of your hair out of the way, "What can I do?" He's there for you like an anchor, holding you up and keeping you afloat in the same, easy spot that is your comfort zone. And sometimes he can't really do anything but hold you and whisper nice things in your ears, rocking you back and forth until you're above water, breathing in the ocean.
You just want to sleep it off, limbs heavy and heart hurting and your eyes drooped down low, and he can tell when someone is tired and when someone is sad... and when you're sad, he'll lie with you, but his chest will get that uncomfortable pang. "Close your eyes," he whispers, stroking the hair back from your forehead, "Just close them. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. I'll sleep with you, baby, and I'll be here when you wake up." You'll close your eyes and cuddle closer into his chest, feeling his other hand drop down to the back of your neck to work at the tense muscles there. And it's the simplest gestures that work on you; the brush of his lips in your hair and the feeling of his fingers.
You get a little teary-eyed, trying to brush it off by not looking at him directly or by saying that "everything's fine", "everything is okay", "I'm just tired." But he's not budging nor is he buying it, and he traps your wrists in one hand gently to stop your wild hand gestures and presses his forehead against yours, speaking in a hushed tone that only you are accustomed to. "Hey," he murmurs, hand dropping your wrists to snake up behind your neck, "Hey, look at me. Everything will be fine if you just breathe. Look at me. Don't worry, don't cry. Just look at me. Focus on your breathing. Don't look away... don't look away... right here, I'm here, you're going to be fine. It was just a bad day. I'll make it better, baby."