She allowed me to hold her, comfort her again, for the second time today. She sobbed, her face pressed against my shoulder, her warm tears leaving jagged wet marks on my shirt that looked like scars, and my heart ached for her. Her arms had gone around my waist, and she held onto me, like I might be the only thing anchoring her to any hope of getting her life back.

~ ♡ ~

I didn't want that responsibility. I wanted to help her, but I didn't want to be responsible for her. I wanted her to be happy, but I had no plans to be the one that made her happy. I just wanted to see her get on her feet, gain some confidence, and self worth. Be able to exist on her own, and know that she didn't need anyone.

Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe she was clinging to me simply because I was the only one she had to cling to. Regardless, I hated to see her cry. I hated to see anyone cry.

I had gone to her, I had chosen to hold her, to try and comfort her. I couldn't fault her for accepting my embrace, for letting her guard down a bit. I had done what came natural to me, because I couldn't just sit there, and watch her cry.

After a few minutes, she released her hold on me, and I let her go, watching as she wiped her eyes, and tried to regain control of her emotions. I sat back down, and picked up my fork, deciding not to make a big deal of it. Not to seem cold, or uncaring, but simply because the more I pitied her, the more she may come to expect it from me, and I was 99% sure she didn't want pity. She had given in to a memory, let it take over, and I was willing to bet it wouldn't be the only time it would happen.

I imagine she'd dealt with a lot in the past five years. I didn't know all the details, and maybe I wouldn't. I'd probably never ask. I would only know what she wanted me to know.

She sat back down, and picked up her fork, taking some pasta and putting it in her mouth. I continued to eat, not paying much attention to her. Our meal was finished in comfortable silence, with an occasional glance between us.

Once we were finished eating, she rose and took both of our plates and forks to the sink, setting them in and turning on the water, washing and rinsing them once it heated up, and stacking them in the drain board to dry. I set the pot back on the stove, and took our empty soda cans to the recycle bin.

"I know you're probably tired, Y/n, so if you feel like going to bed, please, don't hesitate." I felt like she probably hadn't had a good nights sleep in years. It was only going on 8pm, but I wouldn't blame her at all if she wanted to go up and try to sleep.

"Are you s...sure?" She looked nervous. "I am kinda tired."

"Of course. You must be exhausted. I'm just going to read for a bit, then I'll be going to bed myself."

"O...Okay. Then I guess I will s...see you in the morning." She looked at the floor, then took a few steps towards the living room, stopping and turning back to look at me. "Thank you Tae, for everything."

"I really haven't done anything, Y/n."

"You've made me feel s...safe."

I smiled, and watched her turn back and disappear thru the door.

I added wood to the woodstove, hoping it lasted the night this time, because it wasn't fun waking up to the cold. I was still learning this whole heating with wood thing, so eventually I'd get it right.

I decided to put the pot of leftover pasta in the fridge, thinking it could be lunch tomorrow, and locked the back door, turning off the kitchen light. I made my way into the living room, sinking into my recliner, and leaning back, closing my eyes for a minute. I was almost done with the wood. That made me happy. One more day.

I switched the lamp on, and picked up my book, opening it to the page I had marked. It was a story about vampires and werewolves, and it was the kind of story that pulled you in, made you feel like you were part of it. Usually, once I started reading, I had a hard time putting it down. I'd plan to read a chapter or two, but always ended up reading more.

Tonight, I was tired, and didn't think I'd make it past a chapter. As I read, I could feel my eyes getting tired. I got thru one chapter, and started a second, but found myself dozing halfway thru, and knew I should mark my page, and go to bed, before I ended up falling asleep in the chair and being here all night.

Once I got upstairs and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I realized on the way back to my room that both spare room doors were opened. I'd assumed y/n would close her door. I wasn't sure which room she was even in, because everything was dark and quiet. Not that it mattered, as long as she was comfortable and sleeping well.

I climbed into my bed, yawning and pulling the covers up to my chin. I closed my eyes, and wondered what the guys were doing back in Korea. Their day was just starting. I missed them, missed seeing them and talking to them everyday. But I needed this, I needed to be here, on my own. I wasn't even exactly sure why, I just knew it to be so.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

I opened my eyes, and glanced at the clock. It was 1:48am. Something woke me up, but I didn't know what. I laid there, noticing the light from the moon coming in the window and lighting up a rectangular patch on the opposite wall. I listened, thinking maybe Gucci had gotten into something and made noise that had roused me from my sleep. I didn't hear anything at all.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply thru my nose, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. Maybe it was my imagination. The unfortunate thing was, now that I was awake, I didn't know if I would be able to fall back asleep. I counted slowly, a trick I had learned years ago, that sometimes helped me relax enough to fall back asleep whenever I ended up waking up in the middle of the night.

I made it to 9 before I heard it. I almost didn't hear it, it was so quiet. But It was unmistakable. Y/n was crying. I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling, wondering what to do, if anything. Maybe she was dreaming, and wouldn't even remember this in the morning. But maybe she wasn't. Maybe she was lying there, hoping to cry herself to sleep.

I could go to her, but I didn't think I should. I didn't want her to come to expect it, the comforting embraces, every time she had a breakdown. I didn't want her to be dependent on me to make her feel better.

I ended up laying there, listening to her soft sobs, until it got quiet, and I assumed she must have fallen asleep. I wouldn't be sleeping though, because I couldn't stop thinking about her, about how frightened she seemed, how vulnerable she was to any little memory that something triggered.

I wish I knew what to do to help her. I could tell her every chance I got that she was safe here with me. I could tell her that she was welcome to stay here until she felt strong enough to leave, and that I would help her in any way that I could. But I couldn't stop the memories from coming back. I couldn't stop the fear, or the pain. I couldn't just make everything better by promising that she would be okay.

It didn't work that way. It was going to take time. How much time, there was no way to know. Five years was a long time to deal with mental abuse. She was lucky in a way. So many people never got away from it, and dealt with it their entire lives. She was lucky to have gotten away, and however long it took to get her past this, to get her to see that she was strong, and beautiful, and smart, and helpful, and worth it, that's how long she would be here. Then, and only then, would I encourage her to leave, and make a start on her own.

I didn't know how I was going to do it, make her see, but I would figure it out. I would figure out how to help her know her own worth, to believe in herself, to love herself, one way or another.

I wasn't really sure if I wanted to take this on, but I also felt like she had shown up here for a reason. She could have walked further before deciding to find a place to hide, but she didn't. She ended up here.

Besides, it wasn't like I had anything else going on. It was just me and a cat and two horses, getting ready to hunker down for the bitter cold winter that was sure to come.