Joe Keery

Something was bothering her, I knew it; she didn't need to blurt it out or collapse for me to recognize it. I could see it in her vacant stare, in her slightly furrowed brow, as if she didn't want to scare me, in the way she bit her nails without breaking the delicate polish.

I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. I knew she didn't like having her face uncovered, but I loved seeing her clearly. I loved having any excuse to touch her.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" I tried to get her attention, but I didn't get much, just a smile and a slight shake of my head. She was trying to convince me that everything was fine.

My eyebrows furrowed involuntarily. I didn't like seeing her like this; if it were up to me, I would carefully wrap her in my arms to prevent anything from hurting her.

I moved a little closer, still sitting on the sofa. "Tell me," I insisted.

"No, no, Joe... it's..." She let out a small laugh, but it sounded more uncertain than she intended. "It's late, just don't worry. We should go to sleep."

"What?" The question came out of me with a mixture of surprise and offense. "What reasons have I given you to think that? No! No, no, I'm not going to accept that! You can lean on me, you can cry on me, or spill over. Whatever it takes, anything at all. Never think, 'Oh, it's late, I don't want to bother you,' because, hell, I'll be your lifeline if you need me. I'll be your support, and I'll take care of everything."