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Otto holds you and you sob. You haven’t cried like this since you were a child; you sob as if the world is ending and his tight embrace is the only thing keeping the both of you alive. He strokes your head, shushing you in the gentlest way he can muster.
“Shh… Hey, it’s alright. Let it out, my love,” he coos, kissing the crown of your head. You feebly grip his coat, hands trembling. He consoles you and you stain his shirt with your tears, your nose running. You hic and sob, unable to breathe. You’re hyperventilating, sending you further down into your spiral of tears. For a moment, he tilts your head up to look at him, meeting your gaze.
“Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Take a deep breath in, and hold that for a moment. Then, breathe out slowly— yes, like that. We’ll do it together, okay? Breath in,” he guides your breathing, and you comply. Several beats pass, continuing the same breathing exercise.
“How do you feel now, dear? Any better?” He takes your hand with care, kissing your knuckles and thumbing them over. You nod slightly at the question.
Your face is stained with tears, eyes reddened, and throat hoarse. You don’t want to talk. It’s too much effort to make a noise, and Otto recognizes this.
“Do you want to let go?”
You shake your head.
“How about a hot drink? It’ll help your throat. Does that sound good?”
Contemplating this, you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He can feel your damp cheeks on his skin. He strokes your head, holding you as though you’d break at the slightest touch. The actuators take over the job of preparing a drink, allowing him to hold you as you sniffle.
“What would you like? Tea?” He speaks so softly, so gently, you’re thankful for the kindness he’s given you.
You nod. He knows how you like your tea, and somehow makes it just right each time.
Otto hums as the actuators go to work, as he always does. He never notices it, but it’s something that soothes you. You sink into his arms, his hand still placed firmly atop your head.
Had you not buried your face in his neck, you never would’ve noticed his cologne. The faintest hint of tobacco wafted from his clothes, but you didn’t mind too terribly, (though you would talk to him about it later.) He was a neat man, rarely straying from his routine. Everyday he applied the cologne you got him for your anniversary, shaved his face, and dressed in the same get up. He adorned himself in sweaters and slacks, which you couldn’t complain about. You loved this about him. He was cozy and familiar, something you desperately needed in that moment.
You felt like a child, clinging to him how you were. He never complained, though. He spoke often on how you were the light of his life— the sun that rose each morning to brighten his world. He held his sun in the palm of his hand and wouldn’t dare let anything snuff it out.
You loved him for it more than you could ever express.
Lost in thought, the whistling of the kettle snapped you back to reality. Your eyes were heavy, but you kept yourself awake. Crying always exhausts you. He went through the trouble of making you tea, so you figured you might as well stay awake enough to drink it.
Otto poured the boiling water into your favorite cup— a gift from him to you. You cherished it, as it was the first gifts he’d gotten for you. The design of the mug was cute— a cat sitting on a bench with magenta flowers. It was an older mug, one he found second hand, but that didn’t matter. He knew you’d love it and you did.
Having spaced out once again, his gentle tone caught you off-guard. You jumped a little at his voice, causing him to chuckle and kiss your forehead.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. Your tea is ready, my love,” he says, placing you on the couch and your mug upon the coffee table.
Otto plops down next to you, snaking his arm around your shoulder, rubbing it.. Sipping your tea, you enjoy the pleasant aroma that fills your nostrils. It was comforting and warm, much like Otto.
“How’s the tea? I hope it was made to your liking.”
You nod, smiling at him.
“It’s wonderful, as always— you always know how I like my tea.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper. It’s hoarse and shakes, and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Otto, either. You knew it wouldn’t. He knew you too well to let it go.
“I see,” he beams at you, “I’m glad. Do you want to talk about earlier? You were quite upset; I hate seeing you that way. Of course, I don’t mind, but I want to make sure you’re alright.”
Hot shame rises to your cheeks as you flush, embarrassed for your childish display. You sigh, fidgeting with the mug. Taking another sip, you allow the warmth to fill your throat, soothing it before you speak on the matter.
“Ah… I thought you’d bring it up,” you reply, clearly flustered.“I’m sorry for that— it was childish of me to, er, breakdown like that. The reason is so trivial that I doubt-“ he cuts off your ramblings, placing both hands upon your shoulders to focus your gaze upon him.
“You are the light of my life,” he begins, “and I love you. I want to hear your thoughts and feelings, but I won’t force you to speak on the matter if you’re uncomfortable.”
Tears prick your eyes once again, but for entirely separate reasons. In all honesty, you don’t want to speak on it. Not yet, anyway. Subtly (or so you thought,) wiping your eyes, you sniff, leaning into his touch. However, he thumbed away a fallen tear, kissing your cheeks.
“I… I don’t want to think of it right now— not yet. Can we just stay like this?”
Otto nods, cupping your face in his hands, eyes filled with love and adoration.
“Of course.”