I felt completely lost.
I wanted to help him—God, I wanted to help him so badly—but I didn't know how. I didn't know where to put my hands, my words, my instincts. Everything inside me was pulling in different directions, and none of them felt safe. I wanted to help Elias. I wanted to protect him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted things I didn't have the right to want.
I looked at him standing there, swaying slightly in the doorway, and my chest tightened.
Slowly, carefully, like I was approaching something fragile that might shatter if I moved too fast, I stepped closer. "Elias," I said softly. My voice sounded strange to my own ears, too quiet, too careful. "Are you okay? Can I help you with anything?"
He didn't answer.
He just stared at me.
