#fall apart

he knows the signs by now, and silently guides you into an on call room. the noise of the ED is quieter here, but you can’t really tell with the way your ears are starting to ring from lack of oxygen as you hyperventilate.

robby tries to soothe you with words first, “hey, sweetie, you’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m here, you’re safe.”

then he’s slowly approaching your position in the middle of the small space. his big, warm hands take hold over your shoulders and turn you gently so you’re facing the wall and away from him, as he shifts closer and presses his chest flush to you.

the pressure of his warmth along your back, and his arms encircling you, is the solid presence you need in moments like this. when your own body feels detached from you, and the tingling in your limbs turns fuzzy, robby is the grounding force for your frazzled electrical wires.

you start to cry in his embrace, and he whispers sweet words then too, as he continues to be the stillness in your storm.

eventually, the tears wane and your hands have grasped onto the feel of Robby’s forearms across your chest, your head leans back and into the crook of his arm, your whole body tired from the ordeal. he kisses your head and sways you both slightly, gladly taking on the weight of your frame as your body feels heavy from the wave of emotions crashing through your system, now receding.

robby doesn’t make you talk about it. he understands that sometimes it comes without cause, without warning. you know that you can talk to him about it too, but for now you soak up the comfort of him here with you, of not having to brave the wave alone - like you’d done so many times, before robby came into your life.

you feel grateful to be able to fall apart and be held in it.

you feel grateful for him.