Chapter 2: The Cracks in His Armor

As I rocked back and forth on the sofa, Hange's face contorted in distress. He took a step closer to me, but I could sense his hesitation. He was torn between his exhaustion and his desire to comfort me. I, on the other hand, was spiraling out of control. My mind was regressing, becoming more and more like that of a newborn baby. I felt lost and scared, overwhelmed by my emotions and my surroundings. The air was thick with tension as Hange struggled with what to do. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and fatigue. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn away, to leave me to my tears and my fears. But then, something seemed to shift inside him. His expression softened, and he took another step closer. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice low and gentle. "I'm so sorry I'm not in a better place right now. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against my face, and I felt a spark of comfort. But it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed him to hold me, to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything was going to be okay. I needed him to be my rock, my safe haven. So I reached out, my hands grasping for him, and he hesitated for a moment before pulling me into his arms. As he held me, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. His warmth, his scent, his gentle touch – it all combined to soothe my frazzled nerves and calm my racing heart. But even as I felt comforted, I could sense the tension in his body. He was holding me, but he was also holding back. He was exhausted, and I could feel the weight of his fatigue bearing down on him. I didn't care. I just needed him. I buried my face in his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against my ear, and let myself melt into his arms. For a moment, everything else faded away, and all that was left was Hange and me, lost in the darkness, clinging to each other. But as the minutes ticked by, I could feel Hange's energy begin to flag. He was holding me, but his body was sagging, his muscles straining under the weight of his exhaustion. I knew I had to let him go, to give him the rest he so desperately needed. But I couldn't bring myself to move. I was too scared, too anxious, too dependent on him. As I clung to him, I felt a pang of guilt. I knew I was relying on Hange too much, that I was putting too much pressure on him. But I couldn't help it. I was broken, and he was my only fix. I was a puzzle with missing pieces, and he was the only one who could make me whole. As the silence between us grew, I felt Hange's chest rise and fall with a deep breath. He was trying to calm himself, to gather the strength to get us both through this night. And then, in a movement that was both gentle and firm, he lifted me into his arms and stood up. "Let's get you to bed, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "We'll deal with everything else in the morning." I didn't argue. I was too tired, too overwhelmed. I simply wrapped my arms around his neck and let him carry me to our bedroom, the darkness closing in around us like a cocoon. As we lay down on the bed, Hange pulled the blankets over us, and I felt his warmth envelop me once more. In that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay. Hange was here, and he would take care of me. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of my exhaustion bear down on me, and let myself drift off to sleep, surrounded by the safety of his arms. But even as I slept, I knew that the cracks in his armor were growing, that the weight of my needs and his own exhaustion was taking its toll. And I wondered, what would happen when the cracks became chasms?