Drowning in Insecurity

The familiar sensation of Hange's arms wrapping around me was like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of the abyss. He scooped me up, cradling me in his arms as I continued to sob, my body shaking with the force of my emotions. His warmth, his scent, his gentle rocking motion all combined to calm the storm raging inside me. As I buried my face in his chest, I felt his heartbeat, steady and strong, and his gentle breathing, a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. His fingers stroked my hair, a gentle, repetitive motion that seemed to lull me back into a sense of security. I clung to him, my grip tightening as I felt myself being pulled under by the undertow of my anxiety. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice a gentle rumble beneath my ear. "I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere." I nodded, my head bobbing up and down against his chest, even though I knew he couldn't see me. I didn't need to see him to know that he was there, that he was holding me. As I clung to him, I became aware of the tension in his body, the stiffness in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. He was still tired, still stressed, and I knew that I was adding to his burden. But I couldn't help it. I was scared, and I needed him to hold me, to reassure me that everything was going to be okay. Hange seemed to sense my thoughts, because he shifted me in his arms, settling me more comfortably against his chest. "I'm here," he repeated, his voice firm. "And I'm not going anywhere. You're safe, baby." As he spoke, he began to walk, carrying me through the house to our bedroom. I didn't need to see where we were going; I trusted him implicitly. I knew that he would take care of me, that he would keep me safe. He set me down on the bed, and I felt the softness of the mattress beneath me, the give of the pillows as he arranged them behind me. I lay back, feeling his hands smooth out my hair, his fingers working out the tangles. As he sat beside me, I reached out, my hands searching for his. I found them, and I clung to them, my grip tight. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Hange's fingers intertwined with mine, his thumbs stroking my palms. "You don't need to apologize," he said, his voice soft. "You're my baby, and I'm here for you." I smiled, a small, tentative smile, as I felt a sense of peace wash over me. With Hange by my side, I knew that I could face anything. But as I looked up at him, I saw the fatigue etched on his face, and I knew that he wasn't out of the woods yet. He still had a long day ahead of him, and I didn't want to hold him back. "Go," I said, my voice gentle. "Get some rest. I'll be okay." Hange's expression softened, and he leaned forward, his lips brushing against my forehead. "I'll be back," he promised. "And when I am, we'll face whatever tomorrow brings, together." As he stood up, I felt a pang of loss, but I knew that I had to let him go. I had to trust that he would come back to me, that he would always be there to catch me when I fell. And as I lay back against the pillows, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a sense of security that came from knowing that Hange was mine, and I was his.