This feels wrong…. I feel… like I'm seeing I'm not supposed to see; I feel like I walked in on something private.

You're sitting there, your face in your hands, and I could see your body wracked with silent tears. Then you looked up at me, and your eyes were terrifying – sad and vacant, and I wondered how long you'd been crying. You bowed your head and told me to go away….

But now that I'd seen this, seen you at a moment of weakness, seen this thing I wasn't meant to see…. I couldn't leave you.

You're always locked away inside yourself – I've never seen you show any emotion. At least, not real emotion. You don't laugh or smile, you don't frown or yell, you just… pass through life, with only the barest signs that you feel anything at all.

I stepped towards you, wanting to comfort you. You jumped up, looking the closest thing to angry that I've ever seen in you. You looked desperate too. You told me to leave, told me you wanted to be alone.

I shook my head. "What yeh want isn't always what's best fer yeh," I said. I took another step.

Those little signs of your anger and lurking desperation intensified, though still a bit dull. But for you… It was a vivid display.

"Please…" we both asked each other, neither wanting to give in.

I took another step and you bolted out the window. I chased you for a time, but half-heartedly. Why wouldn't you let me help?

I couldn't stop thinking about you, dreaming about those tears in your empty eyes. I wondered what you could have been crying about. I wish I knew; I wish I could help.

But it seems you've conspired to keep me away. It doesn't really make me feel better to know you've done the same thing to every one else. I suppose it's because no one has ever locked me out before.

You came back a few days later, colder than ever, more silent than the falling snow, ruthless, sharp, protective. No one could touch you, literally and figuratively. You'd tunneled deeper into yourself, and I couldn't see how to get in past your shell.