Truthfully, you're a very bright and fun person, who likes to be a bit loud like him, and be positive in your life however the day may be going. The other part of the truth is that you have down days, too. You get quiet, kind of isolated in your bubble. He'll look over at you after you haven't spoken for a while and immediately frown, knowing what's up. "Where's a smile?" he asks, raking his fingers through your hair while pressing a dainty kiss to your cheek. When you don't reply or give him the smile he was looking for, he knows. He doesn't ask you to smile again, he just pulls you into his arms and squeezes you tight, like he's trying to squeeze the sadness out.
Tears are an easy indication because you never really openly cry in front of him. When you do, though, it's the prettiest thing ever and he finds himself stumbling a little because your eyes are so pretty when they're glossed over like that. "You need a hug," he states gently, rubbing his fingers up and down your arms with an easy smile. You don't even try to push him away anymore or hide your tears. You let him engulf you in his arms and bury your nose into his t-shirt, smelling the faint scents of beer and his personal smell of comfort and home. Everyone needs a hug -- deserves them, too -- and it's nice to know that he knows what to do, even when you cry.
You can't seem to always let people in, but he's been around you enough to know when it's time to just close his mouth and shut up and hold you. You get fidgety before the tears come on. You play with your fingers and bounce your foot up and down, never seeming to meet anyone's eyes, looking everywhere but at the person speaking to you. "Relax," he says softly, placing his hand on your knee so you stop your movements, "Relax, baby." It's a breathless whisper and a sweet, soothing sound, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. You feel his arms ripple around your back and you press yourself into him, face buried in his neck, relaxing into his chest.
The moment when you don't need kisses or sex or anything playful or fun. The moment your eyes grow serious and your bottom lip gets sucked into your mouth by your sharp teeth. That's when he knows it's not a game... that he needs to be serious and get down on his knees and pester you softly until you look him in the eyes. "Look at me," he says softly, tapping his index finger on your chin until you tip your head back slightly, "There's my pretty girl." And it's not even a time to ask what's wrong either. He just gathers you up in his arms gingerly and cradles you. Not speaking, not asking, not bugging you about life. Just holding you, because that's the moment.
Silence is left in the air and that scares him. There should be something -- anything, really -- to say, even if it's just a few words. There's always something to say up in your head; something witty, or smart, or beautifully intelligent that he just forgets his name. But when you're silent, and when you stare at him with nothing to say, he knows it's time to drop everything he's doing and meet you halfway. "You alright?" he whispers softly, hands cupped around your face. And yeah, it's a stupid thing to ask, because you're not 'okay'. But he too has found nothing to say. When you're so quiet and looking so sad, he can't even think straight. He just pulls you into his arms.