Summer had forgotten Victor’s speed, but the sudden warmth of his hold was more than welcome. She curled her hands into his coat sleeves, once again fighting the tears that had nearly run dry before he arrived. It took a long minute before she could whisper, “My grandfather — my last living grandparent — he died just a few hours ago.”
Victor held her a little tighter. “It’s ok love, it’s ok you can cry.” He closed his eyes; wished he could take away her pain. “I’m sorry Summer, what happened?”
“He — he was old, Victor darling, he was just old, and he’d been suffering pneumonia for weeks.” Her voice broke, and she dragged in a rasping breath, muffling the harsh sob into his chest. Tears burned down her face, silent after that one choked gasp.
Victor was no stranger to death, they worked side by side as a matter of fact, but he knew just how hard it was when someone he cared for died. It was a horrible feeling. “As corny as this may be, it is true, at least he doesn’t have to deal with all of the pain and suffering anymore. I’m sorry though, that you have to go through this.” He began humming an old tune he had heard several years ago when he had come across a father comforting his child. It was a soft tune that resonated in his chest. Victor rubbed her back with one of his hands and continued to rock her.
It seemed like ages, but was only a few minutes, actually, when she finally ran dry for the second time. She didn’t let go, though, just kept clinging tight, shoulders heaving. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But I still miss him. He was quiet, and — an-” She swallowed the cry that tried to escape. “God. Hurts.”