Happy after

Sam cries with her, quieter, needing to spend comfort more than to receive it, his chest leaden with soreness, and he is constricted, but surprised, to find the beast slithered back to where it came from, letting him breathe a little easier. Monika has been quiet for a few minutes, but Sam just strokes her hair and back, giving her space. "Did you draw them because you couldn't talk to anyone?" Sam feels a surge of cold rippling down his spine, even though it's almost too warm inside, with the sun streaming in through the windows. "Yes. I'm bad at writing and talking about how I feel, so I draw." He inhales Monika again, taking comfort and strength, reminding himself that he has no reason to keep hurting in silence. "You're not bad at it. When you do, you're not. You just have to do it more." Monika moves back, forcing Sam to open his arms, his head moving up, following Monika standing. She offers a hand to Sam. "It's uncomfortable here; let's get into bed."  Sam smiles softly, grabs o