I opened the door, gathering my thoughts for what I wanted to say. It all left me the second I saw him. Alex was sitting on the side of his bed with his shoulders slumped, elbows on his thighs as he massaged his temples with both thumbs. His eyes were closed.

Hurriedly, I shut the door and sat next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was distant; his fingers on his forehead white with tension.

I touched his arm and pain jolted through me, so sharp and furious it made me gasp. “Oh god, you’re not! Your head—”

“It’s just a headache. I’m fine.”

It didn’t seem fine at all. I stood up, my words rushing together: “I’ll go get you some Advil – there’s some in the girls’ dorm—”

Without looking up, Alex reached for one of my hands; squeezed it hard. “No. Just...stay with me. Please.”

I bit my lip, not knowing what to do. I sank back down beside him and we sat in silence, Alex still rubbing his temples. Finally, he let out a breath and dropped his hands. He was pale, with tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. He gave me a rueful look. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” I echoed. I could feel how tense he was; the pain that was still thudding through him.

He put his arm around me. “Sorry,” he said against my hair. “I was a jerk. I shouldn’t have—” He broke off with a wince, gripping his forehead again.

“Alex, I’m going for the Advil now—”

His arm tightened, holding me in place. “It’s okay. It wouldn’t help.” After a pause, he sighed and dropped his hand from his head; shifting position on the bed, he lay back against his pillows, looking drained. “Shit. I thought I was over these.”

“Over what?” I propped myself up next to him, gently stroking his forehead.

“That feels really nice,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. I moved further up the bed; leaning against the wall, I rested his head on my lap and kept stroking it, soothing the pain away. His breathing slowed, grew more relaxed.

“Over what?” I repeated softly.

“Migraines,” he said. “I got them after my dad died, and after Jake died. They went away after a while; I haven’t had one in over a year. This one just blindsided me out of nowhere.”

“You never told me,” I said.

“No. It seemed pretty pathetic.”

My heart twisted. I didn’t think I’d even be able to keep my sanity if I’d been through everything Alex had – almost everyone he loved in the world dying. Migraines just seemed normal, not pathetic.

Then my mouth went dry. My hand stopped on his forehead. “Alex, you don’t think—”