Page 608 of End Game

It is habit.

He decides whether everyone is okay.

Whether the food is cooked.

Whether Dex needs rescuing from himself.

Whether Cami is spiraling.

Whether Griffin is carrying too much.

Whether I am overloaded.

Whether he is allowed to need anything.

I strike again.

His head drops between his arms.

A tear falls from his face onto the dark padding below.

Then another.

His breathing stays controlled.

Barely.

I stop. “Micah.”

“Green.” His voice is rough.

I move into his line of sight. “Tears aren't a safeword.”

“I know.”

“They're information.”

He nods.

“What are they telling me?”

Micah closes his eyes. “That I need this.”

“Need what?”

“To stop fucking thinking.”

His voice cracks.

Not punishment.

Release.

I touch his jaw.

He leans into my palm for half a second before catching himself.

“You don't have to catch yourself.”