I realized he was crying too. I had a flashback of my father and I, in which he knew I was aware of something he couldn’t even speak of. I swear, I could lose it any minute. “I just met you, but whenever we were together, I felt like everything was going to be okay. I didn’t want to scare you. This is about me, and I just want you to know that. Sometimes, I cut myself. And, my body. I don’t eat properly, and sometimes, I make myself….” he couldn’t continue. But I knew. I could see it from the start, though I didn’t know it. Yet I did now. Casimir had an eating disorder. Part of me felt so angry at him. If he was ill to begin with, why would he try and make himself worse? How could he do this? Yet the rest of me felt pity, and concern. Love. I sat down next to him and put my arm around him. He was too slender, too weak, too sad. “It’s okay. I know what it’s like. I went through a time when…when I didn’t eat much. But that was because I was sad, too. I want you to be alright. You need a hug,” I soothed.