drxdimples-deactivated20151226:

Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to… (x)

♥:Your muse crying about something

dr-teddyaltman

Every day Arizona would check up on Teddy, not because
she felt that the other woman should be treated like a child
ever since Henry’s death, but because she cared. Arizona
knew that Teddy had been to a grief group, but the blonde
had personally known that those didn’t always help how
they were supposed to.

When she found the other woman on the floor with her
knees up to her chest, she felt her heart ache at the sight.
She had always seen her friend as a strong, fearless, and
even ambitious woman but seeing her so broken hurt her
personally.

She walked over to Teddy as a soft sigh escaped her lips,
bending down to her level, she placed a gentle hand on
her knee. “Are you okay?” Arizona really knew what the
answer was just by a glance at her friend’s current state
but she knew it would help if the other woman would be
able to admit herself.

The bags under Teddy’s eyes  spoke  to  the  many
sleepless  nights  spent  dreaming  of  all the things
she  had  lost,  and   those  glass-green  eyes   that
once  shone  so  bright held nothing but  g h o s t s
now.  Silent  tears  staining  her  face,  not even her
friend’s gentle voice could rouse her. 

“A-Arizona?” She whispered, barely strong enough
to lift her head.  “I thought — I thought I told you not
to come here anymore.”

Running  her  fingers through  her lank, stringy hair
in  a bid to look  halfway  presentable,  Teddy  tried
and  failed to care  that her house was a mess. The
fridge  was empty, and  dirty clothes were  piled up
everywhere  —  in this place, Teddy no longer had
to  hide  her grief.  And here, alone, she did exactly
that  —  she  tread quietly around the empty rooms
wearing  Henry’s shirt, just grieving. If she thought
before  that grief ever ran out, she knew better now.

“I’m fine,” Teddy said  — she’d been telling the lie
so  often  now  that  it nearly tasted true on her lips.
At least, she’d managed to convince herself of that.
So  long  as  she could put on a brave face at work
and in company, the rest of it didn’t matter.

I’m fine. I’m okay. That was all it took to convince
them,  and  they’d  be on their way, no warier than
the  next. Who needed  to  ask  twice  when you’d
seen the smile, however  fake,  glimpse across a
widow’s  face?  So  far, no  one  but  Arizona  had 
cared enough to.