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I had seen him before. He had intimidated me, always sitting there silently. I had tried smiling at him but I realised quickly that he wasn't a very sociable person so when I was sitting on the balcony, sniffling and trying to talk to the kind lady on the evening shift the last thing I was expecting was his quiet voice to say “are you ok?” “Not really”, I was not a pretty sight, snot bubbling at my nostrils and tearing dribbling pathetically down my cheeks. “Well, I'll make myself this tea and then we'll sit together, yeah?” curiosity started to overwhelm me at his words. I wanted to know more about this lovely boy who had previously made me so nervous. “What are you always playing?” “League of Legends” “Hey! I played that, well Mobile Legends”. I was already cheering up, his plan was working. We sat there talking quietly. I told him that I had overdosed and ended up in a coma. He told me about his severe depression and abandonment issues. Then and there I knew I would stick with him, even if I couldn't help him. We chatted until past the time even the night nurses were awake and snickered at a magazine claiming it could help your depression. A magazine they had stuck on the coffee table of a psych ward. I was finally happy again. Another girl came out at one point, she was an oddball and kept lightly telling us how the death of her husband was so hard, in between showing us pictures and videos of him. I decided I didn't like her after all, even if she was fun to talk to. Christian had a soft voice and no emotions, he said. I didn't believe that the only reason he helped me was because he had a complex. That was what he told me but his kind heart told another story. He was the first person I held off asking what his trauma was. Instead I asked if he was bald. He wasn't. In fact, his hair was quite long. I remember braiding his hair. It was greasy but I didn't care, just like he didn't care how I wiped my nose on the front of my pyjama top. He hugged me good night and rubbed my back. Before I fell asleep I whispered his name over and over again. “Christian. Christian. Christian.”, I wasn't allowed to forget it. And I didn't.