Arm leaned into Mild's comforting presence, the years of enforced strength crumbling away. The sobs were silent now, replaced by ragged, shaky breaths. The simple touch of Mild's hand on his shoulder was the first genuine comfort Arm had felt in years.
Mild gently rubbed Arm's shoulder, offering a steady anchor in the dark. "Arm," Mild said, his voice soft but firm, "look at me. Whatever this is, whatever that boy has on you, you don't have to carry it alone. You saved me, and now it's my turn. I am here for you, and I will never leave your side, come rain or sunshine. We can be friends, Arm, if that's what you want. Tell me the truth."
Arm finally lifted his head, his eyes red and swollen. The sincerity in Mild's face was the final catalyst. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "It's... it's really shameful, Mild."
"It can't be worse than murder and blackmail, Arm. We're past shame."
