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He said the words so fervently that it left Seven shaking. His hands trembled as he sat in that old leather chair that was far too big for him. He dragged his nails across his knees, hoping the sharp pain would distract him, would take the hurt from his chest, would stop his eyes from watering. It didn't though, as he felt the tears run down his face. He wasn't looking at him; he hoped he hadn't noticed, but he'd looked up when Seven felt the compulsion to sniffle.
His expression softened for a second, not the impassioned scowl it was a second ago… it might've been pity. He wordlessly stood up, leaving Seven alone in his office. Seven tried to stop it in the time he was gone, tried to force the feelings deep, but nothing worked. When he came back, he offered him a glass filled with cool water. His chair squeaked as he silently sat in it again, across from Seven, turning back to his work.
Seven muttered a thank you into the glass, taking small sips as his tears dripped into it. As he sipped, he felt he should say something, say anything to add some sort of levity to the situation. His fingers curled around the glass as he let out a choked laugh, “I guess I never had parents then…” The smile he wore shook; he'd hoped saying it aloud would help. It didn't. The tears became so frantic that Seven curled into himself, trying to hide in his own shame.
“I'm sorry…” his voice was gruff, but it wasn't cold. Seven's breath shook as he looked up to the man, still glued to the paperwork in front of him. He sniffled a few more times, harsh, with an air of finality to them.
“It's ok…” he did his best to choke out. It wasn't ok. Nothing about the situation was ok, but he had to pretend. That's what he learned: he needs to pretend everything is ok, or else everything will fall apart.
The man nodded, giving Seven a sad look. Maybe he smiled, Seven couldn't tell under the moustache, but he'd let Seven sit in his office til he properly calmed down. When his tears started to slow, the man spoke up again, “Carol outside can help you with your homework if you need.”
Seven sniffled, wiping at his face with a closed fist. “Yeah… Thanks, Mr. P.”
“Don't thank me boy, thank Carol. She's the one helping you.”
The chair squeaked as Seven got up, giving a light nod as he rested the glass atop Haymitch’s desk. He grabbed his bag, shuffling out of the room as Haymitch’s words echoed in his ears. Parents should be there all the time. Wiping at his eyes one final time, he greeted Carol with a big smile, asking if she had some time.