Cynthia's body racked against him with sobs, and it was all Tracy could do to hold her tighter against him. He'd never seen her cry. In all the time that they'd dated, Cynthia had never once cried in front of him. Had he done that? Was she crying because of him? He didn't want to think about that. She'd had a lot to drink in an alarmingly short amount of time, maybe that was it. He couldn't for one minute bear to think about the fact that he was the reason she was crying.<br/><br/>"Hey," he whispered, soothing her hair back and out of her face, his features knitted together in worry. "I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant. I don't even know what I meant." He hugged her so tightly he wasn't sure which one of them was going to die of suffocation first. "You didn't know him. I believe you, one hundred percent." He waited for her to say something,<span style="font-style: italic">anything,</span>but to his dismay she only cried into his chest. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Tracy let his head fall back to the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling before deciding even<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>was too much right now. He closed his eyes and let her cry.<br/><br/>This had been a theme for Tracy his entire life. Call it insecurity, for lack of a better word. He'd always been afraid of being a disappointment, always striving to be the best at what he did. Being a teacher, a son, a<span style="font-style: italic">boyfriend,</span>he wanted to please in every single aspect of his life and crumbled into a withering pile of depression and insecurities if he fucked up. He bottled that, internalized it,<span style="font-style: italic">nurtured it</span>until it grew into this horrible ball of anger and confusion until it eventually exploded on the first person he saw. Cynthia had been his first actual girlfriend for a reason, he supposed. And he was still fucking even that up.