My beloved friend slides even closer to me, pulling my head into her shoulder, running her fingers through my hair, I guess to hide my face from the waitress. She is right, the waitress comes back as I have my face buried in her shoulder. I stop breathing to avoid the risk of a ragged breath that would betray the fact that I am crying. My friend, intelligently, orders the most elaborate pizza, which will give us more than 20 minutes to be alone. I feel more at ease, knowing that the waitress won't come back for a while, the only remaining issue is someone being in a nearby table that could be watching at an angle that could show my face.

I slowly gather the courage to lift my face, I don't want to hide it from her, as she doesn't hide it from me. I start thinking what would be the worst case scenario if a stranger sees my tears. I try to discard intrusive thoughts and think realistic, even if emotionally, I am missing the possibility of having my tears wiped, maybe even kissed by my best friend, who is definitely more than happy, even looking forward to comfort me, just because I'm embarrassed.

After a little more than a minute I finally gather the courage and, no matter if there's a guy or a girl (or a couple), I lift my head from her shoulder and look at her, small tears, leaving thin streaks on the middle of my cheeks, slowly slide down my face.

As I lift my head from her shoulder, I hear her gasp softly when she sees small tears sliding down my face, leaving thin streaks on the middle of my cheeks. Without warning, I feel her soft fingers starting to brush my tears from my right cheek. She asks: "Care to talk about it?" as she brings her left hand to my left cheek and delicately thumb away another of my still falling tears.

Encouraged by her gesture of bravely wiping my tears, and even in spite of feeling another presence nearby, I open: "Yes, even though neither her nor me have another love interest, she says she can't keep my agenda and my multiple occupations, demanding more time than I can give her, not willing to accept anything less than what she demands." I feel more tears starting to roll down my cheeks, this time it seems that the path already made is not enough, as a parallel streak forms next to the previous one.

I try to smile as I say, barely above a whisper: "Now I know how you felt back in NY, when I wiped your tears in front of a few bystanders, but, you know, I'm willing to trust you, I'm open to accept your loving comfort, don't hold back and feel free to comfort me any way you like, and don't stop just because someone might see or hear, if you want to cover me or keep taking care of my tears, or whatever, I trust you." As I finish, I involuntarily jiggle her inner thighs with my hands.

She, worried, replies: "I think we should go to the bathroom so you can wipe your face before our food arrives. I know how much you'd dislike anyone seeing or hearing you." I don't know what has gotten into me, as even I am surprised about my answer: "Sure, come." I say, hoping she takes care of my tears, even in the bathroom. I give her relaxed quads a soft pat with both my hands, feeling them jiggle just before I stand up to go to the bathroom.
 

We quickly go to the bathroom, hand in hand, get inside the biggest stall, I feel the need to sob. She encourages me to do so: "Don't worry, there's no-one in here to see or hear you. And even if someone does come in, I'm here and will still take care of your tears as caringly as I can." I allow myself to sob silently, and surprisingly, I see my friend's eyes quickly fill with tears, about to fall.

She gently pulls me into a hug, guiding me to bury my face in her neck. I feel a single tear fall from each of her eyes splashing my neck as she whispers in my ear:
"I'm sorry you're hurting so much. Please feel me as your safe spot and allow yourself to sob as loudly as you need to. I'd hate to embarrass you in any way. If it'd make you feel better I won't even look at your face until you feel better."

I allow my body to tremble in her arms as I continue to sob softly for about a minute. I break the hug and look into her face, surprisingly, what I thought was a single tear reveals her beautiful tears with a few fresh streaks on each cheek.

Even though I am still crying, I lean and kiss a tear from each of her cheeks, kissing a streak from the middle of her cheek all the way to under her eye. Slowly swiping my thumbs across both cheeks, taking care of her hot tears and thick streaks. Softly saying: “I don’t need to hide my face from you, you have trusted me all your raw feelings, even fighting against your own self consciousness, you have given your hundred percent to me, allowing me to wipe and kiss your tears, feel your pouty, curling lips, bathing my hands and neck in your precious tears. Why should I be any different?”