She sat on the couch. Rigid. Unmoving. Hand clenched in her lap.
'No, darling,' he wanted to say, 'Even Iron snaps under too much.'
'Bend,' he wanted to beg, 'bend just a little.'
'You idiot,' he thought, stealing her favorite word for him. 'You can be strong AND human. You don't have to forsake one to prove yourself.'
She would not bend. She would never bend. She would rather break first.
He sat beside her. He brought his head to her shoulder, and wrapped his arms around her waist.
If she would not bend, then he would bend for her.