That gentle touch to Greg's head, comforting and caring, only made him cry more, now louder and Greg's hands moved to Theo's body, sliding underneath him and around him. He hung onto Theo, like a drowning man hanging onto a raft, feeling the pull of all of the sorrow pouring out of him. The bottled up frustrations and hurt, things deep seeded and better left in the dark, came out until it seemed like he had no more tears to cry. It didn't take too long; and when he was done, his face was red and blotchy, pressed against the fabric of Theo's shirt.
He didn't speak, or raise his head, but closed his eyes and took a deep sigh, resting there. He felt better for crying but still felt just terrible, having no control over his urges and having no way to express to Theo how much he adored him and needed him.