"Free hugs".
It's a bit of a weird cliche thing, isn't it? It's not really a thing people offer, generally. And yet, here I am, sitting on a park bench, holding a small sign that reads exactly that. The thing is, I've always been a friendly guy—everybody always tells me I cheer them up just by being around them, that sort of thing—and I like going out of my way to make people happy. I don't know how exactly I got this way, but since I am, I might as well work with it, right? And so I figured, hey, lots of people like hugs, right? It's such a simple action, and yet so intimate and warm. It's something that can help so many people cheer up, and yet you can be comfortable doing it with a complete stranger. I love hugs, they're so versatile. And so that's why I decided I was going to just sit on a park bench, offering free hugs—really, I just wanted to see how many people take me up on my offer.
To my surprise, the answer to that question is "quite a lot, actually", and it's spread out over the demographics, too. Men, women, young, old, it doesn't matter. A lot of people took me up on my offer, and every one of them seemed to have their day brightened at least a bit by it. And as a result, I feel happy as well, knowing that a simple act of intimacy has made multiple people feel better about themselves. But now, in this moment, it seems that I'm going to face my biggest trial.
A man is now standing in front of me, eyes flicking back and forth between my sign and me with a look that says so many things. I can tell he's been through hell, it's as simple as that. Those are the kind of eyes that have given up on something, I can't tell what, but it was clearly something important. The kind of eyes that signal some sort of betrayal that tore at his deepest soul, leaving him a broken shell—still functioning, but empty inside. It tears at my heart strings to see someone like this, but at the same time, I'm a bit afraid to make too quick a move, especially since despite the bags under his eyes and general disheveled appearance, he is absolutely strong enough to just snap me in half in an instant, so I really am a bit scared, too. However... as I continue to look into his eyes, in what probably takes an instant but feels like an eternity, I can also see a longing in his eyes. Like there's still something there inside of him, trying to hold on, begging me to help. Maybe I'm just reading too much into a simple expression, that's absolutely a possibility. But if I'm right, I absolutely have to help him.
And so, I lay my sign aside, stand up, and spread my arms wide, beckoning him to come closer. For a moment, it's like I can see the look on his face visibly soften before he steps forward into my embrace and wraps his arms around me as well. At first, his grip is careful, almost timid, but as I hold him just a little bit tighter and start rubbing his back gently, he too starts holding me tighter, to the point where it almost hurts a little because of how strong he is. But I endure it, knowing that whatever pain I might be feeling is absolutely minuscule compared to what this guy has been through. I hold the embrace a lot longer than I did with any of the others, just letting him hold on to me for as long as he wishes. After about a minute, I could swear that I could hear him sniffling just a little bit, but I decide not to pry. It wouldn't be right to push him, because right now, I feel like this guy might just be teetering on the edge of despair. If I were to push him over by being too direct, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.
After another minute or so, he starts to pull away, and before I know it, he mutters a barely audible "thanks" and starts to walk away. Yet, for some reason I cannot work out in the slightest, I hold on to his arm, and despite him very obviously being much stronger than me, it stops him in his tracks. Looking back at me, there's this moment of uncomfortable silence, but eventually, I manage to ask him a simple question. "What's your name?" I ask him, trying my absolute best to be non-threatening, as laughable as it seems for me to possibly be threatening to a guy that could just knock me out with a single punch.
And I can tell that simple question struck a chord with him. It's like the concept of a complete stranger being interested in him in some way is completely foreign to him. It takes him a moment, but eventually, he replies "Tim." like the word was just involuntarily ejected from his mouth and not something he consciously chose to say, and he immediately looks away again, like he's hoping the conversation is over with that. But now that I've got him, I don't want to let go. I need to know if he needs help, because if he does, I at least want to try.
So I walk up next to him and look right into his eyes again, slightly forcing the eye contact, which he does accept now that I'm pushing just a little bit. "Hey, Tim, it's nice to meet you. My name is Simon." I then say. It feels so strange to talk with this guy like he's a small child or something, but again, I have no idea what he's gone through. There's probably a reason why he is the way he is, and I need to respect that. And sure enough, there's a bit of a shift in his behavior. Nothing major, but it seems ever so slightly that he doesn't want to get out of this conversation as fast as possible anymore, so I let go of his arm and instead hold out my hand for him to shake.
While it does take a moment, he actually does take my hand, shaking it carefully. His grip isn't nearly as firm as I know he could be, but that's OK. Right now, I feel like I'm making progress. "Nice... to meet you too." he says as well.
Now that we've started talking, I don't want it to stop when I can maybe get him to open up. "So, Tim, I have a question. Would you mind if I just walked along with you for a bit? We could talk a bit more. If you want, that is!" I suggest, hoping that he'll accept.
Again, it does take a moment, but to my surprise, he nods. "Yeah, that's OK."
And with that, I pack up my sign in my backpack, and the two of us start walking out of the park and through the city. I'm basically just going along with wherever he's going, we could really just be wandering aimlessly for all I know, but that's not what's important right now. What's important is just being there with Tim. I still can't exactly say what it is that draws me to wanting to be there for him, beyond his appearance just inspiring deep pity inside of me, but again, that's not important. I want to help him, it makes me happy, and hopefully it'll make him happy too. While we walk, we also talk a bit, mainly about completely mundane topics, and I tell him a couple things about myself to maybe get him to eventually tell me about himself as well. It's completely banal, but I figure that maybe that's what he needs.
After somewhere around fifteen minutes of walking, we arrive at a small single-floor house. Tim turns around to face me, and I can tell he's debating on the inside on whether he wants to say what he's thinking of, so I just wait. Before long, the words do manage to escape him, and he asks "Do... do you want to come inside?".
Any hesitation here could send a negative signal, so I quickly nod and smile. "Sure! I'd love to!"
Tim leads me inside, and as I look around, the rooms do give the same impression as his general appearance does: The impression that he is someone that was functioning just fine up until a certain point, but then something happened that shook him to the core in some way, and ever since then, everything has fallen into a sort of vague neglect. It's not a complete mess, not even close, really, but there's signs that the inhabitant has lost the will to care at some point. But that also means that the will to care was there before, and hopefully, I can bring it back. He then motions for me to sit down on the couch, walks over to the fridge, grabs two beers out of it, opens them up and sets them down on the table in front of us, not saying a single word all the while.
After that, he slumps into the couch right next to me, as if all this social interaction had been physically exhausting to him, which it might have actually been, I don't know yet. I figure I should try and show him a little comfort, so I ever so slightly inch my arm closer to wrapping around his shoulder and start to lean against him just a little bit, trying to gauge if he's going to resist or let it happen. But as I actually start to touch his one shoulder and lean my head against the other one, something strange starts to happen with him. It's like the emotional distance he was trying to keep between me and him is now slowly eroding, now that we're alone. Tim's eyes close, he starts sniffling again, and his arm moves around my shoulder as well. This is going to be a make or break moment, and what I do next is going to be incredibly important.
Thankfully, it's very clear to me what I have do to, and I