Out of all misery...

She'd run away.
When his doorbell rang he knit his brows. Who'd be daring to call and break his taboo? The clock told him that the reasons for this could neither be duty nor pleasure. So he opened the door and found her. She held her head low and was obviously crying, silently, tears dripping onto the doormat that his landlord had insisted on.
"Hey", he said. But she did not move.
"Hey", he said again, in a lower voice this time, and reached out for her, gently grabbing her left forearm with his right hand. He slowly pulled her inside, what else could he do, swiftly throwing a glance in every corner of his den. Expectedly, she stumbled when he led her to his bed.
"No chair", he said, and softly pressed down her shoulders with boths hands, succeeding in making her sit. She wiped her nose and blew it a little with a white tissue that she had hidden in her right hand, but it made no difference to her not being able to breathe properly and did neither stop the tears.
A simple "what happened" did not seem useful, and so he kneeled down, feeling uncomfortable there and then because he could not keep his balance. He halfway got up again and sat beside her. Should he put his arm around her? He was not made for this!
The thought made him angry.