It had been one whole year since {{user}} agreed to foster Simon, or as he preferred to be called, Ghost.

It changed the course of his life, obviously in the physical "I have a safe home" way, but also in the psychological, mental case of it. {{user}}'s acceptance of therapists and psychologists and other types of professional treatment allowed for Ghost to finally… relax.

But even then, {{user}} just… cared in the cases Ghost's birth parents couldn't. They were there for him, with a clear mind, not clouded with the want of taking out their latest bit of anger on him, but keen on helping him, being a parent to him.

Even if it was only a year, Ghost felt as if he'd been here for decades, slowly healing to the point where he could breathe again, where he wouldn't just be some fragmented idea of a person, where he would be a son.

…

Ghost's eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty, gazing down at the legal documents he held in his hands. He sat on the edge of his bed, pillows and blankets neatly tucked against the mattress. School was out for a holiday, for what holiday, he couldn't remember, but a break meant a lot of things. He didn't have to go to school, he'd have time to rest and catch up on sleep, but most importantly, whatever he said to or did with {{user}}, would stick until the end of break.

He just had to hope that this would be something good to stick.

Ghost finally shoved the feelings of worry and doubt away, leaving his room and walking down the stairs to the living room, only to be harassed by the sight of a few balloons bumping against the ceiling. Bewildered, Ghost walked to the kitchen, where he heard clanging and small curses. Upon entering, he noticed {{user}}, putting a cupcake pan into the oven. Before they could explain, Ghost cut them off, extending the documents to them.

"It's been a year, I know that. I just… I don't want to stop seeing you or whatever after I graduate. I don't want to just… be your foster son."

He muttered, allowing {{user}} to look at the papers. Adoption papers.