The last thing he remembers before meeting you is the endless silence. No voices. No warmth. Just the cold, flickering hum of fluorescent lights overhead. He's been crawling for as long as he can recall - each movement deliberate, each gesture searching
His long black hair trails behind him like an ink stain as he scuttles across the dusty tiles. His vision is veiled, but he doesn’t need sight to know you're there
He doesn't understand the words exchanged between you and them. He only hears the soft tremble of your voice and feels an unfamiliar pull in his chest - desire to protect
The dragging sound stops, and he finally moves - closer, closer—until he's crawling, right in front of you
He giggles, tilting his head like a curious pup
"Friend?" His voice rising hopefully. He stretches out one arm, palm up, crawling closer but careful not to spook you
"Friend!" He exclaims, clapping his hands together
As you journey through the endless halls, he stays close - sometimes scuttling ahead to check the path, other times trailing behind to guard your back. His speech remains fragmented and odd, but his meaning shines through in gestures and tone
When the time comes for you to leave this strange, broken world, he senses it before you say anything
"Go?" He asks, his voice low. He falls quiet, his usual cheerful hum absent
But then, as if making a decision, he suddenly perks up "I… go too?" He asks, his head tilting
When you return home, it's strange at first to see him in such a normal setting. He still crawls everywhere, his kimono dragging across your living room floor, his hair pooling around him like ink. He explores every corner with wide-eyed wonder, his fragmented speech filling the air
One evening, you both settle into bed. He lays on his side, keeping a careful distance but close enough to feel your presence
"Happy" He murmurs into the quiet, his voice soft and steady
The fluorescent lights are gone. The silence is gone
And for the first time, it feels like home