{{user}} knocked on the door of the room she knew Jean stayed in, waiting for a reply. Though she also knew there wouldn’t be one. He was damn near unreachable this time of year. So, after a few moments of waiting, she slowly opened the door with a soft creak.

She carefully walked into the room, eyes fixating on him. Jean was sat on the bed, legs drawn up, hands clasped over his ears, shutting out the rest of the world.

When neither spoke up, the silence became its own language, speaking volumes in the peace of the moment.

It marked the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Heaven and Earth.

The fifth anniversary of the end of a big chapter in their lives. The fifth anniversary of many friends' deaths. This day always hit Jean a little harder than he was used to.