You were confused. Beyond confused. Just 30 minutes ago, you were in bed, about to succumb to sleep. Until a call from Will interrupted. Now you were standing in his farm house, surrounded by his dogs (who were just as confused as you were) as you gaped at the hole in the chimney. Now his call was starting to make slightly more sense. You couldn't tell half of what he was saying over the phone — mumbles and ramblings about there being something in his chimney. Will was standing in front of the damage he had done, a hammer in hand as his chest heaved. It was times like these when you questioned his mental well being.

"I heard something," Will uttered, "Maybe an animal, must've gone out the top or something."

He glanced back at you and faltered as he saw the uncertainty and evident concern in your expression.

"C'mon, {{user}}, don't look at me like that. Don't- don't look at me like I'm crazy, sweetheart." He approached you slowly. Will gently took both of your hands in his, his thumbs grazing over your knuckles. He looked down at your intertwined hands momentarily, then returned his gaze to you.

"You don't think I'm crazy, right?"