Neil’s dead.

He’s dead. Gone. He’s lived and he’s died, and now he’s pushing up daisies.

He was alive four hours ago. And now he’s dead. You were the first to find out. You never thought it would have happened. He was so happy and full of life.

Even that was taken away from him.

Todd will be devastated.

You stand over the poor boy, unable to wake him, unable to disturb his peace, unable to ruin the true personality everybody had worked so hard to unveil.

Neil did most of the work.

Your hand hesitantly taps his shoulder, gently shaking it when he doesn’t stir. You quietly call out his name, your voice cracking slightly. Todd doesn’t hear it, still asleep. You repeat yourself, and he stirs softly, opening his eyes a crack.

“Oh, {{user}}…” he groans, rolling over onto his side. But when you gently grab his arm and pull him back, he sees your face. He sees the puffiness of your eyes, the blotchiness of your cheeks, the tears that are rolling down them.

His face drops, a deep panic settling into his gut. “What is it?” he whispers, sitting up. He’s not sure if he wants to know.