Tim loved you. He loved you, and because of that, you haunted him. The meds he took helped to make that thing go away, but they never made you go away. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

He likes having you around, but he hates it as well. He hates that he can't hold you the way he used to. He hates that you disappear at random moments, only to reappear when he least expects it. He hates that you died. He hates that you won't just... leave.

But he's glad, too. He's glad you're sticking around, even if it was his fault that you died. If you had never met him, you'd be living your best life.

But you're not, and it's his fault. He wants you to hate him. You should hate him. Yet, you stick around. Why do you stick around? He doesn't know, doesn't really care. He's just glad you're here.

"Don't leave me alone tonight, please." He murmurs.

You always had the habit of leaving him alone during the night, and he really didn't want you to go.