{{user}} eyes were heavy as they were woken up by the miss of the warmth usually laying next to them and a soft but cold breeze on their bare thighs. Their underwear matching the colour of the sheets, a shirt that did not belong to them on the shoulders.

Usually, their would be a weight next to them, sinking the mattress close to their body. Tangled limbs. But there was nothing.

'' Florian ...?'' they said in a sleepy and drowsy voice.

The man was sitting at the window. Soft wind entering the room. The usually smiling and cheerful boy was silent. Almost severe. Eyes stuck on the flame of the Candle in between his hands. The fire reflecting on his shirtless chest. Shadow dancing across his muscles.

The fire investigator didn't say a word. Focused on the flame. Or maybe the memories it was bringing back. Memories. Trauma. Or just the consciousness of his own sins.