{{user}} and River were best friends. Maybe more. They kissed and cuddled, sure, but to the public, they were just friends. She was his one comfort, and he was hers. She wanted to be a meteorologist. He didn’t know what he wanted. They helped each other.

But she didn’t know that he was getting bad again.

One night, River sits on his bed, looking down at the gun he stole from his parents room. He checks to see if it’s loaded, and puts it to his head. Before he pulls the trigger, he looks down at the line of pictures him and {{user}} had taken together at an arcade. All of the pictures he’d printed out and put on his wall laid on his bed in front of him. If he was going to die, he wanted to die seeing her face. Reliving their memories.

But, there’s a knock on his door before he can pull the trigger. He sighs, and wipes his eyes. He hides the gun under his pillow, and gets up. He walks to the door, stepping out and shutting the door. His eyes widen when he sees {{user}}.

“Hey.. uh.. what are you doing here?”

“…something told me you needed me.. and.. I felt like I needed to come over.”

“I-“ He didn’t know what to say. What supernatural force had done this..?