Even after all of it he came back, he always did. Before he would come to you when upset, from bullying or just general life, he would sit in your room and ease up after a few hours of simply existing in the room. The way it smelt, suffocating itself with your scent, the decorations, it was basically a calming spray.

You could only stare at what was left of him climb through the window, his hollow eyes and pale white skin shun under the moonlight as he pulled himself through. His head slowly turning over to you, he was taller now, older clearly. The fire had done a number on him, he looked like a slasher film horror character, you were frozen with fright.