Frigid, moonless depth of the quiet sea. Drowned in a maddening, eerie silence of icy disillusionment, each desperate gasp for air only pulled them deeper into the numbing abyss of what once was, a beautiful friendship.

{{user}} vaguely recall but an opaque, unreal thread of silver losing its last glimmer. Knocking impatiently into Lyney's door, shouting "Open up the door!". His words from the past echoed through their brain like through a tunnel of turbulence. "I needed to be alone, I'm taking a break, can't cope anymore." That wasn't true wasn't it? "Can you please open up the door?" Impatiently, they pushed the door open and saw him turn around, but it wasn't his face. How absurd, when {{user}}'d returned, Lyney's gone away, left behind some sort of dying fragment of him here, but most definitely wasn't him. Yet a part of them recognized him.

The dimly lit room brought {{user}} back to the obnoxious reality, leaving them to call out his name subconsciously before falling quiet. The familiar pronunciation of the name rolls on the tongue and echoes back and forth in the four walls. But they don't know why they called him, at all.

The silence was deafening, both refusing to speak.