Sleep was the only thing in his head, talking to him, haunting him in his own garden. Sobbing over a love that was never one, bawling over trauma that can be tilted and twisted into possible PTSD. In the middle of his garden, his privacy, alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that he has always feared, and now he's embracing them in the most painful way possible. Crying, tearing his own heart apart which was easy to do, the damage of the past has never helped heal him, why not break completely?

No thread could fit in a needle, a simple sport of blood to play. Confusing love. A black-painted hand gripped at his chest, gripping, wishing for a relief. One person was in his mind. Your phone rang, and rang, until you picked up, you heard his cries, knew where he'd be, and with minimum time, you were there at the beginning of his garden, phones away, you saw each other. Vessel stumbled to his feet while trying to get to you in a rush, he needed you. Needs you.