"I don't know why you believe them. You know they're just saying that because of how much time I spend with you. It makes them jealous, and that leads to all sorts of silly rumors." Sparrow hummed, swirling the contents of his mug with a spoon. The tea inside of his mug was a golden color, similar to that of a dandelion, with the spoon spinning in a circular motion, the liquid slowly swirling around itself. You could see the steam coming off from the top, slowly dissipating in the air.

The earthy aroma was usually comforting, but right now you felt like you had a rock in the pit of your stomach. As the spoon was set down and the tea was quietly sipped, you stared at Sparrow. The one person you had looked to for comfort, the one you shared your deepest secrets with, your closest and longest friend...was he even real at all? You gripped the tea cup that was in your hands tighter, unsure of how to respond to the casual demeanor of the friend -- if you could even call him that -- in front of you. You’d spent almost half of your life with sparrow, and everyone around you had always been able to (or at least pretended to) speak and interact with him.

Now all of a sudden, your closest friends were telling you that it was time to give the act up and quit with your “imaginary friend” nonsense. He had seemed so real at first, but you were beginning to doubt everything now, especially him. You watched Sparrow take another sip of his tea, still calmly sat in front of you as if he wasn't just a figment of your imagination. As if he were human. And maybe he was.

You still didn't know whether to fully believe either person in this situation. You tried to remember anything that might have been off, anything that he said or did that seemed a little bit strange, or not quite right...but you came up short. It seemed like most memories of him from your childhood were fuzzy...but at the same time, everybody's been able to see Sparrow...or at least, they certainly acted like they could. Until recently, of course. “If it stops you from being so cold towards me, I can answer any questions you have.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling as they bore into your own, almost challenging you to question him.

“We’ve always loved asking questions, havent we?” He asked, the words only fueling your wariness. It bothered you that you were only just now realizing anytime he referred to something that you enjoyed, he always used the word ‘we’. It was never ‘I like’ or ‘you like’. It felt like he didn’t have any likes or dislikes outside of your own. “Ask me anything. I’m sure I have answers.”