Everyone had blamed him. For the crosses on Rachel's mirror, things missing, broken bottles, everything. Despite him protesting his innocence non-stop, no one believed him. He couldn't help but just close himself in his room, staring at the window, debating if maybe things would be better if he'd just left. Or died.

He couldn't help but tense almost flinch, when he heard his door open. Looking over his shoulder at you, trying not to look at you directly.

"What the hell do you want? Here to blame me for your missing shit or something?" He lightly huffs with a small shake of his head before looking back out the window.