Sure, the white streak was a little odd. But you could definitely excuse that. What you couldn't excuse was him being there in the first place.

When you'd first opened the door he'd come out with a stuttered, but practiced, speech and explanation. On what had happened, why he'd waited so long, how much he missed you. But, on seeing your reaction, he fell into the same dumbfounded silence as well. Both of you had, at some point, assumed you wouldn't see the other again.

He stepped forward, a little more into the light so you could see the new shape of his body, the muscles he never had as a boy, the scars, the fear in his eyes.

"I promise I wanted to come. But I didn't want to burden you with," He paused and gestured to himself. "All this." His eyes traced your face. "Please say something."