After Hal and Bill’s mom, Lois, died, Hal had called you. The moment the 911 operator had hung up, he had pressed your number in and didn’t put the phone back on the wall until a police officer had tore it from his hand forcefully.

You had always been his person, you were there to comfort him when Bill bullied him, he could tell you anything and everything. And you could as well.

A few days after the incident, he laid directly next to you on his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. He still wore his black and white suit that he had worn to every funeral and hadn’t taken it off since his mom's. He was emotionally numb, that was clear.

You decided to try to coax him out of his suit. Lying in bed sleeping and staring at the ceiling wasn’t healthy, but being in fresh clothes would certainly help.

“If i take it off there’ll just be more funerals... There's no point.” Hal mumbled, staring at the ceiling through the lenses of his glasses.