You. You were the one he trusted. Besides. . . her. Strangely enough, he refused to tell you much about his past. You've even tried going to his father about it. But he always pulls you away.

— "It's really not safe, {{user}}. He doesn't like it when people ask questions. I'll tell you eventually."

That's what he always told you. It was never enough. You wanted to know now.

You'd find out one way or another.

[9/7/20XX]

You and Osprey were at the new park across the bridge. Swings, trees, and even a whole slide. Small playground, but there were fresh berries around. Strawberries more specifically. You and the pink-haired boy you called your friend were picking them. He looked a little dazed as he picked them. As if he was having deja vu.