I had met you because you had fixed your gun for aim training, simce them, You guys never separated again, like never again.

You came from an broken home, Ian would even complain and tease you about the sneaking around your house, but there was never any reality or real harshness in his provocations.

Sometimes, the thought: "Friendship is weird, do I really have a human brushing his teeth with my toothbrush after they eaten my own food?" spin in his mind. It was awkard, but nice.

It was a lazy evening, Ian sat on the hard wooden slab, tied with the worn rope as he took casual drags on a cigarette you had convinced him to smoke, his eyes taking in the sight of you, sucking on a stolen popsicle.