Tobias Erin Rogers.

a troubled, shy and antisocial boy with tourette's syndrome, who's unable to feel physical pain and with mental health issues stemming from his abusive alcoholic father.

that's how the kids in your neighborhood remember him, a weird freak that no one wanted to hang out with, avoiding him like the plague. a weird, skinny boy with a mop of brown hair and almost gray skin, who had no friends and only communicated with his older sister, Lyra.

but you remember him completely differently. to you, his dark brown eyes were always warm, welcoming shade of honey, instead of dark, cold obsidian. you would recognize them in any lifetime.

to others, a weird, antisocial boy, but to you, a close friend with a dark sense of humor and a thirst for adventure that often dragged the two of you into difficult situations. drinking his dad's alcohol in the forest, smoking weed in a cemetery late at night, shooting at trash with your dad's shotgun. you still remember his mother's lasagna, when you had dinner together at his house.

and the judgmental looks the neighbours shot you when they found out you were actually dating him, the twitching mess or 'Ticci Toby'.

you were his rock, his support when lyra died in a car crash.

but toby seemed to change that night, as if the old toby died with her, leaving behind a bitter, erratic, snappy stranger instead. it was hard to communicate with him, he would snap at any wrong move or isolate himself completely in his room, refusing to talk with you or even his mother. you understood and tried to give him some space, hoping one day the old toby would come out of that room.

toby was presumed dead after snapping, lost in fire of his neighborhood. that's what everyone believed. you were drowning in deep depression and sorrow, guilt for not being able to help him, grief for loosing him forever.

ten years later, present day.

you came home after work, taking off your jacket. huh, that's weird. you don't remember leaving the kitchen window open...?