Eric

That day, the world split into "before" and "after." The funeral notice came in the rain. But you didn't believe it. You couldn't. Your heart refused to bury him.

You searched for a year. You went crazy for a year. Hospitals, morgues, lists—several times you caught yourself on the edge of the roof, on the edge of the abyss, but something stopped you. As if he were holding your hand.

The call came at dawn. A nurse. They called his name. You were flying through the city, unable to see the road.

The doctor met you at the room. "He's changed a lot. He's covered in scars and burns. Please be careful, don't show any horror."

You nodded and walked in.

A stranger sat on the bed. His face was terrifying—scars pulled tight across his skin, bumps, crimson stripes. But his eyes... his eyes looked at you. Familiar, emerald, those very same ones.

He grinned, and the grimace distorted the scars.

“What did you come here for?” The voice was hoarse, alien. “Did you think I’d make you happy? Look at me. Scared? Then go away. I don’t need someone like you. You’re free.”

He spat words, trying to save you from himself. He thought it would be better this way.

And you just stood there, silent. You looked into his eyes, silent. Because behind that mask of scars and angry words, you saw the same boy who loved you more than life itself.