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"Are you sure you don't need me to stay?" Christian asked.

Henry shook his head, a calm and yet worried smile on his lips. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

"Call if something happens, okay?"

The two of them spoke as Michael sat in his room, which was close enough to the living room for him to hear their conversation. He fidget with with his thumbs, rolling them around as he blankly stared down in the darkness of the room; the white moonlight sneaking in through the windows.

"I will" Henry nodded "Have a good night, Christian. And thanks again for the help, I'm sure Michael appreciated that."

"It was no problem. Goodnight"

After the last greetings and the sound of the door closing, everything was silent again. Then, the sounds of slow footsteps approaching Michael's room.

"Why do you always stay in the dark?" Henry turned on the lights, Mike squeezed his eyes and tensed up after snapping out of his thoughts.

"Because I like it better that way. I feel more comfortable." He answered and groaned, hating the sudden brightness of the lamp, then glared towards the man as the bed produced a squeaky noise -probably due to the rusty springs- while he sat.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"You know it doesn't." He avoided eye contact, either looking at the floor or facing somewhere else, as if he was searching nervously for another topic to talk about.

"I'm sorry, it's instinctive... Can you tell me what happened back there now?"

"I told you. I don't remember, I fell in the dark or something."

"With your sight? In the darkness? Weren't you 'comfortable'?"

"I was... distracted. I felt dizzy and fell, that's all."


"Henry, I don't know!" Mike suddenly lost his patience, groaning and turning around, his glass eyes locked on him and a frown on his face.

The man tensed up, a shiver running through his spine. He almost felt like his heart had skipped a beat, and he wanted to instinctively grab Mike by his troath and make him pay for something he didn't do. Instead, he just gripped the blankets and clenched his fists around them.

"...Henry? I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to raise my voice."

There was no answer.

"...Henry?" Michael repeated.

"I'm sorry for insisting, but" He cleared his troath and adjusted his glasses, releasing the blanket "But I learnt to never let my guard down in these years. Mike, whatever happened in there, I don't think we should ignore it."

The male took a moment to understand the weird reaction of Henry, but, giving up on trying, he simply went back to the conversation.

"I know what you're thinking. You think he's coming back, don't you? Well, what do you want me to do to prove you he's not? Go back to the pizzeria and look for his corpse?" Michael laughed it off in an awkward way, as if he immediately regret bringing up that topic and wanted to make it less dramatic.

"Precisely." Henry stared, the other paused.

"...Are you serious?"

"I'm sorry but... I have a bad feeling about all of this. If we find proof that he's dead, then I promise you I'll never talk about it again, unless you want to of course."

With a sudden move, Michael stood. "I'm /not/ going back there! I'd rather burn alive. Look, we saw him die with our own eyes! He's gone! The only thing left of him are probably bones by now!"

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