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It's rainy next door again.
'Something' was dozing off in the warm summer sun, but its eyes snap open once hearing the sound of rain. It looks over, toward the boy next door's window.
The droplets pour down steadily on his roof. It can faintly make out the outline of the boy curled up, his knees drawn to his chest, through the closed blinds.
It can hear voices. A man and a woman's, arguing about whatever human triviality, as often happened at the boy next door's house.
'Something' closes its eyes, focusing all its senses on the boy. It can hear his sobs. It feels worry, then a sense of calm.
Because it knows that, no matter what, it'll be by the boy's side, waiting, even if it's just like this.
It leans its head against the window frame, allowing the sun to light up its face. Still focusing its senses on the boy, it dozes off with a smile to the sound of his sobs.
Tomorrow is another day, after all.
It's sunny next door again.
The boy lifts his head off his pillow. He's been sleeping too much lately, he thinks. The case is damp from catching the droplets he only lets fall here.
He's used to that.
His room is dark, but just a sliver of sunlight peeks through the blinds. He knows the 'something' that's out there, but looking through is a bad idea, or so says the wise old lady. He's not sure if she's that wise, but she's wiser than him for sure, at least.
He wants to open the window, but grief holds him back. He can't even place his fingertips on the glass without feeling that once-was boy's presence, the one so untouchable yet dearer to him more than anything else.
He raises his hand, but it drops down to his blanket right after. He shifts to sit against the wall and try to at least sense the 'something' next door's presence.
It's warm and soothing, like the waves on a hot summer day's beach. It's of pure mirth, like eating watermelon and laughing with a dear friend. Reminiscent of simpler days.
He closes his eyes and lets the feeling wash over him.
Two somewhat younger boys are laughing. The boy watches them.
One is a little taller than the other, but the other makes up for it with his enthusiasm.
They're running through a sunflower field, or barefoot with beach sand between their toes. Or they're static and playing make-believe, or sitting down and enjoying a good popsicle. The boy's not sure, because all the memories just blur together.
All he knows is that they're having fun, and that he wishes it could have been like this forever.
His eyes snap open. The familiar drops of rain beginning to pour down onto his roof mirror the ones that steadily roll down his cheeks.
It was just a dream.
'Something' is feeling nostalgic.
It grabs a picture book. A beloved, precious picture book, one that doesn't belong to it. And it knows that, but the contents are so lovely either way. It opens it and begins flipping through those memories.
It sees the boy next door alongside the boy that once was. He looks so happy. Both of them do.
It lifts its gaze to the window. It's raining next door again. Not surprising. It can tell the boy was reminiscing too, yet those memories seem to bring him pain rather than happiness.
It wonders why that is. And it hopes that, maybe one day, he can face those memories, and with a fond smile.
It knows the boy can't hear his hope, but it wishes this anyway.
'Something' shifts so it's sitting right in front of the open window, so if the boy ever dares to peek outside, he can see that it's waiting for him.
Its gaze drifts back down to the picture book, focusing on the boy's younger self's expression. A boyish smile.
Its expression subconsciously shifts to mirror that.
Today, it's cloudy rather than rainy.
The boy's eyes take a bit to open as usual, but he sits up startled when he realizes the lack of pitter-patter against the roof of his house. The blinds are still closed, but there's more sunlight filtering in than usual.
He wonders if it's the 'something' next door's doing.
No, that's not right. Did the wise old lady not say that that 'something' was dangerous?
He stares at the blinds in silence. The boy's gaze slowly drifts to the edge of his bed. For once, he doesn't see that familiar, perfect silhouette staring back and wearing a blaming smile. He's still there, of course. It's hard to let go of him.
But he's facing away. Allowing him to choose on his own this time.
The boy takes a shaky breath in.
He turns back to the window. He remembers the old lady's words. This isn't wise. He lifts his hand anyway. He draws up the blinds and winces at the sudden light. Even with the unfamiliar sunlight blinding him, he manages to open the window.
He sees 'something' smiling patiently at him. Even if it's supposed to mirror the boy that once was's smile, it feels utterly different. Free of any worries. Truthful.
He gives a similar smile back, the best he can manage.
'Something' holds its hand out invitingly. He hesitates, but reaches out and places his palm in that 'something's'.
The touch is warm.
Even though he closes his eyes, he can feel the skies clearing up.
Everything will be okay.