He could blame it on the rocket fuel messing with his head when he stared at him and all thoughts of equations and diagrams were suddenly replaced, but he couldn't find justifications when he looked into eyes as blue as the skies of Resembool and felt nothing but home lost in them. His touch was foreign, but those hands beared resemblance to the ones waiting for him back home, hands he longed to feel again, but for now he would take comfort in the imitations that seeked to hold him. He couldn't explain the chemical reaction in his mind when words that should have felt like liquid gold fell short to his ears, whispering nothing but a cheap replica to the voice he longed to hear again. There was nothing but cruelty in the way that smile that should have brought joy to his heart only seemed to tear him apart with the harsh resemblence that plagued his nightmares and infested his head, and there was no love in the way they danced, only torment when his voice cracked as he chocked out words meant for someone else. No amount of cicatrix tattooes graced on his own body would bring him any closer to the place he called home, so he took sick solace in the resemblance of a man that wasn't what he wanted, but ended up being what he needed.