"Dave are you okay?" John asked me, eyes widening, looking into my crimson ones, "You can stop looking in the box."

I stared at what was inside longer.

"Please Dave...you're scaring me." He tried to take the box away.

"No!" I snapped, letting myself take in each detail, "Stop it. This is important."

It was his gloves, hat, and underneath it all: a journal I have never seen before.

What did I expect?

John was staring at me; I was staring in the box.

It reminded me of what happened at back then when I was first "sorted out" by the social workers. How I was alone in the apartment for a while, packing away what I wanted while looking for a reason or things Bro hid. Not this. I couldn't find what this...journal was?

"I think I gotta go to the roof to figure this out." I was now gripping the leather-bound thing in my hands, it was worn with age.

"...Why exactly?"

I looked to John, and he was confused, wide eyed, and pitiful.

"Oh shit. Not that. I gotta figure this out." I took an unsteady breath, "It's just that the roof was kinda...our thing?"

"Ok." John nodded and got up when I did, "Just wait though. I'll grab you something to eat and a blanket. It gets windy up there."

He left the room almost running, saying, "I'll be like...two minutes! Time me!"

"Sounds good." I smiled at this.

I didn't time him but stood there for a couple of seconds, still holding it.

The journal.

This new thing that made my hands spark, almost burst into flame.

Then I went upstairs to grab my shades. This crash experiment wasn't needed anymore; I needed my shades now.

I was feeling quite grim but found myself still smiling at John's silliness. His damn timing. My smile fell immediately as it came but I couldn't help but feeling a warm feeling in my chest at this caring gesture.