Stranger | rinney

There was this point in time, a little pocket of memory that lives fuzzy and cold in finneys mind.

He's young, cheeks still round with childhood, and he's held tightly by a group of boys who love him with such force he can feel the warmth burn his skin with every touch.

He remembers moving away and crying into the arms of a boy who rubbed his back and
comforted him.

At some point he forgot their names and their faces but for some odd reason now he feels himself melt into the floor when he meets the eyes of a boy across the hall.