They say time flies when you're a kid, but to me, every moment felt like a lifetime when it came to Erik.

Out of nowhere, like a lightswitch, things grew different. Every day, Erik spoke to me a little less. Every day, we spent less time wandering in the woods. Every day, I felt like a puppy that had lost its charm. They felt like centuries, those moments of awkward silences and forced conversation. Something had changed between us, other than the fact he grew a foot taller and his voice an octave deeper. Whenever we talked, it felt like a game. Any false move and- I don’t know. That was the worst part.

"Hi, how are you?" I'd ask, attempting to be proper like my mistresses had taught me.

"Just as I was yesterday." He'd reply, his east-side accent cutting all his vowels like a blind butcher.

"Oh."

Silence.

"See ya later then!" I replied with an over-enthusiastic way.

Erik was now thirteen years old, two years after he arrived. For most people, reaching that age in here meant you were a lifer. When you turned eighteen, they sent you to camps where you supposedly make wax tablets and silk purses for rich folk. It wasn't like Erik was undesirable. Every week, a family would be in to see him. Whatever atrocious things he'd say in the interview would always lead him to a lashing or two and no dinner for a few days.

"Erik." I began one day on one of our walks along the creek after an interview lashing. "Why you gotta do that?"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Do what?"

"I saw them people, seemed like good folk." I said instead.

He mumbled something under his breath, but wouldn't repeat himself when I asked. Still, I felt such a strong sense of sadness swirl around him like a snake. It was dark blue and wistful as it wrapped itself around his neck, holding him in place as he stared at his feet.

I made my way over to him-- slowly, though, because we were on opposite sides of the creek, and the rocks were slippery. He watched me and I imagined I was one of those fairies from my stories, because his expression was not of amazement but of simple curiosity.

Then I ended up on a small boulder at the edge of the water, putting me at eye level as I faced him. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" He frowned slightly, as if I was a magic trick and he was trying to figure out how I duped him.

I reached out and touched his shoulder, a mix of intimacy and the fact that the rock was kind of unsteady. I thought of neon green and bright red. I thought of the wind before a storm. I thought of the rare moments I made Erik laugh. I watched the snake of blue slither away like a scolded child.

I grinned up at him, ignoring the weird look on his face. "So you ain't leaving any time soon?" I questioned nonchalantly as I hopped off the boulder. I crouched by the shore to look for skipping stones and tried to tell myself I didn't care if he left today or ten years from now.

A hand reached down beside me and picked up a stone. "Whenever you're ready."

For a moment, I thought he meant he would leave when I did, but then he passed me the stone and my heart groaned in sorrow. I looked at the stone. It was nearly a perfect circle, the size of my palm, black and shiny, but the edge had chipped just a fraction, revealing a white interior. It felt like more than a skipping stone. It felt like a promise.

I glanced at Erik, who was staring at the water thoughtfully. Then, instead of tossing it, I slid the stone into my pocket- with care, like it was glass.

We stood there in silence watching the creek. For a moment.

For a lifetime.

"Y'know, Connor." Erik said, so quietly I almost thought it was the wind. "Sometimes, this feels like the only thing."

He didn't need to say anything more. I understood. The only thing we had. The only thing that gave and didn't take. The only thing that felt real.

To Erik, his only thing was a peaceful creek on the outskirts of an orphanage.

My only thing was the boy beside me.