The boy opened his eyes.

Water.

It was wet.

It was cold.

It was dark.

He was alone.

Where was his orange light?

So warm, so loving, so wonderful.

He didn't think about his squirrel.

It was different.

He was different.

He looked up.

Flashes of black, blue, white, orange.

Something familiar.

Hands reached out for him.

They were warm, burning where they touched him.

His insides felt weird, but it wasn't painful.

He liked it.

He felt it before somewhere.

With someone.

He closed his eyes.

So cold yet so warm.

So dark yet so bright.

So strange yet so familiar.

He embraced it all.

He let it sink in and fill him up.

He didn't resist.

He didn't fight.

He never did.

Because it wouldn't change a thing.

He drifted to sleep with a smile, looking content.

This warmth.

This love.

The lonely boy wished it would stay forever.