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He's not sure how he knows this is Eliot's apartment. But he knows. He doesn't know how long he's been... there, but he's hungry, and he's cold, and his arms are scratched and scraped from struggling, feet bruised and cut to the point where even standing hurts so much.

Slowly, he reaches out. It takes him two tries to knock, rapping two knuckles a couple of times only before his hand falls again.

It's the middle of the night. It's dark, he's exhausted, and he's not sure what he's going to do if Eliot isn't home. He'd told Eliot he was going to wait. He'd promised. But that place wasn't a home. It wasn't a place he wanted to be without Eliot. Eliot would take him in, still, right? Would he be upset?

Briar sighed and sagged as the door remained shut. He brought a hand to his head and when it came away, there was a little green shoot of some sort of plant tangled around his fingers, delicate leaves growing larger in front of his eyes. He stares at the little plant, then finally lowers his hand completely. All he can do is wait, and if Eliot doesn't open the door soon, he'll just sit down and wait. He wasn't going back to the orphanage - even if he knew the way, he couldn't walk all that way.

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Briar Moss

March 2017

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