So the ocean isn't even that close to here. Yet, whenever he thinks about it, it feels as familiar as something he woke up to every morning, like he grew up there... he doesn't voice these thoughts, because they just make him more confused. Maybe he'll try to explain them later.

He glances away uncomfortably, thinking about the nature of his 'disappearance.' He starts pulling at some of his thorns again, breaking them off of his skin like a nervous twitch.

"She told me no one would notice," he says, quietly. "Because... I wasn't supposed to be here." Over the years, he started believing it. That no one would even want to look for him. After all, he'd only gone back where he'd come from.