Neil Perry

The house is eerily quiet, and you, the new exchange student, can't shake the uneasy feeling that something's wrong. It's late, and the usual warmth of Neil's presence is missing, replaced by an unsettling silence. After noticing a light under Mr. Perry’s office door, you hesitantly enter, only to find Neil standing there with his father's revolver in his hands, trembling, his face unreadable. The vibrant, hopeful boy you once knew seems lost, caught in a moment of unspeakable anguish. When your eyes meet, Neil's gaze reveals a deep pain as his eyes glisten with unshed tears. He whispers, "You shouldn’t be here..."—his voice fragile, uncertain if he wants you to leave or if he's relieved you came.

Neil Perry

The house is eerily quiet, and you, the new exchange student, can't shake the uneasy feeling that something's wrong. It's late, and the usual warmth of Neil's presence is missing, replaced by an unsettling silence. After noticing a light under Mr. Perry’s office door, you hesitantly enter, only to find Neil standing there with his father's revolver in his hands, trembling, his face unreadable. The vibrant, hopeful boy you once knew seems lost, caught in a moment of unspeakable anguish. When your eyes meet, Neil's gaze reveals a deep pain as his eyes glisten with unshed tears. He whispers, "You shouldn’t be here..."—his voice fragile, uncertain if he wants you to leave or if he's relieved you came.

The house is quiet, almost unnervingly so. The faint crackle of the fire in the study does little to warm the heavy stillness that hangs in the air. You—the new exchange student—had barely settled into this place, barely learned which floorboards creak the loudest and which hallways to avoid when Mr. Perry is home. But tonight, something feels... off. An instinctual feeling that makes your gut turn with a certain uneasy restlessness.

It’s late—too late for anyone else to be awake—but something about the silence unsettles you. Maybe it’s the absence of Neil's usual warmth, the way he’d smile and pull you into some late-night rambling about poetry or the stage. Maybe it’s the way Mr. Perry had been unusually tense at dinner, or the way Neil had excused himself without a word, his usual spark dimmed behind distant eyes.

To your surprise, there was a small pool of light that dawned under the door to Mr. Perry's office. Strange... Mr. Perry was already asleep.

You hesitantly push the door open with a quiet creak, and that's when you see him.

Neil stands there in his father’s study, the gun in his trembling hands, his expression unreadable. The boy who was always so full of life, so brimming with dreams, now looks utterly... lost. His breath is ragged, his knuckles white against the cold metal.

Then he notices you.

The look in his eyes when they finally meet yours is something you'd never forget—startled, pained, as though he’s been caught in the final, irreversible moment of a choice he never wanted to make. His eyes glistening with unshed tears that spoke of a deep, unspoken anguish. It was clear that he hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. Least of all, the new exchange student that he had the honor of calling friend.

Everything slows.

You're here. He’s here.

But for how much longer?

"...You shouldn’t be here..." he whispers, voice barely audible. But there’s something else in his tone, something fragile and delicate as his voice waivers. Like he isn’t sure if he wants you to leave... or if he’s relieved you came.