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The deep feeling of how wrong this was did nothing to stop Hershel as he climbed up the ivy to Randall’s window. It was like he was moving mindlessly- hand, hand, foot, foot, and action he’d been through a hundred times. Open the window- left unlocked, possibly nobody had thought to lock it. Had anybody even been in Randall’s room since then? Hershel didn’t know, nor did it matter much. He slid open the window and stumbled over the sill into the room, landing haphazardly on Randall’s bed.The room seemed to be untouched. Everything was exactly in the same place as the last time Hershel had been in here months ago. The mess over his floor and desk, the horrible conspiracy board of a wall. What had Randall called it? His ‘mural of musings?’ Hershel stared at it for a moment, emotions crashing through him. He could remember it all clearly, from Randall’s reveal of the wall, their trip to Norwell, and of course the following morning…It had all happened so fast. The ruins had felt like a small eternity, but looking back at it now, that whole adventure and the day before really went by in only the blink of an eye. Hershel wished he could have prolonged it all, could have stretched out those final days into eternity. Anything to see Randall like that again, determined, excited to share his passion with the world and with his friends. It was Randall at his best… yet also at his worst.He forced his gaze away from the wall. He didn’t need to think about any of that.He shouldn’t be here at all, for that matter. Nobody knew he was here, except maybe Henry, who had seen him walk towards the Ascot house, but there wasn’t much Henry could do about that. He’d become an enemy of Mr. Ascot just as much as Hershel had.It didn’t seem fair. Not when Hershel was the one who had gone with Randall. Not when Hershel had the chance to save him, but just couldn’t do it.He got off of Randall’s bed and walked numbly to his desk. He ran a hand over it, passing over hastily scribbled notes and stacks of completed puzzles. Hershel recalled several of them- some he’d even completed himself. Something stirred in him over the fact that Randall had apparently held onto these. Not that it mattered much anymore.“Every puzzle has an answer, as you say,” Hershel mused out loud- quietly, no need to alert anybody else in the house. “I’m going to find out.”He didn’t think he could handle being in here, and by all means he shouldn’t be in here, but something prevented him from leaving. Maybe it was the way everything was perfectly preserved, mummified even, giving Hershel one final glimpse into something happier before he left forever. Or maybe it was just that, the slow realization that he would never be able to see any of this again, not after he leaves for London. He would never return to Stansbury. He knew this to be true. Even with the kind souls telling him he’d always be welcome, to stay in contact, the words all felt hollow to him. He wasn’t meant to ever return. He didn’t deserve to.So maybe he could indulge himself, on this final day.He flopped back onto Randall’s bed, sprawled out on his back, legs hanging off of the side. It was comfortable, nice. The bed smelled faintly of dust, having been untouched for so long, but if he looked past that enough he could pretend to feel the warm, happy days spent here, the fuzzy feelings of friendship, the days where everything felt alright.All just dust now.“I’m sorry, Randall,” he muttered to himself.He should leave, before someone could walk in and find him there. He couldn’t bring himself to. He was stuck there. He could only curl up, pull himself deeper into the bed, deeper into his sorrow. He wasn’t sure how long he was laying there, wallowing, until he dozed off in Randall’s bed. Hershel woke up to Henry standing above him.His heart seized, for a moment, and he scrambled up, falling not-so-gracefully off of Randall’s bed. He jumped to his feet, ready to throw out explanations, excuses, but the words died before he could even attempt to use them. What could he even say, anyways? What sort of excuse could he have to be here? At least it was only Henry, who was standing there, head tilted, face passive. Hershel couldn’t even begin to wonder what was going on through his head.“You should probably leave before Mr. Ascot sees you in here,” the other boy said simply. No questions, no accusations. Straightforward. “He won’t be happy.”What are you thinking? Hershel had to wonder. I’m the one who killed your best friend. I’m the one responsible for all of this. And I broke into his room and slept in his bed. Instead, out loud, he said, “You aren’t supposed to be here.” He mentally cringed at the words as they came out. Here he was, trespassing in a home that wasn’t his, and he was saying Henry wasn’t supposed to be here. Henry, who had lived in this house for years.But Henry barely reacted. His face remained passive, and he merely hummed in acknowledgement. “Maybe not, but I thought it would be better for both of us to keep you out of trouble. We mustn’t worry Mr. and Mrs. Ascot more than they already are.”“Yes, yes, that’s true.” Really, what was Hershel thinking? It was ridiculous to show up here, let alone fall asleep in Randall’s bed. “I’m sorry, this- it shouldn’t have happened.” How long had he been sleeping? Really, it was a miracle he hadn’t been caught by anybody else. Of course, Henry did see him go towards the Ascots’. He must have followed him when he never came back. “I leave tomorrow. I- I needed to see it all one last time. It’s all… exactly the same.”“The Ascots are prepared for Randall’s return,” Henry said. “As soon as the search parties find him, he’ll be back, and he can have his room as it was.”Hershel could find no response to Henry’s words. They’ve been through this conversation what felt like a dozen times, but neither ever seemed able to convince the other.Hershel had seen Randall fall. There’s no way he could have survived a drop of that height. He was dead. In some ways, Hershel envied Henry, and his ability to hope for the best. In other ways… he couldn’t imagine, waiting and waiting for something that would simply never occur.“Thank you for waking me, Henry,” Hershel said. It was easier to brush it all aside. “I should leave. I… still have packing to do.”Henry nodded, and they both climbed out of the window and down the ivy together- for the last time ever. They didn’t speak a single word more.