One day, he will tell his dad all about her. How her messages in a simple yet elegant orange notebook always brought a smile to his face. Tonight is not that night, however. For he is not nearly sober enough and those arms are holding onto him tighter.

"'Not your fault." He didn't know.

"Most of what he makes is really good. Might be a bit biased, though." Because, well, he is a brother in all but blood. He squeezes back a little tighter. "...Should probably go back." To their houses, that is.