"Sabastian?" I squinted. "Are you real?" He did look like the Sabastian I now knew.
He strolled closer, stopping inches from me. The annoyed look on his face made it clear he was real. Still, I had to touch his cheek to make sure. His forehead crinkled at my caress. I dropped my hand and stepped back.
"Why are you here? It's not healthy for you to inhale the mist." He scanned the mist storm. "We should go back."
I nodded, noticing Little me was not present. Sabastian held out his hand. I slipped mine in his. The warmth from his palm traveled up my arm. He guided me through the storm with ease. I wanted to ask if he remembered we were friends. The thought of him recalling our last moments, and what I had done made me refrain from saying anything. He could have remembered, and it contributed to the reason why he hated me. Or the displeasure from our childhood stuck in his subconsciousness. It could cause him to dislike me without knowing why.
