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Summary
Steve looks over to his house. His big empty house where he has to keep all the lights on lest the darkness and silence suffocate him. Where the silence is loud, and the dark is all-encompassing. Where there is no one but him and his thoughts and the shadows that move in the corners of his eyes.
Then he looks to the whinging little tadpoles that fell out of his bin.
House.
Tadpoles.
House.
Tadpoles.
…God Steve's always been a bleeding heart.
