Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

“He’s not gone,” Wallace said. “He’s still there. Part of him still exists.
Help him, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
The boy shook his head slowly. “I’m not here to bargain with you,
Wallace. I thought you were beyond that stage already. You’re into the fabled
land of acceptance, or at least you were. Don’t backtrack on me now.”
“It’s not for me,” Wallace snapped. “It’s for him.”
“Ah,” the boy said. “Is it? What would you have me do? Cure him? He
knew the risks when he chose to leave the grounds.” He stood, wiping his
hands off on the front of his jeans. “I’m glad we’ve had this talk. It’s been a
pleasure meeting you, and believe me, that’s not something I say often.” He
grimaced. “Humans are untidy. I’d rather keep my distance if possible. It’s
easier when they agree with me, as you have.”
“I didn’t agree to anything!” Wallace cried.
The boy pouted. “Aw. Well, I’m sure you’ll come around to it. One week,
Wallace. What will you do with the time you have left? I can’t wait to find
out. Tell the others, or don’t. It doesn’t concern me either way. And don’t
worry about the health inspector. He won’t remember a thing.” The boy
tipped Wallace a jaunty salute. “See you soon.”
And then he vanished.
Wallace’s knees felt weak, loose, and he grabbed onto the railing to hold
himself up as he heard yelling come from the bottom floor below him. He
closed his eyes when Hugo began to shout his name frantically. “Here,” he
whispered. “I’m still here.”