{R E V E R I E} [stare]

Adrift.

The first word that crossed his mind as he studied the girl. Her mind was elsewhere, an infinite miles between their two minds. They were in their own mental seas, adrift in endless seas of thought, because as bitter little drops of crimson streaked their way across her face, her lips made a tiny little curve of happiness. He feel his  forehead, surprised to find a tiny little mountain forming in the center. Rutger smile back at the girl of emerald, thinking of a tiny little expedition attempting to climb the tiny bump atop his head. (We're a million miles apart.)

"Hello broken boy."

Eyes narrow as he study the girl. He isn't not broken. He's not shattered. He is whole. It's her who has cracked, with her nose still dripping scarlet life. He is entirely Rutger, no one else. Not broken, but infinite, because I am the god of endless kingdoms, boundless subjects, and interminable worlds.

His small upward curve wobbles, but remains in the end, for her viridescent eyes do not yet speak of cruelty. Though Rutger thinks she may be mistaken, he is quiet. Mommma taught him that correcting some one is considered rude. He used to always have to correct grownups when they would say ridiculous lies. "Monsters aren't real Rutger," "Yes they are. I know it! Don't you see them?" "No, Rutger now stop with this nonsense!" 

And with a start he realizes his mind had taken him on a journey, leaving him only vaguely aware of her words."Don't worry, though, you don't have to care. Most people don't."

His mouth opens partly, staring at the broken girl before him, her nose still flowing in a tiny river of life. He wants to correct her. I care. I care. I care. The creatures inside him, the ones trapped in the locker behind us care, and those yet to be created, they all care. He cares. Only monsters don't care, for they are void of concern, void of humanity. But Rutger has morals.

"I care. I always care," his voice is soft, a tender breeze in an attempt to tell the girl of platinum and emerald that he was here, and he would care endlessly. But its carried of by the wind nymphs, and he can only hope she heard it.

"Do you, um... do you have a tissue? Not one of those pretty drawings, though. I liked those." 

His heart tumbles, tripping over its feet as it plunges to his stomach. She saw the drawings. She saw the sketches. She saw him. But she didn't run, she didn't hide, nor laugh in disbelief. So few see him and do not react in surprise. A fellow dreamer. She wasn't a monster. She was human. 

Though she didn't act it, she was a dreamer, her own words encased behind an aura of indifference. (But they exist) 

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small packet of tissues to help her little stream of blood. He held them out in a limp hand, lost in thought as he imagined a world where the princess had a face, where some one else could join him in the land of the free. Suddenly his face broke into the goofiest of smiles, engrossed in the idea of a companion to his imaginary journeys. Perhaps it was the fates that caused his large head to bang into this particular girl.

"Here you go. I'm Rutger."

As a child he learned what parallel lines were. Though they were the same, they were separated by an infinite number of points. Rutger and this girl were parallel lines. Though they lived different lives, and though they were clearly different, they were the same in their core. Her eyes betrayed the her attempt at blandness, for she had a heart of imagery, and a mind of wonder. She was trapped in this hollow world of monsters. He was suddenly determined to make her coincident, bring her back into the world of color.

"I'm glad you like them. No one else does, but I just wish they could be real. I mean..." He paused, trying to piece together just what to say, "I just want run away, be something else."

With a toothy grin he added, "I think you understand."

No escape from reality.

Mama told me not to talk to strangers.

Back when his head only reached knees, and his imagination was garden-variety, his mothers large eyes looked down upon his upturned face, and spoke warnings of evil men and wicked women who would whisk him away if he dared speak to their vile charisma. It was a bizarre thing for him to imagine strangers as something dangerous or evil, because the ones in his head were always so kind and welcoming in their own mystical ways.

This stranger was not evil, because her actions are kind and her aura tender. "I think I used to," he frowns slightly. Used to. as if she was no longer the passionate girl he imagined. But he knew she was there, deep behind a wall of normality, hiding from a world that didn't accept creativity. He would hunt for her, fight his way past brigades and partitions, and save the dreamer trapped behind a lack of self assurance.

Her small hand suddenly makes its way onto my large forehead, gently touching the miniature mountain growing there. 

"You should put something on this. It'll only hurt worse if you let it - " she sounds almost like his mother, a watchful eye over his wellbeing. Rutger smiles, a tug of comfort makings its way onto his face. 

But the bustle of the world around them catches them. Reality crashing the convention of dreamers. She's hit by the backpack of one of the boring monsters that walk amongst them, sending her into a light smack against my thin chest. He can't help but smile as he realizes this is the first, non-relative girl to touch him in years. Once they've made sense of their limbs, irritation had etched its way onto her face. Her disdain of their peers was obvious.

Another way they differed, because while he found a way to coexist with these monsters, she was struggling to hide her dislike. Over the years Rutger had adapted to living among the devils. There was a time when he couldn't stand them, a bubbling hatred of their disgusting acceptance of being bland, of being nothing but ordinary. But he had realized quickly that it wasn't their choice to become these mindless drones and his amazing worlds were confined to his mind, and his mind only. No one else in the world could construct his world. (even if they wanted to) and it was a frightening thought for the young boy whose closest thing to a friend was his mother. 

"I know a place," his ears perked at the promise of sanctuary, a place to isolate himself from these students and begin to break down her stony walls. Though it may seem strange to the observer why he would be so willing to head to a remote location with a girl he didn't even know the name of, it was obvious that they were likely to be more alike than they appeared. Yes, the lanky boy and sculpted girl were bond by a world no one else could see. "There's some water and cloth there, too. I could help you with that."

He found himself nodding profusely, eager to please the girl. Perhaps it was a bit of admiration of his mother leaking into his feelings towards her, but he found himself striving to ensure the girl didn't notice just how lost he was. 

"I think you'll like it. It's kind of like a different world."

(I can make a world by myself) Though he knows he could craft a world of his own, he does like to imagine a reality that was different than the one he lived in now.

"I think I will" he grins, a slight indicator of his excitement to be himself.

Despite his jubilance, he knew in the back of the mind he had to start to get something in return for this girl, he couldn't just give himself completely to her. He didn't even know the name, and she had already seen a side of him he hadn't shown to anyone else.

"But I can't walk with strangers," a mixture of sarcasm and seriousness, "I don't even know your name. If you want I could tell you about my worlds, I just need to get to know you first." Vulnerablity was creeping into his voice, would he dare tell her about the things she can't see? (Maybe it is important I do. Maybe it'll bring down the impenetrable fortitude surrounding her.) 

His large feet began to shuffle down the hall, letting her lead him toward her promised land. Though anxious for something different than this world, he was not ready to just give himself up to her.

"Tell me about yourself, while we walk there, cause I think your more than platinum hair and blue eyes."

No escape from reality.