star children // {daeron - alyn} frankel
Nov 13, 2017 11:04:12 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 13, 2017 11:04:12 GMT -5
ALYN AGNES
The stars shine brighter than the night before, in full lucidity, silver sequins yawning down at him on an expanse of indigo-midnight that stretches and stretches. The clouds still hide comet-tails, the skies still veil star-streaked patterns but it’s beautiful enough for him to leave the company of his bedroom and surreptitiously walk out the front door, leap over a threshold.
Outside is welcoming, an inchoate winter with soft snow.
He clings onto his bed-clothes, breathing out white fog as his feet tread leisurely on a similar cobbled path. Remnants of dinner gurgle from within his stomach—it was toasted bread with butter, Agnes’s least favorite set for a meal—but he suppresses it down, fixates on the road and the dim, yellow streetlights, picturing his face in the void of his mind.
These days, he’s been thinking too much, too far.
Meaningless thoughts swarming in the head over how the future’s going to be, over the adversities that are sure to come his way. And, this stage of contemplation transitions into a stage of fright, which further proceeds to a stage of darker considerations. Always been the over thinker, always been the false sage. It’s a vicious cycle that he sees no end to.
He and Daeron. Two names craved in a tree, framed by a heart drawn using a dagger. The personal sun for the petals of his heart. It's always been Agnes and Daeron until it is no more. He's never questioned their bond, never dares to and never plans to. Like puzzle pieces, they complete each other.
But, lately, the surfaces of their paradise has been bleak and riddled with grey clouds. No more sun, no more blue skies.
It began as empty threats, hollow ridicules, childish mockery and even though mother always teach him to not fall prey to these kinds of behaviors, it's difficult to resist the dark appetite to reciprocate, to retort. There's a snake on the branch of his tree body and it's telling him to indulge in those desires.
A sudden rush of cold wind hits like a drizzle of rain to his face, dragging him out of a state of stasis and he almost loses his footing over a stray rock. Hands desperately pulls at his shirt, veins tingling a plea for shelter. Somehow, his thoughts has made the night colder than it needs to be.
Yellow fluorescent light ahead signaled Daeron's house, spilling into view like dawn cracking out of the night's horizon. Alyn trails along a fuchsia-strewn path, trampling weeds and dried grass beneath his brown boots, breathing softly into the night, trying his best to not be spotted.
The side of the house brings Daeron's window to full view and his fingers reach down for the pebbles scattered near his feet. He fidgets with it for a split second, struck in a moment of consideration and indecisiveness, before flinging a small pebble at the windowpane.
“Daeron.” He cups his hands around his mouth, using it like a megaphone, softly calling in the dead of night.
