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tw// implied death I think?
"It's cold. Cold and loud. People's running around, Halloween around the corner. It's always so messy during this season, he hates it. People dresses up as things, monsters they say, and they think it's funny. But there's a kid dressed up as a vampire, fangs in sight as he hisses at his friends; and another one is a witch, big pointy hat and cape dead give away of her attempt to resemble one. And there's a small girl too running down the sidewalk, with ears and a tail and claws out like a werewolf. Monsters, in deed.
Chris is walking down the street too, hood on, hands inside his pockets. It's a poor attemp to stay warm, he knows, but it's better than just staying cold. The boy feels weird, unsettled, overly aware. His head aches, he thinks. It feels like it. Looking down, he can't really control what he's doing, his feet moving on their own guiding him somewhere, anywhere. He knows to keep a low profile, especially now. He isn't sure how he knows, but he knows. Things have been happening, he heard around he guesses? People's going missing, hunters have been seen around- Yes. Thats it. No one's certain of what's going on (or maybe no one wants to say it) but whatever it is, you're better safe than sorry. You keep a low profile and you pretend. Chris looks up as his stomach grumbles, the smell of some freshly made pumpkin pie making its way to him as he walks past a bakery.
His reflection stares back on the window, but its not himself who's standing on his place.
In just a second the boy is standing in the woods, the strong smell of something burning replacing the once sweet pie that lingered around him. Here it's hot, but louder, and his eyes water as the place he once called home catches on fire in front of him. Screams so loud his ears could bleed, he watches helplessly as one by one a group of men hunts down his former pack. He watches helplessly as the betas attack back. He watches helplessly as the kids scream, the omegas cry.
He watches helplessly, from the woods, safe and sound."
Chris looks into the mirror in front of him, the dim light of his bathroom illuminating his restless face and allowing him to take note or the bags under his eyes. If it's true he never sleeps much anyway, this season really does take a toll on him. Having struggled to keep his eyes closed for more than an hour the entire week, the omega washes his face once again in an attempt to wake himself up. Small drops of water frame his face and fall into the sink below him, the cold having, yet again, successfully failed at helping him clear his mind at all. The dream replays over and over inside his head, like an old tape that doesn't make it past the same few seconds and haunts you no matter how much you smack it in just the right place. He's given up on calling the events nightmares anymore, by now having grown numb to the memories. Or so he likes to tell himself.
Venus waits patiently on the couch, curled up on the warm spot the wolf left behind as he made his way to the bathroom some minutes ago, and she purrs gently as he approaches. It's like she knows, maybe she does, and so the boy crouches down, gently petting the feline behind her ears the way she likes.
"Glad to know one of us is having a good day at least, hm? I'm guessing you don't wanna go out with me then? Yeah... I wouldn't want to either."
It's a new habit he's acquired, talking to the cat as if she would ever answer back to him. She does somehow anyway, with her little sounds, the wagging of her tail. Chris has grown to understand her, just like she understands him. if it was just that easy all the time...
It's sunset when Chris hops into his car, heading out of the house for the first time the entire day. He's going nowhere really, but driving regardless. The memories hang heavy on his heart, heavier than usual- It's just the date, he knows it. It'll be over soon and he can pretend everything's alright once again. But right now he just needs to go away, as far as he can, he aches, and he craves the quiet. He craves the clear skies and the fresh air and the empty spaces. It's not until he reaches the beach that he stops, sun almost gone and car parked carelessly in the parking lot as he walks along the shore. It's a cold autumn evening, no one really come this far in this kind of weather, let alone at this time. He sits down when he feels away enough, alone enough, safe enough.
And there he breaks down.
It's heartbreak. Raw and pure. There's things in life you never get over, there's things you never forget. There's some memories that will forever remain intact, time can't break them, can't stain them, can't erase them. Some are good memories, there's no doubt. But more often than not it's heartbreak. It's hurt. It's the ache in your heart as if a piece of it was ripped from you with dirty hands. It's unpleasant, terribly frustrating, an agonizing kind of pain, salt water sneaking into an open wound, a paper cut in between your fingers. It's losing a home, it's having your pillars crumble down, it's losing stability, it's being killed in life. More often than not it's heartbreak, and all you have left to do it's cry.
Cry it out. Shout it out.
Where no one can see and where no one can watch because there's nothing anyone can do ever to fill the void, to fill the missing part. Sometimes all you have left is to cry and learn to be broken.
Chris is unsure how much time has passed by the time his eyes run dry, tears no longer showering his cheeks even though his body continues to shake helplessly as the empty sobs keep hitting his body. His hands are cold, numb almost, and his body stiff. It takes him a minute longer, some of them actually, but he gathers himself back together. The moon shines down upon him, peeking almost, watching curiously as the boy walks back to his car. The clock inside the vehicle marks hours past midnight as he finally turns it on, and with one last shaky sigh he begins to drive back.
He isn't sure where he's heading, mind on autopilot as he focuses on clearing out his eyes, keeping his attention on the road. Scared, alone, he isn't sure where to go. The city lights almost blinds him, as he grows closer they grow stronger, the sounds of the night alive keeping him on edge as he tries to find his way somewhere. Anywhere safe. Anywhere warm. It's his sensory overload, everything growing too much. Things are hazy, and even though he feels lost, he walks out of his car.
Chris isn't sure how he made it there at all, he certainly can't make out anything the woman is saying to him as he walks out the elevator, but there's one thing he knows for certain. There's memories that remain intact. Some are good memories, there's no doubt- And it's the way Irene's arms wrap around his body, the gentle touch of her soft hands on his face as she guides him to her neck, it's the lingering of her scent, so unmistakably hers, and the soft timbre of her voice murmuring against his ear that makes him remember, understand, realize: This is safe. This is warm. And this is home now.
