Ignorance, My Bliss [37-38/? ]
Update behind the cut! Enjoy everyone, and thanks for sticking with me~ X3
The answers he sought were right in front of him.
Concealed in plain sight, overlooked by his too-trusting nature-his child-like nature.
It is not your fault you are so ignorant, that you are such a child-
They were there, waiting, watching in sick amusement as he ran in circles, thought process too linear, too shallow.
Deeper, the answers murmured, giggling, laughing, Go deeper.
Don’t cry, little one.
A beautiful sunset, the driving storm, cold, colder floors and hot, hotter tears-not quite smiles smudged over with dirtied handprints and the glare of the sun, memories dripping into focus like the rain he tried to remember.
I thought-I thought they really l-loved me-
And they did, oh, dear, precious, little Alfred; so naïve, so arrogant, ever reaching among the stars for dreams that surpassed the heavens. They loved him like an addict loves his fix, like a broke man loves money (In other news, the rate of home foreclosures increased by-), something they hated (“why isn’t he mine”), but needed.
“What’s taking so long?”
And they’ll tear you down, build you up, and throw you away, because you are nothing to them-
No.
Not deep enough.
Not good enough.
Go.
Deeper.
You’d be surprised what people do to make the pain go away.
There was not quite reality, not quite awareness; it got darker as he kept on, desperate for his answer, memories becoming real as the scent of blood saturated the air, lungs pained with breathlessness, the feel of the mud in his fingers as he collapsed, sobbing, gasping, what had he done-
W-why is this happening to me?
No; that wasn’t the right direction. The answers knew it, and so did he; go past it, that which makes you afraid, those rememberings you shudder to touch. Oh, Alfred-
Alfred-Alfred-
It’s right there; it’s so clear; go-
D
E
E
P
E
R
“Go watch the others-I am a man of my word.”
“Haha, ve, I’m not worried~”
why-why-
Time tick tocked backwards, slowly, painfully, memories playing out like damaged film clips, skipping, dripping with sepia and flecks of black and white; the pieces were all in place, scrambled, jumbled like his mind, blurred with heat, painfully aware of the hurt but unable to do anything about it.
Because you deserve it-because everyone must pay a price-
You’re getting clo-ser-
- I was watching
Something was wrong, like the film wouldn’t play, smacking against the projector viciously in protest, because it wouldn’t-would not- believe the images so dutifully preserved.
- if there was one thing he was, he was patient
“You will be letting me play with him first, Да?” The darkness was becoming harder to maintain; someone was touching him, cool skin against a flushed brow. “He burns-there is fire left, yet.”
He doesn’t belong to you.
He wouldn’t believe it, no; it was the one pillar, the one thing he could count on: he wouldn’t give it away to fever-dreams and desperation. They both deserved better than that.
Tell me what happened that night-
“It would be no fun if the fire didn’t burn a little, non? Danger excites the palate-whets the taste.”
-his grip was surprisingly firm, assured, because he was assured-
He was being pulled away from the deep, too soon to reach the needed realization, to put all the pieces together; awareness was coming hard, fast, because time flows straight, not backward, and he had had the chance but he-
Merely unlucky-
-was out of time.
Ticktockticktockticktockticktock-
“This is not a game, Bonnefoy-san.”
“-asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores. Y no nos metas en tentación, mas líbranos de mal-”
Soft, mocking laughter.
“The gold would serve you better than all those pretty words, aru.”
“He is awake, браt.”
Good.
It was like he was waking up in a dream; everything was too surreal, too wrong to be reality. Lids unveiled slowly, painfully, because he was more than exhausted, and every motion, every wet, wheezing breath drawn, hurt.
But dreams don’t hurt-right?
There were so many of them-he wasn’t really sure where to look first: the one rocking himself back in forth on the floor, words slurring from his lips, the girl hanging adoringly off another massive frame (a monster), the man with spilt-ink hair and eyes you could drown in, the one with sun bathed tresses who had rose petals falling from his fingers-
“Poppet.”
His eyes were so filmy and glazed he wondered how he made the other out, the one sitting right in front of him, eyes flashing emerald green and a smile playing upon his lips. His voice nearly died in his throat.
The beginnings of Empire.
“A-Arthur?”
It was already over.
OTL.
I know; I have no excuse for why I'm so late with the update (well, I do--it's a long list, acutally: snow, power loss, school, word losing my progress) and I hope my readers are still sticking with me. ; ; If not, however, I completely understand.
However, everything has now been set up, and the next part should be the end to our tale--oh c'mon, guys, you can see the ending, right? ;D I've already laid out all the breadcrumbs you need.
Anyway, thanks to all the wonderful comments! I loved them all, and really appreciate you guys taking the time to do so! Please feel free to keep them coming~ <3
I'm going to try and post the end next Sunday (the 28th, that is). :3
Till next time~