Home.
Just because...some people have nowhere else to go.
"...I just want to go home…" Rue protested softly, as Author led him deeper into the abandoned structure.
Author smiled sadly.
The smell of rotten wood, and decaying compost stained the air. Faint sounds (Laughter? Crying? Rue couldn't tell) as Author led him upstairs. Rue was scared, and yet, he managed to keep his composure. He wanted to scream, and jerk away from Author.
Rue couldn't manage to do that. Instead, he stuck with complaining and letting Author lead him through the abandoned orphanage.
"…" Author stopped walking, letting Rue's hand drop. Rue felt his hand hit his side, as he stared at Author. "…You know, Rue, that this place is haunted?" Rue shifted, swallowing dryly. Author went on. "It is said to be haunted by a few ghosts, you know the type? Those who just can't let go?"
"Ghost isn't real, though!" Rue blurted, quickly. Author smiled, and went on; acting like Rue has not said anything.
"Well, the story about this place is rather….sad." Rue figured it was useless to argue, and let Author go on. He did so gratefully. "This place was glorious. Orphans were selected to come here, and they were fed, and educated for free. The problem? They had to study, they had to accept and reject flaws of others. "
"…What does this have to do with me?" Again, Rue was ignored.
"The last set of orphans had a few who could still be here today." Author laughed, humorously. "One such an orphan was called 'Matt'. You see, he was like a puppy, following his owner around lost and hopeless. He died without his owner, and like a little lost puppy, he made his way home."
"Stop!" Rue grounded out. "Just tell me why you're telling-"Author talked over Rue's meek complaints.
"His 'owner'." Author laughed again. "Or…friend was called 'Mello'. Mello was a victim of the inferior complex. He was never good enough for himself, always wanting more of him to be better. Like a boss, never complementing always asking for one thing: more.
He died, of course. He died wanting to be better, and now he has all the time in the world to try and do that." Another humorless laugh.
"…." Rue just couldn't find it in himself to complain anymore. Author had to have a point. He will get to it, and when he does, Rue will finally know.
"There is also another student, named A, and his friend named 'B'." Rue felt a chill down his back. "A and B played a game, you see. An exhausting game, a game of being better. Sadly, A died. He committed murder, on himself." Suicide. "A was so tired of the game…."
"…What happened to B?" Rue asked, his whole body telling him to run. He did not.
"Hm? Oh him." Author glanced at Rue. "He lived in a game, a whole game of numbers, letters, and deaths. B played his own game, inviting others to join. His greatest rival, named L beat him at his own game.
B died, of course, but inside a cell. He came home, but…he rejected his home as a body might reject a drug that poisoned the body."
"…"
"…You see, Rue…all of these people came home..." Author turned towards Rue, a smile on his face. It was a tired smile, a sad smile. "All of these students came home, from their lives, and murders. They came home, and now are haunted by the memories and nightmares of this place."
"Why? Couldn't they go anywhere else?"
"Why should they? Their home is here, it's where they belong."
"…" Author was doing this to scare me. Rue was pale and trembling, as he made those thoughts his manta. Author was smiling, his hands pocketed, his blue eyes glimmering. This whole story, and place…there was no point in being there.
No point at all. Rue shouldn't be there, in fact, he should be…where? Where will he go? Home? Did he…did he even have a home?
"…I just want to go home." A hoarse whisper, a whisper of doubt, escaped the trembling boy's lips. A smiled sadly, stepping closer to the dejected confused boy, embracing him.
"…B…" A soft voice, conviction. "…You are home."
I own nothing, ect.