He looked up at the clouds drearily, listening to the rain drum on the balcony's roof. The figure was silhouetted due to the dim lighting, despite it being midday...
The boy let a heavy sigh escape his lips. His hands, clutching a worn digital camera, shook. He slowly lifted the apparatus, but put it down again. A tiny, barely noticeable frown ghosted over his face, but a frown nonetheless. Bringing a tiny bit of emotion into this empty place. It was as if all his emotions died, along with his soul, only a few days after he got here.
It was too dark here. As always. The clouds blocked out every ray of sunlight, sucked out every bit of life, killed every shade of color...
How long has it been since he saw color?
He had no idea.
The skyscrapers around him loomed over the boy, making him feel small, worthless, insignificant. He shrank back involuntarily. Perhaps he should go back inside his bare room, wait in the cold darkness for the sun to return...
The light.
The color.
Heart heavy, he turned around, when a tiny speck of something different from the shades of grey he was so used to seeing by now.
Sweet, vibrant, red.
Was it?
A different figure trudged by, feet scraping against the pavement faintly, far below him. The boy stared down, squinting.
However, to no avail. The fog seemed to roll in as the other person walked by with a far too familiar gait.
The boy stared after him sadly, a mere silhouette in the unclear surroundings.
Any hint of color was long gone.
Emotions swirled within him in a torrent, yet he couldn't feel them, nor make sense of them.
And there he stood, watching the other human being walk away, possibly the only other living person for miles around.
Today was the day.
Today.
Those words replayed over and over in his head, blurring into a huge mess that he couldn't make sense of anymore.
He gripped the door frame, looking out tentatively. The world looked just as bleak from up close. Empty shells shuffled around in their dark coats, faces hidden from sight, moving along mechanically.
Actually, it looked even grayer.
The boy stepped out, shivering as a cold gust of air hit him. He immediately regretted not having brought a coat. The clammy hands clutching his camera shook.
But there was no going back for now.
He looked up.
The building casted huge shadows, the factories continued puffing out the fumes that killed the light. Fog shrouded everything farther away than a block.
He was scared.
But he would never admit that.
But today is the day.
Making his way through he bustling crowd, he had never felt more small. The adults loomed over him, their faces blank, monotone, seemingly closing in.
It was claustrophobic.
He had to get away.
The boy burst through the last of the passerbys-
The shells, the corpses-
And ran.
Shoes sloshed through puddles, becoming soaking wet, but he couldn't care less.
Standing in that crowd felt worse than standing in the midst of a thousand gravestones, marking where dead people's bodies lay.
But he was free now.
His bangs stung at his eyes, the wind swept them in disarray.
Keep running.
The boy's breath grew short, and a throbbing pain went through his side, but he pushed onwards.
A river stretched out before him. He slowed.
Don't stop. His mind screamed at him. You've come so far.
But he stopped anyway.
The grass was dead and dried out, the body of water itself showed definite signs of pollution. And old rusty bridge could be seen not too far away. He sat down at the side anyways and let his feet dangle a few inches above the water. He couldn't see his reflection.
Which was better, actually.
He most likely looked like a wreck.
The boy knew for a fact that his hair hadn't been seen to in forever, and that it had grown too long for its own good. Lack of sleep hadn't been helping him. Sighing, he stares up at the bridge, eyes flitting over its structure.
Should I cross it? I know it leads into the city, but doesn't more people mean a greater chance to meet someone alive?
So I won't stay alone here?
Why am I still here?
All I am is...
Alone...
His train of thought broke off at that horrible thought.
Alone.
Such a depressing word.
More doubts began filling into his head, as if an invisible being were whispering in his ear.
Maybe someone was.
Then again, it could have just been himself.
Would anybody even see him if he went into the city? A place even larger, more stuffed than the already too full place he lives in?
He knew the people here too well.
They had lost their personalities long ago, turning into machines and mere shells of what they once were, flashing others fake smiles, telling lies, speaking dishonest words.
One glance, that's all.
Then they begin judging you.
But then again, he would stay alone forever if he just stayed here.
Maybe-
Just maybe-
He longed to find someone else like him.
Someone human.
Alive.
Lost.
Lonely.
Right?
He looked away from the bridge and rubbed his fatigued eyes, before looking back, eyes unfocused. The boy stood up.
The youth took a step towards the bridge shakily, clutching his camera like his only link to reality.
One.
And another.
Two.
And so he walked on, agonizingly slowly, counting his steps, gaze lowering and fixating itself on the ground in front of him.
Ten. Eleven.
Something in his mind told him to look up. He didn't listen.
Stop and look.
Seventeen. Eighteen.
Look up.
Nineteen.
Now.
Twenty.
Not able to resist his conscience any longer, his dull blue eyes flitted upwards. The bridge still stood, not too far away from himself.
Sturdy. Gray, like the rest of this horrible place. Rusty, as mentioned before, but sturdy. And simple. Very simple. Not a soul was on it. Two pieces of what seemed like rope dangled from the edge. God knows why.
It looks more like a brick than a bridge.
A harsh wind picked up, ruffling the boy's hair and forcing him to brace himself against it. Oddly enough, the ropes didn't budge.
Was it even rope?
Feeling curiosity creep up on him, an emotion he hadn't experienced in quite a while, he sped up his walking, having lost count of his steps.
The walk soon morphed into a jog.
The jog into a run.
And the closer he got to the bridge, the more the curiosity grew. The boy squinted.
He could make out the faint outline of a pair of legs, dangling over the river similar to the way his had.
Worn jeans, gray tennis shoes.
Or it looked like it, at least.
Was he hallucinating? Perhaps his desperation was playing tricks on his mind-
No.
I'm not desperate for anything.
Stumbling on the uneven pavement and gravel, he ran on, but the bridge only seemed as if it were getting farther away, just like a light in a nightmare that you can never quite reach...
His legs gave out and the boy tumbled to the ground, scratching his palms and dirtying the knees of his pants.
He immediately sat up and checked his digital camera for damage.
Not a scratch.
Good.
The boy's eyes flitted over to the bridge, searching for the bridge, silently hoping the other person would still be there-
All hope dropped in an instant.
A scrap of it might have been left, but that's irrelevant.
Any sign of the other person had disappeared.
You see that you're alone now, don't you?
There's no such thing as kindness here.
You'll never escape.
The terrible voices, hissing and jeering, blended together in his head, yet remained perfectly understandable, which made everything a million times worse.
Did you actually think someone would be up there? Idiot.
He actually hoped! How pathetic.
Your sorrow will swallow you alive.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he wailed at the voices to stop, to stop talking, speaking, screaming, scoffing, existing, filling his head with these horrible, horrible things.
It was tearing him apart.
The boy wanted them gone.
As he sobbed, the voices faded out one by one, but he didn't realize until the last one had stilled.
A stray tear streamed down his face, his shoulders shook. The boy hadn't even realized he was crying. He brushed it away
He looked back over to the bridge to confirm, once and for all. No pair of legs, no jeans, no worn shoes, no cheerful smile-
No. He's not here and he never will be. He scolded himself for even considering that idea.
Yet his mind continued.
Bubbling optimism, sparkling eyes, scruffy hair that never seemed to be tamed-
He forced the thoughts away and ran back to where he came from.
Where he belonged.
He regretted ever stepping outside.
And yet, no more than a week afterwards, he found himself in the city center.
It was just as he imagined.
Perhaps even worse.
The buildings towered over him more than ever, people were actually pushing him aside.
And all that came from their mouths were dishonest words, thoughtless answers, empty apologies.
Everything was sucked away, leaving a seemingly opaque world behind.
They had forgotten who they once were.
God knows how wonderful this place might have been if it were still colorful.
And perhaps it was, with its blaring, supposedly lighthearted music, restaurants, tittering teens and busy shops.
Yet to him, it only felt hollow.
Nobody cared. He could feel it.
Bony fingers scrabbled at his camera, holding onto it like a lifeline as he was torn along with the crowds, not able to escape the stream of people.
At some point, he was pushed aside into an alleyway, completely hidden in shadows, the only light coming from the windows of an old art gallery.
Art?
The boy searched his mind for this strange word, the meaning of which had long slipped his mind.
The City of Lost Memories.
What a fitting name.
He groped for an answer, some word that might be connected.
Art... C-
Color?
Art is colored, right?
Hurrying over, he pushed open the doors and stepped into the uncomfortably bright room, which reeked of near-toxic paint and spray cans.
It made him anxious.
The room made him uneasy.
It felt like he was shoved into a spotlight against his will. The boy squeezed his eyes shut.
Theater.
Everybody was watching him, waiting for him to do something, do something wrong, to laugh.
Laugh at him.
Where was he, again?
Afraid, fearing, he slowly opened his blue eyes, slowly adjusting to the light.
Only to be disappointed.
Even the paintings were blank canvases.
Had the world lost so much...
Creativity?
That was the right word, right?
Perhaps the other people saw something in these.
Perhaps they never looked closely.
Because there was no color or emotion.
The stark white stared back at him, no matter where he looked. Eyes. Observers.
Hope shatters so easily...
What's the use?
Does color even exist anymore?
...
I'm not sure...
Feeling the tears well up in his eyes once more, he started his trip back to the lonely room called home. Out of the alley, pushing his way through the crowds, across the bridge, long the riverside.
And there, he realized that he might be becoming one of them.
He knew what to do now.
Throwing open the door to his room, the boy packed his meager belongings and left.
Escape.
The train was due to depart in five minutes.
He had boarded ten minutes ago.
So there was plenty on time to think, to let his gaze sweep over the inside of the compartment, the station outside.
All a depressing shade of gray.
But he would be leaving that behind soon.
All the tired smiles, those glad to leave and those who just arrived here.
The poor souls.
He hoped they would see.
Not become empty.
Forget everything.
And maybe I'll remember.
Maybe I won't be alone anymore.
Maybe I'll smile again.
Right?
The voice of the conductor crackled over the speakers, announcing that they will be leaving the station soon. The doors slammed shut.
Thank god.
He stared out the window one last time, wondering if he would miss this place.
When a single figure caught his eye, a dash of red, a speck of blue- Darting out of the crowd.
Towards the train, no-
Towards him.
Dull sapphire eyes widened in surprise.
Isn't that-?
That familiar grin flashed at him as the train lurched forwards, red hair buffeted by the gust of wind the train had created. The redhead ran beside the train, alongside his window.
The boy in the train pressed his nose to the window, his face displaying shock, happiness and disbelief. A dry sob racked his body as he cried.
Tears of joy.
And sorrow.
Perhaps even nostalgia.
"Roy!"
The train gained speed as his friend began lagging behind. The boy mouthed a silent scream in protest as he wrenched open the window, but the other simply stopped, still grinning happily like the lovable idiot he is. And waved. Yelling the words he wanted to hear the least.
Goodbye.
Just when he had given up.
Just when he had found him.
It was too soon for those words.
It had been too long.
They hadn't even talked to each other.
But...
The boy in the train had a feeling that he had never been completely alone. No matter what he had thought.
And he felt reassured that he'l never be forgotten again.
Someone will always care, right?
Right.
Finally regaining the ability to speak, he took a deep breath and screamed out the window.
"Thank you."
...
Stay strong, Marth!