A/N: So. My mission was to write about Dennis before Hogwarts. I dunno why, but that made me think of my own childhood before I became homeschooled. Of course, I exaggerated this, but the emotions are no different. The flashbacks are a bit mixed, but the first two are from the same day, and the other two are from the past, right before Colin left for Hogwarts. I hope you enjoy.
"Hey Alex, want to know a secret?"
"What is it?"
Dennis played with his fingers excitedly, then looked up at his friend. "My brother knows magic. And I think that maybe, just maybe, I do, too."
A lonely, acrid taste gathered on the inside of his mouth. It was vile and familiar, horrible in its every whim. He didn't want to swallow it, but he did obediently, half-heartedly advocating the stomachache that was sure to follow. He gulped it down like a pill—like a remedy—even though he knew it would only make things worse.
Dennis curled quietly into himself. His hands, sprawled against the cold blackness of the sidewalk, bled again as he moved them against the rough surface. Unconsciously, he tried again to get up. Consciously, he only wanted to give up.
Again, as his mouth filled with it, he swallowed the crimson that flowed freely from him like a russet stain of despair. The metallic, deathly aroma wreathed around him like an entity. No, it was a ruthless hand that stretched its fingers toward him with delight, poised and ready to smother the life out of him.
His mind screamed at him to get away and find some fresh air, but his body stayed meekly in place on the ground, unable to move in its physically and mentally broken state.
Dennis didn't know what was happening. He didn't know how long it had been since he was left here. He didn't know if anyone was looking for him, or if anyone cared. He didn't know if he was alive or dead, or which of the two he would choose if only he could. All that Dennis knew was the pain. Perhaps it had been accidental, but it wasn't sure. He didn't want to think that his friend would do this to him.
Stop kidding yourself.
Dennis moaned quietly and squeezed his eyes even tighter closed, trying to banish the dark words droning through his mind. Like almost everything, it didn't work.
You have no friends. No one cares about you. No one ever will. You'll only get hurt more if you continue trying to deny this.
He always told himself not to listen to this voice. He always told himself that it was wrong and pessimistic, and that he should only think of the bright side of things just like his brother. But then he realized that he wasn't Colin. He realized that he never would be. Ever. Only Colin could think of everything as a duck would, just letting it all slide off his back. Even if he was sad about not having friends, that didn't mean that he gave up.
Dennis wasn't Colin, no matter how much he wanted to be. He wanted to always seem cheerful even when he wasn't. He wanted to have a talent or at least an interest. He wanted to be special. He wanted to cry.
A quiet, gurgling noise slid from his throat. Then the sound developed into a quiet moan of pain.
"You freak. You're so weird, that's why no one likes you."
Dennis continued to run. But Alex was catching up, or maybe Dennis was falling back.
He told himself that his special powers would come now. He told himself that they would save him.
It was then that he was pushed over and the resounding crack of bones breaking was the last thing he heard.
The quiet moan escalated into a gasp-filled sob. Hot tears spilled down his face, mixing in with the blood. Dennis swallowed again and tasted that familiar tang once more. It wouldn't go away, just like the pain.
Why did this have to be his life? Why couldn't he trade with Colin? Why couldn't he be the special one? Why was this was his life. It wasn't like he'd chosen it. He didn't want it. He'd done everything right, he'd been nice to everyone, so why? Why wasn't he rewarded with friends, or at least happiness?
Bitter despair slid through him.
Everything that Colin said... All of it was a lie.
"Are they still being mean to you?"
Meekly, Dennis nodded.
"Sometimes," Colin told him, "people do that because they don't understand."
But he'd told Alex so that he would understand. So that they could be friends.
Why doesn't anyone understand me? Why do I always feel so different?
An undulating sob shivered throughout his body. Anger flashed through his mind like a tongue of flames, then subsided once more. He was too weak to hate, too tired to be keep going, and not injured enough to give up.
Dennis shivered against the pavement. The movement scratched his arms even more, but he reacted with little more than a moan.
He wanted someone to find him so that he wouldn't have to use words. If someone found him, it wouldn't be like he was "telling". It couldn't possibly get worse then.
No one came. He pushed himself up and looked around, but the place where he'd run to was totally abandoned.
He gave a racking cough and fell out of consciousness. Before he could, he parted his lips and gave vent to a long, shrill sob of despair that sounded like a dying bird's last note.
Except Dennis wasn't a dying bird. He was simply an exhausted human being, doomed to spend all eternity smiling one day, crying the next, wanting to give up but being unable to, and looking for answers that would only spawn more questions.
"Why don't they understand, Colin? Why?"
Colin smiled a sad smile and, truthfully, shrugged. "I don't really know. I guess... they don't want to."
"Why wouldn't they?"
"Because a lot of people are weird, that's why!"
Dennis looked at his feet. "Am I weird?"
"Of course not," Colin said quickly with a smile.
"If not, then why do I feel like I am?"
"Because we're special."