So back with dramatic one shot. Please review! They make my day, so please make this poor teenager's day.
Nobody.
That's what he was, everyone knew it, why else would they walk right past him? He was nothing; not even mere dust flying in the cold wind. He was just a wretched, pathetic child in the outskirts of London. He didn't deserve a name. He didn't deserve anything.
So why had he been given both? Why? Why had his life been flipped around? Why did his world now revolve around a mad clown?
A clown that forgot who he was. That forgot he wasn't a dog. That forgot he breathed. And lastly, the one that always made him want to shout -to scream- in frustration, that forgot that he was a nobody.
In his raving muttering, he would look him in the eyes like no else had, and it was in those moments that he knew- knew he'd die for this man with shoes far too big for his feet without a second thought.
And it wasn't fair that someone who cared so little could invoke such feeling in him, someone who had done his best to numb himself as nobody. Someone who tried to vanish into the background like snowflakes once they fell from the sky and hit the cool ground before melting along with every other one, only to be frozen in place before the drain. It drove him insane, being so close to the end, yet so far; yearning for it, but dreading the day he would get his final glimpse of the man who had made such a twisted impact on his life.
It just wasn't fair that the old fool could stroll in with nothing but a smile yet somehow make his day all the more better. It wasn't fair that Nobody didn't exist anymore. It wasn't fair that Allen with his pretentious, fake smiles had marched in and taken over the reins, shoving him thundering hooves. It wasn't fair that he didn't get to experience the warmth of that Pierrot's words anymore.
But he was nobody. He couldn't have wants or complaints, he couldn't have a meaning to his existence. He most definitely couldn't have a person all to himself, much less even have a piece.
When he was younger, he would look at the bright, silver moon that would glimmer like his eyes never would, and ask if he had no meaning, was he truly alive and existing. The moon would never reply, instead the harsh winter snow would gather around his eyelashes and auburn hair slowly freezing him without making a sound save the chattering of his teeth with a cloud of mist surrounding his small chapped mouth.
Now, if he asked, the clown would answer with that lopsided smile and say, of course he existed. Except he would never use a name; never say who was he and always break his heart. Just smile like he, nobody, meant the world to him. And slowly, he believed it even knowing it wasn't him -why would it be him? He was nobody, everybody knew that, but that didn't stop the tears, did it?-, but it wasn't really him. It was just a mask. Nothing but a lie to make that fool smile more at him, if just a bit. That had been a mistake; he was forgotten -just like he had wanted- beneath that beautifully woven lie.
Now, that smile wasn't aimed at him, if it had ever been -which it hadn't-, but rather at that mask. He no longer felt that warmth that kept the numbing cold away. He was no longer reached by those kind words.
He had become Nobody once more; something he had never wanted to be ever again. And it would be permanent this time. He wouldn't be frozen by chance again and he would drift into the flooding drain never to see the light of day again.
The moon had answered; the black and white moon had shone down and erased him from existence leaving nothing more than a smiling mask.