Disclaimer: I do not own MÄR.
Warnings: Angsstt.
Words: 586
Pairing/Character(s): None; Rolan
A/N: This is more of a drabble dump than anything else. I have so many ideas swimming in my head, but I can't expand many of them into full oneshots, so I shall post them here, which should also cure my frequent writers' block. Be aware that this is not my best work.
I hope the tense change in the third drabble wasn't too confusing.
All spelling and grammar mistakes are my own. If you find any, let me know and I'll correct them ASAP. Constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated, so please don't be shy!
Kaleidoscope
Chapter 1: Nothing
I.
He knows this feeling better than anyone, this empty, aching that torments his heart, mind, and soul until they all cease to function—until he becomes an empty shell. There is nothing and no one who will even look at him, but he's too afraid of death, so he drags himself through each day with dull, blank eyes. He sits on the street watching all the people walk by, busy with their own lives and families, too preoccupied with their own needs and wants to notice him. It doesn't matter.
He's dead to the world, anyway.
II.
He lives for the night, because he can still dream. He even sleeps during the day if he can't find any food. In his dreams he is happy, he is safe, he is loved. The young orphan willingly lets the darkness consume him knowing that he will wake up. Dreams—such things are ephemeral, but memories, memories never erode with the passage of time. Memories endure forever.
III.
The first time he had a nightmare, his mother was at his bedside when he woke, stroking his blonde locks with a serene expression on her beautiful face.
"Shh, it was just a bad dream." She had murmured, kissing him on the cheek. Then she walked out of the room. When Rolan thought his mother was gone, he immediately scanned his room for any suspicious figures hiding in the shadows. As soon as his eyes arrived on the end of his bed, another pair of cerulean orbs stared back at him. Between that moment and the next second,
Rolan managed to ungracefully fall off his bed with a yelp.
A feminine giggle rang throughout the empty space as Rolan slowly sat up and peeked over the side of his bed. The sky-blue eyes belonged to a half-concealed face with messy, cascading locks of hair much like his own.
"Mom!" The eight-year old whined.
The older woman emitted another chuckle and crawled over to her son, gathering him in an embrace.
"You won't be able to sleep after a nightmare like that." There was a glint of mischief in those azure eyes that was not present in most mothers'. "Let's stay up."
And so they did. The two were awake all hours of the night doing nothing but talking of their hopes, dreams, and of course, playing games. His mother had smirked and said that she was proud to have raised such a clever boy when he beat her at checkers and knucklebones. He reminded her that knucklebones didn't require a lot of brain.
When Rolan returned to the dinning room after putting the checkered board away, his mother was missing. His first thought was that she was inviting him to play hide-and-seek and so the boy searched every inch of the house, but every inch was empty; the house was empty. He started to panic when couldn't find her, she couldn't be gone; she was there a few minutes ago.
"Mom!" He calls out, but he can't hear himself, so he doesn't know if she can. He tries again and again, but his voice is only a whisper caught in his throat—
His eyes snap open in an instant.
The whistling of cold winds and numbness of his hands tell him this isn't a dream, he is still alone…but that doesn't mean he can't pretend otherwise. So he hugs his knees and closes his eyes once more.
"It's just a bad dream." He whispers to himself.
Maybe one day he'll finally wake up.