Author's Note: Hello there. I dislike giving long AN's at the start, but I can't live without saying a few things.

This being the first time I am planning on actually playing a character that is not created by myself, I definitely will mess up his personality, and I apologize for that. It hurts me as well. I will also be leaving out details about your appearance and house, such as where you are. This is because as a reader, I wish for you to be able to fill that in with your own memories and imagination. Personally, I find these [H/C] and such very distracting, and therefor will only leave space for a name later on.

Otherwise... Currently this is planned to be a very short story. I only put it in several chapters because I am a sucker for that.
Critiques are very welcome, and otherwise... Hope the first part is not too terrible.

For a person such as yourself, this display of a light slowly loosing its bright glow, flickering on and off in uneven rhythms, was as much of a cliche as it was food for thought, having always been one to look for deeper meanings in such simple things that occur without mankind's tight grip and schedule influencing any of it, even if often not planning to do so. It was no set of words with which these little wonders were to be explained, should one ask. It was almost impossible, putting your imagination, such detailed images, into a form others would be able to grasp and understand. To see and relate. So many thoughts run through your head, the only ones to pull you away from reality, from this cruel place where everyone walks blindly past the hurt and chaos they bring upon themselves, making you wonder what has to happen for them to appreciate the sight they have been given and open not only mind or heart, but both of them. They were meant to work together, to cooperate, not fight, nor sleep while the other holds al reins, unable to carry all burdens and still choose all the better decisions.

It would be wrong to assume you are the onlly human to see this, but it is hard at times. To often the feeling of loneliness takes over, no matter the amount of people surrounding you, having become a friend many years ago, alongside silence, who leaves space for your thoughts, making it easier to sort them out and simply be free for a while. To let go of forced trains of thought that shove itself in your mind when amongst others, barely leaving room for those you call your ownm distracting you. Or wishing to, but never fully take over, unable to shut away what has been there for so long, keeping you company at any time. Always listening, always caring. Never disappointing, never leaving. Always by your side.

Even now, as your feet carry you through this small city, over the concrete floor, streets empty of cars, the moon's bright but soothing light shining down on what appeared so lifeless during a cold night of autumn such as the one brought by a dark blanket over earth's one side, small dots of white glow spread across an inky black. Your clothes kept you fairly warm, while many times the wind had traveled through your hair, having it now ask for a hairbrush. Unfortunate, but nothing too critical. It is just hair, you are not going anywhere anymore, and even if someone were to pass by and be lucky enough to do so while a lantern's light granted clear sight, who cared about some messed up hair at this time of night? How unnecessary that would be. And up to now, barely anyone had been spotted by your wondering eyes, only a few people here and there, entering their house, getting their care, or even talking on the phone but harrying all the same.

There were benches with lanterns to their side along the road from time to time, even their simple existence, standing there without a soul, brought imagination and thoughts to life, occupying your mind easily. It was so calm, so silent. Such beautiful display, creations of nature's enemy no longer carrying the fearful look of a threat to what is in their way. As if they have been laid to rest by night's blanket.

Many did not understand why you went outside so late almost every day, and they never would, not seeing things as you did.

How much darkness with a touch of light could offer, giving daylight a burning feeling no one light.

What pulled you out of your thoughts was the sudden flicker of light brought by a lantern next to you, eyes moving away from the empty bench beneath, up to what was merely a fragment of shining contrast to darkened roads, fighting for its right to life, soon reborn into its prime, you no longer taking interest in such bright burn.

Back down your sight went, only to send a jump to your heart from shock, thought neither movement nor expression complied, remaining calm while eyes began to fill with wonder and unrest. That bench- you could have sworn it was empty the first time you looked. No, you know it was empty. You were not one to stop paying attention when enjoying silence, your eyes never lied. And yet, someone now sat there, even with the now functioning light appearing dark, most of the shine refusing to land on their partially ripped coat of black shade, head lowered and hands hold together in lap, it did not seem like your presence had been noticed yet. At least no sign to proof otherwise was there. Their hair combed back, it was not long enough to fall down in the fashion of a veil, but remained neatly where it was, despite a few strains out of place here and there. You guess went to amazing volumes or gel, though the latter could not be, it was missing the certain look of such.

Actually, neither of these options would-wait.

You interrupted your own rambling about the hair in raven feather's color as something red caught your gaze, a red that definitely was no paint. There was no need to see it at a daylie basis to know that was was leaving tiny drops of red liquid on this person's folded hands had indeed been blood, seemingly coming from a wound on their face, but you could not make much out from this distance and perspective. The odd fact of them having grey skin slipped your mind quickly, assuming it was because of the light and such, and most thoughts were busy with figuring out what to do. Of course, a hurt person should be helped, but who knew what the story behind this was. Maybe they were not the victim after all, or could suffer of shock to a degree at which everyone becomes the enemy.

Once in such a situation, the risks are suddenly so clear before one's view.

But was this not what hold back people all the time? The fear of being hurt, the fear of pain, afraid to loose their life.

Yes, that was it. Did this count for you as well? Your mind began to wander, uncertain of the answer. No one liked to get hurt in normal cases, taking no liking to unwanted pain. But death? Death, in the end, is painless. Final. There will be no mind left for regret, for worry. For fear. Then where does this hesitation come from? Left to your thoughts, gaze on the bright moon out of your eyes's corner, it distracted you, silence still ruling over this place, and it was just then, when a silken but dangerous voice rang to your ears, that you noticed how the person- a man- had by now raised his head to look at you.

,,You are afraid."

It was unsettling in a strange way. Were it the marks of animal's claws here and there on his face that gave this feeling of danger? Nonsense. They more lifted off some of it, showing that he is vulnerable. But his statement. Are you? Are you reading into this too much again? Could not be. It was not only what he said, but this voice of british origin and something unable to be described. The worry- the pity- drowned in fear for one's own safety, not wishing to stay in this man's- this being's – presence, beautiful darkness and dancing shadows turning into the terrifying depths from which monsters crawl out as most children are taught.

The big question, nonetheless, was Why? Why am I suddenly afraid? Nothing changed.