Loud thunder awoke the sleeping teensy. He sat up, with his first thoughts being that the pirates or hoodlums had somehow come back, but he quickly remembered the storm outside.
That storm was the whole reason he was even sleeping here and not out there.
Cameron let out a small sigh and looked around the tent, half-expecting the other Photographer to be there, either sleeping, fiddling with his camera, looking through old photographs, but of course he wasn't there.
This tent which was once alive with playful banter felt lonely now. All he could really think about at the moment was how nice it would be to sleep in an actual house. A friend's house. Preferable cuddling, just enough to put the loneliness to rest.
He laid back down, feeling a little warmer and happier just thinking about it.
The original Photographer was right about him.
"You are such a softie! A hopeless romantic! Getting crushes on everyone, always wanting to hold someone or to be held!"
Cameron could help giggle to himself. It was true. He was very affectionate with everyone close to him. The original Photographer playfully teased him for being this way all the time, despite never declining an offer to cuddle, a kiss on the face, or Cameron's request of holding hands. It simply was Cameron's nature with all his dearest friends, or at least the ones who were comfortable with it.
There still was always one person Cameron wanted desperately to be very affectionate with. Not just anyone. One of his own clients in fact. His most regular client.
Count Razoff. A name he scribbled in his work notebook alongside with dozens of hearts.
The little photographer felt his face burn red from just from the thought of his name. Originally just one of many minor crushes that quickly turned head-over-heels as they begun to work together more and more. The original Photographer had never gotten the chance to know about this particular crush, but he still remembers what Alray had told him about another client crush he had a long time ago.
"Cameron, I'm unsure about mixing work and romance, but as my dearest friend, I support you! Just don't take your own wedding photographs. I'll do it for free!"
His held his flustered face, smiling at the memory.
The other Photographer had even tried to help Cameron confess. They had run over countless scenarios regarding what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. Sometimes the scenarios were serious and to reassure the small Photographer how no matter when or where he said it, it wouldn't matter, as long as the words were right. Most of the time they were simply jokes.
An old scenario re-runs in Cameron's head. The teensy at the his crush's front door with a bouquet and a bad pick-up line, followed by something along the lines of, "It would be an honor to be able to spend time with the most handsome and wonderful man of all of Glade!"
It's so cheap, but he can't help but love it! A new scenario made its way to mind, involving the living room of the count, a warm fireplace, followed by sitting with the man he loved the most in the world in a warm embrace.
Of course it had to get worse. Geez.
He was embarrassed to admit that these kind of made-up scenarios ran through his mind a lot. Fantasies of crushes becoming romantic relationships. The dates that could result. Confessing and finding out his feeling are returned... as well as the more embarrassing fantasies he could never bring himself to tell anyone else.
The fantasy continues to play out in his mind. The count, holding his hand. His face so close to his own. Cameron with his eyes glimmering and his face flushed red, finally blurting out the thing he's been wanting to say for a long time.
"I really love you! You are the most amazing person in all of Glade, and I want to be with you! I've never met anyone as incredible and charming and handsome and clever as you! I love you! I love you so, so much!"
Cameron being too shy to look Razoff in the eyes, even in fantasy. The warmth from that imagery fireplace radiating on him, and the way the count's hand moves to his face so gently all felt too real.
"Cameron..."
That voice...
"Do you..."
...
"Do you really think that you mean anything to me?"
W-what? Huh?
"You're so silly, aren't you? You're my photographer!"
No, wait... please.
"I mean, we are practically business partners. That's all!" He laughed.
But... I-I thought we were more that that!
The scenery around Cameron felt darker. Nothing radiates nor touches him. His heart feels as if it's sinking into his stomach.
Cameron can only reply in a shaky voice with eyes full of tears, "I don't... understand..."
"I think you understand perfectly well."
That voice...
Yellow lights glow in front of him.
That's not his voice..
The only thing he can see as the lights brighten up the room is a familiar shade of dark blue.
Not lights. Eyes.
White gloves move close to him accompanied by a sinister voice.
Mister Dark!
"Why do you persist?" the voice bellowed.
Cameron, no longer able control his breathing, stays still, with tears still rolling down his face.
"Polokus didn't even bother to make you right. Another addition to the collection of misfits. "
Cameron clutched his chest, trying to get a grip on himself.
"You really think you could be anything more than an outcast to anyone?"
Mortified, he can't take his eyes off of him. His body no longer feeling like his own, and his conscience feeling like it's drifting miles away.
"You are not worthy..."
He can't speak.
Why can't I speak?! He... HE DOESN'T KNOW ANYTHING!
"and you know your worth, Alrayzen."
Cameron gasped for air, quickly sitting upright. He looked around his environment. The same tent walls. The same kettle and teapot from before.
Dreaming. That's all he was doing. It was all just a terrible nightmare.
Breathing rapidly, he touched his face, wet from tears he cried in his dreams. He held his stomach tightly, shut his eyes, and continued to cry.