Two:
The Prince's Ballad
Marche walked a beeline from his house to Mewt's, cutting through alleys and yards that came out on the street he needed. He stood outside the house for a while before knocking. While he was waiting for answer he tucked his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. The doormat said 'welcome' on it.
Cid answered the door, dressed in a neat suit. Marche gave him a polite smile and took a half-step forward.
"Is Mewt home?"
Cid nodded, "Yeah, he's upstairs. Go on up."
Marche thanked Cid and entered. Mewt's houses smelled like candles and the floorboards creaked.
Upon waking from their Ivalice, him and Mewt had started spending more time together. They'd play, read and every day after school head off to Mewt's house to do their homework. Marche had spent so much time with Mewt that he even noticed his personality change. Before, Mewt was a quiet, introverted boy. Marche had watched him go from that to someone who often spoke his mind and was so good at it that the bullies didn't bother him anymore.
"Marche." Cid's said, "I have to get to work. Tell Mewt I said goodbye."
"Ok."
The door clicked shut. Marche couldn't help but think how much he liked Mewt's dad. He was just a good guy. He also had changed after they'd woken, be it from Mewt's influence or of his own. He was a business consultant, making coin enough to live comfortably. Marche was glad for the change, happy that his friend was that better off.
Marche went up the thin staircase, turning to look down the short hallway to Mewt's room. The door was open and Mewt was pulling on a white tee. He was a thin boy, so much that his shoulders bladed up like knifed under his skin. Marche had always known that he was scrawny but had never seen it so blatantly. He found no wonder as to why he had been royalty.
"Marche?"
Shaking from thought, Marche saw Mewt looking from his room, grinning.
"Hey, Mewt…uh, your dad let me in. He told me to tell you he went to work."
Mewt nodded and started through a drawer, "So, what's new?"
Marche walked to the door of Mewt's room and leaned against the frame. He looked around, at the off-white walls, the navy-blue carpet and the clean décor of dresser and unmade bed. There were no toys or games or any other hallmarks of childhood. Marche knew Mewt well enough now to know that he wasn't into stuff like that. Mewt was more into reading, fantasy and science, and the occasional philosophy. He had a plethora of books to prove it, but he said most were in the attic now.
"Mewt, I have a question to ask you."
Mewt looked up, "What?"
"It's a question I've had for a while now, but been too scared to ask."
Mewt fished his sweater of a drawer and closed it, "Ok, what is it?"
Marche took a deep breath.
"Do you hate me? Mewt, do you hate me for bringing us back?"
Mewt's cool blue eyes curved into concern, "No. You did what you had to."
"That's what my brother said." Marche sighed and went to sit on the bed.
"What brought this up?" Mewt asked.
"I had a dream last night." Marche's smoothed his hair, "It was about our Ivalice. So when I woke up, I thought of what we had there. I talked to Doned about it and he said basically what you're saying. But…"
"But what?"
"I just feel bad, that's all. You were a prince, Mewt. A Royal Family member who could have anything you wanted handed to you on a silver platter."
"Yeah, I guess…" Mewt shrugged.
"You even had a mother! You had something usually irreplaceable given to you."
"Marche, stop it. None of what happened there was real. Haven't we talked about this? The land wasn't real, the people weren't real, none of it."
"But, if it looked real, sounded real and feltreal…then what's to say it wasn't? Isn't reality simply a matter of perception?"
A look of anger came over Mewt's face, but washed into a smile.
"I suppose." He said, "Marche, why does it sound like you want me to hate you?"
"I…" Marche slumped, drooping his head and putting his hands in his pockets, "I don't want you to. I just want to understand, that's all. The more I think of it, the more I realize that if I were you and you I, I don't think I'd be so ready to forgive."
Both boys were silent for a while. A wind picked up outside and rattled the windows.
Marche stood up after twenty minutes ticked by.
"Sorry for bothering you so early, Mewt." He said and started for the door, "I'll see you around."
"Marche, you know that you don't have to leave."
"I know." Marche pushed a smile and left.
Mewt furrowed he watched Marche leave. He thought of what he should do next. Should he go after him? Or stay here and let him confront him own demons? Mewt thought about it and quickly came to the conclusion that Marche wouldn't like him horning in too much about his thoughts and dreams. Still, Mewt wanted to help. He rooted around his room a bit, finding his coat and gloves. By the time he had dressed for the weather, he knew his course and left to set upon it.
