That potion… what was that potion…
I stir in my dead sleep. A tiny chill travels up my exposed back. My head's begging for the discarded cap at my side. My lazy hand reaches for the brim.
Then I sneeze. I never bothered to notice how cold it was getting last night.
Last night… "Nggh.." I got myself sitting on top of the mulch.
"At least my glasses are okay." I brush off something slimy with the side of my scarred hand and then at my hairless skull…
"Why do I keep running away?" I bury my face in my crossed arms. I really don't want to see them again. Ever. But I know that eventually I'm going to have to. I just can't leave my work lying around!
Good thing that most of them can't read very well… They'd know too much by then…
Why does it have to be so cold? What time of day is it? I crawl up the side of the trunk to a limp stand. Out of curiosity I clench my fists several times to see if the pain was still there. The scabs had reformed and I could only feel a tiny sting in each palm.
That's one good thing.
I can still hear crickets chirping. I poke my head out of the opening. The horizon over the lake's awash with blue and lavender. A tiny glowing speck of light in the distance… Another chill. It's early morning.
Despite the common sense I usually rely on, I removed my frames and bottom garment and took a dip into the freezing water. I submerged myself completely to adapt to its temperature…
There are times when, I wish, beneath this liquid surface, I could stay forever…
To have their laughter, their insults quiet down to murmurs—then silence beneath my warm towel upon my reddened face…
I have to breathe again. I gasp for thin air and anchor my arms to the water's bank—
"Brainy. Listen to yourself. You're an idiot." Another deep intake, "H—hold on!" My fingers hook in and dig into the dirt, "Please, hold on."
It's okay. It's okay! I'm fine… I'm not afraid.
Underwater again with a clear conscience.
I'm a liar. A hypocrite.
But I need to go back.
I can't stop thinking about that rosebud. Playing God.
A strength unknown to me seeps into my woven fists. One hanging at my side while the other's lugging around my travel pack on my shoulder.
I have to hand it to Papa. He did a good job. That special balm of his still worked even after I went ballistic tearing up the damned gauze.
… What am I going to tell him? What's my excuse this time?
I kept trudging on through the path to the Smurf Village—
At least this time I know where the hell I'm going.
The canopies of the evergreens looming overhead kept me in the cool shade. The chills racing throughout my body wouldn't cease. The sun should be out soon, but for now I have to live with it…
The pine needles crunch with every step I take, one of the few noises apart from the cawing of birds and a whispering wind rustling the branches together. It's all serene. No voices, just my breathing forming clouds in the air.
The sloshing of water wakes me from my trance.
I kneel down on the pebbles and scoop up a handful of the sweet ice to bring it to my dry parted lips…
"Brainy?" Another whisper. So low that I never cringed in fear.
I already know who it is. Still drinking from my palms, "Good morning, Clumsy."
His surprisingly strong arms wrap around me from behind. Any other time I would nearly curse at him to keep his distance…
But not now. "We went looking for you everywhere."
"… Where are they now?"
"Asleep, pretty close by here… even the kids are here."
Sassette. My muscles inched to a smirk, out of amusement. Now he's sitting next to me. Out of everyone in the Village, he seems to be the only one who can seek me out, without the intention of causing me harm. I guess this is what makes him a good friend, despite his flaws.
"Don't wake them up. They need more rest, and so do you. I'm going back to my hut and turn in." I'm secretly wishing he'd come with me.
As obedient as he was, "Okay…" Another hug, my arms limped at my sides which didn't raise a centimeter, "See you later, Brainy."
"See you."
My eyelids were heavy. I didn't want to get up anymore. I sensed that the other Smurfs were back home. The faint clank and whir of Handy's machinery and the squeak of Farmer's wheelbarrow signified the beginning of another day, and nearly breakfast time.
A knock at my door; I drift off into a warm, soothing fantasy.
Another couple knocks, and it's being snatched away. Already I'm getting irritated.
"Come in" a hoarse voice void of oxygen; I cough a little.
"Good morning, my little Smurf." My blurry eyes couldn't make out the multitude of figures at my door. I reach out for the lenses and stick them on.
"Hello, everyone" Smiling was not an option for me. The Smurflings and Smurfette beamed, realizing that I still existed. Snappy looked anxious, "I'm sorry four-eyes, er, Brainy. I didn't know—" Out of the gathering, the girl in pigtails rushed into me with the tightest hug I ever received, I could barely breathe—
"Sa—Sassette—!" For a girl she had a hard grip. It must be from all those games she plays with the boys. Nat loosened her arms before giving me his hand, which I held onto without hesitation,
"We looked for you everywhere, big brother!" I stifled a laugh within my throat. Oh, this is getting ridiculous.
Papa was leaning against the door. He let out a chuckle of relief as Smurfette leaned in and gave me another kiss on the cheek.
Fuckin' ridiculous.
I expect them to return to a state of neglect. I expect them to forget my very existence. I'm just another in a sea of these pathetic creatures… I'm pathetic.
I just want to lock myself in my study to continue the task hardwired into my puny gnome mind since I realized the world could never be perfect.
It would soon be back to the same.
The constant questions of my recovery from random Smurfs had finally quelled.
It would soon be back to the same.
Smurfette was getting protective of herself again. At least that's what I think she's doing. I'm seeing more public displays of affection towards Hefty more than ever. Especially when they're looking after Baby, as if they wanted one of their own; I'll admit I'm getting jealous.
Next topic.
"What are you doing, Brainy?" A straw hat's brim scratched my arm lightly.
"Papa's making me do inventory." Jotting down endless numbers of limited supplies on parchment mounted on a wooden clipboard. I adjust my glasses before they threaten to fall off. I'm hunched down counting sacks of walnuts and cut pieces of truffle preserved in jars.
I peer over my shoulder; Nat seems bored all at once. Truthfully I don't care if he left but out of trained habit I engage him in further conversation, "How are you little brother?"
He blinks at my sugar coated tone but then lets out a smile, "I'm all right, and so are the others—
"Sassette?"
Odd silence, "She's fine."
I couldn't care less about Snappy and I never really thought much of Slouchy; "Sassette" was the only name I could use.
Nat raised a brow in an off-putting way, "Why do you ask?"
I respond with a high disinterest for the name I've just mentioned, "Just 'cause."
I bite the side of my tongue thinking of what else I could say. Nothing comes to mind.
"I guess you're kinda busy here. Sorry."
Shrugging my shoulders once my back's turned to him, "I guess I am."
The shadow of the Smurfling on the wall walks away with hesitant steps. I realize that my vision is getting worse, or rather that the light I just had began to dim. I bite the tip of the quill realizing that it's sunset once again. I'm done for the day.
Long tables are filled with wasted oxygen in bouts of yelling and laughter as my tired eyes search for visible stars through the laterns' pollution of the sky. I don't speak as Clumsy sits down next to me with that same carefree or clueless attitude.
I expect "Hey Brainy!" or "Boy I'm hungry!" but he only gobbles down the food served to him. I had finished my meal five minutes ago and all I'm doing is playing with the spoon. From the corner of my eye I spot Smurfette pecking at Hefty's cheek, much to their audience's excitement. The constant rumble of voices makes my eyelids get heavy. I end the onset of lethargy by pushing myself off the stump for a chair before trudging off.
It took my only companion less than ten minutes to catch up to me in my trek through a familiar path in the outskirts of the forest. I acknowledge his presence with a clearing of my throat. He thought that this was his permission from me to speak,
"Bet you're doing better now, Brainy?" I kept quiet.
In all ignorance he wraps an arm around me; I flinch. He sure as hell won't be holding my hand. Either way the rest of them would be getting the wrong message—that we must be some couple.
I bet they wouldn't go spreading the same thing if Clumsy happened to be a lot younger, or if the girls Smurfette and Sassette did the same thing…
Funny I can't imagine myself being a kid; I'm void of eternal happiness and sunshine and that must be the first requirement to be one.
"You gonna get off me Clumsy?" Shoving him away much to his surprise.
He hasn't forgotten my lack of resistance at the stream; Clumsy's a few feet away from me with that same look from last time.
I'm so cold.
A chirping of crickets, bellow of a bullfrog, and the hoot of an owl breaks the abyss of what could have been a deeply meaningful chat. "I didn't mean to be rude."
"No Brainy; I'm sorry for doing that." I can barely hear him.
I appreciate having someone who cares at all, "I really do."
"What?"
"Nothing." I'm beginning to feel terrible for reasons I myself can't understand.
Clumsy manages to pipe up, "I'm glad you're okay;" I try to grin in return—"are you?"
I'm getting sick of the interrogation and stare at my side to notice a flower, which unlocks a fragment of a recent memory, "There's a potion that Papa has that makes things grow."
This was said partially to distract myself from light depression. But having it said in the affirmative sparked my interest, "I want to know what's in it."
I'm talking to myself now but Clumsy doesn't get it, "Sounds like a swell potion; how'd you find out?"
"I spilled it and—
Don't want to revisit the intense emotions from that day.
"Never you mind Clumsy. I've had an off day as usual." Last part a bit rushed, "But I'm glad that you're here with me. You're a good friend."
Even if you're nothing but a naïve boy.
He failed to raise the cap over his eyes in elation, touching my shoulder with an outstretched hand. For the first time in what felt like months I get a good look at his face, orbs glazed over, "You're a good friend too! Even though you can be kinda.."
My brows rise uncontrollably for what I know he would say next. And now I'm just waiting for it.
"Kind of…"
Say it.
Sighing in impatience, I remove his hand from my shoulder before bidding him good night, heading back home to sort out the tumult in my mind from days gone by.
"Kinda mean."
Tumbling in sleep—
"No… no..!"
Migraine attacked the elder after he awoke. He rubbed at his temples with calloused hands, "oh no."
Another nightmare. Papa Smurf was beginning to notice a pattern, although the dreams in themselves were never clear. Yet they somehow always left him tense and shaking.
It would be rude and strange to wake his fellow Smurfs in the middle of the night to speak of some outdated superstition known as a vision. A vision that had yet to be interpreted to make any sense.
In mixing another potion to aid his sleep in the candlelight, he was lulled into a meditative state.
"Nothing's wrong, Papa."
Nothing's wrong.
Dammit.
There I went indulging in my wicked fantasy again. I'm terrible.
Didn't just think about it. I wrote it down word per word. A little break from my Quotes From Brainy Smurf took a turn for the worst. It began as an organization of many stray musings, trying to get myself under control.
Sitting there with one leg crossed over the other, parchment seized in my hand with illegible scrawls only to be understood by me, I end up chuckling for just a bit. Then I open a drawer in the desk and shove it underneath other documents.
Oh ho I'm terrible.
I'd told myself to get some rest many times over and have always slept late. Maybe that explains my foul mood.
Groaning for a second after removing my glasses, I bite my lip to stifle yet another giggle.
… I should turn in.
