"I'm lost...

So lost...

Will I ever be able to see the sky

Again?"

-Kingdom Hearts III Theme


"Feliciano, you forgot your script on the table!" a voice called to the stage, summoning an eleven-year-old Italian.

The boy ran from the set, hopping down the stairs quickly and giving an apologetic look to the person holding his script.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly and turned around just as the words left his lips.

The other people standing on the stage waited patiently for the main character of the play to take his place before they read over their lines a final time and set them aside. The stage was lit up with different lights of sorts and everyone was in their costumes.

Feliciano was wearing a green dress, playing a girl who tended to flowerbeds each day and was enslaved by two adults, and yet, had kindness growing continuously in her heart. Feliciano was gifted at acting and so he could play the part better than most girls, and he didn't mind dressing as one. In the play, his name was Rene.

Throughout the play, Rene met a man a few years older than her, and he helped free her from the people hiding her heart from the world. The two had no romantic interest in the play, and were more of siblings than lovers. They felt the need to protect each other rather than pursue. The man's name was Tarrant.

It was opening night for the fourth grade play. The people scanned their lines and others were trying to calm their nerves. Feliciano stood in his spot for their first scene, greeting the man playing Tarrant. Feliciano felt his heart move faster and he tried to look into his blue eyes without fainting of a heart attack.

Tarrant was all he knew the man by. For whatever reason, it was incredibly difficult to inquire his name. They always seemed to be interrupted.

Tarrant was not in his class, and so he knew him only through the play. And though he knew they were only but strangers, Feliciano felt a connection with him; felt something different with him. The roughness of his hands that were a bit larger than his own. The warmth that spread through him and a gentle smile he wore. His hair was bleach blond that would probably fade throughout his years. He tried to deny it through the months they'd rehearsed, but it was inevitable. He'd grown to have a bit more than a crush on Tarrant.

"So, Rene," Tarrant used Feliciano's stage name, "You nervous?"

Feliciano smiled. "Just a bit! Who wouldn't be, you know? Are you?"

Tarrant laughed a marvelous melody. "Of course."

The quick exchange of words was all they had time before the director came backstage and called for everyone to the stage. It was show time. Tens of kids ran to the stage, bearing excited smiles and bundles of nerves. Tarrant waved before walking offstage. He didn't come in until later. Feliciano got in his position, sitting on his knees by the flowerbed. He wore a natural smile as the lights blinded him and the curtain opened.


Arthur walked through the hallways of his schools clutching his binder to his chest as if it was his life source. The books wrapped in his arms dug into his skin and left red streaks but he didn't care much. The winter air was starting to give him a chill and he wore a thin jacket. Some daring children chose to wear short sleeves, and half of them regretted it.

The fringe of Arthur's hair dusted over his forehead and he seemed to be staring holes in the ground as he maneuvered around the seas of students. He drowned out the voices he heard frequently with the shouts of chattering teenagers.

"Arthur," they called.

"Arthur!" their voices were elongated minor keys.

"Arthur~" they sang.

They're not real. You're just hearing things again.

"Arthur, it's rude to ignore us."

"Hello? Anybody home?"

No. I'm not talking to you.

"Arthur?"

"Arthur."

"Arthur!"

"Arthur!"

A hand held onto Arthur's shoulder and the boy jolted of surprise and fear skimmed over his green irises. His heart jumped through his chest until he recognized the person next to him. Alfred. It was just Alfred.

"Geeze, you've been ignoring me! I've been calling you for ages!" he complained.

It was only Alfred. Of course it was. You're losing your mind.

"Sorry," he apologized somewhat dryly.

Alfred seemed to accept the rash apology and started babbling about his next baseball game. Arthur had tuned him out after the third sentence, trying to give his weary mind a rest. The pair walked through the emptying hall and Alfred turned into his class with a smile and a wave, leaving Arthur on his own.

Lifting his arm a bit, Arthur attempted to wave back but Alfred's back had already turned by the time it was in motion. He dejectedly lowered his arm and continued the few meters to his own classroom. Arthur turned into the room, feeling his chest constrict in fear at the sight of the boy whom always wore the sailor outfit.

"Hi, Arthur!" Peter innocently waved.

Or perhaps, he would have looked innocent to anyone other than Arthur.

You know, if he existed in reality.


"It's fine, I'm used to it," Feliciano smiled and waved off the actor next to him.

"It isn't fine! They're using you and you're getting hurt!" Tarrant argued in a strong voice.

Feliciano loved that voice.

Tarrant took hold of Rene's hands and held a valiant stance. Feliciano fought the blush on his cheeks. This was only an act; it wasn't as if Tarrant would do this out of this type of context. But then again, his name wasn't actually Tarrant.

"You have to leave this place, Rene," Tarrant said in a low voice.

Feliciano nodded numbly. "Perhaps, but what about my parents? They'll be left on their own…" he looked down.

"They're not your real parents," Tarrant said, "They're abusing you."

"It isn't right," Feliciano's character, Rene, shook her head.

Tarrant took hold of Rene's chin, gazing passionately into her eyes, "This is right."

Rene bit her lip, glancing around for a moment and took a step back, towards the exit. Tarrant smiled, happy she was going to escape this place with him and he walked with her to the gate. There was something wrong though… Why were there other actors by the exit? They hadn't rehearsed that way had they?

"Where do you think you're going?" Rene's slaveholder shouted.

What was going on? Where were they getting these lines?

Tarrant turned around, surprised as well.

"She can't stay here anymore. You're all monsters!" he improvised.

Suddenly, the two actors by the gate grabbed Rene.

"Rene! What are you people doing?" Tarrant demanded, panic edging his voice.

The other actor stepped forward and withdrew a sort of weapon. It was only a wooden staff, however, it looked a bit heavy for the eleven-year-old boy to hold.

"You can't just take her away. I need her," the actor said in feigned anger.

Tarrant ran over to Feliciano, holding his hand and turning defiantly to the rebel actor.

"I can't let that happen!" a bit more than improvisation was spewed from his lips.

"Tarrant, don't," Feliciano begged, "I don't want you getting hurt."

The audience was still and watching them intently. For children, they seemed to be great actors. The atmosphere of panic between Rene and Tarrant felt so real.

The actor with the staff held it high, pointing atop the gate.

"You can't take her away, and that's final!" his voice wavered as well as his strength and the wooden weapon fell onto Tarrant's head, pushing him into the flowerbed.

But where there are roses, there are thorns.

The slaveholder's eyes widened at the mistake, however it looked as if it were planned. Tarrant let a cry of pain, trying to sit up. A sharp needle had pierced his back.

"Tarrant!" Feliciano screeched. If only he knew his real name. He wanted to call it.

Rene—or was it Feliciano?—broke against the weakening hold of the other actors and ran to his aid. He caressed Tarrant's head in his lap and his throat clogged up. Blood was soaking through his dress but he cared not for clothing at the moment.

Supervision from offstage were rushing towards the scene and blocked by other staff. With shaking heads, they explained it was part of the play. So why were their own eyes so surprised? So remorseful?

Tarrant tried to move and hissed at the pain in his back.

"R-Rene, it hurts," he said simply in a much more feeble voice.

"Tarrant…" Feliciano whispered helplessly and his soft voice was picked up by a microphone.

The two were quiet for a moment and Tarrant's eyes started to grow heavy. Feliciano panicked, hitting his chest mindlessly. Anything to wake him up. He would do anything.

"No! Don't close your eyes! Look at me!" he demanded, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I'm so tired," Tarrant said hoarsely, "It really hurts."

Tarrant's weakened fingertips brushed against Feliciano's arm.

"Tarrant! Y-You can't leave this way!" tears fell onto Tarrant's cheeks as Feliciano started to sob.

Tarrant's chest moved up and down rapidly and Feliciano's head snapped up with tear-stained cheeks.

"Help me! Somebody! He's dying!" Feliciano choked out and tears clung to his chin.

The others were frozen in place from shock.

Feliciano dropped his head and rested it on Tarrant's chest.

"Tarrant, I love you, you can't leave me," he whispered so only he could hear.

Not even that triggered much a response.

"You're going to stay here forever," the actor's voice wavered and he tried his best not to show regret or sorrow. "You can't ever leave."

"I don't care! I hate you all!" Feliciano screamed at them with anger and hate falling from his eyes. "I hate these flowers, I hate the world, I hate myself, I hate love, I hate everything, I hate everyone, I hate YOU!"

Feliciano's shoulders started to shake violently and he wept without shame of being on stage.

The curtains started to close with the "final" scene even though the planned play should have carried on for seven more. Adults immediately rushed to Feliciano and Tarrant's side. Foreign arms grabbed the wounded boy and people called for an ambulance. They stole Tarrant away.

"What the fuck was that?!" Feliciano yelled in anger, not caring for the curse that left his mouth. He didn't care for anything now.

"F-Feliciano calm down," the teacher tried to coax.

"Why did they change the script?! Why did they kill Tarrant?!" he demanded in a screeching voice.

"I didn't mean to!" the actor claimed.

"Tarrant isn't dead, he's just hurt. That wire used to keep the flowers together pierced his spinal cord. He's being taken to the hospital. We just thought it would be interesting to have someone intervene and take you back and have a more powerful scene. We never mean to physically hurt Tarrant, though," someone explained.

"Well you got your powerful scene!" Feliciano sobbed and tears recollected in his eyes.

Feliciano felt hollow and he stood shakily, hugging his body and feeling sick from the sight of Tarrant's blood on his costume.

In anger, he ripped the skirt off, leaving him in the underdress. With a strong arm, he threw it at the teacher, running off and wiping lingering tears from his eyes. He avoided the path that was visible to the audience and sprinted to where Tarrant was being carried off.

He found himself in the middle of the parking lot; sirens blared in his ears.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Feliciano shouted: "Tarrant! Where are you? Are you okay?"

Feliciano's head swiveled around, searching frantically for his wounded soldier.

The boy could never find his love.


The walls of the classroom felt so confining and so cold. The windows might as well have bars over them. Arthur scribbled more answers into his math test, trying to ignore the boy sitting next to him. He swore he could feel his chilly breath on his shoulder. Peter started to laugh and Arthur's hand froze.

Was he doing something wrong? His eyes scanned his question and he thought he did it correctly. He did, didn't he? Just keep writing. Just keep writing.

"Oh you're such an idiot," Peter laughed mockingly.

Arthur bit his lip.

If no one else sees you, I don't either. You're not real. You're not real. You're not real.

His pencil moved a bit more hesitantly and Peter's presence felt more real than the test.

"Arthur," he heard them again.

Be quiet…

"Come on, talk to us!"

You're not real…

"Aren't we fun to be around?"

Please stop it.

"We're the only ones that like you enough to talk to you!"

Arthur clutched his head, feeling an aching pulse and he couldn't stop the voices that were resounding and echoing in patronizing volumes. His pencil dropped from his hand much more audibly than he intended and his eyes screwed shut.

But nothing would silence the demons.

He heard Peter starting to laugh again. He was laughing at him. He was laughing at him. Why was he laughing at him?

"Arthur?" he felt a hand on his shoulder and couldn't help the scream that surfaced from his throat.

The hand flinched back and he could feel eyes on him, and yet he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but shiver and try to shrink away. He needed to be alone. Leave him alone. He doesn't want anyone right now.

"Arthur, are you alright?" a voice was blended into menacing ones.

Arthur's breathing sped rapidly and his hands shook over his ears.

"Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet…" he chanted softly in a pitiful tone. "Why won't they be quiet?"

The teacher rushed to the phone and called the office, explaining the situation in near panic. This brought the school nurse to the classroom, and it wasn't hard to single Arthur out from the rest of the students. Looks of confusion, fear, and some of amusement were cast into Arthur's murky green seas.

"Arthur, dear? I need you to calm down," a gentle voice tried to coaxed him.

But Arthur could hear nothing except the voices screaming in his subconscious.

"Arthur, you're being called. It's rude to ignore her."

"You're such a rude boy."

"Maybe that's why you're such a disgrace to everyone."

"Who would ever love someone like you?"

Arthur shook his head violently and fearful, frustrated tears started to form in the corners of his eyes.

"You think Alfred would?" they laughed.

"Shut up already… Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"You're greatly mistaken!"

The students started to whisper around him, some making jokes and some just sitting back frightened. To Arthur, the ceiling felt as if it was caving in, and he started to hyperventilate. How do you breathe again? Arthur didn't know. Arthur didn't care.

"Do the world a favor and just stop breathing!"

Arthur felt a pinch in his arm and looked blindly to the nurse whom had stuck a syringe in the flesh. His vision got blurry, his limbs going limp and he fell out of his chair unconscious.

The nurse looked somewhat pitifully to the boy on the ground and picked him up gingerly, placing him in the golf cart she drove around campus, and the students now knew the intended usage for the thing. Securing him in place, she started to drive to the clinic, casting a last glance over her shoulder to the disrupted math classroom.

"Times up," the teacher said somewhat distractedly and picked up Arthur's incomplete test.


"What class is Tarrant in?" Feliciano asked the teacher the following day with hate burning his voice.

"Tarrant?" was the oblivious reply.

"From the play! I don't know his real name!"

The teacher showed no recognition. She knew no one named Tarrant. Who was Tarrant?

Who was he indeed?

Feliciano didn't care he'd get written up for skipping; he ran from the classroom and into the neighboring one. His eyes scanned those of whom were sitting in class. He found no one he knew, calling to the teacher of this classroom now.

"Is Tarrant from last night's play in this class?" he beseeched.

The teacher looked at him in bemusement.


"How does no one know who he is?!" Feliciano yelled to open air. "He exists! He does! What happened to him?!"

Feliciano sunk to his knees outside the school. He felt his eyes dampen once more and he choked back on more sobs. His fingernails dug into the dirt and he wanted more than anything to find Tarrant.

"Tarrant... Are you alive?"


...I'm mean aren't I?

Anyways I wasn't lying when I said updates were going to be a lot more frequent. XD See ya next chapter~