see the world through your playground eyes (pt. I)
title and cut from s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w by my chemical romance
you sit with him in your room. he only visits at night, you noticed it the second time he came. you look out of the window and notice the sky is steeped with stars, like it always seems to be when he's around. there's a tinge of pink on his cheeks, as if he had just ran quite a long way. you think it's beautiful.
there's the familiar smell of rain in the air, but aside from the great quantity of stars, the sky is clear. you know that it's just him, the way he smells. you don't know when he became such an eminent part of your life, but you wait at your window for him every night. you know that it's stupid, that his visits are indiscriminate, but you get hopeful every time there's a starry night.
you only realize he's speaking when he starts to wave his hand in front of your face. you had been watching his smile, so radiant it could win a pageant. you don't think there's a smile in all the annals of the world that's as magnificent as his. you look up at him and realize he is waiting for you to speak. "i can't prognosticate," he says. "you have to answer me at some point."
"what?" you stare blankly at him.
"it's like talking to an automaton!" he throws his hands up, exasperated with you.
"what?" you say again, feeling like you're just compounding the problem.
he looks at you, replete with annoyance. "you're not perceiving anything i'm saying right now, are you?" he asks. your cheeks are already red by the time he finishes speaking. you shrug. "i said i want you to come with me. please? you have to come with me!" he implores.
naturally, you have no idea what he's talking about. as you pause, he takes the opportunity to take your hands, kneeling in front of you. "please, please. you've got to come with me. i don't got anyone else i want to take, just you," he says. you don't understand that. he has such a voracious vocabulary, he says words you don't even know, yet his grammar is so terrible.
you realize, though, that he's talking about his home. he wants to take you back to his home. his wonderful, beautiful home, without technology or drudgery. his home, with flowers and fairies abound. "c'mon please? there's a cafeteria, you won't go hungry!" he badgers.
"why's there a cafeteria?" you ask.
"okay, so there's not.. but still," he juts his lower lip out at you, a childish gesture.
you think for a moment. going with him would be like entering an entirely different realm. an entirely new realm. one with no cares, or school, or bullies, or anything. one where you could be yourself. it would be absolutely amazing.
but. there's a downfall. you wouldn't be able to come back, ever. no more family, or friends. your mum would miss you terribly, you think. she would think you didn't love her maybe, think that you ran away. or maybe something worse, maybe she would think you got stolen in the night. you love your mum. you love your sister, even though she gets you in trouble, even though she makes you sit in front of the mirror for hours while she puts hairbands in your unruly curls. you would miss them. you do not want to leave them.
you think that maybe he was like you once, just a kid waiting at his window. you wonder who would visit him, you wonder who he left home for. you wonder if his boy was as wonderful as him. you wonder if he regrets his choice.
finally, you look at him. his face his hopeful, his blue eyes shining, crinkled at the corners from his smile. you shake your head. "no," you say. "i think i want to stay here."
his face falls. "oh," the simple syllable comes out of his mouth easily, but his expression says something different. as if it were the hardest thing he ever had to say. "okay." he looks away from you. you don't know what to say. he leaves, not saying another word to you.
you shut your window. as you prepare for bed, you notice that all the stars from before are gone. only two are left, one of them shining bright. as bright as the moon.
peculiar, you think.
the next night, you lock your window. you go to sleep early. you do not wait for him. he doesn't come. you never expected him to. but for a moment, just before you close your eyes to sleep, you smell rain.
p.s. blame a certain goatbutt for the second person pov smh
p.p.s there's words like 'cafeteria' or 'grammar' that i have to fit into this story so like some parts might seem a bit silly, i apologize.