The Windborn boy ─ Venti x reader ✔

9.

——6 years ago

[ 3rd pov ]

A stormy day outside continued to sour the mood while it durated through the afternoon. When he glanced out of the window, his gaze would fill up with all kinds of emotions to confront frustration, sadness, and confusion on the bad days.

He lost track of time, and before he realized, hours passed in the blink of an eye. He starred out of the window for the past hours. He was confused himself why he did it, but embracing the cold nothing was the most familiar feeling admidst all of the unfamiliarity.

Others preferred to lie on the floor and stare at walls. He watched the horizon. Instead, it was his personal preference.

Venti moved away from it and paced the corridor up and down, accompanied by a rattling mind and pounding heart. All he could think of was the number of many possibilities—too many possibilities, and he feared every single one.

They were drawn out as easily as a pen stroke, and he hadn't adjusted to any of them yet.

The future itself was an unpredictable scary thing. Every step you'd take would be in the dark, every now and then, until it was in the past, and you'd recall familiarity to act on experience.

He was home alone once again. This itself wasn't an issue, but he feared the dark. It consumed him with every minute passing. Something wasn't adding up. No matter how much he would try to calm himself. Every single time, the pair of eyes would fall back on the darkness and the cold environment.

There was such a thing, something reminded him of it, and it kept coming back to him. When he finally stopped moving, he couldn't even describe it or put it in simple words. Yet so many things in his head had felt empty for a while. He didn't want to remember when it started.

The next thought he caught was scrambling in his mind, which he he acted on. In the aftermath of considering it, it was an impulsive thought. Something  he hadn't thought through. His feet were under the commands of the brain, his heart working for once together with the thoughts in such a way, an extraordinary exception. There weren't many days when it came close to this.

The male's eyes scanned around his place. Where could the object of his needs be located in the moment. When he caught sight of it, he went to grab his phone and unlocked the lockscreen. 

He had so much to tell, there was much going on, and so many nice things had happened—it was final with the decision-making. He had pondered enough about it.

At the point at which he was about to choose the caller ID, his fingers hesitated. Suddenly, very fast, a realization had brought him back to the reality he was in.

"Habits only die hard," she had once said, and this stung—a sweet advice, but to him, this was a habit too, which was connected to you and your bittersweet words.

A ghost of the past.

However, somehow, something clicked, reminding him of the remains that were left of the so-called friendship. The remains of the numbness in his heart, the pain it once caused that scarred it worse than he'd expected. Despite all the scenarios he thought through, it hurt more than he thought. "Oh.." he mumbled as his voice sounded regretful, "right.."