Fleeting Dreams: Life is Full of Minor Details

Fleeting Dreams

"Casper, we both know that's not possible. You have demonic tendencies. No god would ever agree with you."

The black-haired man looked offended, before crying out, "The audacity! Senna! You hurt my feelings."

"Well, to be fair, you did kinda look at a child walking past the house this morning and said, I wonder what I would have to do to get that kid to follow me to a van and drive away."

"Minor details."

"I beg to differ."

"This conversation has now officially ended."

Senna watched the taller man smile, pearly white teeth peeking out from behind his slim lips. He huffed tiredly, before turning his attention back to the clouds.

"Casper, why do people think I am so weird?"

"I'm not sure champ," Casper replied slowly. "You do have a tiny habit of appearing to talk to yourself when no one is around."

Senna's eyes shot back at Casper, glinting furiously. "Oh, I wonder why. Doesn't help that a certain somebody decided it was an amazing idea to not allow me to explain my situation to anyone."

Casper's eyes narrowed dangerously, a predatory glint sparking to life within his dark blue orbs, as he took in Senna's pale skin and blonde hair. Speaking in a low voice, filled with anger and malice, the black-haired man whispered, "You dare suggest I retract my right to you."

Without realizing his actions, the blonde starts to rub the inside of his right wrist. When the other boy notices, his movements come to a halt.

Casper's eyes darken further to an almost black color before softening and going back to his usual eye colour. "It was a mistake, Senna. I did not mean to hurt you. I was angry at your caretaker."

Senna huffed. "She is not my caretaker, she is–"

"Shh...she is just your caretaker."

Reluctantly, he nodded.

The two sank back into a peaceful silence, watching the clouds as they were chased across the sky by powerful blasts of wind. The leaves of nearby trees rustled, as the grass bent back and forth in rhythm with the chilly autumn breeze. However, Senna can sense that the boy lying beside him was still holding an air of hostility around him.

"Cas?"

"Hmm?"

"I am sorry, Casper."

Sighing, the dark-haired man relaxed, effectively letting go of his anger. He knew that Senna had not meant it, but it had provoked him nonetheless. "It's okay, but please mind your wording next time."

"I will. Promise."

Minutes turned into hours, as the two lay side by side in the tall grass, doing nothing but enjoying each other's company. At times, Senna would strike up a random conversation, to which Casper would respond with his normal sarcastic remarks.

It was peaceful.

At least, until a shrill voice screamed—

"Senna! Dinner is ready!"

Sighing tiredly, the blonde man got up on his elbows, looking at Casper pleadingly.

"Please," he started quietly. "Please just consume my soul, so that I don't have to go inside that house."

While Casper understood his struggles, he solemnly shook his head.

"You know I cannot do that, Senna."

"Why not?" The young man begged — "Please, don't make me go back there."

"You know why."

"Do I, though?"

Casper laughed, "Yes, you do. I cannot save you from her. Only you can. You need to make the decision, to either run away or live with it. Death, however, is not an option I can give you."

"But she thinks I am crazy!"

The other man was used to his outbursts as they came every now and then. The outbursts only meant one thing.

"You are not taking your medicines." Senna looked at Casper weirdly as the dark-haired boy was smiling fondly and shaking his head. Was he disappointed? Happy? Both? It was always hard to tell when he forgot to refill his bottle of medicine.

"You are aware that does not make me feel any better, right?"

"Yes, I am. But..." Casper looked at Senna expectantly.

The latter reluctantly continued the sentence, "minor details."

"That's right!" His best friend beamed before looking at him with a calm urgency. And then he opened his mouth again.

"Setting sun in the sky,

I love to see your glowing face in this dull light.

I promise to come back to you tomorrow and again,

But for now, it is time to say goodbye."

"You whisper this poem daily into my ears, yet it feels impossible to get used to it and let you go."

"Feels" was Casper's answer along with a reassuring blink of an eye and a smile. Senna sprung to his feet and turned his back to Cas who gently holds his wrist — like every day — to stop him. "Now go, eat your dinner, and remember..."

He waited once more.

"Do not tell them about me." These words were an everyday story when it came to Senna leaving. Many a time he wondered if it was a form of goodbye from wherever Cas came from.

"I would never."

"Do not tell them who I am."

"I would never."

"Do not tell them what I am."

"Never."

The two already knew they were getting stared at by the woman – Martha. She kept observing Senna, watching as he continued talking to himself, despite her call. A flare of anger and despair welled up within her chest.

No matter how much she tried to be good to him, it all went to the depths of hell as soon as he mentioned Casper. Senna thought Casper was his best friend. Martha believed otherwise. She never took his name, she spat it, as it was the only way to get the bitter taste left in her mouth off. Last night, she hit Casper and Senna howled in pain. It was an unbreakable bond of friendship. Of course, the latter refused to go to the church with her today in hopes of getting back at her. He was seething and stewing in ill-concealed anger the last she saw him.

The ringing of the church bell brought her back to the present. The prayers have started. In this moment of truth, she would admit to having never touched a hair on Casper's head. She could not have, simply because Casper did not exist. He existed nowhere except in Senna's imagination. Only if he understood.

She did not remove her sharp gaze from him until he was up on his feet before turning to the fine man standing close to her – "You have seen his worst and my worst, and in turn have given your best. I want your honesty now. Will my son ever be fine, doctor?"

The good doctor released a painful sigh, "Some people think of their problems as baggage. The only things they can rely on are their own thoughts and themselves."

Martha fell down to her knees. It started to rain while the earth remained dry.