Into the Enchanted forest -nanmac-

| Part 1 | The Guy

"Mom, I'm eleven years old. Why would I wear a kid's outfit for my school event?" Mac said as he stomped his tiny feet on the floor countless times.

"No dear... Age is just a number, and you're still my baby." The old lady muttered while looking for another shirt that would suit his son better. She thinks that it would be great if she was the one who chose the outfit.

"But, mom-"

"Oh! I found it!" She cried before making her way towards the young man who was standing next to the bed. On her hands, she was holding a light grey sweater. "It's your father's shirt. You're such a big boy now, maybe it will fit you better."

As she said those words, her son, only stared into his mother's face. He could see how his mother smiled brightly when she was talking about the shirt, how her eyes sparkled as she told him the story, how cheerful his mother is now...

But that was only a piece of memory 9 years ago; when Mac felt he had been hit by one hard unknown object that made him open his eyes. He gets up from his nap; sitting on the bed as he holds up his aching head. But that thing does not hurt as much as how he felt right at that moment.

His heart still wants to call for somebody.

His head keeps playing the same thing over; and over again.

His eyes only fill with sorrow.

"Hey, Mac!" Called the latter as he walked passed the furniture and stood in front of his friend. "Mac. Hey, Mac!"

"Huh?" Tilting his head, Mac was surprised when he saw a hand touching his shoulder. He was now realized that Dew, his close friend standing in front of him with concern written on his face.

"Hey, are you having a fever? You look pale." The guy spoke as he placed his back palm on Mac's forehead measuring his body temperature.

"No, I'm fine." Mac said before removing the guy's hand.

"Are you sure? Or did I hit you so hard that makes you lose your mind?"

"...Damn it! So it was you who hit me?!" Mac shouted.

"Err... well...calm down first, my friend." The latter started to panic. He could feel the sweat dripping down from his temple and now he tried to find the right excuse to save himself from getting into trouble.

"Dew," Mac called for the latter name.

"Calm down, Mac. I mean... it was just so hard to wake you up, well... I got no choice but to hit your head."

Mac is left speechless by his friend's behavior. How annoyed he felt when the person in front of him had spoken about his crime with an innocent face. He lets out a deep breath.

"Forget it. I wanna take a shower by now."

"Oh, right! The breakfast is ready. Go downstairs after you've done with your thing." Dew said before leaving Mac alone.

Mac sits still for a while, thinking about the dream that has been following him since then. Lately, the dream has become so vivid for him that it feels surreal. A dream about his late mother...

Shaking the thought out of his head; he gets on his feet, grabs his towel, and heads into the bathroom. Last night, he had a sleepover at Dew's house. They have been drinking and talking about random stuff till the morning before going to take a nap.

After he was done with his shower, Mac went downstairs...

"Thank you for the breakfast, auntie."

"Oh, anytime my dear..." Spoke to the old woman who was wearing the apron. The old woman has such a young sweet face. If anybody is asking about how old she is, no one will be going to believe it. The youth in herself is still there.