WONDERLAND ✯ Louis Partridge

2 | We're All Mad Here

Y/N

_

I THINK IT'S SAFE TO SAY that I've died.

Cause of death, unknown, but there's no way I just tumbled down a mile long rabbit hole, got beat up by random furniture, and then found myself in the arms of a dashingly handsome boy who looks around my age.

This can't be real life. There are no dashingly handsome boys around my age.

"Is this the afterlife?" I questioned bluntly, my eyes still locked onto the pair of hazel ones above me, "or whatever comes after death, because I'm utterly confused on where I am."

The boy chuckled, a steady rumbling in his chest pressing up against my side. He was still holding me up, one of his arms under my thighs, and one under my back. He had a nice laugh. And a nice face.

Oh, heavens, stop it [y/n], now is not the time!

"No, darling, you're not dead," he said, gently placing me onto my feet, "you're someplace better."

I cocked a brow, "is there someplace better than death?"

"Where you are now."

"And...where am I, exactly?" I muttered under my breath, beginning to observe the room.

We were in a circular space, with checkered tiles decorating the floor, and cream walls running all the way up to the ceiling. One could say we were inside of a chess board. I glanced back at the boy, observing his body in full—it was hard to get a good look at him considering he was busy saving my life.

He was around 6ft, maybe a little shorter, but definitely taller than most of the boys I've met. A small crown was perched on top of his curls, a tiny note with a 10/6 tucked into it, and he wore it in a titled fashion that complimented his crooked smile. On his feet were black leather boots, with a matching leather jacket, and a silver chain hanging on his neck and over his maroon shirt.

He looked like something out of the Hollywood Scene in the States. Except his British accent told me otherwise.

"Staring is always allowed," the boy said abruptly, pushing aside a stray curl, "but now I'm curious as to why you seem so interested in me."

I snapped out of my thoughts immediately.

I didn't realize I had been staring at him so blatantly. Did he think I was being creepy? I swear I wasn't, I was just completely and utterly confused as to what was happening. Way to go, [y/n].

"I'm not interested," I noted quickly, "I'm just observing."

"See anything you like?"

"No."

"Your loss, then," he smirked, his eyelid twitching into a subtle wink, "but we have more pressing matters at hand, and I think we should get going."

I took a step back in caution, "go where?"

"To the place of all madness and daydreams," he explained, "where else?"

"Are you sure I'm not dead?"

"I can't be sure of anything. You tell me."

I couldn't tell if he was some spirit-genie with ultimate wisdom, or he was off his rocker. Probably the latter. But if I wasn't so freaked out at this whole concept, I may have found it attractive.

But now I found it creepy.

"No, thank you," I said, "I think I'd best be heading back now."

Just think about it! What would you do if you fell down a rabbit hole, landed into a dreamboat's arms, and then were told that you'd have to go to some mystical place that was better than death?