𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

yellow - Armin Arlert

s4//armin//based off of the song by coldplay

The sky was blue in a dream that couldn't come true

Of course, the sky is always blue. That is the colour that it shows through the day, though sometimes drenched with the paint of pale yellow and orange and pink or sunset. But this time it really did look blue, and alive at that. A sky that moved with ripples in the clouds, with birds who soared no matter the strength of the wind.

Maybe this dream could come true one day, but at first it seemed like no dream.

I woke up with the sand on my bum. Seashells pricked and cut the plush surface of my skin, but it did not break or hurt. A crashing sound of waves came from the body of water before me, filling my ears and my eyes with the sweet sensation of the ocean. It was mesmerising. But I did not know where I was.

I looked for the tall trees in which I knew Titans resided. I looked for the pebbles to move from the stomping that could be felt from miles away, but they were only swept away from the crystal sheet water. All I could find was tall grass that lept with the wind, lying against a cottage that was nestled in the clay.

My feet crunched on the shells as I walked to the cottage, but they were not shells of ammo, spears, or any weapon that would be set at my hips. They were pale pink and shattered, but some smoothed away by the reckless force of the water.

"You're back!"

My head turned to find a woman.

Her hair was tied back in a bun, golden brown strands falling loosely to frame her face. Freckles dotted her nose and patches of dark marks were splattered on her face, looking like she had lived her life all in the sun. To her chest there was an apron, to her legs a loose skirt. She completed the look with a smile.

In a short second, she kissed me. 

"How was your trip?" The woman asked, and walked
deeper into the cottage to a table. That is when the breath stopped momentarily in my lungs and my eyes neared to water.

A girl, possibly nine or ten years of age, was sitting straight backed in her wooden chair, bringing a spoon to her mouth full of meat. Next to her, a boy of maybe five, face stuffed of porridge relentlessly. It was impossible for me to know them, but something about them was so familiar that it hurt to look at their faces. Like their personas were something that I had clung to like a lost child to their mother's skirt, and could never let go.

Behind the boy, I looked further.

A cradle, from what I could see. The charm of a bird hanging over it.

"Daddy!" The boy cried, hopping out of his chair and rushing to give me a hug. His face was bright and joyous, something I have never seen before on a child, as he embraced me with tiny hands.

"H-Hi," I stuttered out. What was I supposed to say to this boy I suddenly couldn't remember? "It's good to see you, bud."

"Alexander, go eat your food," The girl scolded in an elder sister way. Behind her, the mother grabbed her smallest child from the crib. "How was your trip father?"

Father. "Well, I suppose that it went well."

"You are acting strangely," the woman said suddenly behind me. When I turned, I realised the smile had been replaced with a frown of concern. "Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes," I stuttered. I knew this woman. So well. But where was she from; how could I forget someone that I felt like I had known for ages?

"Is it alright if we maybe talk outside?" I asked.