ducks and roses

1

the sun was setting, and karl had nothing to do. he absentmindedly laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. he felt a draft of warm wind coming from his window. it was a soft, almost misty feeling current. he found it quite pleasant. 

it was a warm day out, but the boy didn't mind very much. it didn't feel hot or uncomfortable at all, like a day in fall. he let his mind wander to this subject, thinking back to simpler times. memories of carving pumpkins, jumping in leaf piles, and dressing up for halloween filled his mind. he reminisced about group halloween costumes, trick or treating, and the friend involved in it. chris, his childhood best friend came to mind. he hadn't talked to him in a while.

he slowly rolled over and picked up his phone, dialing the familiar number. nothing. he sighed in defeat, putting his phone back down, and sitting up. he had been doing something similar every night the last few weeks. he tried not to think about it, but his loneliness was starting to consume him. even his boyfriend, sapnap, hadn't messaged him in a while. he was out visiting family, but he didn't have to completely ghost him.

bored, he glanced around his room, noting the music vinyls on the wall. he had bought them a couple years ago when he decided to visit a music store. he wasn't quite sure what to get, so he bought inside, unchained melody, and heatwaves instead of trying something new. inside was his favorite album at the time, unchained melody was very nostalgic for him, as it was the song his mother would always listen to when he was little, and he had bought heatwaves as a gift for his friend clay, but never ended up giving it to him. 

under the vinyls, there was a random flag he had hung on his wall. it had three vertical stripes, blue, white, and green, as well as a red circle with three white smaller circles on it. he found it at his neighbor's yard sale. he wasn't quite sure what it was, but he liked it so he kept it. he had tried researching it, but he couldn't find anything. all he knew was the tag said 'dsmp' on it.

he looked over to the other wall and saw several polaroids hanging on it. he sat up, a creak coming from his bed, and slowly walked over to the wall, looking at the pictures closer. they were hanging on string he had attached to his wall, clothespins attacking them. in his previous house, they were stored in a cardboard box, recklessly stuffed in a closet somewhere, but after loosing one of his favorites, he realized he shouldn't be that careless with something he treasured so much, so when he moved, he hung them up on his wall. thankfully, when he was packing, he had found the missing photo. it was bent and slightly dirty, but he was just happy he had found it again.

he skimmed over the photos, a different kind of nostalgia hitting him each picture. there were pictures of him when he was little, his family, him and sapnap, and other random photos that have no importance but became meaningful to him over time. he scanned over the rows of memories, finally looking at the last row. this was a bit more of a complicated row, as the pictures weren't a simple as friends and family. robin, ranbob, billiam, and other various companions from his travels were reserved for that row. he looked closely at each image, attempting to think back to those times. for some photos, he had to dig deep into his memory, while others he wished to forget.

he hadn't time traveled in a long time, and he wasn't about to again. his memory was already a haze, struggling to remember even the simplest things. he didn't see the memory loss as a big problem at the start, but then again, he had no one at the start. now he has things that are important to him, people he would sacrifice everything for. and what was he getting out of this anyway? money? memories? joy? pain. that's what it was. his memories were blending together, not keeping a single story straight. every time it was the same. he would travel to a new timeline, get attached to the people there, and then they were gone. they vanished right in front of him. he couldn't do anything to stop the cycle. he didn't even remember why he was doing this in the first place. so he stopped.

 he looked at the last photo, tears starting to form in his eyes. the last photo, was a bent, slightly dirty polaroid, of james.