Whispers To The Night

Chapter 1. it

L

It started with a light. Then a dark sky, paired with the dancing sights of the oncoming wind and the sweet smells of the alluring scent of rain. Then, it was the stars, hanging in the sky like little reassurances that not everything is just infinite darkness, that there is some type of inevitable light in this world. And lastly, it ended with the whispered words that fell from his lips like a mantra, never ending, constant. Why?
***
Louis was tired. He felt like his body was just a painting of grey and blue, of sadness and exhaustion, of all that was left of the shell of a man. And it's not like he liked feeling this way. He just couldn't help it.

Words were written on the tip of his tongue, weighing it down, swelling it with screams and leaving it heavy in his mouth, a constant thing that always had him reeling. Dark crescent circles lined the barely tan skin underneath his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks dipped disgustingly, an outward show of his discomfort that Louis hated, but loved all the same. It kept people away, left him to his peace, kept him safe.

But, even though they never came near him, Louis' fingers still shook every time he sat in the bakery, nearly spilling hot tea all over his bony fingers but always barely managing to keep that pain away, instead allowing it to burn the inside of his mouth as he sipped and watched the outside; the grey sky, the dark shadows of the birds, the look of the wind threading through the streets. It was comforting to him because it was there every day, every week, month that Louis had come to the bakery, was the same scene, the same silent speech. For some odd reason, it gave him the strength to come the next day, then the day after that, then the tomorrow of that tomorrow. He was always alone, always studying, always thinking, the same routine, until it grew dark and he was forced to go home when the shop closed, fingers shaking and ears ringing.

He always hated that part. Going home. Going back to his chair and his window and his blanket and sitting and staring out at the lights, smelling the rain, listening to the wind, finding faith in the stars, and whispering to the night.
**
To say Louis was surprised when someone sat across from him a Monday since he and last been alone, was the understament of his entire lifetime. He didn't know if it was an accident, a mistake, a trick, but the thought of opening his mouth and hollowing his tongue to ask nearly made him sick. Instead, he did the only thing he knew of to do. He studied.

His dim, blue irises dragged over the smoothness of his pale cheeks, the thickness of his pink lips that looked like they would feel soft against his rough skin, the sharp cut of his jawline, the protruding hump of his cheekbones, and lastly the brightness of his eyes, forest green studying him back with such mirth and intensity and compassion that Louis wanted to scream, but kept quiet. "Hi." The lad simply stated before pushing a steaming cup of tea towards him, then a cookie decorated with pastel purple sprinkles, before finally offering him a gentle grin and pushing his hand through his dark, shoulder length curls, dimples dipping little caverns into the milkiness of his pale cheeks.

All Louis could do was study, stare, probably looked a bit freaky, but the lad just stared back at him, eyes bright and warm with welcome and thick lips pulled in a gentle smile.

He sat with him for the rest of that afternoon, a constant presence that oddly set Louis' racing mind at ease for once, slowing his piling thoughts and leaving a warm him in its place.

When he went home that night he told his story to the night as he watched the stars, breathed in the rain, and listened to the wind.