Did You Read My Letters? [DSMP Inspired Fanfic]

Chapter One: Frostbite

Waves crashed at the shore, the blonde boy with a white streak in his hair (which shone in the golden gleam of the sunlight and dripped slowly with crimson from a distant attack) well, he sighed watching the ocean.

The ocean seemed so much more happier than the blue eyed child, innocence depleted, innocence left, deployed to another, why do waves live a better life than someone who only ever tried? Was it a crime to want to have confidence? To be cocky but caring?

Pale skin covered the skinny figure, he was malnourished, severely underweight with cheek bones that sunk in like they'd disappear if they caved in deeper. Eyes that were barely visible in bags, and he could feel his bones, he could feel everything. It was such a strange feeling, his wrist was able to fit with so much more space between his index finger and his thumb. He was a pathetic mess, he barely ate, he'd killed all the animals here long ago. He just lives off of the occasional fish that swims by.

More often than not, he's too tired to eat, his stomach shrunk so much that even a cod was more than enough for two days of food. Salt water dried his tongue up and made his thirst even worse, so he practically lived by this sea constantly drinking, just always drinking.

He couldn't cry anymore, he just physically couldn't otherwise he doubted that he'd ever stop. He was just so alone, no one visited anymore, his camp site was blown to smithereens and he was too dizzy and sick to rebuild so he lives on the shore. He lives on the sand, by his old pity party. As always, he just barely gets by in his word, in this life. Life was tiring for the poor teen.

Running his hands through tangled hair, tugging at every knot, he realised how much he needed a bath, his hair was full of grease and full of dirt. A bath wasn't in his routine, he couldn't be bothered, who would see him? Who is he dressing up for? Himself? Not like looking great changes anything for the sad boy. Such a pathetic sight, anyone would agree just by a quick glance. Gold chains used to decorate his head like he was royalty, they're now just tangled in with the mess, the tangles that will never be undone.

Waves never stopped, did they? They worked overtime, putting in the extra effort to make the world seem just that slight bit prettier. It helps children build sand castles and adults relax by the shore, surfers swim in high tides and that may attract more people. However, maybe the sea was tired too, that's why it's always calm. Forever exiled to the beach, maybe that's a paradise for many. But, winters are so cold and summer's are so hot it's unbearable.

Wearing clothes that are tattered and ripped, held together by bandages (which cover mountains of scars and burns), burns which rooted throughout his entire body.

He can't remember the last time he removed his eye patch, it was the last thing his old "owner" gave to him after he blew everything up. Another Wilbur in the mix, he was just moldable like clay, just a puppet to be strung stupidly on a paper string. One that snaps at the slightest pressure, but the craving to have someone to care even if it wasn't true. It wasn't pure care or attention but it was something. Something more than these cravings for someone, anyone to just greet him, to remind him he's human.

Human, he doesn't feel human anymore. Lack of attention would drive anyone insane, lack of anything, everything. An eternity to dwell, lines are blurry and lines are far from straightforward. He's had months to over-think his choices. But now, he begs himself, promises himself, that he'll come back. Praying on his knees and yelling out to death ears. Only the fish hear, swimming away the moment his hoarse voice hits their ears.

Everyone feared him, that's what it must've been, right? That's why they ignore him, that's why they treat him like dirt. Something to stand on, something to lean on, something to use. They thought he was under their shoe, right?