𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❞

﹒one

Waking up in a world of utter hopelessness and sparse meaning, Bennett rubbed his eyes, contemplating whether to heed his urge to eat or the will to lie down. He pulled up his body with some effort and sat up.

Bennett's room resembled that of a toddler. Custom painted sky blue walls and clouds printed over them, a single bed propped against a wall, a study table against another. A wardrobe full of clothes and a brown ebony bookshelf. His room was cheerful, as bright sunshine poured in through the big French window right above his bed.

One could surely notice the contrast between the room and its owner.

He got up and walked into the bathroom. Quite unwillingly, he got in front of the mirror and carefully looked at his face. Groaning in annoyance, he began brushing his teeth.

Fifteen minutes later, he got out of the bathroom and began dressing up. He was quite lethargic in the morning; by the time he was done, his alarm beeped, intending to inform him that he needed to rush out of the house to catch the bus that would take him to his university. Quickly dabbing some makeup and spraying an antiperspirant, he grabbed his bag and dashed out, skipping his breakfast to get there in time.

Hustling everyone and everything that came his way to the bus stop, Bennett somehow made it in time. The bus conductor rather smiled warmly at the panting boy, and patted his back, guiding him to a seat before the bus could start and shoot him off his feet.

Bennett was a chemistry student at Seoul University. Which surely gives away the fact that he was pretty smart, and had worked hard on his grades. The young boy's eyes reflected his fear, as he slowly stepped inside and walked to his classroom. It was quite difficult for him to get to the classroom without getting taunted or maybe punched and kicked once.

Just as he thought he was there, a tall boy pulled him back by his hair, and the younger yelped in pain. "Our homework, dork?" he questioned. Without uttering a word, the dark-haired boy pulled out some sheets stapled together and quietly handed them to the other. The boy pushed him off and walked away. Rubbing his head where it hurt, he quietly entered the classroom, grateful that nothing much happened.

After long tedious hours of mental labor, the students were let out. They poured out onto the streets, several feet naturally turning to the pleasing aroma of food.

Bennett, meanwhile, was seen scooting toward the bus stop. He had to get home, have lunch and cover up his bruise to look close to presentable in his workplace. Quickly slipping out of his clothes and getting on a pair, he stuffed a sandwich into his mouth and packed up his uniform.

Bennett worked at a décor outlet. Under a callous manager. He had a hard time, with half the staff bullying him into buying snacks and drinks and shoving their shifts on him whenever they wanted to. He reached his workplace about five minutes late, and he knew he was pretty much awaited by his manager; Bennett was his venting machine.

"Oh, you're finally here. We thought we wouldn't be blessed with your gracious presence at all today! And what's the reason you're late today?" Bennett replied in a low voice, "I got out late from the university today, sir."

What followed was a long lecture about how his impunctuality was affecting the others and how the sales were seeping down. The poor boy got out of the office and found half the staff laughing at him, mimicking the boss while at it.

The shift was fine. Several people flooded in to check out their furniture. Benett was pretty good at convincing people into buying entire sets of furniture; he also manipulated several into buying things they probably did not need.

An old couple came over to him, asking about the availability of an ebony table in different sizes. "Well, the table is available only in the given size, but a new one could be made for you. Though the charge might be a little higher." The couple looked at each other and nodded, and the old lady pointed to another patio table, and asked, "How 'bout that one, hun?" Bennett brushed his hands together and accompanied them to the table while telling them about its accessibility.

By the end of their tour, the couple had booked the patio tables along with the chairs, as well as a lovely side table the young boy had convinced them to buy. The old woman smiled at him as she left, and he waved. He turned around and walked off to his spot.

It was night by the time Bennett got home. He took off his shoes and sat down wearily. He had to split his time between eating and completing his homework. He considered doing it in the morning and took out some instant food from the fridge. He sat down on the chair in front of the kitchen counter, and ate his dinner, if a bowl of rice counts for dinner. Several thoughts were running through his little mind, all of them being sad and primarily sleepy.

After dinner, He sat down on his bed. He missed his parents a lot; it would be their death anniversary in a few days. He kept staring at the picture he had managed to get when he was barely seven. He brushed his thumb on the image of his mom, laughing heartily at his father whose hand was outstretched to grab the camera, perhaps because the child was taking a picture of his half-painted face. Bennett let out a sad chuckle when he remembered painting his father's face while he had a nap, and his mom providing him colors. Even before he realized, two big drops of tears rolled down his cheeks and onto the picture. He wiped them off, and laid down, returning the picture to its place on the side table. Turning around, he laid down on his side and hummed the song his mother sang to him.

It was in some different Celtic language; could be a lullaby or could be an incantation, the boy never really understood it. He sang it nonetheless since it was a melody that connected him to his mother.

The clock struck three past twelve, and the only sound to be heard was of Benett singing the song his mother sang to put him to sleep. All of a sudden, there was a massive vortex that came down from somewhere near the roof to Bennett's bed, almost like it started from a portal. The scared boy immediately sat up, and before his brain could process anything and his instincts to run out could kick in, a man was thrown out of the whirlpool, right onto his bed.

He was dressed in black. Clad in black boots, black leather pants, and a black robe that came down to his knees. He had long feather earrings and black painted nails. Bennett would've laughed at the weird fashion sense the man possessed if he weren't gripped by irrational fear and mortified to move a muscle. The man turned, and their eyes met. Before the other could process anything, Bennett screamed out aloud.

Except, no voice came out. 

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