Learn to love, learn to be loved

Yellow book

Purple felt the air burn his lungs, his chest hurts.

He was stuck inside a black room, unable to see anything, a chilling sensation similar to a breeze passing through him.

For what felt like ages, he ran, in all directions looking for a door, a light, a window, anything. 

But hope was lost, hope wasn't there to begin with.

Something hard hit him in the legs and purple fell to the ground with a gasp.

In front of him, the tall, intimidating figure of his king stood, looking down at him.

Purple felt his heart twist into a knot and explode into a million pieces.

─ No... No, no... ─ He shook his head, pushing himself away from the figure. ─ You're dead! I...I killed you.

The king didn't move, only staring at him, drilling into his skull, pulling him apart.

He hated him,  he missed him, he despised him, he wanted him back. 

He killed him, he wanted him to live.

─ I killed you... I..I killed...you... ─ He panted, the air seemed to be more toxic by the second or maybe Purple forgot how to breathe in his panic.

Soon, blood started to stain the King's fine clothing, right in the center of his chest, spilling down through his pants to the floor below.

Purple crawled away, trying to not touch the growing puddle.

With a loud thud, the king fell to the ground on top of the blood puddle, and the purple stick figure finally moved forward, a shaky hand trying to touch the dead body.

He was almost touching him when the tall stick figure's head shot up, void black eyes with blood spilling down like tears.

It scared Purple into crawling away again, but this time the bloody corpse crawled after him, guttural noises escaping it's throat like a zombie after its meal.

─ Please stay away from me!! ─ Purple tried yelling, his throat dry and his words barely above a pathetic whisper.

The corpse didn't stop, crawling above him and pinning him to the ground.

Purple struggled, pleading, crying but to no avail.

The purple stick figure gasped loudly when he felt himself fall, and his back hit the floor.

Blinking his tears away he noticed the familiar purple ceiling. He was in his bedroom.

Laying on the cold floor by his bed... gasping for air and drenched in sweat like he ran a marathon.

It was a dream...just a dream.

Purple didn't know if his tears meant relief or terror, how many times he's going to keep dreaming about him?

He finally gathered himself enough to get up from the floor, looking at the clock in his wall and grimacing at the 3:17am timestamp.

Purple opened his wardrobe, taking his sweat drenched shirt and changing into a hoodie.

The shirt fell to the floor with a sad little fhump. Purple's hands shaking while holding the wardrobe's door.

He took a few deep breaths, staring at the mirror on the inner side of the door.

He looked so... tired.

─ Fuck... ─ He whispered, dragging himself out of his bedroom as quietly as he could.

For a moment he was glad he grabbed a hoodie, it was chilling outside.

Red was definitely asleep above him, if the snores were any indication.

Going down the stairs, Purple couldn't help but peak inside the rooms below his, just in the hope someone was awake.
Green was sprawled on his bed, half dangling off of it with his headphones still on.
Blue wasn't better, but somehow he managed to sleep in the most uncomfortable banana pose he could possibly bend into.

Second had his face buried onto his pillows, thank the Lord,  because if not, his snores alone were capable of waking up everyone.  

But one thing got Purple confused...

Yellow wasn't in his room at all.

Out of curiosity, Purple started searching the other rooms in the makeshift house. The kitchen was empty, but he did noticed two empty mugs on the table.

The garden seemed empty, so was the animals pen.

Purple got all the way out into the front yard before seeing the stick figure. 

Yellow was sitting under a nearby tree, a book in his hand and what can only be described as a tower of coffee mugs on his side.

Perhaps Purple won't be the only one with bags under his eyes today.

─ Yellow? ─ The stick figure asked, making his friend flinch with the sudden voice.

─ Purple? It's 3AM why are you awake? ─ Hypocrite.

─ I was about to ask the same thing....

Yellow sighed, patting the grass by his side, inviting his friend and Purple obliged, sitting down with him.

─ I often have trouble sleeping... My mind was just too messy to let me sleep today. ─ The yellow stick figure admitted with with a guilty tone. ─ So I just came out to read away from the noise of everyone snoring... What about you?

Purple wasn't sure how to answer, what could he possibly say? He couldn't sleep because he kept dreaming about his dead king? How guilt was just eating him inside so well he couldn't think of anything else? That he, in a horrible twisted way, wanted his king to be alive?

How pathetic he could possibly be...

Just how lower he could reach...

─ I just...woke up suddenly... couldn't go back to sleep...

Yellow didn't ask for a clarification, if he believed him or just didn't care enough, Purple couldn't tell.

─ Well we can destroy our circadian rhythm together. ─ Yellow patted him softly on the back.

Purple had no idea what that meant, but that was the case with most of what the yellow stick figure said in a daily basis.

He preferred to not address his confusion, purple had learned early on that not being understood and constantly confusing people was something Yellow struggled with constantly.

He was smart, and kind and thoughtful, but his brain worked way too fast for other to follow in most occasions, it was frustrating to have to explain every single thing.

Maybe that's why he suffered with insomnia so much, even his own brain can't shut off his never ending bombardment of thoughts.

Instead, purple put his head on his shoulder, half expecting him to shrug him away but it never came. Yellow just kept reading, sipping his lukewarm coffee.

That gave Purple the most confusing, and amazing feeling of security. He touched yellow, in a way that made him more comfortable and no one got angry at him for it. 

─ What you're reading about? 

The yellow stick figure snapped out of his book to look at him. ─ it's a book about all the incredible machines of the world. It gives me ideas of builds. Perhaps one day I'll make a sleeping machine.

─ you do like machines... ─ Purple mumbled with a soft smile, eyes starting to get heavy.

His friend didn't answer, just focusing on the words in the page once again. The purple stick figure didn't mind.

For about a hour, Purple fought the tiredness, looking at the cool images in the book, only glancing over at the words describing it.

His brain was becoming quite foggy, eyes heavy... Sleep seeping in.

He didn't know when, but he was coaxed into a laying position, his head on Yellow's thighs while he read.

But for the first time, there were no nightmares.