Learn to love, learn to be loved

Emotional walls

Purple found himself flying through a dark sky, wind on his face and a hot feeling on the palm of his hands.

He tried looking behind himself, there was no elytra keeping him up.

The fire on his hands propelled his body forward, like a rocket that refused to follow coordinates.

Oh it felt so... freeing.

Purple felt so powerful that he couldn't help but go faster, feeling this burning sensation that made him feel so alive.

But as soon as it came, it was gone. Purple blinked and he was down on the ground once more, still feeling the soreness of his palms.

He wanted to feel it more.

His eyes slowly drifted away from his own hands, stopping at a small village, tucked away in files, little grey stick figures made their homes there.

Purple wanted to see it burn but he didn't know why.

He took a few steps forward, reaching a cliff that seemed to separate him from his sinful delightful crave for blood.

With a deep breath and a leap of faith, Purple flew once more. Making a black line on the sky.

Poor stick figures, barely aware of what came blasting from the skies.

Purple's hands heated up even more, a explosion of fire came from his fingers.

So many screams, so much blood... so much smoke.

He wanted more.

Somehow, Purple didn't care about the innocent lives being ruined by his flames, the smoke he breathed seemed to fog that empathy, suffocating any thoughts that dared to approach him. They deserved to die.

They deserved it because...

Because he said so.

A silhouette far ahead came to view at that point, a figure that made his heart skip a beat.

The black stick figure had his arms crossed, staring at the flaming houses with what Purple could only assume to be disappointment, did he do it wrong? The town didn't burn down as nicely as he wanted?

Not important, Purple shook the thoughts away before landing on the ashy grass. A smile forming on his face as he sprinted towards Chosen.

His arms opened wide, hugging the figure tightly, his eyes closing.

Then he heard a gasp.

And when his eyes opened once more, Purple was face to face with his King, his hands tightly grasping the handle of his sword with the blade deep into the tall figure's stomach.

The surprise in his face slowly turned into anger, his knuckles turning white with how tight he held his sword, and with this anger he thrust the blade deeper.

A sob escaped his victim, a sob that he recognized.

Purple stepped back, staring in horror as he noticed that Second Coming had now taken the place of his king. Tears going down his face and blood pouring from his mouth, hands desperately holding the sword that impaled him.

He tried to yell his name, but nothing came out. Tears clouding his vision as he aggressively tried to wipe it away.

Once more, the figure changed. Chosen was thrown to the ground, shaky arms barely holding his torso up, bruises, cuts and burns through his entire body.

Viruses eating away at his skin like a disease.

Purple cried in silence, the burning in his palms migrated to his chest, and it hurt so bad that he couldn't help but claw at his own skin.