I think I lost my head (can you make me a new one)

ch.5 who are you?

♤

so many people.

.

more than he has ever seen before.

the city square is so crowded, he believes he could fill a hundred rooms with people, and still not have enough space for all of them.

this is an overestimation, of course, but he couldn't know that.
the largest number of people he has ever seen is about ten.

.

it is a strange experience.

being squished and pushed around by masses of unknown individuals who did not cover their hands or hid their faces, and generally seem to be a lot happier.

he hardly even notices the occasional odd look he is getting, too overwhelmed by this new experience. so many people and so many colours and so so so many thoughts he can't keep track of.

he comes to a halt before a festively decorated food stand selling little pumpkin shaped cakes and cookies topped with ghosts made of white glaze.
everything on display looks absolutely scrumptious.

or at least, that is the information his brain gives him. he can't remember ever having anything like this before.

.

the vendor gives him an astonished look when they notice him. "I must say, that is an awfully good costume."
not sure how to reply to this, he just stares back at the vendor.

"you want anything?"

he nods.

"well, have you got any money with you lad?"

silence

the vendor lets out a sigh. "you know what, have one on the house. from me, for the stunning costume."

.

wide-eyed, he looks at the cookie handed to him. the little ghost on the top got smudged by his thumb, leaving it with only half a face. it looks sad.

squeezing through the crowd, he shoves the snack in his mouth.

instead of the sweet flavour he was expecting, it tastes like gravel and burnt paper and, eventually, like disappointment.

somewhere he knows this is wrong. in the same way he knows everything else will taste exactly like this.

there is a memory bubbling up, one of intense heat scorching his throat and the inside of his mouth until the heat becomes unbearable and icy cold
and this part of his brain knows his tastebuds have been irreversibly destroyed but the other part refuses to acknowledge this because it is simply too pitiful to be real.

.

somebody crashes into him, elbow digging in his stomach and he spits our the remains of this disappointment.

the crowd pushes him along without ever seeming to stop.

he doesn't like this anymore. he wants to go home. he wishes the people would stop pushing him, that the arms and shoulders and backs that brush against him were wrapped in sterile plastic, or better yet, separated from him by a bulletproof glass wall.
please make it stop.

.

after a bit, the crowd thins out a little and he finally has enough room to stop and catch his breath. he has forgotten that he doesn't breathe. it hurts all the same.

.

a girl pushes through the mass of people, making her way towards him. she gives him a one-over, eyes sparkling.
"that is such a sick costume!!"

she has to yell for her voice to travel over the hum of the crowd and the music playing in the distance.

he doesn't know what she means.
what cosume? it is an unfamiliar term, one he fails to apply to himself.

"seriously, it looks so real too."
she cocks her head slightly to one side. "though, who exactly are you supposed to be?"

.

who is he?

who is he?

in that exact moment, the realisation hits.
he ran away. away from home.
there is no more home for him to go back to.
at this point in time, he does not yet register it as an escape. he will soon enough, but not just yet.

additionally, though he can't explain how, he is no longer wearing the heavy metal collar they locked aroud his neck, having lost it somewhere along the way.

but who is he? it's a thought his brain can't seem to let go of.
for one, he doesn't have a name. he knows what a name is, of course he does, though he cannot recall any of the gloved hands belonging to people with names.

01101110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101100

.

"hey! aren't you going to answer me?"
the girl has a sharp, unpleasant voice, piercing in his ears loud enough to halt his train of thought.

"you deaf or something? why are you even wearing that? dressing up is for kids. loser."
and he is alone again, so very alone even amongst so many people.

.

his foot catches on a stray brick and he stumbles, hands reaching for anything to hold on to but they merely grasp thin air and he falls forward, hitting his head on the cobblestones.

for a few seconds he is simply laying there, watching the continuous stream of people part around him and converge again on the other side.

it takes him some time to get back up, apparently long enough to earn him a kick in the stomach for being in the way. it stings.

with remarkable strain, he manages to pull himself up and out of the way, away fron the main street, half crawling, half stumbling into a dimly lit alleyway, empty boxes stacked high lining the walls. here he crashes down, gasping for breath as he leans back against the cardboard.

the boxes seem to like him, as they kindly refrain from disturbing him any further.

.

his whole body is shaking. he does not know if it is emotion or cold. neither things are familiar to him yet.

.

he sits there for what seems like hours, watching the festival goers pass by him, the light from the main street not reaching far enough into the alley for him to properly see. at some point, his head becomes too heavy. everything feels too heavy. he misses the weightlessness which the darkness brought him.
suddenly, giving up seems so easy.

.

when he lifts his head again, he is no longer the only one in the alleyway. there is a young man standing before him, hand extended.
a gloved hand.

the dim light filtering in shows him a handsome face, covered in freckles and lined with deep brown curls, like a halo.
there is a long, wide scar tracing his face, likely caused by fire.

he has seen burn scars before. he knows how terribly painful they are.

the man smiles at him. it is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

a monocle perched just above his cheekbone glistens softly like a precious jewel in the warm orange glow of the faraway streetlights.

.

"are you alright?"

♤