Beautiful Dreamer ☆ A Kevin x Reader (Spooky Month)

𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 1: 𝘌𝘕𝘋𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘙𝘈𝘐𝘕.

"𝗥𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲; 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵; 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 , 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲."
- 𝗝𝗼𝗵𝗻 𝗨𝗽𝗱𝗶𝗸𝗲.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/N had not been the type to ever write poetry, or at least, she did not think so. And yet here she was, with a pencil in between her pale/dark fingers, writing letters and words that came overflowing from her mind. A poet she was not, but perhaps in this moment, she was. Poetry was not a skill she possessed, or at least she didn't think so. And yet here she was, writing away her thoughts anyway.

She observed the thin page that was in the journal she had opened. The journal had been a small, leather-brown book with a cold texture to its cover. A cover it had not had, and yet, despite how difficult it was to write on the cover, Y/N had attempted to label her name on the cover anyway incase of an event where she would lose it. The result was sloppy handwriting that contained her name, and it was barely readable between the textures of dark brown. Still, it was en effort nonetheless.

She sighed, her mind fuzzy and aching with an urge to set down the book and lay on the couch she had sat upon. How could she want to stop now? There was no reason to stop now. Then again, there has been a reason to.. no, no, there had not been. There could not be. She couldn't keep making excuses not to do things simply because procrastination was a bad habit of hers. Bad habits are not excuses to not do things, ever. She knows that so.

Y/N looked down at the page with her E/C eyes, her eyelids fluttering down into a blinking motion as she read her own handwriting.

"𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.
𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦.
𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.
𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸"

She looked down, puzzled by her own writing. This poetry piece had no rhyme, no rhythm. Always, she thought she had been somewhat skilled at things, but for the first time in a while, she felt dissapointed in herself. That wasnt to say she had not been regularly dissapointed in herself though. What was she to write to complete the poem? The poem had no name, and now she couldn't think of what to write in order to complete the poem.

It had been a lousy poem, a useless poem which would bring nothing into the hearts of others. It would bring no meaning, unlike a Shakespeare's play(Like 'Romeo and Juliet' or 'The Hamlet').

Her lips quivered, for she could not bring words into the poem, for she could not bring ideas into her mind. Everything was fine, so why was it that she could not write? Her eyelids shut again for a split second, her eyes glistening with a scrim of moisture. Her breathing became a little faster as she observed her lousy, useless poem one last time. Before she then quickly shut it, and placed it on the couch beside her, crawling over to the other side of the couch so she could grab the remote and find something else to do with her existence.

For a moment, she glanced at an empty light brown chair. The fabric had been soft. It was just a regular chair, where no one had been sitting. It had been a chair for one to sit in, but no one had been sitting there.

...

Wisely, she chose to ignore it, and her eyes locked on the screen of the television set in front of her.

~~~~~~

Drenched sheets of rain poured down in the city, glistening the sidewalks and roads with moisture as cars speeded through the short burst of water which had been the rain. Y/N didn't get rain, or why it happened. Yet she loved it so. And from what it seemed, rain loved her, for rain had been coming more often now for some reason. Nearby dirt had turned to mud, and blades of grass had been completely flooded by pools of water pouring on from above.

Here Y/N had been, an umbrella in her hand and held above her so the trickles of rain would not splash upon her. As much as she loved it, she couldn't really deal with getting wet right now. Anytime she did walk through rain, some people would ask if she were okay and if she needed an umbrella. Yet like always, she'd smile and say it was fine, and that she would be alright. That rain was a regular event for her.

She was dressed in a black jacket, which had a white shirt underneath, along with some blue jeans and some black boots. It hadn't been her usual rain attire, but it was fine nonetheless. She could deal with it. Normally, she'd be so motivated to change into something else for such an event, and yet, she could not. But why?

Did she know the answer? If the answer was what she thought it was, she would not and never know.

As she continued to walk along the sidewalk, she noticed a wilted flower hidden between blades of wet grass on the left side of the sidewalk. For a moment, she couldn't help but slow her pace and stare at it. The flower was wet, but wilted, and it had been near a flower shop of all places. Did it belong to the shop? Would the owner care for it? Why was one of the flowers just so casually dead and yet not taken care of?

She sighed, and continued walking beneath the pouring sheets of moist rain, which she had been protected by due to the cover of her umbrella. The air had been humid, damp and nearly sticky to have to walk through. She felt like she was walking through a lake or something, with how hard it had been to walk while it was raining. And yet, she was not. Lake's had been water though, and rain had also been water, so maybe she technically had been?

No, that was a silly thought.

As she passed by the radiant, glowing yellow light which had been peeking through two square-shaped crevices of windows on a building she payed no attention to, she found her mind becoming more and more fuzzy as her thoughts began to cling to her again. Where was she going? She didn't know. This had merely been a walk. A walk in the rain though? Did she really want to distract herself that badly? But from what?

...

No, it had not been a distraction. It had not been, it could not have been. She just wanted to get out more, that was all. Perhaps she could have chosen a better night rather than a rainy night though.

Y/N then found that her foot had stopped in front of an object which she did not see yet, she nearly tumbled over it actually. She peered down, and blinked in slight surprise.

Her eyebrows raised, and for a moment, she just stared down at what it had been. It had been what looked to be a doll with cracks on random parts of its body. The cracks had almost resembled spider webs, from how it looked anyway. There had been two cracks on its left cheek, one crack one its right eye which had no pupil, and a singular crack on its neck.

Curiously, she bent down, and picked it up, furrowing her brows. "Sheesh.." She mumbles to herself, a disgusted scowl filling her gaze. "What an ugly doll.." She comments, observing its dirty orange clothes and its blue hand-made overalls with a disturbed glance.

She then peered to the side of her, which had been the building she had at first layed no attention to. She looked up, and saw the sign on the building which had simply read "Candy-Club". She looked ahead, and observed the white entrance with had several yellow stripes stretched out across it.

The door had not been open, and yet, she could make out a singular figure inside. Y/N wasn't one to normally investigate things, but perhaps she could see if maybe someone dropped it while they had been visiting this building? The building appeared to be a candy store, due to its candy-themed decorations. So perhaps it belonged to a child who maybe dropped it while exiting the store? But why had no staff member done anything? Why had they not said a word to the child, if it had been a child?

She let out a small breath of exhaustion, and began to walk foward toward the door. She felt the rain ceasing from on top of the umbrella as she stepped below the entrance. She twisted the doorknob, and carefully creaked the door open, not wanting to make too much noise. Blinding, bright lights had filled her vision as she stepped inside and heard the faint buzzing of the lights above her.

As she glanced up and squinted, she saw two half-lidded, exhausted eyes which had be staring back at her with a hint of exhaustion held inside.

A forced and tired, almost sarcastic-sounding, baritone male voice spoke to her. A voice that belonged to the figure who was the source of the eyes she had been staring at for a few moments:

"Welcome to the Candy-Club, miss. How can I help you?"

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Holy shit I put a lot of effort into this for no reason.