Discolored

13: Maybe I Belong Here

A/N: Hello! It has officially been six years, but I have an update for you. 

PLEASE do not read this chapter unless you've gone back and read the first 12 chapters again. I have gone back and edited the whole story, including adding a few scenes. If you try to read the rest of this without reading the start of this story, you will have some moments of confusion--especially since it has probably been months or years since you've read this, haha.

Okay. Six years later, I present to you: chapter thirteen.

NPOV

Time is not a dimension in the shadow realm; it is a force that plays with you, sometimes chasing, sometimes resting, and sometimes gone entirely. I vaguely remember there was a point in my life where there was such a thing as yesterday and tomorrow.

In the shadows, there is no such thing. Dark tendrils move through my hair and tug at my shoulders. I don't mind the shadows touching me like this—it reminds me of something good and bright and hopeful.

I let my eyes drift shut. There's no use in trying to see anything through the darkness anyway. It's just me in here. Me and fleeting memories that I can't hold onto long enough to understand them.

One of the shadows brushes past me, and there's a shattered image in my head that I'm trying to piece together. In the memory, I'm pretty sure there's a hand in my hair—I try to force my memory to remember who the hand belonged to, but the harder I push, the faster it falls apart.

I think I remember being in a place like this before. I think I remember it drained me. But that can't be right because this isn't draining at all—I feel so tired, sure, but so relaxed, too. This place is holding me up—it wants me to be here. The shadows would love for me to stay forever.

I wonder why I left before?

I wonder why that man from earlier left... I can hardly remember what he looks like anymore. I think he was probably a stranger. Maybe the shadows didn't love him as much as they love me. Perhaps here in the darkness is where I belong.

A shadow grabs my shoulder, and I get another fragment of a memory—I think someone grabbed my shoulder like this before. I strain my mind trying to remember, but I'm not entirely sure who I am anymore, let alone who might have grabbed my shoulder.

I get some words, though: "No, no. It's really fine. Hold on, wait here. I'll be back with a vase. Don't run off, okay?"

The voice is kind and warm and forgiving, and I desperately want to know what came next. Why did they need to tell me not to run off? Who is this person speaking? Are we close?

I run the words through my head over and over so I don't forget them.

"No, no. It's really fine. Hold on, wait here. I'll be back with a vase. Don't run off, okay?"

"No, no. It's really fine. Hold on, wait here. I'll be back with a vase. Don't run off, okay?"

"No, no. It's really fine. Hold on, wait here. I'll be back with a vase. Don't run off, okay?"

I don't know why such a minor moment is so important to me—maybe because it's the only clue I have about who I was and why I used to leave this place. The shadows are playing with my hair again, and it reminds me of that hand, but I can't quite put a face to these memories.

"Don't run off, okay?"

I want to know what I was running from. Was I afraid? Hurt?

The shadows are so cold—frigid, even. I don't think warmth exists here except for my body—maybe that's why the shadows want to keep me here for so long. Maybe they want my warmth. Maybe this whole place is just too cold to bear losing me.

"I think I knew someone who was warm," I murmur, and more sweet liquid washes down my throat.

Briefly, I do remember what it was like to feel warm. It's not a person—but a fire, in black and gray and white, and I'm surrounded by bodies, and the whole experience is uncomfortably warm.

And one of the bodies is taking steps closer to me, and I think I'm angry for some reason, and then I'm falling to the ground and looking at the sky, and there are so many beautiful stars. I don't linger on them for long, but here in the darkness, I miss the stars and galaxies and the bright yellow sun—

In the memory, I look away from the sky, and there's a face in front of me. He's golden and freckled and warm, and I am breathless. The boy's arms push him up just enough that he can look at the earth beneath him. Muscles flex, and warmth spreads across my cheeks.

And suddenly I am very certain that I do not belong here. I'm filled with fear at the idea of never seeing that golden boy again—someone needs to help him up from the dirt. I wonder if he's still there, fallen. Or is he the one that touched my shoulder and my hair?

I can't stay here. I have to get back to that boy—he told me not to run off, and here I am, so far from his side.

I shut my eyes tight as the shadows get more restless—I think they know I'm getting a stronger grip on reality again. They're desperate for me to stay—they want my body heat.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the shadows, "but I don't belong here. It's too cold—and I promised someone I wouldn't run off."

I keep the boy's face in my mind and try to remember as many pieces of him as I can—I have to, he's my only tether right now. His hand—I remember his hand. I remember his voice, I remember the feeling of him playing with my hair, and I remember—

I remember so much—it's coming back in floods now. I remember what his lips feel like when I kiss him. I remember him putting his hands in the air when I catch him sneaking around. I remember that he likes The Office and that he is a healer and that he has saved countless lives.

I remember his name is William Solace, and I remember that I am his soulmate, and I remember that he wants me, and I want him. 

It's enough to jolt me forward—what is happening? The shadows are listening to me again, pulling me through them, and I see light on the other side—and my heart is thundering—and I keep the image of William Solace, warm and golden, clear in my mind.

The light is here now, pulling at my face, pulling at my body, and then I fall into it.

And I can see the bright blue sky in color on the other side.

Word count: 1161

A/N: I told you that it wouldn't be a good idea to murder me.

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to vote and comment, and let me know what you think of the chapter. It means everything <3

Yours,

Sunny