Eroding core

05 | Longing for Nothingness

I long for a time when I didn't exist..

══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══

"When I was a little child, you’d always find me outside, maybe running through the forest, my face glowing with a bright smile in the spring. I might build snowmen in the winter or chase insects in the summer. Like a puppy, I’d dance with the falling leaves in autumn.

Back then, I never minded playing alone. I only knew I enjoyed my own company, as if solitude was born with me. I understand that now... I believe I was nourished by it.

And I know that even then, I never felt the need to escape that solitude. Every time I left it, I’d feel homesick—for something, for a home, or perhaps a person... I don’t know.
But I’ve never known what I was searching for or what it was I missed.

I long for a homeland I never had...

Hiraeth."

I leaned against the wall, listening to the quiver in his voice, trying to steady my breath and suppress any sound that might betray my presence.

I closed my eyes as his words flowed, beautifully composed. It seemed like he was reading from somewhere.

But he was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him. His phone lay discarded nearby, blasting loud rock music. With closed eyes, he wove the words fluently, letting them drift into the air.

“I know you’re there.”

I froze against the wall.
How? I hadn’t made a sound.

His voice was hoarse and rough.

I smiled apologetically and approached him, standing before him.
“Sorry... I was just looking for a quiet place.”

He pressed his temples as if struggling with a sharp headache.
“No.. Stop lying. I know you’ve been following me.”

Pale skin, as though drained of blood. Arachne...

I averted my gaze, embarrassed. Yet his tone wasn’t hostile, and his eyes weren’t angry like in class. He just seemed... sick or deeply exhausted.

“Isn’t the loud music making your headache worse?” I asked softly.

He smiled faintly.
“No... It drowns out the voices in my head.”

Bright white teeth, a radiant smile.
Arachne...

I invited myself to sit across from him, hugging my knees, studying his face with unrestrained curiosity.

Sharp hazel eyes, short lashes like a wolf.

“Stop that...”

He lit a cigarette. I obeyed, shifting my focus from his eyes to his long fingers as they moved, holding the cigarette between his trembling lips. Just before inhaling, he whispered,
“Stop...”

Med black hair.
I smiled.
Arachne...

He turned up the volume and, without looking at me, murmured,
“Does your back hurt?”

I nodded with a smile, and he sighed, throwing me an apologetic glance before quickly closing his eyes again.

Thin, very thin, of medium height.

He inhaled the poison deeply and exhaled it with visible relief. I couldn’t help but watch him. His dark eyes opened once more, filled with weariness.
“Do you want one?”

His lips were the color of blood.

I shook my head.
“I want to draw you, Dante Marinos.”

--