My Baby (Sun/Moon x Reader)

Deeper Still

-x-

Memories have always been an issue to Sun and Moon. It just never got better no matter what they did—there had to be something forgotten, something awful, that they remember all of a sudden on a bright day.

It always catches up to them when they least expect it: flashing images of places and people that they long since passed by their life. Sounds and smells wafting like waves of the ocean, drifting by, reminding them that they have forgotten so many things. Years upon years of memories that get buried under the stress they face every day. Burned into ash till they are sure there will be no redeeming the remains.

And yet...

The flashes kept on happening. One after the other in the spam of a few months. Surprising them when they finally get reminded.

Their mind takes a step back, and then another, walking backwards into the depths of where it locks every single thing it deems unworthy. All the pain and hurt that it decides will help them none.

With each step back, they get taken to an older time. Of when they were seventeen, fourteen, ten, eight...

Four...

Perhaps, they understand, their mind was processing things. It finally had the peace to sort things out when they were with you. Nitpicking every detail of the past bit by bit now that it could. They know this is how it works—it couldn't process anything when stressed, and when they found a bit of comfort, it knew this was the best time.

But now, when the world was a spinning mess of pain, why was it forcing memories upon them? Wasn't processing pain supposed to be done with clarity? When the mind deems it safe?

Were they broken inside and out that much?

Swirls of colors mix and blend until all that's left is a grayish black background with blurs of people. Things were all so confusing for them back then—a new language with new people in a new place. They just wished those people held a little empathy towards them.

Because, even now, they know, despite the fact that their planet was facing the threat of extinction and war, they shouldn't have been hurt like they were. Even if their people had done bad things, or even if they hadn't, a child shouldn't bear the brunt of the impact.

Or, at least, they should have been granted mercy by painless death, and not punished for simply wanting to live.

They are not an object to be owned or sold. They didn't understand why it had to happen, but now they remember. It didn't matter that the memory is useless in all senses to them, nor does it benefit them with anything. It was simply a memory buried deep, and it was time for it to shine, whether they were ready or not.

Because they'll never be ready. There isn't a perfect time for it. They'll keep running away even when they don't realize that, and sooner or later, it will catch up.

The faces that flash before their eyes are unfamiliar.

Held by the back of their shirt like some misbehaving animal, they curl on themselves for a semblance of comfort. Fighting back proved futile, and it only left them panting with exhaustion. The unfamiliar enemy holds them tightly like they are trash ready to be taken out.

It was unfair, they knew and repeated over and over as if to prove it to someone. It never was fair, not back then or even now.

It was unfair to cry helplessly for their parental figure only to receive no answer. Their face aches with tears streaming down like rivers, endless and cold. Their throat had gone numb, voice hoarse and teeny. A weight crushed on them the more they cried for comfort and received none.