The Mark of the Stars//A Haunted Fanfiction\\

Stars

[[Triggers: Small mention of suicide. Read at you own risk please, and thank you]]

They danced above the trio, moving at their own warning.

They blinked in and out at a repetitive pace, winking in front of the inky black canvas.

There were groups of them, rebels, and even a painted swirl that decorated the sky.

One of members from the trio looked up at them, and suddenly got hit with terrible déjà vu.

It felt like it swept him off his feet as he tried to remember what brought him this trouble.

Wasn't there a painting?

A painting that glorified the night sky, using unusual, blended colors that normally wouldn't be seen in the actual night.

Soft, blended strokes whispered a calming sensation when one looked at it, the cool colors vibrating a nice feeling.

It was...very creative and different to see then other paintings.

Well, to him it was.

Wasn't it famous?

Like the artist?

Who had died from a bullet wound from himself, or another?

The male shuttered, not wanting to think about it, feeling sensitive to even the idea.

He suddenly felt vulnerable as a chilly wind nipped at his face, his jacket swaying along with it.

His ears must've been red by now, as they were exposed for hours into the cold biting air, nothing to keep them protected in warmth.

Light clouds caught the winds memo and made it's slow move to hide away the speckled dots of blessed, fallen warriors.

Was it turning morning already?

Had he really wasted a whole night thinking again?

He watched in a sorrowful gaze, eyes directed to the slowly departing stars that slinked out of his sight into neverland.

He stretched his hand out forward and turned it into a fist, flexing it multiple times as of trying to catch the stars before they left him until the next twenty-four hours.

What even was neverland?

What did it look like, anyways?

Why did he even care?

"Grayson?"

A soft, deep murmur of his name called out to him, the source from the other sleeping bag a few feet away from him.

He quickly retracted his arm from the sky, his attempt to reach for one of the now faded lights were finally found fruitless.

He didn't answer to the call, instead turned over in his own sleeping bag and closed his eyes, hoping to look like he was sleeping that whole entire time.

With his back to his friends, he tried to process the new questions he gave himself, but realizing his brain was too slow to process anything.

Another thought, for another time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is...the start of a Haunted fanfiction that isn't really a fanfiction???
Okay, let me explain.
Grayson is my favorite boy and I thought, hey, let's put him in the spotlight for a book, but realized I couldn't finish a book. Then I decided to make a oneshot book that forms into a book? But I really needed somewhere to vent and people never like reading someone else's struggles of thoughts? Sooooo I was like- hey, look, a magical Grayson appeared.
So my thoughts are going to be transferred through his mind and others in just putting in for fun because I would rather like to write it and improve my skills.
Also it's to confuse you on which thoughts are actually mine are not because I don't want them to be known by me :3. Hopefully that makes sense.
Chapters will be lengthy or really short, and will be published multiple times a day, or waiting for weeks for a next update.
You may request something for me as well. Just give me a word that can fit the Haunted timeline and I'll put my thoughts here about it.

Ciao!

~Kat