Flares in the Dark

1.10 | a boy of waffles

WHEN HE FINALLY OPENED HIS EYES, Liam realised he was inside someone's house. Stars covered the walls that surrounded him and the ceiling was decorated with random strokes of paint that somehow looked perfect even in the chaos they created.

A pair of eyes were staring at him. A pair of very worried and very unfamiliar eyes that were brimming with warmth and comfort when he turned to look at them.

The person moved closer to him, raising her hand to rest it on his forehead. He flinched initially, but recovered soon and let the hand gently comfort him on the one place in his body which didn't scream with pain.

The lady caressed his forehead gently, till he closed his eyes and let himself truly feel what had happened to him. He looked past the wounds Walter's dad had inflicted on him, past the pain of betrayal by his own team and past the smoke brand on his chest that still seemed to smoulder through his skin.

He felt the inner pain and turmoil he had been through, he felt the stress of the situations he had been in, he felt the warmth and calmness of the hand that still rested on his forehead.

Calm. That's what he felt. He felt so calm after so long that it was almost unreal.

The skin on his face felt wet and salty water met his tongue when he reached out to lick the wetness away. He was crying. Liam was crying and it had never felt so relieving, so invigorating. Almost as if all the bad things he had felt in the past few weeks could be washed away by the ocean of salt that was falling from his eyes.

The hand caressing his face wiped the tears away gently as if wiping away the memories of a bad day. Liam could not dare to open his eyes, afraid that it was all a dream. He did not want it to be a dream.

There were no fake reassurances, no fake promises and no fake condolences. There were no words spoken and it made Liam grateful. Words had led him to his destruction, starting with those battle words hurtling around at his house to the destructive ones he had spoken to a girl who had wanted to do nothing but help him.

In that room, on that bed, there was just motherly comfort and companionship- two things that Liam hadn't even realised he missed until he had them again. His heart ached, memories bombarding his brain but for once, he shut them away.

For now, his beloved memories wouldn't do him any good. His memories had now become destructive, a force which could break him. Without him realising, he had started hiccuping and heaving for breath. His throat was clogging and his mind was spinning. He was spiralling down. He didn't want to go down again.

A voice then filled the air around him. Soft and feminine, motherly, just singing a melody without words and Liam realised that the lady was singing him a lullaby. His mind eased again and he stopped spiralling, focusing back on climbing up again.

She was so motherly that he almost felt like a son again. A son who had a good life and sweet and caring parents, a son who wasn't cast away, a son who belonged in the family, a son who would never have to run to others to feel the kind of belonging that came free of possession.

A son.

"Is he awake now, mom?" A new voice caused the lullaby to stop and Liam wanted to pout, the sound was too soothing to be just snatched away like this. But the new voice sounded familiar and it was just as soothing as the voice that had been singing the lullaby.

"Yes darling, but I'm not sure if you should see him right now." The lady sounded worried, for both Liam and her daughter, "You won't like it."

The daughter scoffed, "I know I won't like it mom but I want to talk to him if he's strong enough to talk."