BEN Drowned | Hopes And Dreams

Chapter XI

I stood silently by the foot of my parent's bed. They were slumbering peacefully. Wrapped in each other's embrace as each breath and each mumble crushed the heart of my soul.

I clutched the strap of my duffle bag, in it were memories worth cherishing forever(as well as necessary goods I needed). A hand suddenly clasp itself on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. My heart clenched at the message it brought me.

It was time to go.

And I hated it. I've always wanted to be independent. To refuse being a burden to the both of them. To be able to stand on my own, to face those harsh words being thrown at me without them backing me up. Without Mom's comforting words.

But somehow I couldn't achieve that. I always end up by their doorstep. Hauled up at their porch. Wailing in their arms. And now that I'm finally leaving.. It pains me-kills me to know and acknowledge that I am leaving. That I will never come back.

A tear slipped pass the comfort of my eye and I wiped them immediately. I've never really enjoyed crying. I've only ever done it when necessary. And I didn't think it would be at this time and moment.

My Mom stirred in his sleep and for a second, I had hoped for him to wake up. Just so I could hug him. And tell him-tell both of them-how lucky I am to have had them as wonderful parents. It was then that the memories flooded through my mind, like a slideshow of everything that ever happened.

I saw myself back at the shelter. Boyish bobbed cut hair tousled by my shoulder. Bruises and cuts in both my knees and arms. Dirt on my clothes and face. My entire demeanor as a child reeks of recklessness and stupidity.

But somehow, they saw something much more special pass that. They saw a dreamer. A child filled with hopes and dreams. And I wasn't any of that now. I feel hopeless. Dreamless, even. I sicken myself from the fact that I couldn't maintain that hopeful and dreamful attitude back then and it sucks.

I suck.

A sob escaped my lips and I felt Ben's hand tense. Quietly, he whispered, "I'll be out for a while. Come to your room if you're done, okay?"

I didn't bother responding as I was too busy choking back my tears. I felt him left with a bright flash of light, probably teleporting to my room and I cursed him for that as my Dad suddenly grunted out of shock, waking my mother with him.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes from sleep and when he caught sight of me, I really wanted to run from it. The thought of having to say goodbye left me then.

"Asriel?" He murmured, his voice laced in sleep. "What's wrong, baby girl?" Oh, how much I'd miss that.

Mom suddenly propped himself from the bed, his honey brown eyes pierced through me from the dark, "Oh, honey, what's wrong? What's with the bag? Are you leaving?"

I couldn't stop it anymore as I let my breath escape my lips with a hitched sob. I nodded, sobbing unattractively. "Aw, baby." My mother cooed as he patted the space in between them, "Come here, shush your sorrow."

I let go of the bag and crawled in bed with them. Sobbing like a child. I did feel like a child as they engulfed me-both of them-in a warm comforting embrace. The way they used to do whenever kids at school bullied me for having two Dads.

The hug they gave me whenever I come home from school with a warning and a notice that I punched yet another homophobic imbecile(sorry not sorry). It was a hug that eases all my worries, yet teaches me a lesson at the same time.

I didn't like ugly-crying, but that was what I am doing now, unfortunately. And I didn't like this type of cry. I didn't like the noises that I was making. Didn't like the tears that endlessly flowed. Didn't like the fact that I couldn't speak without stuttering. Didn't like how my face scrunched as I cried.