That Familiar Feeling

A One Shot Story

After returning home from a long day of keeping Lord Xander company, training with the ever so lovely Peri, helping the other royals however he can and ultimately, striking out at those few left. Laslow closed the door to his quarters and sighed, unclipping his belts.

He would place them aside as he would continue into the room. He didn't mind striking out, of course. By now, it was his habit, and each time it happened, it hurt less and less.. yet today, something had caught at his heart. As he recalled it, he found it harder to breathe he stumbled to his bed and sat down. Looking to the ever so familiar pinkette picture in the frame.. the last thing he had of his mother. The bond the two shared as well as seeing her happy with his father. It all sent a rush down his spine as he clutched his heart.

Today was different. He had been turned away from someone he had known for a while.. someone who he thought would be the one he could call his own. Yet he was met with teasing to which he tried to prove his love, and that was when he heard the dreaded words. The words no one in love ever wished hear.

"I'm interested in someone else"

His heart twanged at the memory, the very memory of it making him feel sick to his gut as it felt like the most vital organ he had was trying to disappear into the void.

He kicked off his boots and clutched his chest whilst he gasped for air. He felt his emotions eating away at him. His greed, jealousy, envy and more. All of his friends and most colleagues had already tied the knot. Found someone to call their own.. yet he couldn't.

He began to question why? Was it him? Did he do something? Questions racing through his head with more than unsavoury answers that he gave them.

His eyes began to trail the liquid that would stain his cheeks. His tears rolling down his face as he gasped again. A scene he often hid from others, for he didn't wish to alarm the others. So for them, he kept smiling. Kept laughing, never showed his true pains and tried to be as jolly as he could for everyone else's sake.

Yet every night, he would cry himself to sleep, over one issue or another. His body had grown to crave the touch of another. He made no sound, save for the gasping to avoid alarming anyone who would listen.

His stomach would growl from having skipped another day's eating, and the pure vileness that the memory had caused. He gagged a few times, as if to be sick, but there was nothing.

There was always nothing. He felt there would always will be. He often wondered, if in another time, how happy he would be with others.

From how he was gasping and gagging, his voice would shrink to nothing more then a slight wisp of air. He would lay on his bed, still, clutching his heart as he would allow the pain of loneliness to take him. A mixture of exhaustion and feeling unwell to slowly take him into a slumber. One where he would have a dream that this was his bad dream. He could feel someone's embrace, but he couldn't see who.

Another lie his mind would tell him in order to numb his pain. Dreams like this had become frequent. Yet ultimately, once he awoke once more. There was no one but him there. His cheeks stained with the marks of tears.

That familiar feeling, one of loneliness.