The Lost Boy

Chapter 2

Darkness. Cold, silent darkness. Numbness, nothingness, save for the beating of his heart. 

Something tickled his cheeks, soft, gentle. A chill, and more somethings tickled the rest of him, ruffling his hair like wind in sails. A throbbing in the back of his head, pulsing painfully. Folded in half, tucked in a pair of strong arms, cold and weak and breathless, surrounded by darkness, engulfed in silence. 

But then he wasn't. 

Singing. Soft, beautiful singing. Singing that stirred him and tethered his consciousness to his body, vanquishing all numbness. Muffled, but sweet; indistinguishable, yet the most beautiful to ever greet his ears. 

His nose wrinkled, his eyelids tightened, his face scrunched. He could feel himself curled in a ball, could feel a sharp, piercing cold bite at his skin as the numbness tingled away. He shrank smaller, burrowing into the arms that carried him, soothed by the singing that began to send him back to sleep. He started to inhale, but was met with resistance. He choked.

Where was he? 

A snort, and a sudden flow of some soft something blew past his face, kissing his cold cheeks. It felt like...air bubbles. 

But that means...?! 

He pried his eyelids open and immediately bit back a yelp as salt burned his eyeballs, stinging like a thousand tiny swords were stabbing his eyes, his throbbing head spiking with pain. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, his cheeks bulging as he held his breath, horrified, his limbs shaking like trees in a storm. 

What was happening? 

Water, he now knew, was rushing past him quickly, as whoever was holding him pressed on further as the muffled, warbled singing continued. 

Fast, way too fast for any normal person to swim, he was positive of that. But he didn't have the chance to think about it for long. His lungs began to burn, his nostrils flared, his teeth clenched, and it took all his willpower to not gasp for breath, because there would be none for him to inhale. But as the faint singing carried on, it seemed to combat his pain, to keep him holding his breath just a little bit longer until... 

Whoosh!

Air. Sweet, incredible, delicious air. 

A sharp, gasping inhale, followed by a series of coughs that spat up droplets, then deep, heavy breathing. It was glorious. 

His body was limp with relief and exhaustion. His eyes remained closed, too heavy to peel open, his chest heaving as he gulped down the salty air. A gentle yet chilled wind ruffled the wet strands of his hair that did not cling to his forehead, small water drops dripping off of his hair to trace his face before they hung precariously off his nose and chin. 

He still shook weakly, cold and frightened, and the singing, louder and clearer, but still incoherent, continued. It wasn't long before the arms holding him shifted beneath him, and the water was replaced by something warm, soft, wet, solid, and grainy. Whatever it was cushioned his aching head, his pulse booming in his ears. 

A splash, sprinkling water across his face. The singing abruptly halted. Heat burned his skin and rags as water slowly evaporated away from him. The darkness was gone, replaced with a light that stained the back of his eyelids a strange scarlet. 

His eyelids flinched further closed, then slowly blinked open, revealing a bluer than blue sky. It was so clear, so cloudless, that he had to blink several times before fully processing that it was indeed the sky. London had always been cloudy and gray; a blue sky was foreign, yet gorgeous.