Perception {Dreamnotfound}

16 | Pastel Blue Nightmares |16

The first POV here isn't George. I'm not saying who it is, but you'll realise pretty quickly I think.
Enjoy. Love ya <3 ~ Owl

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-??? POV-

The streets of Central City are as lively as usual for a Sunday morning. Hunters and targets alike flocking the markets for the fresh supplies. Sunday is the day the markets restock, so people try to get in early to snag the rarest supplies before heading back out of the city.

Market stalls litter the underground, all far enough from the stage to suggest there's another meeting today. Probably another elite assassins announcement to amend their bounty list.

It has always confused me that they announce their bounties publicly. Elite assassins go after their own hunters in private, as it is believed you should. Dignity and honour and all that royalty shit. The elite assassins aren't royalty by any means, but that doesn't stop them from acting like it.

Stood on the far side of the stage is my ex-best friend. He stands polishing his sword, a recurring habit of his from a long time ago. Grey, just like everyone else is. I'd thought that Nick may be different, judging our history. But I was wrong. Same colour as everyone else.

Only he is different.

Dave appears on stage, waltzing around like he owns the place. Effectively he does, a powerful force respected by all below him. There's nobody above him, none even at his level. Except maybe me.

Draped around his shoulders is a cloak. Red but discoloured, made to match the grey of everyone else. In my eyes, they all look the same. It's like looking at the world through a filter, like a dusty grey lens was fixed over my eyes.

Is this what the world looks like to him?

Similar, but not the same. We aren't the same, and it should remain that way. Better remain that way, or we're both gone. Permanently, not living like this with this distorted lens I see the world through.

Dave lacks the relaxed sarcasm he usually radiates. Seriousness in his features, brows knitted as he carefully scans the crowd.

I know who you're looking for, and you won't find him here.

He's here, but you don't know that. You can't.

Only he can.

The leader of the elite assassins breaks into his speech, addressing the room with a facade of calm. His every move is calculated, that of a trained actor as well as a killer.

People think it's impressive that he's reached this stage at just past 21. It is, but I'm younger. Some know how lethal I am, some refuse to acknowledge it. Dave knows, and that's why he's here. Why he's asking for help, and flaunting confidence like it's going out of style.

I'm powerful. More powerful than Dave. Not like this, but how I used to be. Here I'm safer.

I'm safer like this, but he isn't.

And that's what's important.

My purpose now is to protect him. Protect him from harm, and from the truth. He can't know, it's too dangerous. I know what he's like, he'd try to help. He'd do whatever it takes, even without knowing everything. I know he would.

Why? Because he's him. Unlike everyone else. He doesn't fit in, and he knows it, but that's ok. But even so, there's something different about him. Not just in my eyes, but in everyone's.