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Ashen's feet dragged him forward in a rhythm that felt less like walking and more like drifting.
His gait was loose, almost careless—the walk of someone who didn't really care where he ended up.
The nightmare still clung to him like ash in his lungs, and every step felt like an attempt to shake it off. He couldn't.
The streets were bathed in sunlight, the kind of mellow warmth that usually coaxed life out of people. Kids laughing in the distance, neighbors chatting on porches.
To Ashen, it was all wrong. The serenity grated against him, like the world was mocking him for not matching its calm. His eyes narrowed, lips twitching into something that wasn't quite a smile, wasn't quite a sneer.
He lit a cigarette with a sharp flick, cupping the flame against the breeze.
The first drag burned all the way down, grounding him, but it didn't ease the tightness in his chest. Smoke trailed from his lips in steady ribbons, his pace never faltering. Each drag timed with his footsteps, like the cigarette was the metronome keeping him from unraveling.
By the time he finally looked up, his stomach sank.
The cracked concrete steps, the iron gate hanging off its hinges, the faded lettering above the entrance—it was the old abandoned school.
The place he used to run to when his thoughts got too heavy as a kid.
It was also the place that reminded him of someone he wished to forget. His brows furrowed.
Of all places, he thought, exhaling smoke through his nose. His feet had chosen for him, leading him back to the ghost of somewhere he used to think was a sanctuary.
"Well, whatever..." He mumbled under his breath and climbed the broken stairs until he arrived at a particular classroom.
It was filled with destroyed chairs and tables piled up at the back of the room, right in the middle.
The furniture, despite its chaotic placement, ended up making a kind of elevated throne-like seat with the most undamaged chair sitting at the peak of the heap.
Ashen smirked bitterly. 'That was where he used to sit, acting all smug on his beggar throne…'
He dragged the last bit of his cigarette before climbing all the way up the pile, but instead of sitting on the so-called throne, he sat right on the plank to its right.
This was his usual seat when he frequently came to meet that man as a kid.
A slow smile graced his face as he gradually indulged in nostalgia...
"Well, aren't you lively? Somethin' nice happen?"
'How is this livel—' Ashen's thoughts suddenly faltered and his body froze.
But not for long. "Who?!" He rocked back, landed on the ground, and whirled around, but was forced to freeze yet again when he saw who was before him.
"Dorian...?" His disbelief was clear, but so was the anger rising from somewhere he had buried since this man's sudden disappearance.
"The one and only..." Dorian smirked back and reclined on his 'throne', not minding one bit how Ashen's face was slowly morphing into an expression of fury.
But Ashen didn't let anger control him. He wasn't that same twelve-year-old boy anymore.
He took a deep breath and let it simmer out. Though the anger receded, resentment still clung despite his best efforts not to let it show.
"...Why are you here?" he finally asked.
"What do you mean, why am I here?" Dorian cast him a teasing look. "Of course I'm here to see you, haha. I know it has been a while, but don't tell me you actually forgot about me already? Do I need to remind you how you used to call me 'uncle' all the time?"
Ashen's lips twitched.
This guy gets up and disappears for more than ten years without a single word or sign, then comes back talking as if he just went out for groceries. 'This is the real Dorian, alright. No doubt about it.'
"C'mon, after all this time, I at least expected a warm welcome. Maybe some of those delicious cakes your mom used to make..." Dorian shook his head, lips pouting into mock sadness.
Ashen knew he wouldn't let up with the teasing if he started, so he could only sigh deeply and let go of his grudge.
It wasn't like Dorian had any obligation to tell him if he wanted to go anywhere.
Even if he treated him practically as a second father back then. And even if he wasn't able to sleep soundly for days because of his worry.
Even though saying a single goodbye wouldn't have taken much out of him.
And even though he was the last anchor to his sanity back then, before he completely spiraled.
'...Damn it! I can't forgive this asshole after all.'
But grudges could be held indefinitely, so he relaxed his shoulders and played along for now.
"Ahh. Uncle! Welcome back! I really missed you! How have you been for the last twelve years? I hope not as miserable as me, haha!" The belated welcome greeting was delivered in complete deadpan.
But that was the best Ashen could manage right now.
For Dorian, though, it seemed to be more than enough. "Haha! That's my boy, I missed you too, kid." He grinned widely. "In fact, I even brought a gift back with me, especially for you."
Ashen remained unimpressed. "Uncle, instead of that, how about you tell me where you ran off to?" He added without waiting for an answer, "Or better yet, how about you tell me what was so urgent that you didn't even have time to say goodbye?"
Ashen shook his head while mimicking Dorian's same expression of mock sadness from before. "Or is your nephew not worth even a single goodbye from you? Tsk, tsk, how heartless~"
Dorian was speechless for a moment, and Ashen figured it was about time he showed some remorse, but his reaction was actually complete bewilderment.
"Ah? How long ago did you say our meeting was? Twelve years? Damn, I guess I took a bit longer than I thought this time around..."
"It's almost thirteen now, and why are you talking like it's twelve days instead of years...?" Ashen spoke while giving him a suspicious look.
"Oh… that's because there's actually not much difference for me," Dorian answered nonchalantly as he played with his blonde locks.
While Dorian's answer was casual, Ashen's feelings were far from that.
'He just said that there's not much difference between twelve years and twelve days for him.'