Reflection pv

| Outfit | Shoes |

Mikael blinked slowly as he realized he had been staring off into space. Eyes dry and needing precious moisture withheld from them. As he blinked the vanilla wall he had been staring at slowly came back into focus. Swallowing thickly he leaned a bit back in the chair he had been sitting in. His gaze drifted down to the uncomfortable furniture below him. The dark wood of the furniture felt as if it were biting up into him. Refusing him the chance of any respite. The boy blinked vaguely wondering if he even deserved to feel any comfort. This world was lacking something and yet he could not find who tear to shed down his pale cheeks.

He brought a hand up wiping away the imaginary tears from his cheek. He had never been good at playing pretend. Especially now when his usual tactics were rusty from disuse. Leaving him not able to scrounge up a single tear as he stared at the dead corpse. Unable to do much but stare at the fakeness of it all. Mikael was pretty certain that it was merely just a large doll. No one could be that pale. The boy shifted in the chair his brows furrowing as an unpleasant feeling arose in his chest. He was not too sure why his mind kept shifting back to that moment. There had not been many people in that room, but it had still felt far too crowded. Though, it was possible that it was the unwelcomeness that made it feel crowded. He could practically hear the gossiping jeers.

"What kind of son can't even shed a tear at his Mother's funeral?"

"He was always such a weird boy."

"He must be broken."

Mikael gritted his teeth as he stared down at the flooring that made up the hallway. The imaginary voices that flooded his head, shot to hurt and debilitate. Fueled by the burning stares he had gotten. It was not hard to imagine what they were more than likely thinking. "I am not broken." he muttered to himself, but he had trouble believing his own words. Maybe his own normal was not particularly normal at least to them. Mikael frowned deeply as he remembered the way they pretended to care about the woman who lay in that box. It was almost laughable how they condemn him for not crying when they had cast him and his family to the side years ago. Such hypocrites.

As he stared at the floor he noted how the wood was showing signs of mistreatment. It probably needed a good cleaning, but the wood was starting to warp in places. There was probably a leak somewhere... It only solidified his feelings over the ones who claimed closeness to his Mother. And they left them behind to slowly decay until nothing was left. Mikael stood up slowly his body swaying slightly. Time seemed to be moving far too slow as much as it was moving far too quickly. His brows furrowed as he moved himself forward in an attempt to run away from his thoughts. The looming reality that he would too rot with this house. Like his Mother and like his Father. Mikael highly doubted his father would last that long. The man was already nonexistent, and he had not seen him since the funeral. Was it possible his father thought of him as too broken to be near?

Mikael paused as he stared at a painted portrait of his Grandfather. The man had always been proud of their family, but he wondered how he felt now. A home covered in cobwebs and far too empty for its size. Mikael could still hear the stories his Grandfather had told him, but now he wondered if it had been all a lie to make him feel secure. Fairytales of a better time that would not fall over to his own lifetime. The boy could not help the frown that crossed his face as he dusted away the nameplate on the painting. Mikael was not too sure when there started to be more cobwebs than furniture in this house. The boy felt a sigh build up deep within his throat, but instead of giving himself that satisfaction he turned and continued walking down the hall.

The destination was not particularly clear to him. An aimless walk seemed better than staring at a wall for hours on end. Mikael paused as he noticed the door to his left. At first, he was not too sure exactly why he had stopped. It wasn't until a harsh sob filled the air that he realized. He was not too sure if the room was his Father's or his Mother's, but that didn't seem to matter much. Mikael hardly noticed the tears streaming down his face as he looked at the room with a sense of longing. If only he could join his Father in this shared ache. Something kept him back, staring at the door as tears dripped off his face. Splashing the dirtied ground below his feet.

Finished