Cursed -rewrite-

Time… it passed by quickly and endlessly. The world was laid out in shades of gray. Only one remained in color, a blue-haired child, who was running through alleyways made of colorless brick. The world outside this dream was warm, yet he was frigidly cold amongst the dullness.

The child ran, rubber sneaker soles crunching down the light layer of snow.. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he had to keep going. He was afraid, but he wasn’t sure of what. He stopped suddenly as a sound reached his ears. It was a girl, crying.

Though he had been sure there where was a longer street, the child now stood at a dead end. A girl, as gray as the world around them, was hunched over towards the ground.

The strange thing about this crying girl was that she had one wing, visible though it was folded up tight in the cold. The other wing was gone. In the place of the wing was merely a stump, from which poured a stream of black blood. The snow around her was stained darker because of this.

“Are you alright?” The child found himself asking, though it was stupid. She was not, as anyone could have seen, “You’re bleeding”

The girl looked up, tears running down her face. They were both very young; she looked to be only three or four. She spoke, her voice shaking,

“An angel with broken wings… can’t fly” She sobbed, and put her head down, “I… can’t fly”

--

Eighteen-year-old KaraHaru woke in his bed, twelve years passed in a second. At first startled, he quickly realized what had happened.

Ah… it was that dream again…

Each time, the dream seemed more realistic. It was almost like a memory, except that it had never actually happened. The girl was real, though. A girl he knew was out of reach, yet he never stopped trying.

   The sun was barely rising. KaraHaru dressed himself in an outfit consisting of a dark blue shirt and pants. He fastened on a set of six silver shoulder plates. They had once seemed heavy, but years of wearing them made it easy to forget they were there.

“Do I have to wear them?” A 9-year-old  KaraHaru complained, “They’re too heavy!”

“You will wear them, and you will get used to them.” A shadowy figure told him sternly.

“No I won’t! They’re way too heavy, I’ll never get used to them and they’ll crush my shoulders!”

KaraHaru couldn’t help but smile at the memory. I was so ignorant back then. He thought. He strapped a large piece of leather around his waist and tied it in the back. He then used his shoelaces to drag his shoes towards him. They made a harsh SCREECH as their metal bottoms slid across the wooden floor.

I suppose I always was ignorant. I might still be…

He fit his shoes on and tied the laces.

Even so… Serena will never need me. Why would she? It only makes sense…

KaraHaru stood, taking a brush and haphazardly brushing his turquoise hair into a semi-reasonable style.

That the girl I love would prefer a prince over some demon that can’t control his power.

He straightened all of his clothes.

Just to make sure everything was alright, he picked up the black-handled mirror that had been laying face down on his night table. He looked into it, carefully avoiding the reflection of his eyes. He checked his hair… which looked fine…

I can’t control who I am… or what I can do. Not even when Serena is the stake. Serena, the one-winged angel…

He moved down to his clothes, making just a quick check that they were all right. There really was no reason to, but he had been taught to be as presentable as possible. His gaze moved up to look at the picture overall. Then, his eyes shifted towards their reflection involuntarily, pupils locking with pupils. For just a moment too long, he watched the soft, silver eyes that reflected the world of his dreams.

Not even when… Serena…

His thoughts slowed. The longer he watched the reflection of his captivating eyes, the less he wanted to resist them. KaraHaru was vain, it was true, but there was a magic that kept him fixated towards his own eyes in the mirror.

Slowly, he relaxed. His thoughts were gone, there was nothing left. Usually, this fate befell whoever passerby looked as deep into his eyes. This was his power, reflected back at him.

KaraHaru’s grip on the mirror loosened, and the mirror shifted. He moved his head accordingly to stay in eye contact with himself. He was a puppet… with no master.

His grip loosened even more, and gravity pulled the mirror to the ground with a startling –CRASH-

The mirror shattered as it hit the floor, spreading fragments of silver glass across the floor. Only then did KaraHaru awaken. For a moment his mind remained as confused and scattered as the mirror on the ground. Once he had gathered himself, he used his foot to sweep the glass under his bed where it met the remains of countless other broken mirrors.

-sigh- Even when Serena’s the one at stake, I can’t control myself. That’s why I can’t be happy… because of these cursed eyes.