This is dedicated solely to all my faithful reviewers. You really don't understand how much it means to some 13-year-old Oregonian lacking confidence in herself. It's all of you who help to fuel my hope of someday becoming a published author (Of course I wont be writing as much little Chrono Cross fics then. :P). It's an honor to have you all in my life. :bows:
All in Your Head
Cobalt eyes flew open abruptly as a scream pierced through the cold night air. Serge sat up hastily, the blanket's weaving tangles around him. Serge glanced around the dull room paranoia. Slowly Serge began to collect himself, restoring his breathing to its normal quality, his heartbeat just starting to slow. Serge let his head fall into his shaky hands, telling himself it was all a dream, all in his head.
Ever since he's witnessed Kid be stabbed. They were consistent, and since the time he'd traveled to Kid's past, he couldn't get the fiery scene out of his head either. His mind just wouldn't let him forget the flames, and wouldn't let him forget the fear that'd burned inside him as Kid's beautiful face lifelessly hit the ground, her necklace jingled as if everything was okay, everything was normal, and the hurt it caused him to watch his own form be the own who stole that precious breath from her, the rhythm of her heart. The torrents of painful emotions wouldn't cease. He was locked in the shadowed depths of his own mind. Repeatedly losing what meant most to him: Kid.
Not that they all revolved around Kid. Some drudged up things he'd never really paid mind to. Memories he'd though long fled. Some were blurry images of his father, before Lynx had become. Some even staring the very panther that'd bit him that day, that'd brought fate and all its counter parts inevitably to a halt. That day the cogs of fate had turned.
Many involved the oncoming trials with Terra tower. Of the onslaught of time, and how much his life meant, his death meant. He didn't know how much he could take.
He did know all the nightmares had one thing in common:
In each he washelpless…
Kid got hurt, his family got hurt, he got hurt, and he couldn't stop it. The world could even get hurt at these high stakes; it was all his burden.
He hated it…
He was helpless. He couldn't change his own path, couldn't be anything but what fate had set out for him to be. He was the Chrono Trigger, pure and simple. There was no change. His whole life was pre-designed.
Serge sighed, giving the room one last glance and let himself fall back down to the bed, which creaked in protest. Serge shifted uncomfortably a few times. Then gave up, noticing the clock, then promptly was absorbed into the slow ticks. Each tick was already thought; each minute was already planned. There was no such thing as spontaneous…and for some reason it really got to him.
Serge figured he'd been trying to sleep for the past 3 hours, but he'd roughly only slept one, and that he really, dearly, should get some rest, because it was 5 hours till he had to wake right back up. Even his insomnia was probably destined to be. The thought made Serge growl slightly in frustration, mentally kicking himself for do something as pathetic as getting so wrapped up staring at a clock, and how sad it was really becoming. Serge rolled away from the clock, deciding to get another hour of sleep at the least. After all if he was tired in the morning people would worry. It'd ultimately bring down everyone's mood. He was Serge; the leader; the Chrono Trigger; he wasn't allowed to be tired; or sad; or in any way weak. He has to be strong for all of them. Another one of those nearly impossible burdens he was obligated to.
As soon as Serge closed his eyes, the painful images came flooding back, the screams and the anguish. Serge reflexively opened his tired eyes again; they stung painfully from great lack of sleep.
He tried to tell himself it was all in his head.
But the thing is it really was all in his head, it was carved so deeply into his mind, etched in scribbles in every shadowed crevice; all locked behind the darkness of his ocean eyes. It was eternally alive to haunt him. A sudden wave of pain began lacing itself through his veins, setting them aflame. So many worried thoughts of Kid. She was another obligation, duty, but helpless or not she'd of been his top priority. Serge remembered Harle asking him if it was a choice between her and the world, which he'd choose. It was her desperate attempt to ease the grief of how he truly felt of her, even as far as to ease the pain of how she knew he felt of Kid, the love he held for her. If Kid had been a third option in that question, Serge knew he'd have picked it. He'd have thrown away the entire world for Kid without a second though. Scariest part was he could understand why he would, and scarier yet that he didn't see why he shouldn't.
Serge stood. He had this nagging urge to make sure Kid was okay. He had to pause for logic's sake though, cause really, why wouldn't she be okay? Maybe he just needed to see her, for the health of his own mind. Just needed to reassure himself of everything. Whatever the answer he couldn't of stopped himself even if he had wanted to. His legs started moving and he very well couldn't leave the rest of him behind.
Slowly Serge trudged towards Kid's room, always remaining at least half invisible in the shadows, trying to make as little noise as possible. He definitely didn't want to run into any one, and be prompted into lying about why he was up at such an ungodly hour. In a way Serge hated how much people focused on him. If he walked into a room all eyes obediently looked to him--the leader. He was always the person who'd be noticed. Sometimes he wished he could just disappear. Maybe sink soundly into the floor, just to get away from everything, everyone. He hated who-what-he was, and most of all he hated what everything he was meant. I would be so easy to just sit back and follow orders like the rest of them…so damn easy…
Everything could be so damn easy…
And in a morbid way Serge didn't even want to be there anymore. He didn't want to face the constant calamity. Face the massacre his life had turned so swiftly to be. And he hoped he wasn't on the line of becoming suicidal. Not for his sake…for everyone else's. The world valued his life much more than he ever had.
He could literally feel himself teetering on that suicidal edge too. Some frozen fated breeze lashing at him, taunting him forward, slowly he inched closer to the lethal fall; the artificial sun watching with a coy lonesomeness all the while. He could barely feel the ground still so rocky beneath his feet. The temptation to just give way to all the pain was unbearable. And he knew until he fell it wouldn't ever go away. Some things you can't escape.
But he was holding on…tightly.
And Serge knew if he ever did fall, it would be far from pretty. Because he didn't have enough strength left in him to spread angel wings and soar away from the anguish. Didn't have enough balance to face reality and land on his feet.
Then there was Kid, who's door he stood in front of, still quietly telling himself it was stupid for him to have come. She was what kept him going. Kept him fighting the harsh winds trying to demolish what hope and will he had maintained. Trying to force him spiraling down into the hate and insanity. Kid was his support, his angel wings; his balance; his reason to go on. She was the backup of that seemingly perpetual strength he was constantly praised for.
And so it is, perfect, amazing Serge really couldn't do everything all on his own. He didn't have that perplexingly endless supply of courage and strength everyone had assumed he had; in a way, forced him to have. He truly wasn't perfect. He'd made more mistakes than he cared to let on.
Kid was a change, an escape from all the obligations pressured upon him. She was his sky, his world, his angel wings, his balance; she was everything and more.
Serge pushed open Kid's door, surprised when it didn't make enough noise to wake her, yet he was grateful all the same. Serge didn't really know why he always expected everything to go wrong; why he assumed himself to be accident-prone. He never used to do that. But he really didn't do much of what he used to do anyway. Besides better to be prepared for the worst right? Whatever…if all else fails you can always blame the stress.
Serge crept as silently as he could over to where Kid layed asleep, hair falling around her face like a heavenly frame. It surprised Serge that she'd let it down. Even in her sleep she normally refused stubbornly to take down her hair; she thought she was ugly with it down. Serge thought she was beautiful no matter what. Maybe a bit more so with it down though.
Kid's face was entirely serene; it figures the one night Serge had nightmare's bad enough to make him visit Kid was also the one night she had none. According to her however, her nightmare's had been waning ever so slowly, getting less threatening, and even not showing themselves at all, she accused Serge of being the reason. He didn't think he was important enough…then again…he was the Chrono Trigger…
Why was it so hard to remember who he was? Or was it just denial?
Serge brushed a blonde lock away from Kid's smooth unscathed complexion, lettings his fingers linger on her skin perhaps a little too long. He was always tempting fate slightly. He almost wished her eyes would open, reveling the only sky he'd ever truly admired. Wished for one moment he could just have her in his arms, just be able to pretend for a little while that everything was alright. Even if it was just a little while…he swore he'd never ask for anything else again…
Anyone who tells you all your dreams will come true if you wish hard enough…
Is a liar…
Serge had wished harder than most people can even imagine. There was a wince for every step further he waded into this pool of misfortune. He couldn't turn back, couldn't run. He had too many ethic obligations to be selfish…to wish for the impossible. Everything to come was inevitable, and he knew, somewhere deep down inside it wouldn't end well. Something inside him snapped when his friends spoke of "happy endings." He just knew, he didn't need to be telepathic…
Some things just were…and are…
Serge made himself comfortable on the edge of Kid's bed. This could be the last time he'd ever see her, the last time he could ever look at her sleeping face.
But seriously, he told himself all this depression was all in his head…
I meant for this to turn out way differently, but it didn't…it just got a little ranting…instead of the romance that was going to be in there…oh well…shit happens.