paint you picture perfect

((warnings possibly to come depending on themes broached during thread. rapidfire. @Ghost ))

10:38 at night and Calan threw a plate at the wall, watching it shatter across the floor. 10:40 and it was why him? Why him? 10:43 and it was all so fucked up.

Why were the memories coming back now? Why did they need to come back at all?

Why was he here, stuck in a body so small, so unhim? Or better yet, why was he here, his young mind and young body trapped in a place where the whole world knew him as someone else and the one he loved was missing forever?

Why were glimpses of a new woman tearing into his chest, and why was he longing so desperately for her?

Why did he care?

Why was he so mad?

Why did he always, always feel so alone, then, now, and in the future, too, he knew?

Because every glimpse he had of his future life was colored with such an overpowering loneliness that he didn't know what to fucking do anymore.

Because everything hurt, now more than ever, then more than ever, when? Always? He didn't know. His thoughts were so jumbled. He just...It hurt. It hurt so bad, and it would never, ever be better.

Why was Brooke dead? Why did she die?

Why did future him feel so guilty?

He threw another glass against the wall, not even blinking as it shattered into a million sparkling shards. He was cross legged in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of his rage, and he didn't care.

Another memory ignited his mind, and a growl tore through his throat. His eyes gleamed in Crimson rage, and yet another glass still smashed into the wall. He was sitting on a precipice and growing ever-closer to falling.

Why didn't his father love him?

Why didn't anyone?

Calan whipped around at the sound of a door opening. Since when... "Since when did you have a key?!" he cried, jolting to his feet. He backed away, jumping when his foot crushed a piece of glass beneath it. It was a good thing he had never taken off his shoes, yeah?

Calan stares at Versailles, rage and confusion betraying the mask of edgy, irritated apathy he usually fought to maintain. "Why are you here?" he asked, not without a bite.

Calan just stared at Versailles, confusion obvious in his features. He wanted to ask why he - Future Calan - had given her a key, but in the end he knew. He felt it in those memories, FC's love for this woman. He didn't know what to do.

"That doesn't... That's not what I mean. Why are you here. I'm not your stupid fucking boyfriend. Why are you here?"

Calan was shocked, and, a little weirded out. Maybe shocked was the wrong word? "Wait, that's YOU? I've been asking everyone who it is!
Why... That's so creepy!"

In truth, he was thankful deep down, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit that. Especially when he could avoid talking about why he was breaking things as much as humanly possible.

Calan crossed his arms. He didn't really... Have a response to that, and just continued to watch her sweep. Part of him wanted to help, because this mess was his, but part.... Part just wanted her to go.

He hoped she didn't ask why he was breaking things. Calan was still so... So on the edge, so emotionally intense and tightly wound... He wouldn't be able to hang on for long.

"You still didn't answer my question," Calan said, glaring at her. "Why do you still care, if the person you love isn't here?"

Oh, how he hated the way his voice cracked on that very last line.