[03:21 pm] It was a small black dot. There was only a small black dot inside of you. You couldn't see anything, you couldn'

[03:21 pm]

It was a small black dot. There was only a small black dot inside of you. You couldn’t see anything, you couldn’t feel anything, you couldn’t think or speak; there was nothing. It was a vast emptiness that plunged you, a huge horizon of pure darkness and fear that covered everything you saw, everything you could reach. There was nothing: nothing where you could cling, nothing that you could feel, nothing that you could see –nothing. It was a black dot inside of you that expanded abruptly throughout your body, sweeping without mercy any hope and memory, nothing left in you other than that black dot that had consumed you so violently. Darkness. Emptiness. Nothingness.

But there was a voice.

Bathed in the most beautiful gilt, a voice emerged. A new painting appeared in you as quickly as the previous one, brushstrokes of reds and oranges mixing with the rustic contours of delicacy and affection, a small and comforting painting to be painted on you. The voice sounded low and calm, pushing with it all the darkness, leaving traces of its tenderness all over your body, traces of comfort and security to be carefully delineated in you. And suddenly, there was hope. In each red, a comfortable fire of security warmed the cold of darkness, all the oranges warmly painted all the insecurity of the void, the golden ones shining brightly in you.

In mere seconds, you had become the sun.

All the warmth that took over your body tenderly accommodated you in a comforting lull, the voice that brought with it a new landscape in your being to speak your name slowly and gently. There was grace in his words. Your name had become a song of hope, the timbre used to wander gently through your body as each syllable chanted loudly and lovingly in the vast darkness, a small sunrise rising with each word repeated. And in an instant, all the darkness dissipated. Now in you only heat filled your body, a small sun rising in your center, its strong rays to be confused with the tenderness of that voice, with the repetition of your name.

And what seemed like a dream, became real.

You didn’t even notice it when you opened your eyes, the incandescent brightness of the sun being as intense as the yellow inside of you, the small laugh that followed your grimace being the only distinction of that hypnotic state where you once found yourself. Your eyes were closed by the brutality of the sun, your hands trying to protect them from the many strong rays of serenity that insisted on penetrating you; and, in the heat and calm of the sun, you felt a cold hand on your face. The fingers were clearly noticed on your cheek, each caress made to make you more confused, more ashamed. But the laugh that still sounded… that little laugh that never stopped made everything seem more welcoming, more familiar.

“It took you a long time to wake up,” there was a hint of amusement stuck in the realization of that voice, your eyes finally giving in to the intensity of another day. Lowering your hands, you looked ahead, Childe, crouched in front of you, looking at you with a wide and delicate smile, his hand reaching quickly to the top of your head to tousle your hair just enough. You stood still for a moment as you felt him allowing his fingers to get lost in your hair, his body straightening up in an instant, leaving his hand outstretched for you, hopeful that you would hold it. “The journey has just begun. Let’s go.”

And you took his hand.

There was a slight hesitation in your touch. Your fingers posed gently on the palm of Childe’s hand, a sense of belonging to embellish the painting of your body as soon as you felt Childe’s hand. And he just smiled, always so accustomed to your touch, always so accustomed to the way your hand fits perfectly with his; and Childe lifted you up in a quick movement, forcing your black shadow to be trapped on the ground by the strong rays of the sun, his lips finding your forehead without any problem. His kiss felt like home. And you could feel the smile on Childe’s lips as a faint pink tinge appeared on your face; you could feel Childe’s smugness in the way he held your waist with his free hand.

And when the sun completely eliminated the black dot stuck on the floor, Childe joined your foreheads, your noses rubbing so gently.

There was comfort in Childe’s smile. There was warmth in Childe’s touch. But above all, there was color in Childe’s presence.