Work Text:
There is a boy living at the edge where the world ends.
He’s evergreen eyes and loudness; breathless laughter and never ending tears. He’s food that “pica tantito” and songs made to “llorar bonito”
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There is a boy living at the edge where the world ends.
He’s the sound of wind caressing grass and rustling clothes under blazing sun. He’s open fingers trying to catch summer rain and gentle blooming life in spring.
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There is a boy living at the edge where the world ends.
He’s messy curls and dimpled cheeks; burning candles on pitch black nights and glittering trails of stardust forming a bridge. He’s old words from old gods and agonizing languages.
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There is a boy living at the edge where the world ends.
He is veins colored gold through spilled blood.
It makes sense that the petals choking Alfred`s throat are as golden as burning sun.