Work Text:
A little boy started all his stories with once upon a time, a symbol of the happy story to come, now he is a teen, he starts his stories with random bits of info, more sad then not, to warn of the contents to come.
The little boy would use sweetlike names to go by, maybe to show he is sweet, to show he is kind. The teen goes by the name Enigma solely, maybe to hide all that people could know about him, to not seem vulnerable, to not be seen.
The little boy would write only sweet boys, maybe so people would associate him with the beautiful, kind males he would create. The teen now almost only writes females, maybe so people would distance him from the broken, bruised characters and storylines he makes.
The little boy would ignore everything he went through, too young to fully understand he filled his mind with the fairytales he would spin in the dark of his room. The teen now knows what he goes through, yet he still ignores everything as it backfired from when he was young, he learned to ignore instead of process. So as he writes the tales of his past he wonders why people cry.
The little boy would be on top of his work, sure there were things he didn't know and could never learn, they just moved on too fast, but hey, at least he was the fastest reader. The teen isn't passing his classes at all, as they continued to move on before he could look up from his books to comprehend the lesson before him, as the things he was great at as a child has become his downfall as a teen.
When the little boy would sob his aunt would come, not to comfort but instead speak the words that all children seem to know, ‘Do you want me to give you something to cry about!?’. When the teen cries, no one comes, his aunt would love to comfort him as she says, but her words stuck with the boy as he grew, he cries in silence, no one could yell at him if they didn’t know he was crying without reason, no one could come to his aid if they never knew he needed it.
The little boy sits on his floor, he can't wait til he's older, he would always be out doing things with his friends, he sits as a teen on the floor, different house, different friends, he stays inside more times then not, and as he thinks back he wishes he knew what he did now... the present never compares to the past.