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Life in Color (Chapter 5) (PewDieCry)

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Felix's POV (3rd Person)

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"This is a ridiculous idea." Cryaotic repeated for seemingly the millionth time, glancing at Felix uneasily every now and then. Felix flicked his hand, dismissing Cry's statement and looking to see if Marzia was going to come down.

"It's all right, Cryaotic. It's believable, it's fitting, and you look like you have quite the pokerface." Felix complimented the child, allowing a smirk to come onto his face. The brunet flushed and shot a glare at Felix, his wide blue eyes narrowed and piercing.

"Yes, I know that, but why couldn't we do something else? Something I would prefer over pretending that you've adopted me, maybe?" He turned away and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting like a little kid, which he was. For once, he was acting like his age as he continued to complain. It looked like he was about to throw a tantrum, which would've surprised the blond.

Felix scratched the back of his head and sighed, thinking back to his very own childhood, and what his mother had done to calm him done. "It technically is true, isn't it? I'm the one who painted you, haven't I? Listen, if you go along with it, I'll teach you something new. How does that sound?"

Cryaotic looked unsure, but eventually, he warmed up to the idea and nodded. "Am I supposed to use a different name?"

"Sure, if you'd prefer it to be that way. What name would you like to have?"

He was silent as he thought, standing completely still in the middle of the room while Felix sat anxiously on the couch. Felix guessed it to be from the time he spent immobile, stuck in a picture frame. When Cry was still, the Swede thought that he could be a statue, since he could remain so perfectly motionless it was as if he wasn't alive.

Felix frowned, mulling over his thoughts. Cry wasn't supposed to be alive at all. But he had to save that question for later, since it should be any time now that Marzia would awaken and come down to find a kid that she never knew before. The man had stayed up during the night, as he had done so many times before, to talk with Cryaotic about what he had planned to do. The boy helped him fill in the gaps of his story reluctantly, having not approved of the plan. Then he slept for about an hour, waking to Cry's jostling of the couch the blond laid upon and the concerns he voiced of Felix's Italian friend finding him.

He stifled a yawn, trying not to let Cryaotic hear it, but he did anyways. Cry moved out of his statue-like position and gazed at him, concern etched in his pale features. "Are you all right? Do you need to sleep?" he asked. Felix shook his head and smiled.

"I'm okay... for now. I've done this sort of thing many times. Have you thought up of what you wanted to be called as?" It was a weird question to ask, but he asked it anyways. Outside, everything started to be colored a light orange shade as the sun slowly rose, bringing along the fiery shades of dawn. It dyed the feathery clouds a violet shade of scarlet, elongating the shadows on the ground until they seemed like dark fingers reaching out.

Cry blinked, then smiled with impishness alight in his blue eyes. "Crystopher." he announced, his face brightening up as he sounded it out. (And here you thought I was going to put his real name. Tsk tsk.) "That way, I can keep my real name with me. How is it?"

"Crystopher? Well, it's wonderful. Since you're supposed to be my son, I guess you'll be Crystopher Kjellberg." Felix chuckled as he said that, and laughed harder as Cry turned red with dismay clear on his face. "It's true, Cry," said Felix, failing at hiding a small snicker. "You'll just have to live with it."

"But-but--"

The thumps of something stirring at the second floor made him falter, and turn whiter than he was before. He started to back away until he bumped into the coffee table. The sound that it made caused Cry to jump. His sapphire eyes darted over to Felix's. 'What do I do?', he seemed to be asking.

"Calm," Felix whispered urgently as he stood up and gestured for Cry to sit in place of him. "you need to remain calm."

"But I...." He trailed off, and the Swede got what he was thinking. Besides, of course, himself, Cry hadn't been in contact with any other person. Which was explainable, but Felix knew that Cry was more of a secretive type. Felix was aware of all of Cry's quirks and every part of his personality, at least, the one Felix had given him while painting him. But other than that, Cry was a complete mystery to him. "I don't want to speak to her, nor do I want to speak to anybody else." He set his jaw defiantly and almost dared Felix to try to convince him otherwise. It made Felix feel kind of special, for such an illogical reason.

Felix patted him on the shoulder. "Then I'll do the talking, I guess." he said, a small grin on his face. "Just be quiet and act all innocent."

"Innocent? I guess I've got that role all planned out. It'll be a breeze." Cry hugged his rose to his chest. Felix looked down at it, then at Cry.

"Should I put that away in a vase or something? Is water all right?" he questioned, nodding to the barely bloomed flower. Cry was hesitant, but he let Felix take the flower. He turned it over in his hand then looked at Cry again, asking for permission. The boy nodded, then Felix got up to fetch an empty vase from a cabinet and filled it with tap water. He wasn't too sure about how to take care of flowers, so he just touched the end of the stem to the flower. Almost as if a drop of ink fell into the water as the stem diluted the liquid, black threads slowly coloring the water. He pulled away and looked at the stem. It dripped black paint, as it was the color of the stem, but it seemed fine.

"Not water." Felix told himself quietly, emptying the vase of the dirty water. "What do I put this in then?"

He looked back in the cabinet and saw cans of paint, unopened and just bought. Felix could spare a can. He pulled out the one labeled "blue" and took an opener as well. He pried the lid off and stared at the thick sky blue substance. It reminded him of Cry's tears, how it seemed more like paint than salt water. He poured some paint into the vase, figuring that he'd never use it for any other reason anyways. Felix dipped the stem into the paint, and when nothing else happened, let it rest inside, leaning against the side of the china vase. If possible, the rose seemed brighter, more of a sharper hue than it was before. Then, as he watched, blue fluid laced through the rose, filling unseen veins in the stem and eventually reaching the head. The red petals were unaffected, but the stem was now black and blue.

It was unnatural, yet it was beautiful. Felix set it on a shelf where it could be viewed by anybody. Just like its owner, he thought quietly. He returned to where Cry sat and chanced a glance up the stairs. Knowing Marzia, she'd be down any second.

'Thump, thump, thump,' went the stairs as Marzia walked down to the first floor. Felix stopped himself from smiling. He knew it. When she came to the foot of the stairs, her face lit up seeing him. She was dressed in casual enough wear, clothes meant for just relaxing at home. "Hey," she greeted with a tiny wave. Felix greeted her back, and saw her look startled seeing Cry. He figured that he should explain now.

"Marzia--"

She pointed at Cry, an eyebrow arched in complete confusement. "Who....? You weren't here yesterday.....?"

"Marzia, this is Crystopher. He's my... son." Felix shot a glance at Cryaotic, who remained as stony faced as ever. He was doing much better than the blond, at any rate.

"Son? Felix, who's the mom?" she asked, her face a bright red hue. The Swede felt like his face was burning as he tried to explain.

"N-no! I mean, I don't know. I've adopted him. I just picked him up this morning. Mind saying hello?"

Marzia's dark eyes flickered over to Cry. "Uh, sure." She went up to the boy and kneeled in front of him. "Hi, my name's Marzia, Crystopher. Glad to meet you." She held out a hand, and grinned when Cry took it and shook it once. "Be careful, Crystopher. Your father is a bit of an airhead." she whispered to him. Cry smirked, looking at Felix, who pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Marzia," he warned. "you take care of what you say."

The Italian giggled. "Or what?"

"Or I'll hide your make-up set and use it," he threatened playfully. Marzia frowned. Felix started to reminisce the many times he had put on make-up. He was getting pretty darn good with the eyeliner.

"Don't! I just bought them," she whined. "At least if you're going to put make-up on, let me do it." She looked back at Cry. "What do you think? You want to see your dad all beautified?"

As he said, Cry didn't reply, but he laughed. Marzia straightened up and beamed at Felix. "Crystopher's a sweetheart, Felix. He kind of resembles that painting you did before..." Behind her, Cry's expression changed from amused to panicked, his dark blue eyes widening.

But Felix had already thought up a cover story for that. "The painting was a painting of Crystopher. I saw him in the adoption centre and when I signed the papers, I figured, 'Why not?' and I painted him. I'm actually surprised by the outcome since I've only laid eyes upon him once."

Marzia nodded in agreement. "It looks identical to Crystopher. You even got his clothes and everything." she remarked. "Hey, Crystopher, do you want to go around town? Check out your new surroundings?"

"That can be tomorrow, Marzia. Right now, let's just get him acquainted with his home. C'mon, Cry." Felix gestured toward the stairs. "I'll show you your room." Already, his mind was working. Plans to buy Cry belongings, get him registered so he wasn't tracked down by the government and questioned about why they had no files on Cry, have him start school... The fatherly thoughts overwhelmed Felix. It wasn't often that he acted mature.

Cry nodded and stood up. Felix led the way up the stairs and to the other empty room next to his own. It was his office, where he often spent the days using his computer or preparing his tools for painting. But there was a bed and dresser for Cry. Cry went up to the bed and rested a hand on the headboard. "I admit, it's a bit cramped in here. I can take the time to clear it, of course. But if you'd like to have the computer in your room, I guess that's perfectly acceptable. You haven't much belongings, however. We can go visit town later on to buy you some stuff. For the time being, I'll lend you some of my smaller clothes. I mean, wouldn't you like to change out of your clothes soon?" he rambled, unable to stop his long-winded speaking. "How is it?" Felix asked lamely, watching the child run a hand over the designs carved into the wood with quiet contemplation. The Swede waited for his response in the same awkward silence that he wasn't looking to break.

"Cry?"

Then Cry turned around, his head bowed. When he lifted his head, Felix could see how watery-eyed he was. "What is this?" He questioned his supposed father. "Why are you being so kind to me? What is this called, Felix?"

Felix was so taken aback by his distraught tone that he took a moment to respond. "Why wouldn't I show affection toward you? You are my creation, and at the moment, my son. I may have done you a sin by birthing you in a hopeless world, but now that you're in mine, let me make it up to you."

"How?" He whispered, his tone so full of anger that it scared the man. "How can you make it up to me?"

"By showing you that I love you." As he said it, chagrin colored his face. That seemed to appease Cry, if not, keep him silent. He didn't speak for such a long time that Felix turned to leave him alone.

"You can try, but you can't love something that shouldn't exist. You can't seal the cracks of what was meant to be damaged. A mistake as cumbersome as I am will only weigh you down." Felix heard him breathe loudly before continuing. "I'll only seep the color out of your life, rather than doing what I should be and bringing color to it."

"You can't remove what's already gone." Then he exited the room and left Cry to remain in his room.

-

"Felix!" Marzia squeaked. "Oh my God, Crystopher is so adorable! How did you come across the little cutie?"

Felix felt a smile play on his lips. "I visited the adoption centre a few months ago for a little thing that Ken told me about. I saw him and figured that I should at least give one of the kids a home. It took a while for the forms to register and for me to get approved and everything, but here we are now, me already having a son. Funny how he's 8 and I'm 24. People'll think wrongly of me."

She laughed, the cute little giggle that Felix was so fond of. "You're a good man. I'm sure they won't. How's he doing now?"

Felix thought back to Cry's stone cold words. "He's doing.... fine. If you'll excuse me, I have to give him something for the night." He started to leave, but Marzia tugged on his arm.

"Felix, are you sure you're ready for the responsibility of having a child? Because you know that Ken and I are here to support you."

"I know. Thank you." The blond went up to his room and started to gather stuff. As he worked, he started to think of ways to make it up to Cry. To make it up to his painting.

To make it up to his son.

He looked over his shoulder at the mask that Cry had trusted him to keep. Cracks laced through the surface of it, and shards of it were starting to come apart.

He'll seal the cracks. He'll definitely seal the cracks.

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Cry's POV (3rd Person)

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Cry had remained in the room, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed and just thinking. He had drawn the curtains across the windows, blocking out the sunlight, for it was too harsh for him. It wasn't until late afternoon did he inch the curtains open. It would be a while for his eyes to adjust to all this light.

Light. Such a simple thing, yet it was something that Cry had gone on without during the short period of time he had been alive. The lack of light rendered him blind in his world, so his other senses were more sensitive. Even now, Cry found himself shutting his eyes and trying to hear the sounds around him. Car horns beeped and honked at a distant highway. Birds chirped outside, the flapping of their wings muffled by the wind. A dull thump just outside his door, then quick footsteps leading away. He opened his eyes and went up to the door to check what it was.

In front of his door were a pile of neatly folded clothes and basically everything he needed for the night in a bag. He carried it into his room and set it near a table laden with dusty old stuff.

"He really thought of everything, didn't he?" Cry commented, bemused, as he sifted through it. He laughed, then stopped himself. What was he doing? He couldn't allow himself to be comfortable here. If anything, he shouldn't be here at all.

That thought depressed Cry, but he knew it was the truth.

-

He didn't come out at all during the night. He didn't need dinner. He couldn't be hungry. Cry satisfied his boredom by listening to the new sounds around him and exploring his room. As small as it was, its many hidden corners and eaves provided entertainment, as Cry spent his time looking through Felix's stuff. A few of his belongings were intact; the rest were damaged, forgotten, or seemingly useless to anybody. Cry found a radio that was missing its knobs and a collection of worn out comic books. He didn't understand much of the words, however. Nevertheless, the pictures amused him to no end.

When night had fallen, Cry had pried the curtains open as wide as they would go and pushed the window open, allowing the cool night air to blow into his face as he absorbed the gentle moonlight. Even for a moment, Cry was content with just looking out into the night. He could stay like that forever. He would've done so if fatigue had not told him to get some rest.

Cry had never rested in comfort, so beds were foreign to him. He decided to sleep on the floor, bringing a blanket down with him. When the child had pulled on the large clothes Felix had given him, he giggled playfully and swung his arms around as his sleeves flopped. It smelled like Felix, the sharp yet not too strong scent of his cologne, as well as the unmistakable smell of paint. Cry was going to turn in for the night when it started.

The jab of pain through his head was expected, but still it took him by surprise. He hissed, hugging his head and curling up under the blankets. Waves of pain washed over his mind as whispers of darkness managed to worm their way in. The dark seemed to grab at him with their cold fingers.

"Come back, Cry. We still have to play."

"No!" The brunet yelled back, tears springing to his eyes as the pain intensified. It was like somebody was driving a large hot metal spike through the middle of his head, the point breaking through his skull and going through his brain. "Stop, stop, stop!" He chanted this over and over again, as he had done back in his world. "Please make it stop."

The boy twisted his fingers through his hair, pulling on it as if that mere prick would distract him from the agony caused by the darkness.

"Come play with us, Cry. Come play with us." It crooned, a laugh soon following. "You'll come to us sooner or later. Then we'll all play and we'll all have fun."

"No!" He yelled, tearing his blanket off of him and running for the door. He yanked it open and fell onto the hallway, clutching his head. Multicolored spots swam before him, and Cry began to grow lightheaded. Just when he thought he was going to pass out, the light in the hallway switched on. Immediately, the headache ceased and left Cry kneeling in front of his door, shaking and pale.

Felix's head peeked out from behind his door, a hand on the switch. "Cry?" He squinted at him, his hair sticking up on one side. Felix let loose a yawn and then widened his eyes, looking questioningly at Cry. Judging from how loud he yelled, Cry was surprised he hadn't woken up Marzia.

The child took several deep breaths to steady himself before answering. "I... I couldn't sleep." He replied, straightening up and wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

Felix blinked, then smiled a sleepy smile. "Oh, then c'mon, Cry. You can sleep with me for the night." He gestured for him to come in with a flick of his hand and opened his door wider. Shyly, Cry stood up and went up to him.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." He reached over to turn the hallway light off when Cry involuntarily yelled out.

"Please no!"

Felix paused, then stared at Cry for a moment before letting his hand drop. "All right, I'll leave the light open." He didn't question Cry's intentions, and that he was grateful for. Cry followed him inside his room and looked around. Paintings hung on the walls, which were also painted on. Shelves lined the walls, with various items on them. Sketchpads and pencils were scattered on the floor, pages torn and ripped. A large window, just above a desk, gave a beautiful view of the surrounding landscape. Cry saw that Felix had replicated the image on a painting next to it. It looked pretty similar, if not identical. On his dresser was the mask Cry had come with. Cry was too tired to wonder about his rose, though he knew that everything depended on the well-being of it.

Felix collapsed on his bed after leaving the door open a crack so that an inch of light spilled in, landing with a bounce and causing the sheets to billow up. He patted the spot next to him and smirked. "C'mere, son. I'll snuggle with you." Then he laughed at Cry's flushed face like Cry had expected. Cry wandered over to the side of his bed and clambered onto it. Soft. Felix grinned. "G'night, Crystopher." Then he turned over to face the other way, his breathing slowing. Cry laid down next to him, his tension slowly going away. It was warm, too. He gripped the crumpled blankets and sniffed it. This smelled like him too. The bed felt like it was something he could sink into like quicksand. Cry kept his eyes on the light that the door let in, thankful for Felix leaving it open. It didn't try to attack Cry again. Probably because of the light. Or the fact that it had already done its duty. Or maybe... maybe because he wasn't alone.

Slowly, Cry managed to relax enough to fall asleep to the gentle sounds of the night, Felix's snoring, and the warmth that another body provided. Warmth was also something he'd gone without, as well as having somebody with him. He had gone without a lot of things. In his world.

But this was Felix's world. Cry finally got the chance to see how bright his creator's life was.

If Felix was going to try to seal the cracks, this was a pretty good start.

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Chapter 1: thenerdbunny.deviantart.com/ar…

Chapter 4: thenerdbunny.deviantart.com/ar…

Chapter 6: thenerdbunny.deviantart.com/ar…?


Going through the chapters and editing the links so people can access the chapters in order without much inconvenience. You all better thank the Lord for the sole fact that I am not lazy when it comes to writing.

Pewds and Cry belong to themselves~
© 2014 - 2024 TheNerdBunny
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Axt-chan's avatar
Is that a kind of IB? 
Im loving this ff ^u^