The Lout's Mirage | Songfic

❝ always will be the lesser one. ❞

The moon in the sky. That perfect luminescent of light with the colour of a sombre greyish blue, it spreads around the dark room.

Cale finds peace in the music room that was long discarded and forgotten, everything is old and dusty but Cale didn't have any problem with cleaning it on his own.

He sat on the chair as his fingers delicately played a note. It naturally woke up someone, but Cale's sure that they would just sleep it off.

After all, no one dares to come near his wing. No one ever does, only a few and they always leave after anyway.

It's hard to put it into words
How the holidays will always hurt
I watch the fathers with their little kids
And wonder what I did to deserve this?

With an alluring voice escaping through the wind's breezy atmosphere, Hans opened his eyes in a daze. He recognises this voice, it was the young master melancholy singing again.

Despite the depressing lyrics that spoke of his hurt, Hans very much enjoyed his young master-nim singing. His voice was off a lullaby unlike his usual and rough tone.

Bassen was awake still. He blames it on his sudden like of hearing the voice that the wind would carry over his room. The voice was nice and there was a hint of loneliness yet the confidence of singing made it seem so nice to listen to. For this time, Bassen tries to keep himself from sleeping. Eager to hear more off this song but, the first line already hit him like a brick.

How could you hurt a little kid?

Bassen froze from his daze and looked towards the left wall--where apart the oldest resides in his wing,

Brother?

I can't forget, I can't forgive you
'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me

Didn't they already? He was just a baggage anyway. It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

Scattered 'cross my family line
I'm so good at telling lies
That came from my mother's side

Cale hums, a small smile on his lips. Although some might be exaggerated and some might be true, it was like how he does in his own life. He half-asses everything, whether it be the truth or a lie. His identity and reputation is already a lie. What more is his existence but a ruse of love?

Told a million to survive
Scattered 'cross my family line
God, I have my father's eyes
But my sister's when I cry

I can run, but I can't hide
From my family line
From my family line

That's true. No matter how much he delusions himself, he is still like them. There are similarities he took, no matter how much he disliked it. The similarities between him and them are hurtful and painfully complex. It hurts him. Yet he loves how this painful hurting symbolises his essence.

Cale lazily walks around his music room and abandoned the piano, letting his posture to walk to the window with a heavy gaze.

Oh, all that I did to try to undo it
All of my pain and all your excuses

Cale does not simply exist. It did not even matter if someone would hear him. He is simply just a trashy young master, avoided and a disgrace. A big fault to someone's life.

I was a kid but I wasn't clueless
(Someone who loves you wouldn't do this)

Bassen hastily walks out from his room, his footsteps silent to a degree that no one near would notice as he walks to the sound. He ends up with a doorway--almost closed if it weren't for the three-inches parting.

All of my past, I tried to erase it
But now I see, would I even change it?

Would he?

Cale's fatuous and immature heart says yes.

But not his damn brain. He made his own prophecy. He made this damn path. This rocky cold-hearted path. He has to endure it. He doesn't give a single damn about breaking himself. And if that meant happiness, he'll do it even further.

Might share a face and share a last name, but
(We are not the same)

The young boy clenched his hands with awaited breath, eyes wearing to something close of regret as he eyes the eldest sing. Do you really hate us that much to the point of breaking down like this?

I am sorry.

I cannot speak for the rest of us.

Hans held himself professionally despite the trembled of his stature, he had noticed the second young master's clumsy walking. However, to witness the young master simply glare at a certain portrait with three joyful people; the count, the late countess and a small bright boy who has the brightest smile - it seemed like he was regretting and blaming himself. It was as if he was wishing for them to not meet, for him to not exist. To make destiny's play out without him.

Scattered 'cross my family line
I'm so good at telling lies
That came from my mother's side
Told a million to survive

Scattered across my family line
God, I have my father's eyes
But my sister's when I cry
I can run, but I can't hide

Cale sighs and caressed a small carved name on the windowsill, his initial and his mother's. A liar, indeed she was. A cunning liar. So good at keeping his innocence in check, hoping that he would not be able to understand. And so effortlessly experienced in making him feel the worst child to ever exist.

From my family line
From my family line

The redhead rolls his eyes in dissatisfaction. His sensitive skin prickles at an alarming speed. Someone was watching him. How distasteful. It's not like they would care about his feelings anyway. After this, they would just brush it off as him being dramatic at night.

It has always been like that.

He never mattered.

No many how many lies some people can tell.

He'll always be the worse and the lesser one.

author's note.
auhh, I am back after days
of almost exploding and dying
lol. Can't believe I have school
now. N e way, here.

- family line by conan gray.