Ryden Oneshots

Eurora

*I translated using Google so some of it might be wrong idk*
Summary: Brendon is evacuated to America during a German war. He struggles with a language barrier while facing the challenges of adolescence and maintaining friendships and a relationship.

Brendon lies in his bed, shivering violently. His unruly neighbours that occupy the apartment next door are yelling at each other in a foreign tongue. He’d only been in America for a few days and already his patience is wearing incredibly thin. 

The new school he attends is strange to him, the majority of children there lack tolerance, and he usu ally finds himself being pushed up against a locker. But he doesn’t mind, really, he doesn’t. 

Brendon is not ungrateful; he knows that he is one of the lucky ones. He’s been given a second chance, and that was much more than the majority of people back in his home country had. He can almost smell the stench of gunpowder and blood befouling the air. Brendon shudders and rolls over on his mattress, now gazing at a cracked wall. 

His apartment was serene and quite desecrated. The bathroom was basically a mound of cracked porcelain, he slept on an old mattress, and it lacked most appliances. He only had five thousand dollars saved up; god knows how long that will last. He’d already begun eating into it, what with the electricity and water bills, not to mention food.

Brendon let out a frustrated sigh and rolled over again, desperate to find a good sleeping position. Finally, after a few more twists and turns he fell into a silent slumber.

His dreams were ridden with dark monsters holding guns; they were hiding behind every corner, preying on unsuspecting victims. Brendon was running, he had no idea how to escape from the monsters’ clutches, but he’d try. He darted in and out of the shadows, his thin chest heaving. The monsters were closing in on him, closer, closer, closer, until… there was a ship.

Brendon awoke suddenly the next morning, his jaw tightening as yells and shrieks from the apartment next door echoed into his room. Brendon rubbed his tired eyes and stood rather shakily. He stumbled across the room to a backpack sitting against the wall. He smiled at it; the backpack had been with him to hell and back, almost literally. 

He opened it quickly, extracting a worn blue shirt. He took the one he was currently wearing off, dumping it on the floor before pulling on the blue one. Brendon slung his bag over his shoulders and left his apartment, locking the door behind him. 

The neighbourhood was gray, graffiti covering a lot of the buildings. Why anyone would desire to live here out of their own free will exceeded Brendon’s knowledge. Small children with wide omniscient eyes trudged along, occasionally accompanied by an adult. A young woman was walking in the opposite direction, approaching Brendon steadily. He offered her a small smile, which she returned awkwardly, as if her facial muscles had forgotten how. 

The walk to his new school wasn’t very long. It was only a few blocks from his despoiled neighbourhood. Brendon was incredibly nervous as he trotted up the green grass towards the white school building. No teenagers could be seen as Brendon entered it; Brendon guessed that they were already in class. He met a teacher in the hall who looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing out of class,” she asked sternly.

Brendon pulled out a signed note from the German embassy from his bag. The teacher’s eyes moved with the words before she looked up, eyeing Brendon pitifully. She gestured for Brendon to follow her and began walking to Brendon’s first class. Brendon got the gist and followed her quickly.

She stopped outside his classroom and pointed at the door. “Your class. The teacher will figure out what to do with you.” Brendon looked at her blankly before opening the door and walking in.