Strawberries taste sweet. Sometimes sour. You life one up again, bringing it to your lips. You lick your fingers. Your bare feet clench onto the fur of your carpet. It's soft. Strawberries taste sweet. 

Your heart still burns.

The walls around you are pink, decorated. You have the moon painted on the ceiling so you can look at it as you try to fall asleep. You don't sleep. You just eat strawberries, tugging at the fur on the floor. Gently. You don't want to do it. 

And you don't want to fall apart.

You open your eyes, the smell of strawberries tingling your nose. You must have passed out again. Rubbing your nose, you lift yourself up and out of the bed. 

You jump into Maven's bed. The moonlight pours onto his face. The moon is bright. How late is it? Maven stiffens and grabs onto you as your body begins to slow. You're tired. He looks at you. Terror fills his eyes before vanishing into tranquil. He holds you tight. You fall asleep.

You love holding onto Maven. He is like your own little pillow. He's soft. He loves to cuddle. He likes to hold you close. You feel safe with him. You felt like you're in love.

But then you weren't.

Sniffing again, you take a step outside into the wilderness. Every time you're cold you reminisce the days where you were warm. It's hard to believe you ever had warmth. You begin to travel the familiar path. Barefoot. You use your mind to move every root and leaf out of your way. Not that there are much. You walk outside every day. 

You try not to think about Maven. Every time you do your heart begins to race. It makes your head spin. Your chest is fuzzy. You hate the feeling. You just want to move on. You just want to breathe in the air without thinking if he is taking the same breath. 

Love is weird, sorry. You look up at the sky. It's almost night. The last time you spoke to Maven was midnight. About a year ago. You've missed hearing from him. He was always so gentle speaking. He had a way his words. It was nice. 

Your heart is beating. 

Stop thinking about him.

You stop walking once you reach your destination. You pick a flower, placing it behind its ear. You don't care for the color. But it's blue. Don't think about his eye color. Don't think about the color of his pajamas or the deepened shade of uniform he wears. Don't think about the flag that hangs in his office. The color of your shoes the first time you went to talk to him. The color of his gloves when he interlocks your fingers. It was soft. You don't think about it.

You look up at the castle and put your hands on the outer walls. Two cement blocks sit on the floor. You stand on top of them. The master of telky flight.

Clenching onto Maven's window, you peek inside of his room. He's not there. Perfect. You open the window, resting the cement blocks on the balcony as you step into his room. You take the flower out of your hair and put it on his desk. You glance up. The camera is down, offline. As it should be. 

You sit down on the cement blocks and let them lift you off of the ground. This is the best part of the night. Resting your hands on the bumpy seat and peacefully descending to the ground. You can see the top of trees. The cold breeze blowing in your face, through your hair. Your nerves disappear. You just take in the sight. 

One day Maven will remember you, right? Come rescue you from your calm way of living now. He'll see you and love you again. One day.