Chapter 2: Drake's fear

A boy was running fast, as fast as he could, through the dark of the woods. He was frightened by something that was chasing him. He was conscious that he felt the sharp stings of the bushes tearing at his skin, but he couldn't stop his feet from sprinting. Suddenly, he realized that he couldn't run anymore as a big wall appeared in front of him. He couldn't seem to find another way to escape, so he stopped. His heart was racing with fear and his face tured completely white. Before he turned around to see the thing, a black demonic entity whirled through his chest.

Abruptly, he woke up. He panted heavily, his breaths coming in shorts, frantic bursts. He ran towards the window of his room and opened it. He was shivering and his heart was pounding out of his chest. He tried to calm himself by looking out of the window.

"Those nightmares" he thought "Would I ever be able to get rid of them" he, helplessly, questioned himself in his mind,while he was staring at the night sky.

Drake got out of the bed at 7 am, though the alarm was managed to ring at 8:30 am. He had again, got himself awaken the whole night due to the nightmares. He went into the bathroom to take shower. He took his shirt off and started looking at his back in the mirror. He had a tattoo on his back but it wasn't an ordinary tattoo. There was a specialty about it. Only Drake was able to see this tattoo. When he was ten he first recognised that there's a tattoo on his back but he had no clue about where did it come from. Infact, his whole life that he had been passed, was a question mark to him. He never looked as a normal being of earth. Silver hair, who could have naturally silver hair at the age of 19. But that's what he had gotten. He was 168cm tall, he had beautiful russet eyes that sometimes appeared red in sunlight. He didn't need to shave daily, just twice a month. He had a perfectly heart shaped face with a wide forehead, high cheekbones and a pointed chin. He was quite an attractive guy though his behavior was quite unnatural towards the society. Well the society, itself was responsible for doing that.

Throughout his life, he had been met with hatred and prejudice simply because he was different. From a young age, the world made it clear that his unique qualities were unwelcome, leaving him to navigate, a path filled with discrimination and adversity.

Some called him lunatic, psychotic and some blamed him to be the boy of some black spellcasters and other named him what ever they wanted as they're was nobody to shut their mouths.

But all that stuff had not been able yet to harm the love of Miss Maggie for him. She was the one who adopted him when he was crying in a cradle on her doorsteps. A 57 years old women who had lost her husband and a son in a car accident.

And now, Drake was her only family, a friend, and a son.

Drake emerged from his room and made his way to the kitchen, intending to prepare breakfast for both himself and his mother. His culinary skills were impressive, and he deftly toasted the bread, prepared egg salad, chicken, and noodles. Everything was neatly arranged on the table.

As Miss Maggie entered the kitchen, she wore an expression of amazement. "Drake," she said, "I had planned to make noodles for you today. It was my turn, son."

Drake grinned, pulling out a chair for his mother. His love for her surpassed anything else in the world. They sat together at the table, sharing breakfast.

Despite whatever challenges he faced, Drake kept his struggles hidden from her. He never wanted her to feel sadness.

Behind the bar, Drake expertly crafted cocktails with a practiced hand. Yet, despite his professional demeanor, it was evident that his mind grappled with something beyond mixology. Abruptly, he halted his work and approached Alan, his manager and childhood best friend. Alan's anxious expression prompted him to speak "What happened, buddy? Are you okay, Drake?" Alan inquired Drake hesitated, then replied, "Yes, I'm fine. I need to go home. Can I please take a leave for today?"

As dusk settled, Drake sought refuge by the lakeside near the bar. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he returned to this tranquil spot, finding solace in the nighttime stillness and the silent sky. Drake sat there silently, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, Alan's voice cut through the quiet: "Oi, Queen of Sorrows, what are you doing here?" Drake remained silent, his emotions hidden. "Why are you sitting here with a tear-streaked face?" Alan continued as he approached him.

"No, nothing," Drake burst out ironically. "I just had another nightmare last night, and I couldn't sleep." Alan sat closer to him and said, "You know, my buddy, sometimes we believe our lives will end because of the tragedies we endure. But eventually, those dark moments pass, leaving us alone to reflect and learn valuable lessons. And you know what?" Alan paused, locking eyes with Drake, "At the end we live" .

Drake's surprise was evident as he asked, "I got it, I got it, but where did you get it?"

Alan's playful response came swiftly. "Oh, I saw this quote written in a book." Their laughter filled the air as they both gazed at the night sky.

Drake's voice held a touch of agitation as he posed another question. "Can I ask you something?"

"Actually, you can ask me two, man," Alan replied.

Drake pressed on, his words deliberate. "Do you genuinely believe that I don't lie about the tattoo on my back?"

Alan's answer was unwavering. "Of course, I don't."

"But why do you trust me? You can't even see it," Drake emphasized each word.

Alan leaned in, his tone sincere. "Look, buddy, just because I can't see it, just because the world can't see it, doesn't mean you're lying."

Drake tried to interpret him. "But you know that…"

Alan interrupted gently. "If you see it, then believe it really is. I'm your friend, and I believe in you. I trust you. Believe me, I see it through your eyes, my friend."

Drake couldn't help but smirk. "You're not as foolish as you appear."

Alan shot back playfully. "But you're as foolish as you look."