Broken Boulder I believe in yesterday

His steps hurt, every movement and his muscle screamed in rebellious pain. This was a ghost, an ongoing spirit that developed and fed on his own troubles. Growing with every feeling of agony and throughout the weeks become a poltergeist. Despite every prick of his nerves, he knew this wasn’t his body. This wasn’t him. His mind was so conflicted, trying desperately hard to find himself. Searching through every nook and cranny within his head, but only found continual darkness.

His heart was slow and heavy.

He hated himself, or whoever this was. What happened to his graceful saunter and melodic tone? It was taken and hidden somewhere well.

There was no way he could focus on leading a pack, he feared his poor condition would worsen with the responsibility. But more so, he feared letting the others down. With a corrupted image he would only disappoint them, or even worse place them in trouble. After all the traveling and work they put in he couldn’t be the one to tear that down from his own irresponsible choices.

It was decided he had to tell Alarian, explain his faults. This was entirely on his shoulders and he cared not to burden the ones he cared most with his unqualified leadership. He sulked lethargically to his companion, his thoughts shouting his unworthiness. ”Alarian?” He croaked, attempting to get the others attention.

A beaten shadow of Lennon stood, ears hiding behind his head with fear.

Alarian worried for his lover. No, he was more than worried-- he was terrified. The boy trailed him like a lost puppy, too timid to get near but always watching his broken love with an aching heart. He didn't want to make it worse.

When Lennon approached him, he was laying down, grooming himself for the first time in perhaps too long. His coat was dull and tangled, ruffled and dusty and full of bits of foliage from his frequent excursions into the Bracken Woods. The boy had made it his second home; the territory of broken stone and tunnels was comforting, but the forest offered a welcome distraction.
Immediately his efforts were abandoned when his love came near, and he rose even before Lennon said his name. Ali couldn't help but nuzzle into Lennon's neck, and if allowed he would cover his face in gentle kisses. He wished he could fix this, somehow. The words came to him but stopped before they could escape.
Lennon. He murmured instead, lingering near the boy who held his heart even after he had ceased his smothering. Alarian was reluctant to move away; he craved the feeling of Lennon near him, warm and real. Not least because, as of late, he often woke from dreams in which his love was gone, or dead-- or simply never himself again. He needed to assure himself that Lennon would get better.
Alarian would not let him wither away.