Stanislav was standing outside of his house, a backpack hanging on his back on one strap. From the bridge of his nose to the left eye a scar was stretching, an old crust of the last of dried up blood on it. He slouched slightly, his dull eyes looking forward, dark circles under them. One could almost see tear trails if they looked hard enough. But no matter what Stanislav felt, his face expressed nothing but tiredness.

In front of him, his three friends stood. Frank, Helen, and David. They looked just as down as Stanislav was.

Gray clouds hanged above the people, light snow falling down from them. The house shone no lights, every door and window was closed shut. Nothing was on the porch, nothing was in the rooms. A truck was standing near a garage, two men loading it up with different boxes.

"So..." Helen was the first to break the silence, gaining Stanislav's attention as he turned to her. "You're leaving?"

"...Yes." the boy replied quietly, nodding. He blinked, removing an almost formed tear.

"Will you write to us?" Frank asked with hope in his voice.

"...Dunno." the boy replied in an apathetic, careless tone. He didn't know if he would talk to his friends or not. At that point, he didn't know anything at all. He glanced at the car, the one belonging to his mother. She was standing there, waiting for him patiently. "It's time to go. Bye." Stanislav said and went straight to the car, his head hung low. He shambled, and almost stumbled once, backpack sliding onto his forearm. He caught it and readjusted it, placing it back where it should be.

His friends were looking at him as he left them, never to return or appear again. Neither of the three knew where he was heading nor if he would write to them when he got there. All they knew is that he had to leave everything behind. They knew of the car accident, and while they were too young to understand everything, they knew it was better for Stanislav to move to a different place.

That way, his family wouldn't be constantly reminded of the tragic loss of its strongest member.

The car bumped against something on the road, making Stanislav's eyes shot open. He began to hyperventilate as he gripped onto the seat, his knuckles paling. His heartbeat like a machine gun, thumping in his chest at a very high rate, adrenaline pumping up his body.

"Stas, are you alright?" his mother asked, slowing down the car.

The boy gagged, wheezing as if there weren't enough air. The car stopped completely, and he jumped out of it. He paced back and forth, trying to subdue his rapid breath and racing heart. Suddenly, he bent and vomited, sweat and tears running down his face as he gagged, and threw up again and again until his stomach had nothing but acid to give, making him spit out from the sourness and the burning sensation in his mouth.

Iclyn blinked, her vision coming into focus. She could feel the emotions Stanislav felt when he left his home with his mother. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she felt how much the boy was suffering.

Murdering the one who caused the accident didn't return his father. Stanislav felt hollow, empty, unsure. Even the money the insurance company gave his family didn't return his father. Nothing could do it, not even the boy himself.

At first, he felt satisfaction. He felt safe, knowing that the one who killed his father would bring no more problems or harm to his family. But then the feeling left, leaving him with nothing. Nothing but the fear of discovery.

Stanislav knew the police wasn't stupid, and so he expected them to come for him every single day since he committed the murder. However, they didn't. Not when he was in the hospital, recovering from the accident. Not as soon as he returned home. Not a week later when he prepared to move out. And not even when he and his mother arrived to a new home.

It was a rather simple one-storeyed house. It had a fresh layer of paint on the walls, some furniture was present, and everything was clean. The family that was selling it was welcoming and friendly. They had a baby coming on the way, and so they had to find a bigger house for their growing family.

Stanislav hid behind his mother, pretending he wasn't there at all. His mind was in a completely different world as he conjured up different scenarios of how things could go before, during, or after the terrible accident that left him fatherless.

But in the end, they were nothing but pieces of his imagination. None of them would become real no matter how much he wished for it. Nothing would return him his father.

Iclyn watched as he lay on the bed in his new room, staring at the ceiling. Different boxes were chaotically placed across the room, leaving little place for moving around. The lights were off, and only the dull, gray light from the outside illuminated the surroundings softly.

A pistol with an orange muzzle tip was lying near him. Stanislav grabbed it and absent-mindedly disassembled and reassembled the gun, his hands going through the motions automatically, without him even looking.

Eject the magazine. Check if the chamber of the gun is empty. Pull apart the top, pull out the barrel. It was so easy. Just like his father taught him, step by step. It sated Stanislav's curiosity and made him understand what a gun is and how it works. The sense of mystery disappeared, preventing unnecessary incidents.

After about ten times of assembly and disassembly, the boy placed the pistol on a shelf, safety on. He sat up on his bed and sighed. He slowly looked around the room, and then stood up. He went to the closest box to finally unpack his things.

"It's been a while since I saw you last." he said quietly, making Iclyn shudder in surprise. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"W-well..." the pegasus cleared her throat. "It's complicated."

"Yeah..." the boy muttered, assembling a chest of drawers. He used a hammer to make sure the piece of furniture was sturdy again after being assembled.

Iclyn nervously fidgeted in place, not knowing what to say. She could communicate with him again but it wasn't him. It wasn't Sirius, it was a past version of him. She still had a hard time understanding how she could talk with him like with any normal person. It looked like the boy wasn't even connected to Sirius despite him being in the mind of the troubled human.

"You know my father died." Stanislav said, sighing.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Iclyn replied in a soothing tone. "No one should ever go through something like this."

"Not even that man who killed my dad?" the boy looked at her. "Not even people worse than him?"

"I think everyone makes mistakes."

"Does it excuse him for what he did?" Stanislav raised his voice, sparks of anger appearing in his dark-green eyes.

"No, of course not." Iclyn shook her head. She understood she must be careful with what she wanted to say. "I'm saying this — everyone makes mistakes. Small and big, and sometimes they can cause terrible things to happen. It's very complicated."

"But he deserved to die!" the boy almost yelled. "He killed my father!" he got up and walked to the pegasus, making her back up a little. "Do you know how it feels? W-we were going home, and then my father's gone! Because some idiot decided that rules aren't for him!" he was shouting, conveying his anger and frustration through loud words. "And then he tried to evade responsibility! That's not how it works! He got what he d-deserved!"

He fell on his knees and wrapped his arms around Iclyn, putting his face against her chest as he cried. Stunned, the pegasus didn't know what to do. Softly and yet awkwardly, she put a foreleg around him for a warm embrace of genuine care.

She knew it wasn't what truly happened to him. He didn't have her back then, and he would never tell his mother about the crime he committed. He held it all in himself, hid it deep inside, never to reveal. Maybe he cried, but he had no one to tell about how he felt.

Knowing that she couldn't change his past, Iclyn still hugged him. She hoped Sirius could feel her warmth. And even if not, she wasn't about to let the boy suffer, no matter how real or unreal he was. He was still Sirius. Younger, but already broken. He tried to be strong but he couldn't stay like that forever. Emotions are like problems — when they stack up, they can easily bury the one holding them if one doesn't reveal them, lift the weight off from time to time.

After what seemed like eternity, Stanislav backed off and wiped the tears from under his bloodshot eyes. He took a few steps back, not looking at the pegasus.

"You won't tell anyone about it... Will you?" he asked with uncertainty, his voice coarse from the crying.

"No, I won't." Iclyn replied. She remembered the promise she made to Sirius — never talk about him to anyone unless he allowed her to. Until following that promise was dangerous, she would keep it.

In truth, Sirius was already in grave danger but it wasn't because of truth he hid. The pegasus knew he didn't trust Luna or any other princess, maybe aside from Cadance. Even then, he didn't trust anyone but Iclyn.

But maybe it was the problem? She could never know. She only began to understand how Sirius thought, and there still was a long way ahead of her. She had seen so little of whom he used to be. The memories she had seen so far were negative, stressful for Stanislav. Was there nothing good at all? Or did he convince himself that there was none? After all, it was clear he used to have friends. What did they do together? Wasn't it worthy of remembering?

Stanislav returned to unpacking the boxes, moving slowly, his form shivering as if he were cold. His face returned to its usual emotionless state. He put on the mask again, but it could be seen through by looking at his eyes.

Eyes are the mirror of the soul. One can see many things in them. Many people know that a genuine smile can't be made without the eyes. Body language is often a thing many can't control. Just by looking at a person can be enough to understand them completely, figure out who they are and what they feel.

Iclyn could see tiredness in the way he walked. Stanislav desired to rest, to forget the tragedy that happened to his family. She knew he wanted his father to be back. That way he wouldn't have to make his first murder, and definitely not those that followed.

The pegasus knew how easy it was for him to kill the changelings. While it left a scar on his soul, it was mainly because of her that he felt regret. If he were alone, he would feel nothing. No shame, no regret, no remorse. After all, he believed that what he did was right, at least at the time.

She understood he didn't want to be seen as a bad person by those he liked. He always tried to avoid doing anything bad, and if he did — he either hid it or regretted it. He picked the last option only when his deeds were discovered.

It begs the question if he had done more.

More than just one murder. Had he done more? Had he done something worse?

From what Iclyn knew, he could have. While his closest friend, Anastasia didn't say anything about him, he could be hiding much more than he ever could let out even to those he loved. For now, she could only make assumptions and deductions, but nothing she could come up with would be true unless it was in Sirius' mind.

Iclyn decided to look around the house. She stood up and exited the room. Hearing something coming from what she assumed was the kitchen, she headed there.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw Nadezhda cooking meat. She was humming a song to herself as she moved around the kitchen, picking up different ingredients and preparing themselves for the meal.

"What would you like me to cook, dear?" she asked, startling Iclyn.

"Um... I don't think I want anything, uh, thank you." the pegasus replied with uncertainty.

"How about a simple salad? Cucumber, lettuce, onion, bell pepper? Well, some olive oil, black pepper..." Stanislav's mother trailed off.

"If it's, uh, not too much work." Iclyn gave in. She knew it all wasn't real but she decided not to be rude.

"Not at all." Nadezhda replied. "By the way, how's Stas doing? He's been in his room for a long time."

"He's... dealing with, um..."

"...It hit him hard." the woman sighed, stirring the pot. "I hope that he'll make new friends once he goes to school again. He could use some sympathy and understanding, and I'm afraid I can't give him everything he needs." she paused for a second. "I... I've not been feeling well as of late, to be honest. I just hope he'll be able to live his life by himself someday." she turned to Iclyn. "Andrey's gone... Someday, it will be my turn. I want Stas to be ready for it, to take responsibility for himself."

Iclyn looked down, her ears drooping. She didn't want to say how his life ended. She just couldn't tell that nice woman that her son would kill himself later on.

"Well..." Nadezhda sighed again. "We are given hardships to overcome them. I just hope it won't be too much for my boy."

In truth, it was. It was even more than Stanislav's mother feared.

Way too much for one person to handle.

Author's Notes:

As usual, I'm looking forward to seeing your theories, guesses, and other similar things.