Aryn adjusted the sunglasses on his face and made sure he looked mostly normal- as normal as he could with wearing a leather jacket on a warm day. He entered the school building almost silently, thankful the school had accepted his request to have a room to himself. When people dreamed, they thought, and quite loudly, their defenses down. He made his way to his dorm room-4B- and set down his bags, examining the room almost idly. It was quaint, like an empty living room.
He grabbed his guitar from its case and headed outside, his jacket no longer on his shoulders, but his sunglasses still on. People were usually unnerved by the unnatural color of his eyes, an almost electric purple. He chose a bench near to a gardened area and began to play the old song "Brown-Eyed Girl". It was the first song he'd learned on guitar, taught to him by his mother.
His family, needless to say, no longer lived, except for him. His father, murdered, as was his younger brother. He and his mother had survived with physical and emotional scars; his torso was ravaged with them. His wings ruffled lightly in the wind and he stretched them out. His mother had wings, too, a beautiful shade of white. He closed his eyes and remembered the last time they'd spoken.
"Aryn," she'd whispered from her place on the bed. He was five, and half-asleep in a chair beside her. At his mother's voice, his eyes sprang open. "Mommy?" he mumbled. She smiled. "Come here, Aryn," his mother said softly. He'd obeyed and climbed into the bed beside her, happy his mother was finally awake again. "I'm sorry I was asleep for so long," she told him. He rubbed his eyes and asked, "Why were you sleeping for so long? Why couldn't I wake you up? I couldn't even..." his voice trailed off as he felt her nod. "It's time for me to go, Aryn." He twisted in her arms. "Mommy..." he cried, feeling what she meant. His mother wiped away his tears and told him to run. He did, and hadn't stopped since.
His finger slipped on the guitar for a moment before he slipped into another song. Music always helped block out thoughts, and he didn't want to hear anyone.