The White Rabbit

He was born in a very strict family, all of them having black rabbit ears. He was the only one born white, and the only one who was never on time. His many siblings were all dark, mysterious; he preferred being cute and friendly. It didn’t take long before he was always the one left alone.

When he saw that nobody wanted him, he started getting more and more on time, until he was 5 hours early, just to be sure. But he was still different, and not accepted. He wanted to use black ink to dye his ears black, but he liked his white ears and didn’t have the courage to do it. He finally completely stopped trying to be on time, and he simply stayed home when everyone went somewhere.

One day, his family left, and two weeks later, they weren’t back. They had completely left him alone there, not caring about him anymore. The poor Rabbit started living alone, and two years passed - he now was 8 years old - before he met the Mad Hatter. He was searching for food, struggling to find something edible, when a warm hand with long fingers had handed him some vegetables.

The Mad Hatter had adopted him, brought him up, taught him lots of things, given him tips to never be late. He had read stories for him and the other friends at night, when everyone went to sleep. He had taught him martial arts so he could be able to fight if he needed to. He had given him everything to survive. Clothes, food, water, bed, house. Friends. Family. He had been like a father. Until that day.

“Cute Min, I have to leave for a while.”

“Leave, sir?”

“Yes, leave. I will leave, and I’m counting on you so that nobody is late for tea parties.”

“You can count on me, sir. But why do you have to leave?”

“I just have to. You’ll be a good boy while I’ll be away, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good.”

“But, sir, are you abandoning me? Abandoning us?”

“Of course not.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, and one last thing.”

“Sir?”

“Take care of Ryeowookie for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Back then, he couldn’t see the Mad Hatter’s eyes, hidden in the shadow of his hair. He couldn’t see them, but he had been able to, he would’ve seen that those dark eyes were full of a strange kind of sane madness, but also full of sadness and tears. The last thing he had seen had been the Mad Hatter walking away, something shiny escaping from his eyes, rolling down his cheek, as the Mad Hatter left, leaving a single tear behind.