Silly Things (Knights and Devils)

There once was a boy whose life was the dark backstreets of a cold-heart, steel-tipped city wrapped by shallow, blackened waves.
His eyes were windows to an old and empty room, with nothing but a fountain pen and some papers sitting on a tiny black desk. His veins pumped magma, his heart a furnace. He spat out coal and flame, rage and darkness.

One day, he saw a face; that of a lost and hidden girl with hair like the coal he spat, and eyes nearly as dark. She spoke of knights and demons and silly things, and these simple words felt right and real. The boy realized the world was made of silly things; silly things he could hate and light aflame.
So he turned away and crawled into the dark, tiny room behind his eyes, and picked up the pen. He wrote of knights and devils and silly things, tales of worlds mirroring, but not his own. He remembered the girl, and wondered if she believed in the silly things she spoke of.

So after a time nearing forever, from his room, he stepped out into the cold, dark backstreets and searched for her.
He found her, but she was no longer hidden; she had been found, and he saw in her eyes that she no longer cared for knights or demons. The boy, feeling a strange emptiness crawl into his head, decided to go back to his little empty room and lock himself in, throwing the key into his furnace of a heart. This, so he would be forever in silly things, and never would have to see the faces of girls looking for knights or devils.