Chapter Text
Though it’s been four years since that spring, I’ve never forgotten the day you left us.
The memory of you isn’t as prevalent as it used to be, but on the slower days, thoughts of your grin and your contagious happiness rise up to the forefront of my mind. It doesn’t really matter much (although it stung a lot at first when the pain was still fresh). You’re gone, probably forever, and that’s fine. With all the problems your departure caused I wouldn’t want to meet again anyways.
It’s been a while since I last spoke to Kreiss and Grantz. You’d think that childhood friends would stay together forever, right? Hooray for the power of friendship! But that idea is just a cheap, manufactured piece of children’s television. There’s no magic bond, just the sickening taste of regret and lack of willpower as you feel them drift away, the nothingness once you notice the slowly growing weeks in between text message dates. Until suddenly you’re left with no one but a blank bedroom ceiling that does nothing but remind you of how hollow your heart feels. A hollowness that doesn’t go away, no matter how many bandages you layer on.
Though, that doesn’t matter much anymore either. I have my own life now. And I’m happy.
Really, I am.
It takes a second to realize that I’ve somehow drifted off into memory lane in the middle of class, and the usual urge to scratch at my leg with the pencil lying on my desk as punishment arises. I sit on my hands and shove the desire back down.
And as I glance from the locked window back to the front of the class, I see you walk in through the door, head high like you own the place. Like you always did.
My heart drops in shock.
“Ah- Mr. Balsa, was it? I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you until later,” Our teacher is flustered at her obvious mistake, and had it not felt as if my soul was about to escape from my body, I would have laughed at her face. All you do is nod in silence, and turn to look at us.
“My name is Luca Balsa, I’m glad to be here,” You’re taller now, and your voice is deeper, maybe a little more hesitant too, but still just as rich and full of obvious intelligence as it was back then. And before I can stop it, the memories all come rushing back. Your laughter as you pushed me fully clothed into the community pool. The beautiful umbrella you crafted for Kreiss for his birthday. The image of you and Grantz playing around with his old dog, letting him jump onto your chest. Your eyes, bright and shining even when the skies were pitch black. The melodies we all played and sang together in your garage every week. Your rough hands pointing out the different constellations during the nights we spent together. The feel of your lips as you kissed me for the first time before running off on your last day here. And it feels like I was hit right in the heart with a hammer, as all the feelings I’ve constantly suppressed over the years come flooding in all at once.
Joy. Pain. Regret. Yearning. Anger. And everything in between.
When I look back up, you’re staring right back at me. And for a few, painfully slow seconds, our gazes stay locked, until you clear your throat and look away. Nobody else notices, and you’re motioned to take a seat at one of the empty desks towards the other side of the classroom. I can feel you staring at me again, but for the rest of the period I don’t look your way. And as class ends, I leave before you have the chance to follow.
I see Grantz on the way out the front gate. He says nothing. Neither do I.
. . .
That night I stay awake unwillingly, held captive by a million questions and the urge to take the easy way out and run away. Why are you here again? What happened to your precious scholarship? Do you still care about me? About us? Did you ever stop playing the guitar? Did you ever stop inventing? Who are you, even? I know none of them will ever get a reply. Our paths have drifted too far apart to ever reconnect again.
But it doesn’t stop me from still wishing to know the answers.
Sleep comes hours later, a welcome escape from the confusion of the day. I pray when I wake up things will be back to normal.
Yet, as much as I pretend not to want you, a part of me craves nothing more than for you to stay.
. . .
Morning brings drowsiness, and drowsiness brings blissful forgetfulness. The light coming through the windows is bright, hardly creating any shadows. I don’t own many possessions. They’re meaningless.
Deep breath, let yourself move past this. You’re stronger than all the feelings you left behind. Put on your white button down. Make yourself look neat. Walk outside, and let them see you as clean. As better. As more than you are. As more than they ever will be.
The house is empty, and when I walk out to my studio, the unfinished painting awaits. The contrasting colors are frantic, messy, but have an unexpected aura of peace to them at the same time. I hum in satisfaction. Perfect, as always. Now let’s just hope it stays that way. Within time, I settle into the calm repetition of the art, the birds chirping outside a beautiful background noise.
Luca used to love running after those same birds. He hated when we compared him to the likes of a dog because of it.
I shut my eyes. Force the memory out. There is a time and place for remembering useless things, and right now is not then. Focus. Focus. Focus.
A few minutes more go by but I feel myself drifting away from what I should be aiming for. My work today feels like it’s about to become sloppy, as horrifying as the thought is, and I nearly scream in frustration. Why now, of all times, did he have to come back? What did I do to deserve this?
The sounds of footsteps on gravel fade in from outside. The door opens and I turn around, ready to tell off whoever it is for intruding.
“Hey,” you wave, “It’s nice to see you again.”