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When I first saw you, you seemed lost. I remember how you looked around, searching for a way out. In that moment I wasn’t sure why you hadn’t taken your stuff and went home. You stared at everyone like a deer in the headlights. I remember your gaze fixed on me, when I walked over to you. Your restless eyes finally stopped on me and for a second I thought you were going to cry - I’m glad you didn’t.
However, I’d taken the seat beside you and I can’t say that I hadn’t enjoyed your helpless stare. Some people may say brown eyes are boring, but let me tell you, I never seen eyes speaking so much. First, they told me how lost you were, a silent cry which I had noticed. Thankfully, I was able to calm you. Can’t say I did much, but it seemed like it was enough for you.
You were smiling; brightly, to be exact. The corners of your mouth rose with every word we exchanged. I never thought a laugh could affect me that much, but yours did. Whenever the sun was shining into your face, your eyes seemed to smile. They had the colour of the sweetest caramel I’ve ever tasted, the delicious shade of chocolate, which we were able to share when nobody was watching. There were wrinkles in the corners of your eyes and sometimes some freckles disappeared, but returned when your attention turned to me, observant and interested.
It’d be a lie to say I never tried to count the freckles on your face. They reminded me of cinnamon. I know, stupid, right? But still. Sometimes I wondered if you even smell like it. Unfortunately, you didn’t. You smelled like dirt, hay, sweat and, on other days, just like you. To be honest, I prefered your own scent. I can’t compare it to something, but whenever you shifted closer to me in our bunk, I immediately felt kind of safer and calm. Guess you did too. I’m a light sleeper, so I always woke up when I heard you cry. You always tried to stay as silent as possible. I always told you that you don’t have to be ashamed.
To see you cry was the most painful sight. Most of the time you kept your eyes closed, covered them with your hands or buried your face into the pillow. At the beginning, I’d left you alone. Let you cry until you calmed down. I can’t remember the day when I turned over and pulled you close. Maybe I was selfish, because I couldn’t stand the sight of bloodshot eyes any longer. Salty tears on your freckled cheeks. But you never complained about my move. You welcomed my embrace with a hitched sob, nuzzled your face against my chest and when I close my eyes, I can still feel your heart. Beating like you just ran a marathon. But eventually you’d calmed down and I’d stayed awake to watch you drift back into a peaceful sleep, no matter how long it might take.
We all were scared and we still are. You worried so much. Others too less. You were worried you’ll never make it to the military police; you were scared of never seeing your family again. You told me you had a little brother, someone who looked up to you. You wanted to make your family proud, to enable them a good life. I assured you that you would.
I’m glad we became friends. I’m glad, that I was able to make you laugh. I’m glad that it was me who made you happy. Whenever I was in trouble, you helped me out. Whenever I doubted myself, you proved me wrong. Even though all I could do was hold you at night, when you were crying, you never complained. You did so much for me, for everyone.
I never did thank you for that, did I?
This is the last time I’ll see you and you seem lost. I wish I could walk over to you and feel your gaze on me. I never knew eyes could appear so dead. I’ll never be able to make you laugh again.
I feel salty tears running down my cheeks, piling up at my chin and falling down into the dirt. Dirt we trained on. I can’t comfort myself, can’t shift closer to you, and you can’t feel the rapid beating of my heart.
I’m crying, Marco, and I wish you could see.