Chapter Text
[start]
The first time we meet is in Italy, when everything around me is falling apart and I only have weeks to live. I hate you and we argue and we become friends and I respect you, like you, love you. We bicker and make up, we fight and we don't. We don't get the chance to.
I live on alone and remember.
I love someone else and get married and have a daughter.
I love someone else and have a son.
It's never quite the same. It's not as soft as your whispers, not as bright as your laughter, not as warm as your embrace. I live on and I wonder 'what if?'.
I live and I die wishing you lived as long as I did.
[stop]
[>continue]
For most of my childhood, I have nightmares. Sometimes I'm chased by monstrous hands clawing at me from the darkness. Other times I dream of falling, falling, down into liquid fire and death but it never comes. I wake up frightened and never remember why.
Moreover, it's always the same few dreams until the day I start high school. On that night I see a world of ice and cutting winds, sunflower yellow and blood seeping through rocks. I wake up crying silently, clutching the blankets. The other nightmares stop, but this one repeats over and over again.
I do what I've learned to do since I first realized I couldn't stop bad dreams from happening: I ignore them.
The first week at my new school goes about as disastrous as I expected. I get lost no less than three times during that week alone.
The fourth time it happens, I accidentally walk into the wrong classroom. It's still early so there are only a few people there, but it's obvious I don't belong. Luckily they seem either too tired to care about my presence or silently amused at my mistake. I blubber out some incoherent string of words that was intended as a question of how to get to my own class.
A blonde boy sitting in the middle row snorts and walks over to me. I step out of the way as he leans out the door, pointing me in the right direction and explaining which turn to take after this. I blink up at his face, squinting slightly. Are those birthmarks or was this guy really stupid enough to get a tattoo on his face? He asks if I got all that and I nod, even though I only heard half of it. I hurriedly shout out a thanks when the bell chimes before running off.
[>>fast forward]
I keep seeing that same blonde boy after that. To my horror I almost knock him over in the hallway once when I'm not paying attention. Despite the amount of times our paths cross, I don't find out his name until a few months later.
The heat still won't subside, so I'm sitting in my favorite shadowy spot of our front garden. After living in Australia for seven years you'd think I'd be used to days like these, but sometimes I still have trouble with the stifling heat.
Danny, our dog, doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. He runs up to me with a toy boomerang in his mouth. My cousins from the US gave it to me as a joke on my last birthday, thinking it'd be funny. Well... At least Danny seemed to like it. I'm still getting them back for it on Christmas though.
Danny nudges me with his nose and runs in circles until I give in and throw the damn thing. He fetches it and I repeat the action. I try to throw it to places that take him more effort to get to, in an attempt to actually get some rest in between.
I take the toy once again and, putting as much force into it as I can, I throw it in a big arc through the sky. I grimace as I realize halfway through that I miscalculated. It's probably going to end up on the street now.
Soon after it disappears behind the hedge, a muffled string of curses can be heard. While I'm contemplating if it's really worth standing up for, I hear footsteps approach the front gate. I groan when I once more come face to face with the blonde boy from school, this time holding my boomerang while raking his fingers through his hair.
It seems the toy hit him on the head. Just my luck, really.
He spots me and starts berating me for not paying attention to what I was doing. The longer he goes on, the louder his yelling gets. Normally I wouldn't even bother fighting in this heat, but something about this guy just makes my blood boil hotter than the current temperature. I start retorting in my usual witty way, which fires him up more in turn and we carry on like this until my mother shows up to shout at the both of us.
She listens to the boy explain himself. He tells her how he was just walking home when I decided to assault him ―it was obviously an accident, you idiot― and that he's actually from the same school as me.
During the entire conversation he's almost obnoxiously polite. He introduces himself as Caesar, he moved here last year from Italy because of his father's job. His house is only two streets away from ours, it seems.
Mom smiles when he's done talking and proceeds to apologize for my behavior. This is when I decide I've had enough of this and slip away, back inside the house.
It's not until much later that evening, after mom made it very clear I should apologize to him as soon as possible, that I realize he probably never gave that toy boomerang back. I huff and turn around under my blankets. Good. I didn't want it anyway.
I don't see Caesar for a few days after the incident. Oddly enough, when it does happen, it's in the library. I really don't want to apologize but I guess the fight was at least partly my fault. Mom made sure to repeat that a lot during her scolding. So I walk up to him and give my best shot at an apology, which isn't all that much really. He seems to find it acceptable though, because he nods and asks me how I've been lately.
I can't believe he's actually trying to make small talk.
Nonetheless, I respond and ask a few questions of my own. We joke a little about how often we see each other in passing without meaning to. He doesn't seem that bad a guy after all.
We decide to talk some more during lunch. Then the next day. Then over the weekend.
Before I really notice, we've somehow managed to spend most of our free time together. Are we friends now? We still bicker as much as before because he's still the same prick as always. Although I wouldn't mind being friends.
Maybe.
Probably.
I smile to myself. All in all he'd make a pretty good friend, I think.
The nightmares stop. I dream of soap bubbles gently reflecting sunlight, dancing in the breeze.
[>>fast forward]
Our weird spontaneous friendship lasts all throughout high school. We have some boring classes and some fun ones, we go on trips together, even stay over at each other's houses more than we can count. Somehow the affection I feel for you never quiets down. Despite the fights and arguments we were bound to have - we are teenage boys after all - we're inseparable.
I wonder when I started to love you as more than a friend.
It might've been the night you snuck into my house because I was grounded for a week during summer holidays. I remember your smug face when I nearly shrieked at your sudden appearance. I didn't know whether to punch you or kiss you from relief because that week I spent alone was torture. Maybe it was when you held my hand on a chilly autumn day while running away from our friends, who didn't appreciate our jokes as much as we did.
This feeling just seemed to grow so gradually that I can't even pinpoint when my heart started beating faster at the sound of your voice. As much as I may brag about being a natural Casanova, I'm clueless what to do now feelings are involved.
Do I tell you? Do I keep quiet? Would you accept me or turn your back?
I don't know what to do anymore.
In the end, you make the choice for me.
I've come to watch your graduation ceremony, although I still have a year left in this school. You're surrounded by family congratulating you. I marvel at how many of these people I've never even seen before. You told me they would be coming though, so I'm not really that surprised.
What does surprise me, is a girl with shiny black hair wrapping her arms around you and kissing you in plain sight.
A few of our friends whistle but are largely ignored. I'm pretty sure time has frozen around me, and I can't move, can't breathe, can't think. What is going on?
Your parents must catch my confused expression because they laugh and explain that you'd started dating her over the course of last summer holiday, when you went back to Italy for a month. They turn to tell the rest of the story to one of their friends. How smitten you are with her. How cute a couple you guys make.
How excited you are to attend the same university as her back in Italy.
My eyes are stinging. I don't know if I actually start crying right then and there, but I catch your shocked gaze for a second only before I turn and storm off. I run nearly the entire way home, my vision blurred by tears.
At least nobody saw my heart shatter.
You look for me after everyone has gone back to their hotel. I'm still sitting outside, looking at the stars. I haven't moved in hours.
I decide it's better to stay quiet right now, because I don't trust my voice. I don't want you to know how much you can hurt me. You sit down next to me and try to explain everything.
You went back home during summer a year ago. You reconnected with a childhood friend of yours and when feelings blossomed you started to go out with her. Even though the two of you knew the distance would be hard, a year isn't that long. You'd managed to hold out and after this you could move back to Italy to attend the same university as her.
It'll be weird at first, you say, but there's no place quite like home after all. The corners of your mouth pull up in a melancholic sort of smile.
You want to go back home.
It feels like a slap in the face. I know you didn't grow up here, but assumed that over time it became your home like it became mine.
Are you really fine with just leaving everything here behind, I ask.
You turn your confused gaze to me. You reply that of course not, you're not leaving anything behind. There's still ways to keep in contact, really, what's the big deal.
I stand up and walk back inside, ignoring your calls to wait.
Did you ever really care for me? Were these past few years just a joke to you? Just a way to pass the time until you returned to the life you actually liked?
I slump down on my bed, burying my face in my hands.
I give up.
[>>fast forward]
True to word, you try to stay in touch. You send texts, try calling, send mails.
I change all my contact information.
You start writing letters.
I stubbornly don't reply. After a while, they stop coming.
The nightmares return.
[>>fast forward]
I met some old friends from high school today. They told me you got married last month. They seemed surprised I didn't know. Wasn't I your best friend? I just kept smiling and mentioned we hadn't really talked after the move.
I didn't explain why.
My smile managed to stay intact until I slammed my front door behind me.
[>>fast forward]
We live our lives on opposite sides of the planet, barely aware of the other's existence through mutual friends' whispers.
I love someone else eventually.
I have two daughters and a dog. The white picket fence type of scenario you see in all those Hollywood movies. I'm alright. I am. But still...
Sometimes, I wonder about what could've been. I never really stop loving you, even though I tried.
I live and I die wishing you had loved me back.
[stop]
[>continue]
The third time we meet is in a university in England when we're both twenty and part of the same exchange program. I'm American again and you're once more from Italy.
I remember everything.
I remember and thus I introduce myself with sweaty palms and a lump in my throat. You smile back and strike a conversation.
Weeks pass and we become friends again, but you don't recognize me at all. You don't remember danger and suffering and some days I manage to convince myself it's better like this. You're happier, even if I'm not.
You're different but you're the same in all the ways that matter.
This time as well, we have time to talk and become friends. I like you, love you, all over again. Eventually, you love me too. Half a year into the program we have our first date. I'm giddy and can't stop smiling every time I think about it.
You don't have memories of our past lives but it's alright, because you love me now.
You hold my hand and rub your nose against mine. Your face seems to sparkle whenever you laugh. You constantly complain that your hair never stays the way you want it to but it doesn't matter because I love to run my hands through it just to feel how soft it is.
I give you little kisses whenever nobody is looking, on your jaw line, your wrist, your neck. I'm too clingy and you're a tad too jealous of my female friends but it's fine like this.
I'm enamored more each day.
The program ends and we go home but keep in touch. We call as often as possible and even send letters from time to time. We make promises to meet up again soon. As soon as this term ends. As soon as we're done with finals. As soon as we graduate.
Soon.
[>>fast forward]
Soon turns into someday and someday turns into never when we start our calls start growing rare. You say you're too busy and I don't have enough money to fly over myself. Our relationship grows strained and I can see you get annoyed at my questions more often.
One day in December after my classes have ended, you video call me. You tell me that you don't think this can work anymore. We're too far apart, you say, and it's doing more harm than good for you. You still like me, would like to stay friends and can't we please go back to how it was before we tried this farce of a relationship?
I'm terrified. I don't want to lose you, not again. I don't want another lifetime spent without you so I just bite my lip and nod. Then ask if you can give me some time to myself.
For a moment, a small smile graces your lips. Sure, as long as I need.
Afterwards, I scream at the unfairness. The previous time, you loved her enough to have a long distance relationship, for a year, in secret! Why couldn't it be the same for us?
Why couldn't I be good enough for once?
[>>fast forward]
This time you loved me back, but only for a while.
We keep in touch. We call every so often and send greeting cards for the holidays. I get invited to your wedding and I spend the day curled up beneath my blankets ignoring reality.
We both live on but I keep remembering the taste of your skin and the way your fingers felt entwined with mine. I miss your smile and how your hair shines in the morning sunlight.
I live knowing what it meant to love you with everything I had.
This time I love only you, no matter how much time passes.
I live and die wishing for something, anything, that would've made you stay with me.
[stop]
[<<rewind]
Please, don't die.
Please, love me.
Please, don't leave.
Please.
Not this time, I beg you.
Just this once, plea-
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