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“Have you ever loved anyone?”
Margit’s eyes are the ocean. Calm and bright one moment and turbulent the next, like one of those things that go click-click-click , setting the pace of music, whatever they’re called. Tick-tick-tick , steady like a heartbeat or an explosive counting down, depending on how romantic you’re feeling.
Badump-badump-badump. Karl sees his own stupid face reflected in her pupils. He’s slightly disheveled, with a dopey, lopsided grin on his face, sweaty from running around Hamburg with a runaway maiden. To be honest, it’s goddamn impressive, how said runaway maiden seems to never run out of energy. She’s bright, eager to learn about a world she’s never seen before, and Karl is just there to take her hand and lead the way. He likes it when he’s allowed to be a romantic gentleman. It comes surprisingly easy, when he’s not trying to hide his feelings.
“Yeah.” Karl says. “...You. Someone just like you.”
Margit blushes. It’s cheap, cheesy, and nothing poetic, but Margit blushes like she’s never been courted before. Karl feels himself getting red too, because that demure smile she does as she averts her eyes is so cute it should be illegal, and the way she clutches onto her luggage until her knuckles go white from surprise makes his heart do things that he can’t quite articulate. She looks at him with so much adoration, Karl forgets he’s just some sleazy dude who’s saying romantic bullshit for a quick lay.
One more look and Karl’s sure he’s actually going to drown in her love. He can’t handle something like this, because one breakup like the one he experienced with Angelica is enough for a lifetime, and so Karl hastily adds, “Just kiddin’ babe! Gotcha, girlie!”
Margit pouts. (And good lord, she looks so adorable pouting, too.)
“Why are you so cruel? I’m afraid that our love will devastate me someday.”
That’s my line , Karl thinks. But she’s young, naive, and should get to choose. Choose to break his heart, trample on it like she’s dancing the polka on his heart to that one melancholic Oktoberfest song that seems to be everywhere.
“Well then, leave me, miss.”
“I will.” Margit responds, and starts to walk away. With a few steps, however, she falters, and turns back. Karl waves encouragingly, but Margit’s heading towards him, and before he knows it, she’s at his side.
“I can’t let you go…” Margit chokes out, and it’s so helpless, so loveable, that Karl can’t help but pull her shaking body to his.
Margit’s eyes are the ocean. He could spend days, years, looking at them, but he knows it’s not meant to be, no matter how much she loves him, and how much he wants her. Karl feels Margit’s arms around him, as they embrace each other, surrounded by darkness on an ocean deck in Hamburg. And while she is there, content in his arms, he knows that someday, he’ll be alone, imagining her as he gazes upon the sea. For he’ll always remember those clear blue eyes, like the ocean on a particularly sunny day, naive and trusting and so filled with love, asking him,
“Have you ever loved someone?”