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It took him a bit of fumbling to finally unlock the front door of CS apartments. He pushed and pulled the handle until he stumbled inside, facing cold tiles and a humid wall. He looked down at himself–droplets were staining his t-shirt from the storm earlier. It was one of the first, unexpected rains brought by late September, when people still couldn’t get over the fact that summer was over.
Despite the slightly trembling from exhaustion legs, he took the stairs to the terrace. Hugo followed the doors one after another, nodding to himself as he took in the decayed wood. He might’ve been desperate at times, but at least his middle-class family had never let him live in such a place. He stopped, lingering for a while at door 16, on floor B, but he pushed forward. His footsteps echoed on the staircase, and if he closed his eyes, he could hear the faint sound of her sneakers, maybe even see her smile. She’d smiled at him that night, though he can’t remember her face.
Shortly, he was at the last ten stairs, and he could see the sun from the terrace. He smiled. Meanwhile, his lips had picked up a silent hum, a rhythm of a song he didn’t remember listening to. With excited steps, he let the wind blow his overgrown bangs off his face. He could stare for hours at the city unfolding below. He hadn’t counted floors, but it was definitely more than five. He finally stood at the very edge; he was finally facing his responsibilities, with the faintest of smiles.
The sound of other, heavier footsteps and the sound of the penthouse door opening ruined the quiet of the evening. Hugo heard a man grunting and sitting on the cement, though he didn’t turn around. As far as he knew, the building was abandoned, or rather, full of rentable warehouses that owners had forgotten. All floors were like that, except for door 16 on floor B, where the doorbell solely marked ‘Lilian’.
The man on the cement took his glasses off, placing them carefully in the pocket of his thick, fur jacket. His eyes shone with relief yet tiredness, as if this was a long-awaited break from existing. Click, he flashed his lighter and lit up a conventional cigarette. Hugo was sure that smoking had evolved much from lighter cigarettes, here, in Colorado Springs, causing him to narrow his eyes in confusion. The man let out a small hum, observing Hugo when he finally averted his gaze. Perhaps he noticed the stretched out foot from time to time, or the slight rocking back and forth, nonetheless he made no move, no sound. He observed what he always thought was inevitable. But Hugo was unsure either way; he wouldn’t be there if he weren’t.
“Aren’t you cold?”, the man asked. His voice, soft and somehow androgynous, echoed the absence of an answer. Hugo was subtly refusing the offer for help, despite his light, wet t-shirt. To the stranger, who had already draped his fur jacket over Hugo’s shoulders, he looked like nothing more than a sulking child.
He hugged the jacket around his frame, the sudden warmth almost blurred his vision. The city lights became colourful dots in a dark background, and through his half-closed eyes, he swore he saw her. Lilian. Lilian walking just down the street, Lilian in her loose blue dress, in her sneakers, her fur coat. Her hair was swaying with the wind just like his own, and maybe, he caught a glimpse of her face.
It’d been, what, a year?
He didn’t even realise how his eyes welled up, as he stumbled with those wobbly legs back and far from the edge. He felt the stranger’s arms wrap around him, he helped him up before he hit the ground.
“Woah, easy there?”, he murmured.
It was a question that he didn’t register, thus didn’t answer. He sucked in a breath and took it out in a shaky way, to prevent the suddenly welled-up eyes from spilling. Her name, repeated in his head, thought of more than his very existence.
“Hey, what happened?”, the stranger asked again, helping Hugo sit down on the terrace.
But the only thing slipping out was “Lilian”. He was still searching for her down the road, looking like he’d seen a ghost.
The man followed his focused gaze in the dark.
“Who is Lilian?”, he asked.
“Nobody”, Hugo replied, a little too fast this time, “I mean, she should be a nobody, I’d seen her, like, only once ‘round here, and… I don’t remember her face”
That was the first time he dared to look up at the man’s face. He was around his age, had soft looking features, shiny, blond hair–like Lilian’s— and grey-like eyes framed by rectangular studying glasses that gave him deja vu. A gentle smile rested on his lips, unmoving and willing to put up with him.
“How about… You let go of whatever Lilian and tell me your name instead?”
Under different circumstances, he’d extend his hand when he muttered ‘Hugo Nokes, Colorado Springs, born and raised’, but this time only his first name came out.
“I’m Liam”, the man added, his soft smile unmoving, “Liam Ayers”
Hugo nodded, acknowledging the man and making a mental note of how he had never met anyone with that name. Liam sounded warm, friendly.
After a bit of quiet, Liam spoke up, “So, who is this Lilian?”
“The girl in room 16”, came the immediate answer, “I think I saw her…last October? When I first started working here, she was moving in. Blond hair, blue dress, Converse, you know, the whole pack”
“Oh, you mean Lily? Second floor, yeah”, Liam widened his smile to conceal how it’d actually hardened.
“Wait, you know her?”, Hugo flashed an excited grin, “Do you… Perhaps know where I can find her? I’ve been coming here Monday to Friday every week since then and she’s been quite absent”
“Ah”, he nodded.
He struggled to keep a straight face, not roll his eyes or grunt disapprovingly. He wanted to say that Lily died at 17, her body was just found at 23.
"You shouldn't worry about her", he decided, "Not because you don't have a chance, because... I know her, she's not worth it", she doesn't exist anymore.
Hugo would question that. A year now, he cared about some girl he'd only seen once more than himself. And Liam, he was staring at him, gaze bordering on affection. He blinked away and stood up. He half expected the other guy to stop him.
But no, Liam was not like that. Could be the long years of studies that sometimes didn’t permit him to think in a way other than philosophical. Closing his eyes, he was back at the university, where he spent the time left from studying at home. He took the train there every day, facing corridors he knew like the back of his hand. Once he was snapped out of the trance, his gaze automatically moved to the penthouse where he revised, a little, rather illegal cocoon, unlike his apartment on the second floor.
“You know, I’ve been there, done that. Or at least, tried to”, Liam muttered eventually, staring blankly at Hugo’s back, still covered with the fur jacket.
He knew it sounded like nonsense, but he said it nonetheless, while taking a drag from the cigarette.
“We’re all just a bunch of kids, doesn’t matter that our age starts with 2”, he settled.
Hugo turned around. Legs trembled, lips twitched upwards, and suddenly that face seemed oddly familiar. And the other man acknowledged that smile, smiled back even.
“Why, we both die in the end anyway”, he let out a small chuckle, then lit another cigarette and handed it out.
That could be the most genuine smile you’d ever seen from Hugo. He nodded and accepted the cigarette, looking at it with a look of curiosity, as if he hadn’t smoked before.
“You know, you’re a strange person, talk of love amidst the fear, or whatever. Please, don’t fall, I like you already”
Hugo snorted slightly, but kept his eyes focused on the lit cig. When he looked up, he found himself alone. Expectedly, it must’ve been another one of his barely-noticeable-until-hallucinations syndromes.
He took a step back from the edge, staring into the view. And clutching the fur jacket around him just a little tighter.