Chapter One
A.N- Happy Halloween guys! I first had this idea last year, but now I've finally written it. It's my first PrusPol story, and I hope you guys like it! Please read and review, all constructive feedback will be greatly appreciated. As usual, I own nothing!
Feliks hadn't wanted to go to the graveyard. He really hadn't. It was cold in here, and there were too many shadows. It felt like something out of a horror movie. Of course, that was probably his own paranoia talking. Nothing bad was going to happen. Really, if it weren't for his history class project he wouldn't be here. They were looking at the impact of the Second World War on local communities. Specifically, their local community. This included the dead soldiers that had come from there. That was what had brought Feliks to the graveyard. There was a small section of war graves at the back, and that was his destination. The only problem was he didn't know the way. He had been wandering around for about five minutes- though it felt way longer- and was just about to give up and admit he was lost when he heard a voice.
"Hey, are you looking for something?" Feliks whipped round and saw that the owner of the voice was a boy about his age, with pale white skin, messy white hair and bright red eyes. He was dressed like a 1970's rocker, with a black leather jacket, band t-shirt and black boots. All that black, contrasting with his pale skin, made him look a little scary, and kinda cool. Feliks wasn't going to admit to thinking either of those things, though.
"Um, who are you?" he hadn't meant to say that. Of course, he had never been good at talking to strangers- especially ones that appeared out of thin air- and that question was all he could get out. The boy smiled and strolled over to him. His footsteps were weirdly silent.
"The name's Gilbert Beilschmidt. What about you? Who are you and why are you here?"
"I'm Feliks Ćukasiewicz, and, um, I'm here because," he paused, watching the ground. He wasn't quite brave enough for eye contact at the moment. "Um, I'm looking for the war graves, so, like, if you know where they are, that would help a lot," he glanced back up at Gilbert, done talking for now. The other boy was smiling at him, which only made him feel worse. Gilbert was obviously one of those annoying people who thought his anxiety was funny, or worse, endearing.
"Come on," he said, gesturing back the way Feliks had come. "You'll find them quicker this way. I'll show you, so you don't get lost."
"You really don't have to do that," Feliks sighed, following Gilbert's direction.
"I know I don't, that's what makes me so awesome. I don't have to, but I'm doing it anyway. You probably don't have all day to spend getting lost in here, so let me give you a hand. Trust me, I know where I'm going," Feliks looked at him. He did look like someone who would spend a lot of time in graveyards. After a moment, Feliks decided to take the offer. Gilbert was right, he didn't have all day.
"Okay. There and back again, no detours."
"Deal."
"If you try to do anything else, you'll regret it, understand?"
"Affirmative," after a few moments, Gilbert spoke again. "So, where are you from? If it's okay to ask?"
"First off, I love how you ask if it's okay after you've asked the actual question. Second, my family's from Poland, but I've lived in the UK my whole life- give or take a few summers."
"I see," he smiled. "We've not got far to go now, it's just round this corner and up this path. Can I as something else?" Feliks groaned inwardly. This guy really wasn't as cool as he looked. He talked too much, and asked too many questions. The sooner they were done here, the better. He decided to let Gilbert have one more question, then end it there.
"Sure, but this is the last thing I'm answering, okay?"
"Alright. So, my question is, why do you want to look at the war graves? Do you have any dead relatives among them?"
"It's for school. I'm studying World War Two, and we're looking at the impact it had on local communities. I don't have any dead relatives here. My family moved here after the war, so all our involvement in it happened in Poland," he bit his lip and continued to watch the ground. He wouldn't go on any further, in case he started rambling and Gilbert got bored.
"I see. Well, that's pretty cool! My family's from Germany, so all our war dead are over there," they turned the corner and walked down the path towards the graves.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Feliks asked, glancing at the other boy briefly. He nodded, and Feliks continued. "Do you live around here? I mean, I've lived here most of my life, and I've never seen you before," granted, he'd never really been to the graveyard before, but that wasn't the point.
"That's a little complicated. I'll tell you after we've seen the war graves, okay?" Feliks sighed, but didn't question him further. They arrived shortly after that, and Feliks pulled out his notebook. He started writing down the information on each of the graves. Gilbert didn't say a word to him the entire time. When he'd got what he needed, he went to sit down next to Gilbert on the steps which led up to the war graves.
"I should go back," he said after a while, getting to his feet.
"I'll walk you to the gate. There's something I should probably show you," his voice seemed a little more serious than it had previously. Was something the matter? Gilbert started going the opposite way to the way they'd come. Feliks followed him, feeling confused. What was wrong with the way they'd come? It was faster, surely it would be more effective. They'd gotten about halfway down the path when Gilbert paused.
"Down here," he led the way along a different path, which had two rows of gravestones on either side. Again, they got about halfway down when Gilbert stopped. Feliks looked at the gravestone in front of them. The name on it read, 'Gilbert Beilschmidt', and it was fairly small and plain. He frowned, looking from it to Gilbert.
"Um, please tell me that's just a weird coincidence you found, and not what I think it is?" Gilbert didn't answer. Tentatively, he reached out his hand to touch Gilbert's arm. He couldn't feel anything there. The pieces began to click together. Gilbert's silent footsteps, the fact that he'd just appeared out of nowhere and now this. He backed away from the grave and the boy next to him. Questions flooded his mind, but he couldn't ask them. "You-you're a ghost!" he stammered, unable to say anything else. He wanted to run, get out of there as soon as possible. Not wanting to spend another minute in the company of this dead guy, he turned around and ran out of the graveyard, not stopping until he reached the gate. He didn't look back once.
