Lantern.

I

The remains of the milkshake were poured down the drain. The red, scarlet cherry slipped away and was lost. Outside the frightful storm still held on. In the kitchen everyone was bustling about attempting to remain composed and at work, despite the quite obvious lack of customers. Only Elena sat on the mint green bar stool, drank her coffee and scribbled vague phrases across the worn pages of her book. Her eyes were engaged with the paper before her, but she really did observe the quiet rustle of her fellow workers. It was ten minutes to closing time and there was only one customer. She deduced that people simply had nothing better to do. Elena stood up, muttered her goodbyes and then slowly began to walk towards the terror of the storm of rain, hail, lightning and thunder outside. It was early in June and yet the sharp wind had ripped leaves off the brightly green trees and swirled them around.

Elena came home. Home was where amongst the dim lights of the few small lamps, there was only the golden beige sofa and the wall of shelves with every literary work available. There was also the small kitchen, in colours of dim and obscure lemon, and the two white framed windows, through which the powerful gust of wind rushed in. Upon the sofa lay a figure of dishevelled hair, unshaved in a black shirt and jeans, oblivious to any outside motion, but the one in his dreams. Elena went to her room. It was pointless to wake him as she knew he would not appreciate it. She put on her blue sweater, beige pyjama bottoms and warm grey socks and then went to the kitchen and made black coffee, which she took with two sugars and cucumber and tuna sandwiches to satisfy her nightly appetite. The she quietly tiptoed to her room again and then sat down upon her bed and ate whilst flipping through her pages of rococo art. Elena studied the history of art. It was what she had always loved. History in general and it always pleased her that she had succeeded in following her early childhood aspirations. In her room there was nothing but a bed, messily arranged, yet held warmth due to the dusty rose sheets, a stack of books, currently reading and to read and a bite-size armoire, upon which was a vintage mirror with golden frame work and also small objects such as a bracelet she always wore, a perfume she had always worn, candles that she could not do without and her tea cup. Elena devoted herself entirely to her book and slowly descended into a state of oblivious pondering.

At around midnight her door was opened with a gentle knock.

"Elena, are you up?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"I was just wondering. Are you going to the store tomorrow? We haven't much of anything in our kitchen,"

"I'll go. I need the reason to go out,"

"Buy more coffee. Heaps of it. There is never enough,"

"One man's coffee, is another man's tea,"

Damon smiled and then came to her bed and sat down on the side.

"What are you doing?"

"Studying unlike some of us. I haven't seen you do anything productive for months. I worry you know,"

"The bohemian in me has flared up. I can't seem to tame my artistic influence. Ever since Katherine and I parted ways, for the umpteenth time, I can't calm down. I'm always on the verge of anxiousness. It's driving me insane. But oh well, what can one do?"

"Do not let your depression overtake you. I know it's tempting, but don't. We need to go somewhere tomorrow. Have a calm afternoon at some café. We haven't been out in a long time. You have always been cooped up in your room,"

"I would gladly go. At least you can get me out of the house," Damon dropped down beside Elena and looked up at her doe eyes, smiling down at him. Damon slightly hit her button nose and then curled up to sleep. He was soon breathing deeply beside her as she wrote notes in her book and then just past two o'clock, Elena switched off the light and fell asleep.

II

The morning was grey and foggy. The streets were still damp from the heavy rain and from trees were dripping down the fresh morning rain droplets. The window was steamed up. Elena opened her eyes and rubbed out the sleep gently before taking in the greyish hue of the light. She got out of bed leaving Damon behind, tucked underneath the blanket and went off to make coffee. After putting the kettle on to boil, Elena made some toast and some scrambled eggs, thus using up the last of their reserves. As she drank her coffee and ate her breakfast, waiting for the unresponding Damon to wake up, Elena pondered the very complicated nature of their friendship. She searched through her notes and found an entry from almost one year ago when it all had begun. It was written almost in prose as she was prone to do and went something like this;

Cherries have begun to turn rosy and bloom. Somehow life too has finally become a little brighter along with this spring event. There was loneliness in this apartment, but no longer. It was a café where the meeting took place, amongst dark tables of cherry wood and small snowy white cups of coffee, two similar souls met and first impressions never lie. The apartment will now have the presence of a man. Someone who can appreciate art, literature, coffee and simplicity, minimalism yet a touch of simple elegance. Similar. Like I said. In his air there is nothing played up, obnoxious or irritating. Now under the same roof there will be another romantically lonely soul. The happiest of small events eternally surprise you, unexpectedly. It holds much value. The cherries are also glowing brightly white.

As her fingers passed over the worn and ancient entry, Elena's face was lit up with a smile. Just then Damon emerged from her bedroom and upon noticing breakfast cheerfully took to it and then joined beside her on the sofa.

It had never been romantic. Their relations, that is. Even though they were so alike there was something that kept them from embarking upon a love filled journey. Perhaps it was the fear of ruining something so sacredly perfect. Such a powerful connection amongst two people is rarely found. Damon and Elena just happened to be wonderful together, so beyond that exploring the mythical and mystical plains of love, seemed unnecessary and potentially dangerous.

"I love that you are always writing. I assume that the, if I may, things you write about me, presumably if you do, are not always good, however I like that you have an account of everything. Your unique interpretation,"

"I suppose that is what I'm doing. I never really thought of why or what, I just knew I had to write something,"

"Will you ever read something aloud to me?"

"I can't. It's too personal. And don't we already talk about everything?"

"I do, but you're a closed book. I don't even know any of your relationships. You've never told me. And I keep blathering on about Katherine,"

"I've had only one. And it was unsuccessful, there is not much more to say,"

"Don't you get angry or depressed, or something even darker if you hold everything to yourself. It builds up inside you. Talk to me,"

"I was in school. He was a year older. I thought he loved me. I wasn't sure I loved him. It came about that no one had the decency to tell me that he was somewhat of a womanizer, even though everyone knew. I had this idea of him – that he was simply charming and handsome, and amazingly intelligent, especially in all the things I cared about, but when later all was revealed, so to say, it turned out that he had strategically learnt each detail of my tastes. Somehow, even now, when I look back at it I still admire his effort, but nevertheless he broke my heart and it happened while I was still unsure of my feelings towards him. But I have learnt from my mistakes at least I sincerely hope I have. It is terrible to think how naïve I was isn't it?"

"You were just young. However, it's a tragic story,"

"It is, isn't it? I've always kept it to myself and over the years it has become rather natural to me, but now that I've said it out loud it does seem a bit gloomily dramatic,"

"With what did it end? How?"

"He was incredibly persistent, but I never gave in, so when his patience ran out, then he left me. It was too difficult for him to sustain his portrayal of a completely distinct person,"

"I could kill him, you know. He sounds like the greatest idiot that ever lived,"

"He was just a regular guy. You know what truly surprised me through all of it? It wasn't his character and his actions, it was the ignorance and indifference of other people. People who knew what he was like, but never told me. They knew I would not have been with him, if I had known of his true nature and yet they all stood by, as if watching a game, as if it were entertaining. It makes you wonder about the overall attitude of society does it not?"

Damon took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly. Her head of chocolate hair fell upon his shoulder as he continued to drink his coffee. There was something about this girl, which intrigued him greatly. Heart and mind were arguing about his feelings and notions, because Damon could not comprehend what he himself thought. It was a very perturbing ordeal as he knew that if Elena would be with someone he would be perhaps too protective of her and perhaps, yes, perhaps he would even be jealous, because he would know that their time, their exclusive company, would be disturbed by an outsider, who would receive more attention than him. Damon pondered over this, while finishing his breakfast and then he whispered that they should get ready and go out. And so they did.

III

They sat in the quiet café and as Elena pushed her coffee cup between her hands upon the cold surface of the table Damon was pensively pondering over which pastry to take. Their life was a series of café's, coffees, books, rainy days, studying and cooking. Damon and Elena had successfully managed to bumble through life without being serious adults or having any real problems in their lives, except of course for emotional ones due to a broken heart. As they pondered to themselves what was to be the next step in their adventure of passive and quiet pleasures, Elena radically came to a stop at an idea which first seemed difficult to realise, but the more thought she gave it, the greater it formed until finally it was clear enough to be said aloud.

"Damon, we need to go somewhere."

"I don't quite catch your drift. Do you mean now?"

"I mean go on an adventure. Somewhere away from the known Paris. Travel. It would be so wonderful, you know it would! The two of us basking in the glory of the Provence and such,"

"I think that you're forgetting our limited means. It's not like either of us has money, and please be serious – you don't earn anything at that café, which granted is quite charming,"

"This is no time for insults. I can just feel the idea entering your mind. Imagine how great an escapade it would be – nothing but the nature around us, staying in these worn away small places or camping even, discovering small towns with history. The holiday is coming up anyway,"

"You know I like the idea. But it does not seem plausible. We could never be serious or responsible enough to make it through such an adventure,"

"We can do anything, darling. Don't mope so much. It's unbecoming,"

"All right. Let's say we were to travel – where?"

"Hmm, I know I want to see the Provence, but beyond that I have no idea. We would see. It would be completely spontaneous,"

"I have to think about it. I'd like it. But we both know you have always been the braver one,"

"Mmhm,"

Cigarette smoke filled the air about them as more friends and couples arrived at the café and took their afternoon coffee. Damon and Elena however sat quiet and still as they both could not say anything else after the idea already mentioned. It was something which excited them, filled their insides with not just mere butterflies, but stomping elephants. They were absolutely great together, so such a trip posed no problems in terms of intimacy or company, but more of the financial aspect and also the aspect of impulsive adventure. Before Damon met Elena he was rather plain, normal as some would say, but because she always insisted that she saw in him some aspect of uniqueness and spontaneity then he soon believed it himself. Elena drank the last of her coffee and then they left the café to go out into the streets, where faint sunlight was hitting the damp surfaces of glass and reflecting brightly giving the impression of a lovely spring day. Together they went to the store and then came back home with big bags of goodies – coffee, milk, camomile tea for Elena, baguette, salads, meat for dinner, chocolate for Damon as comfort food, different types of biscuits and of course red wine.

Elena put her long hair up into a bun, put on her large sweater and comfortable socks and then went out into the kitchen. They were ready to cook dinner. Damon always cooked the meat and Elena kept busy with salad. They talked some more about the prospect of Damon actually taking university seriously, but as he himself soon laughed it off, then the subject was dropped and they came once again to the matter of their travel.

"I'm just pointing out that the less we talk about it and the more we actually prepare for it, is for the best,"

Damon shook his head with a downcast smile as he moved the pan upon the stove and poured wine into two crystal absinthe glasses.

"You know I am not able to do that. If you want to succeed you must take matters into your own hands,"

"Fine, then I will. It will do you good, you'll see and I just want to do it because it sounds exciting,"

"So we're settled then. We're going somewhere?"

"I suppose we are," They turned to each other in the cramped but cosy kitchen and both smiled. Elena through her blushing cheeks of having the boldness to be so determined and Damon through his love for her personality, which would not cease to surprise him. Then they turned back to their dinner and as Elena was done, she took the wine glass and stood beside Damon, leaning against the counter, observing his strategic movements. Her bare legs were elegantly crossed and her cheeks were warm and rosy with healthy appearance. As Damon glanced at her beside him, suddenly the prospect of their relationship perturbed his mind. He realized that perhaps he would be incapable of sharing the intimacy of a trip together with a girl he found so deeply attractive, without her even knowing. Living a busy life, granted theirs was busy in an entirely different way, to the customarily known one, he had always shaken off these sentiments of lust, arousal even, but the two of them travelling together, being in this solitude of two was bound to reveal his true emotions. Damon quickly came to and took the pan off the stove;

"It looks all right," He muttered as he turned away from Elena, but her hand pulled on his arm.

"Damon, be serious, it's not even close to cooked yet. Are you all right?"

"Mmhm," Damon said and returned to cooking, but Elena was left in a state of nervous worry as she began to wonder whether Damon's attitude was not entirely her fault. She had been so persistent with this trip, that maybe Damon had turned cold toward her, had been irritated by her even. Elena patted him on the shoulder for encouragement and then went to the sofa and curled up in the corner, taking the pillow in her hand. It was getting dark outside and small birds chirped beside their window. Elena's eyes teared up suddenly with no reason and it took all she had to scare them away. Perhaps she was becoming too sensitive, but then again it could be profound anxiousness over losing what they had. Elena liked Damon. There had been a time, when she had felt something slightly stronger for him in terms of love, but now she wasn't sure anymore. It always happened so in her life that her emotions became unclear and to explain them would take a great amount of effort, so she simply dealt with the uncertainty of her own notions. As she now sat quiet and intimidated and awaited dinner Elena was pondering over how to make things right again.

They stood far apart – Damon in the kitchen, Elena by the bookshelves. This distance was almost unnatural. As Damon announced that dinner was ready, Elena unhurriedly walked to the kitchen. She put out the plates, all the while avoiding Damon's gaze, and put the food upon them. They took their plates and wine glasses and went to the sofa, where they ate exchanging awkward glances all the while. Somehow from utter cheerfulness they had reached a stage of embarrassing shyness, due to their unrevealed feelings, but neither of them felt like they could ever act upon them, their friendship was sacred. But something was bound to happen.

After dinner as Elena washed the plates Damon came to the kitchen. He carried the wine glasses and knowing full well that they would probably take their tea now, he reached to put the glasses in the sink. Before him stood Elena, who at that moment wished to turn around and get the glasses herself and as they stood in front of one another, staring intensely into each other's eyes – the raven black and stormy blue one's meeting, for a moment they had a glimpse, a spark of what it would be like. The passion flamed up, but then it died down as Elena escaped from his near embrace and went to the bathroom. Damon finished washing the plates, having no other thought but the one what it would have been like to have kissed her, then and there. To not have to care about all they had had before, but just approach it differently. To be able to love her, without worrying she would shoot him down. Elena returned anxious inside, but smiled at him nevertheless, from underneath her waves of hair and then put the kettle on to boil, pretending as if nothing had happened. Nothing had, in fact, but somehow it did not feel like it.

They had their tea cups in hand and were sitting in Elena's bed, as they usually did. Beside Elena's bed there shone a dimly yellow lamp and upon the armoire the candles were flickering gently, imitating the tension in the ambiance.

"Will you read to me?"

"I haven't done that in a long time,"

"I know. I've been busy as you said. I'd like it. Please," Damon looked at her with his pleading eyes.

"All right. But it will not be my fault if you will not like what I read,"

"It won't matter,"

Elena took a book off her stack and then turned to the page she had folded down; it was a rather bad habit.

"But even friendship like our heroes'
Exist no more; for we've outgrown
All sentiments and deem men zeroes-
Except of course ourselves alone.
We all take on Napoleon's features,
And millions of our fellow creatures
Are nothing more to us than tools...
Since feelings are for freaks and fools.
Eugene, of course, had keen perceptions
And on the whole despised mankind,
Yet wasn't, like so many, blind;
And since each rule permits exceptions,
He did respect a noble few,
And, cold himself, gave warmth its due."

Damon listened intently to the words of 'Eugene Onegin' and delighted in every second of Elena's reading as it lulled him into a state of calm transcendence. The candles soon burned out, only the lamp remained. Elena put the book down and got up to take the feathery duvets. She got under it and also made sure Damon was tucked in. Elena went to sleep thinking of nothing but what had almost happed that very evening and she realized that Damon was who she really wanted. And then she realized that they would be going on an adventure together. Just the two of them.

Notes/ Hello again, darlings! This story is quite a peculiar one I suppose. This chapter was really an overall introduction, so you as the readers would be able to enter the world of their relationship and their slightly bohemian life. The trip might be long, I hope it is. I want to write, so that is a good sign. We'll see. For now I sincerely hope you delighted in this chapter and please be so kind as to review! Yours excitedly, Martina.