It had been five years since Melchior Gabor set a foot into his hometown and he wasn't shocked to see that nothing hadn't changed. The building had aged as well as the people but that was it; nothing had changed, he noticed that the graveyard had more headstones now and he wondered briefly how many others had failed to escape.
He doesn't bother to go home, he doesn't have one of those, not for a very long time. His home died with loose ebony curls, tantalizing brown eyes and a shy smile.
The graveyard, despite the new headstones, is still exactly the same. He knows exactly where to walk, it is etched in his memory. It is still there, these past years haven't been some sick dream but rather a twisted reality.
He collapses in front of the tombstone, numbly running his fingers across the name etched into the slowly aging stone.
"I should have saved you." He murmurs quietly to himself, trying to stop the hot tears from spilling over.
"Melchi?" He hadn't heard that nickname in a long time, he looks over and sees another familiar ghost walking towards him, except this ghost was real.
"Ilse?" He asks quietly, she nods sadly.
"I come here to talk to Moritz sometimes, when I'm lonely," She confesses sitting next to him, she looks at Wendla's tombstone sadly "she was beautiful. I remember that much about her, she had the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen." Ilse whispered quietly and Melchior nodded.
"The most beautiful gir-woman I've ever known or will ever know." He states firmly, Isles touches his shoulder lightly.
"You think of her often?" She asks softly.
"Every day."
"Moritz is never far from my mind either, there have been lovers and men throughout the years but none of them will ever be Moritz. I gather you feel the same?"
There had been women and trysts throughout the years, yes, but none of them would ever be Wendla, his Wendla.
"Do you know what it feels like Ilse to love someone so wholly and be the reason for their death? Do you know the pain of living with that, if I had not done what I did, Wendla would be here. She would have had the chance to live, but I was selfish and look where she ended up. Buried at fourteen years old." Melchior hissed angrily, Ilse removed her hand from his shoulder and stared at him sympathetically.
"I was with Moritz the night he- I tried to persuade to come with me. I loved him so much Melchi, just as you loved Wendla. Do you think they know how we love them, how much they haunt us?" Ilse replied. Melchior looked at her, he sometimes forgot in his own grief that other people missed them too, Ilse especially.
"I think they knew. I liked to think Wendla did and Moritz too, I miss them so much and I feel so utterly selfish because I got to escape and they never got the chance because of selfish acts, two people never got the chance to live as we have." Melchior whispered, hot tears falling from his cheeks once more. Isle leant over, tenderly wiping them away with her small hand.
"I like to think that Moritz lives through me and Wendla through you. It feels as if they are always with us does it not?"
"It does, she is with me always. I can still feel her heartbeat."
"We must not be sad for them Melchi, they wouldn't want that for us. They would want us to smile and live, if for anything, for them. No more living in the shadows, we must shine for Moritz and Wendla!" Ilse said, gripping Melchior tightly. They were all each other had now.
"I don't love you." Melchior said, barely above an undertone and Ilse nodded.
"I don't love you either." She replies, their hands entwining together.
They rose together, Melchior casting one last look at the graves.
"Say goodbye to the darkness Melchi." Ilse said quietly as they slowly walked from the graveyard together.
He did, he said goodbye to this darkness. Wendla would forever be within him, his beautiful and tragic ghost.
But at least he wasn't alone with his ghosts anymore.