Daydreamer
Oscar awoke to the metallic taste of their own blood. They spat and the trickle fell on the hard surface, a floor, on the wood of the bridge.
"André ..." said immediately, unable to remember the previous time. Only a few moments and everything resurfaced heavy and painful. She closed and opened her eyes slowly, realizing she was still alive and hurt. All of this was none of what they remembered, all of this made no sense at all.
They looked up, a blinding warm light prevented them from observing, salty tears dried on their eyelids, while a tall shadow over her obscured the mighty ray of sunshine. A young man, so tall and elegantly dressed, was holding an ancient Italian rapier in his hands and was polishing the handle with a handkerchief.
From his manicured hands and flawless jacket, he seemed only intent on his old blade. He seemed not to look at them and paid no attention at all to her suffering, so much so that she could not notice that sparkle of his clear eyes, that satisfied smile in finding them alive.
"Welcome to the Day Dream ..." - he said with a calm and graceful voice, with an English accent.
The elegant man did not approach, leaving her sitting on the deck, while other hands and indistinguishable shadows brought them below deck and spread them out on a clean cot. At first Oscar did not recognize that man and did not notice him emitting a cheering sigh of comfort.
You small insignificant flower at the side of the road ...
Oscar opened her eyes to the sight of a white curtain, wild waves that quickly swallowed a dark stormy sky. Completely alone.
He turned away from the oppressive vision, but the cot was so narrow, the cabin so low, it almost seemed to lack air, while the pressure of the water and the waves did not give peace.
Impossible to ignore the storm and the water that pushed dangerously on too thin glass at the sides of the vessel. The cot swayed almost to the point of overturning.
Oscar took the bucket and rejected what little her stomach had contained. He coughed and more old, congealed blood emerged from his throat. His back and stomach wouldn't let go of that grip of pain.
He turned to the glass and opened the curtain with the sense of defiance of someone who has nothing to lose.
"The storm will end" - he said to himself.
One day your storm will end and you will open your eyes ...
He descended in the memory of another distant and equally stormy night.
He heard Axel's voice, in his memories, in that distant moment, of precise clarity.
"If you kissed me tonight. What would you get, madamigella? Think carefully about my question "
On the night of a long time ago, Oscar didn't answer.
"My beautiful and mysterious masked lady! You would get a kiss. And tomorrow? Another splendid kiss! "- Axel kissed his hand and brought it to his chest, slipped it between the cut and the buttons of the jacket and under-jacket. The cold fingers met the warm skin without him ever taking his eyes off her gaze or shuddering.
He looked Oscar in the eye with the certainty of who he was in front of.
"And what I am revealing to you, my beautiful lady, will not offend you, because you will know how today I would give you a kiss and tomorrow two; my young friend ... But precisely because you are my best and greatest friend, on the third day I would ask you for your hand ".
Oscar inhaled, almost as if his voice was ready to retort for him.
"Still speechless? Is there anything wrong with this? Nothing that creates the slightest doubt in you? "
Oscar never left Axel's gaze, nor did he withdraw his hand warmed more by those words than by his skin that he could feel under the cotton shirt.
"You know where I'm coming! I would like you to ask yourself. My heart is someone else's, while what about yours? And no, my dear friend, I am not referring to your body, too easy to open an encyclopedia to the right or wrong voice! Too easy to define a genre. Your heart is yours alone, it has no gender, caste and belonging! "
Axel placed his own hand on his chest, over the fabric and under his. So clear and alive and pulsating was the beating of his heart.
"And now I ask you: does your heart really beat for me? What have I done to deserve your love? Why am I attractive? Why am I nice to you? Ask yourself! Because the answer I will give you will perhaps surprise you: I know what I have done and I will tell you with the spirit of a dear friend. I loved, not you, but I loved. I fought. Another war, not yours, but I fought! I have brought you the respect and value you have always deserved. Because I know how my human heart beats exactly like yours! "
Axel placed Oscar's hand on his own heart, his own beats throbbing under the palm of his hand, an irrevocable sign of life.
Her chin trembled in the silence as silent tears began to stream down her face. Oscar bit the flesh of his cheeks in order not to speak, he narrowed his eyes, his fist, in order not to give the tears a chance to escape and instead ...
"Unfortunately, I don't think this is enough for you. You do not deserve me and the miserable life that you can lead by my side! "
Oscar nodded: he understood.
"One day, one day, your storm will end and you will open your eyes. It doesn't matter when. Only that day I will be here waiting for you. My broken heart and I will welcome you with open arms and make you what you want most. But before that day you will have to love someone who can love you equally. You have the right and you know you can't get it from me. And you will have to fight, fight with all your strength, fight for what you believe for! I will do the same, my friend ".
After that night, the two never met again. Time had passed, his memories were becoming uncertain.
Should she have turned to Axel then? Ask the captain of that mysterious vessel about him? No.
The battle was only just beginning!
Oscar pulled the white curtains of the narrow cabin on the rainy night. A cot all to yourself. The yacht would be disembarking soon.