Warning: AU Character Death.
I hope that this train will carry me far away from all of my sorrows here, that somehow it will displace my broken heart. The past, it turns out, is a stubborn thing and refuses to relinquish its hold on me. As I stare at the empty seat across from me, I can see you; your short legs dangling above the floor. It's been almost thirteen years since I saw you last. Your grin is just as shy as ever, and even now, you can't seem to bring yourself to look me in the eye.
I remember the day we met, you and I. The moving van was parked in front of the house across the street, and something delicious-smelling was cooking in your kitchen. When I followed the scent into the building, I found you sitting at the newly delivered kitchen table. In your hands was a book titled Fun with Dick and Jane, and you were focused quite intently on it as I meandered in.
"Hi." I waved at you. "I'm Feliciano, what's your name?"
You noticed me then for the first time and almost cried out.
"What are you doing in my house?" You asked, looking angry and confused, "My dad's a soldier, and he taught me how to fight off an intruder!"
"Don't hit me!" I shivered a little, afraid to be hurt. "I just smelled something yummy!"
You relented a little and set down your book. Hopping out of the too-large chair, you walked right up to me. You were taller than me by two or three inches and stood with your chest thrown out and shoulders back.
"That's probably the cake we made," You admitted, and I could see that your ears were turning pink. "Not that I like to cook… that's for girls."
"I like to cook," I admitted, wondering what you'd think.
"But that's okay."
Then you told me your name. It was Ludwig.
When the cake was done, your soldier father came in and served it to us. He was tall and handsome, and you looked like a miniature of him. His eyes, however, lacked the tentative warmth yours held. Even so, I secretly hoped that you would grow up to be as beautiful as he was.
I remember how wonderful that cake tasted. It was chocolate and got all over my clothes. When I was finished, you offered me a napkin and wiped off my face. I think that was when I fell in love with you.
Soon we were good friends. You were so solemn as a child, but when you looked at me, it was as if the sun was emerging from behind a cloud. I can recall the day we wandered into the park together and decided that it was warm enough to swim in the creek. You'd stripped down and waded in cautiously, but when I followed you (sans clothing), you turned frightfully red and ran away. I was confused then, but now I think it may have been because you had fallen in love with me, too.
And how could I forget the day when you said that you wanted to marry me when we grew up? I was so happy I wanted to burst. We were seven and thought we understood love. You had given me a bouquet of every flower you could find: dandelions, violets, daisies, and all those delicate blossoms that spring up unwanted in people's yards. You'd even stolen a rose from your neighbor's rosebush for me. Your face was just about the same color. I remember that you'd asked me what a couple was supposed to do when they were "engaged". When I said that they were supposed to kiss, I thought you would faint. We did, and your lips tasted like chocolate cake.
Fall came around, and we were getting ready to start school. You promised me that you would protect me from any bully who tried to hurt me, but when I ran across the street to your house on the first day, you weren't there. There was an ambulance, a police car, and our neighbor – the one with the rosebush – who was wringing his hands and looking upset. I didn't know then, but you were hidden away under that white sheet that was lying in the middle of the road.
Tears slide down my face, and I lose sight of you for a moment. Taking a shaky breath, I allow my memory to drag me away.
I had never seen your big brother cry before, and it was kind of unnerving. He'd always acted tough and liked to beat you up, but suddenly he wasn't a scary teenager at all – he was a blubbering child. Your father was the worst. He stood there with his cold, green eyes and watched that white sheet as if you would suddenly just sit up and pull it away. I watched as the moisture bubbled past his lids and streamed down his face, yet he didn't move a muscle.
At the time, I didn't understand what was going on. All I knew was that I would be going to school alone.
"He said he was sorry, that you ran behind him before he could stop." I swallow a sob, wiping away the evidence of my grief. "You were coming to meet me, weren't you?"
Finally you meet my eyes and smile. I watch as you nod and wave your farewell, disappearing from my sight – my life – yet again. For a moment, all is silent. I turn to the window just as the train passes a sprawling field filled with dandelions, violets, daisies, and every other wildflower I can think off.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" A young man is asking me, his expression bashful and shy. His eyes are yours, as bright as the summer sky, and his flaxen hair is yours, shining with sun and styled neatly.
Wordlessly, I nod, forgetting about the pain spiking through my chest.
"Thank you." He sits, setting his briefcase at his feet. Nervously checking his watch, he glances out the window, and I can see the golden light of the dandelions reflected in his gaze.
"Hi," I murmur, "I'm Feliciano." What's your name?
He hesitates slightly, as if considering the consequences of communicating with a stranger.
"I'm Ludwig."
"I-it's nice to meet…" Suddenly I'm stuttering, unable to hold back my rampant emotions. I burst into tears, hiccupping freely as the young man becomes alarmed. The young man with your name… and your face… and your quiet, solemn manner…
"Are you all right?"
I nod, a grin breaking through the tears. I never thought I'd have a second chance. I though that you had been whisked away from me forever, wrapped in that terrible white shroud.
"I'm fine, Ludwig." Your name is like honey on my tongue after all these years, and for a moment, I indulge in a silly thought: Thank you for coming back.
I'll try to write something less depressing next time.