Memories

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We're sitting in the train to Paris. It transports me back to my time here with Yves. I smile as I look at the passing land of France. I look at Émile, he closed his eyes, he's probably trying to sleep. I smile and softly and gently touch a curl that is hanging in front of his eyes. He opens his eyes and smiles. I smile, there's a knot in my stomach. I feel a familiar weight on my shoulder. Tears appear in my eyes. I won't be okay. I feel my breath stop but I try not to show it. Émile falls asleep. It feels like my world, that has been so full of light for the last few week is suddenly darkened by an extremely frightening could. I don't want this, I grab my Rosary. I begin to pray, save me, save me.


I feel numb as Émile drops me at my apartment. I enter, on the drawer there's a letter from Yves. Oh no, I didn't think of that. I should have said I was not here. I feel my tears fall onto my carpet and I long for the comforting touch of Yves, every time the black cloud would return he'd be there for me, even when I said the worst things to him. He always seemed to forgive me, He would help me. He helped to get through the worst times, and he would still be there in the good ones. He never abandoned me, he was always there, reciting the poem hope is the thing with feathers. Over and over till I would breathe normally again, time and time again, he would sit next to the bed whispering things to keep me alive. I don't get myself, why am I commiting to somebody who is not the one I dream of? I do not get myself, why do I make decisions like this?

I open the letter.

It's very clear that I've hurt him deeply, I see he is willing to continue the friendship we have but does not want to fix it, I get it, I hurt him once, who said I won't hurt him again? But it still stings. It is still apparent he has feelings for me, even when he's trying to deny it. I shake my head, don't think that way Cyril. I read the rest of the letter, I'm nervous as he explains the problem with his father. He got hurt, when was this, did he tell me immediately. Why is Akiva suddenly friends with him? he wants my opinion, am I qualified to give him my opinion? Why does he need it?


But anyway, I read on and feel my breath stop, he's coming to Paris....


My Dearest Yves,

You will never be a total  stranger to me. We've been through too much to even think we would ever go back to being strangers. I will accept that you do not feel the need to mend everything. Altough it does hurt me, as it does with you.

you will always have my support, I hope you know that, I admire your courage to tell me after all this time. It hurts to hear it nonetheless, I think you deserve a lot Yves, that includes a good relationship with your father, My advice in this Yves. Do not rush but do put in effort. We never know if he is really trying to better his life and than you might have a father to be proud of. Tha would be great would it not be?

I must apologise for not sending you a letter the last few days. I should have let you know I was not residing in Paris currently. I was at Émile's family chateau. It was beautiful, I'm sure you have been there. I saw a portrait of your father and émiles father. I must say you look a lot like your father. You probably don't want to hear that right now but regardless. You could be his twin. 

But all of that aside, my Yves, I would love to welcome you here in Paris, I'm happy to show you around and I'm also very happy to welcome Akiva with you. I would love you to meet some of my new friends.

Your dearest, your rain,

Cyril Courtenay

To my Dearest FriendWhere stories live. Discover now