rupture - l.s.

Chapter 4

On the way home, I simply can not ignore my thoughts. They crush into my mind, like rain drops in a stormy autumn night onto the ground. And they revolve around one, single theme - Louis.

How could it happen that we meet again after such a long time? And then also in a small bar, which he takes care of after his uncle's death. Why there and why today?

Is it fate?

A meeting would be quite nice, when I am 98 years old and already dying. Because then I would know that it is the last time I see him. However, I am sure that he would not even visit me voluntarily when I am dying.

But now he comes back into my life. And I don't like that.

It seems like he feels the same.

But how childish would it be to give up my job because of him?

To be honest, I liked today. Robert, the man working behind the bar, was initially somewhat rude and mean, but later, his expression brightened with every word we spoke.

I tighten my black coat around me, as the temperatures at night in London are unbearably cold for me.

I see others running around with a t-shirt and shorts, while I have to prepare a plan of survival for the coming season.

A pretty, young woman, who is running past me, looks at me briefly and smiles broadly. I smile back and look at the wet ground, which has been soaked by a little thunderstorm.

This little smile from the strange woman improves my mood. It's weird, but the truth.

However, I know quite well that my smile from the second, in which I think of the person with the deep blue eyes again, will pass away.

And it happens. However, I do not even need to think of him, I see him right next to me.

He is just riding his chic red bike and does not look at me once. Why should he?

He is not supposed to cause an accident, of course, but something tells me that he knew very well that the young gentleman in the black boots and the dark coat running through the streets is me.

My smile fades and my face darkens again.

Why can't he behave as grown-up as I do?

I give him a nice smile every now and then, as you should do this with people. You should smile at them and sweeten their day if they are sad or happy. Just like the woman from a few minutes ago..

Apparently, I do not, however, sweep his day, but add a bitter note to it and thus makes his mood even worse.

I talk to him about little things. Whether it is because of the soap which I should use in a particular place on the floor or the weather. He responds briefly and emotionless, while I still try to sound nice and friendly. Back then, he wanted to have a chance, why does not he want it anymore and treats me like I'm the dirt on his shoe?

The above-mentioned drizzle now grows into actual rain and I slowly feel increasingly heavy drops crackling on my unprotected head.

My step tempo automatically increases with the idea of coming home faster and thus avoiding a further storm behind it. The thunderstorm had actually been enough in my opinion. And I think the flowers and meadows outside are now more than satisfied.

And indeed. I can already see from a distance a building which contains my apartment and thus my home. But apparently the storm can not wait.

The wind is getting stronger and blows heavily into my face, the drops continue to rumble on my head and my clothes. I hear a loud thunder and fright inwardly.

I speed up my pace more and more with success.

When I finally close the apartment door behind me, I let out a sigh of relief and take off my coat.

Somehow it still annoys me somehow that Louis is so impolite to me and ignored me right on the street.

I can still remember exactly how he found me back then in the rain, when we used to be friends.

My friends had to hurry and let me go home alone. And when they hardly were out of sight, it began to pour from buckets. I, as a naive, 16-year-old boy, had not looked at the weather report and now stood in only shorts and t-shirt in the rain.

The wind prevented me from speeding up.

However, I heard a shrill bicycle bell from the distance. Louis drove up to me with his rusty old bicycle, which he had received from his sister for the adolescence, and yelled loudly to me:  ''I'll drive you home!''.

Of course, I got up and let myself be driven home by Louis, who was already seventeen years old. He shook his wet strands of hair out of his face every minute to see something and I giggled into his back.

Louis gave everything to compete against the wind. But he drove past my house, which confused me.

He only said, "The place you call home, I call hell. I'll show you your real home. ''.

And after a quarter of an hour, we were sitting on his bed. Cuddled up in a soft blanket and a cup full of hot chocolate in our hands. We were alone, as his parents were still at work and his sister Lottie at the tuition.

This afternoon we fell for each other head over heels.

We told each other jokes and stories from our early childhood in front of the flickering tv.

We let the TV on, but the sound got muted by Louis, his reason was that he ''only wanted to hear my voice and not the stupid TV.''.

I remember how his smile grew wider and broader with every story I told him.

A long friendship developed to romantic interest in just one evening.

How should I have known that we would be breaking each other so much?