⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊ - ❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
The sun was shining brightly that day, but it wasn't just any day, it was the day. Summer vacation had begun, children were running around the park after their friends, having fun, smiling. But one of them didn't share the same feeling, he was sitting under a tree in a far corner just watching the others, that child was Rocky.
Rocky was a lonely child, not by choice in part, the other kids saw him as a stranger and often avoided him or just left him aside, in parts Rocky thought it was because he was just an ordinary person without something that called himself the attention, it was just him.
Or maybe it was because he was weird. Pale skin, gray hair despite his young age and the eye patch. That little piece of clothing covering his left eye always made the other kids whisper to each other and often point at him giggling.
"His hand passed over his eye patch as he exhaled heavily, looking up at the reddened late afternoon sky, the same sky as that day. But now it had some dark clouds on it."
The boy opened the book that was in his lap, his faithful silent companion full of difficult words that often made him lose himself in a fantasy and colorful world. But a hand touched his head, a small, warm hand, along with a pleasant aroma that invaded his nostrils, chocolate and roses.
His attention was completely taken by the figure in front of him, it was another child, smaller and visibly younger than himself, with brown hair and golden eyes, a few freckles outlined his tan cheeks, his thin lips showed a wide and excited smile, which disappeared for a brief moment to give way to an energetic and smooth voice, by the way severely pleasing to Rocky's ears.
"Once again a melancholy sigh left his lips, that voice..."
- Do you want to play? - Without introductions or ramblings, the other child went straight to the point and extended his hand, which he held a green paper plane. - You the green and I the orange.
In that small moment when he looked into the others eyes, Rocky felt something he had never felt before, something that made him smile, naturally and spontaneously.
His gaze was still locked on vibrant gold as he sucked in air into his lungs and responded only low, barely audible.
- Why not?
Until that moment it was just a day, but now was the day, the one in which he had gained a friend, even if a very peculiar one, he must admit, they had spent the whole day playing there by the tree, which now wasn't just any tree, it was the tree.
The sun was starting to set, turning the sky reddish, families were starting to withdraw, a voice not far away called out to Rocky, it was his mother, and even though he didn't want to he looked at, as he was now calling even though he had only known him for only few hours, friend.
- I have to go now.
The youngest just watched him sadly, but nodded, Rocky was going to return the green plane, but the other nodded and expressed a sweet smile.
- It's for you.
Rocky smiled with that, and thanked the other. He was about to run to his mother, but he stopped and looked back to asked a question, not just any question, it was the question.
- What is your name?
- Zuma. - Replied the little brunet with a sweet smile. - And yours?
- Rocky.
And with a wave of his pale hand he ran to his mother, who was looking a little surprised and with some curiosity at her son who was approaching smiling widely and with a small green plane in one hand and the book in the other.
A drop of rain fell on his face making him close his good eye for a brief moment. Even now, at twenty-two, he still carried that green plane, which even if he wanted to, he couldn't get rid of it. He had gotten too attached to that brunet boy, everything had a new meaning when he thought about the other.
His life was now divided into before and after. And the aftermath...
To this day, after so many years, Rocky didn't know if he hated him or loved him. Whenever he searched for an answer he ended up almost breaking something out of pain and sadness, in particular his much-loved and needed phone.
Rocky didn't know why, but he couldn't move on even after that unliteral stab to his heart. Ever since that day Rocky had refused to merely think of the other's name and the only person who knew it, his mother, had called him an idiot whenever she could.
In her words "either you go look for him or you just move on, I'm sick of seeing you suffer for being a great coward".
He wouldn't lie, it always hurt to hear that, but he knew she was right. She always was. But as she had said, he was a coward and would never try to move on or go find him.
They hadn't spoken in ten years. Why should they now?
It had been ten years since Rocky was been left behind, forgotten by the only person who cared about him other than his mother. The only person he had ever fallen in love with. Most of it was his own fault, he know that, yet it still painful.
He was the one who didn't accept the other's departure, he was the one who fought with the other, he was the one who made the brunette cry, he was the one who didn't say goodbye...
The list of mistakes was long and with each passing day Rocky felt the weight of each of them. The wounds he had weren't even close to the ones he believed he had inflicted on the brunette he'd once called a friend. Rocky couldn't right the wrongs of his past, he knew that, yet he still wanted to try.
He just didn't know how.
Rocky got up from the bench letting a tired sigh and picked up his, now empty, coffee cup and placed it in the bin beside the bench.
- I'm and idiot. - He said in a low voice just before throwing his backpack over his shoulder and walked out of the park, turning his back on that tree.
Their tree.
Rocky walked calmly through the poorly lit streets accompanied by the few drops that fell here and there, that couldn't even be called rain properly. As much as he hated the feel of the water touching his body, Rocky had always enjoyed the rain.
No one knew if the water running down his pale skin was raindrops or his tears.
But even lost in his thoughts, Rocky could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, he would have ignored that, but he had disappeared for a whole day without giving the slightest explanation, it was obvious that one hour someone would be worried. Or better, his mother would.
Rocky ducked into the first place that had a cover before pulling the phone out of his pocket, the rain was light enough that he hadn't even bothered to put the phone inside his bag to avoid damaging it.
There was a missed call icon and a message displayed in the notification bar, both belonging to the same unknown number.
Rocky felt the urge to ignore it but curiosity was such an addictive poison to anyone deny it. He somewhat hesitantly opened the message.
"Un...hey... so I don't know how to start this but I returned to the city and ended up running into your mom this morning and she kind of gave me your number... I've spent all day thinking about it. I think I need to talk to you... Please call me when you can, it's really important. Please"
With every word he read his chest got tighter, Rocky didn't even know when he had held his breath but as much as his lungs asked for air he couldn't. For a moment he wanted to throw the phone away, run and pretend it had never happened. But his body didn't move.
Rocky reread that message dozens of times. Hundreds even. And every time he read it, his hands shook more and his heart beat faster, as if he was trying to burst his chest. Pain and hope at once.
Rocky was sure of one thing, if gods really exist, they were cruel.
But for the first time a spark ignited in his chest. Rocky didn't know if that was bravery or madness, maybe both, but he pressed the call to return the call. His finger had moved on its own before he could think about what he was doing, Rocky wanted to hang up but it was too late, someone had already picked up.
- Wocky? Is it you? - The somewhat agitated and hesitant but smooth voice, just as he remembered, it sounded over the phone.
Fate, gods, coincidence, luck, karma or whatever it was was cruel and merciless. But even though it felt like someone was sticking a finger in the place he had a knife plunged into his chest, non literally, Rocky felt deep down that this was for the spark he so long needed to correct his mistake, or at least, try to.
- Yes, it's me Zuma.
⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊ - ❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
Sorry for any mistake and tell me if you found something wrong.
I ended up finding a lot of it here written in a long lost file on an old pendrive of mine. A few edits here and there and this came out, not quite what I wanted but I think it works.
Dunno if its good or not, probably not, but hope you enjoyed.
Feel free to imagine what happens during or after the call. Whether the ending is happy, sad or bitter is up to you. What would you do if it were you?
Woof Woof Watchers.