"Raven!"
The voice startled me, as most voices were lost over the deafening roar of the bombs that rained from the sky on days such as these. However, the bombs were nothing new. Ever since the start of the war, you could often hear the bombs from the neighboring country of France, due to the fact that we lived in the city or Vercelli, an Italian city fairy close to the French-Italian border. Because of this, no one was fazed by the blasts. You see, we'd chosen to remain neutral, just as Switzerland had in this war and all wars prior. To me, it was like 'Università di Vercelli,' the school I attended, was a safe-haven from the war, as was the rest of Italy.
So now, as I walked across the campus to my dorm, I wondered who could possibly break through the noise of the bombs. Curious, I casually glanced over my shoulder, seeing a figure in the distance gently silhouetted by the slowly setting sun that was just now beginning to dip below the horizon. The silhouette slowly began to glisten away as the figure approached me, and I soon recognized him as Jessê Santiago, a foreign exchange student from Spain, who just so happened to be the captain of the Rugby and Soccer teams hosted on campus, the Vercelli Angels. It now made sense as to why I could hear him so clearly, as he was know for his ferocity and angry spirit when he played sports.
"What is it?"
I had to strain my voice so that he could hear me over the bombs, but I was only half paying attention to him. I clicked open my briefcase and slipped some artwork I'd been working on inside, oblivious to the fact that I'd only shut the briefcase halfway when I went to close it.
"Oh, I was just hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes," He said coolly as he approached, offering a small wave before letting his arm fall back to his side.
Weird. He wanted to talk? I mean, sure, I'd wave when I'd saw him in the hallway, and he'd wave back, but aside from that I'd never associated myself with him. We never just 'Talked.' The only reason I knew who he was was because of his esteemed performance on the field.
"I guess..." I answered mildly, having mixed feeling about why exactly he'd want to talk to me. I didn't understand in the slightest.
"Well I was wondering, there's a pa-"
It was then my briefcase flew open, sending countless papers spiraling into the sky. I felt my face go red with embarrassment as I mumbled an apology, reaching out for all the papers I could grab before they were lost in the late autumn breeze that blew across the area. Jessê was quick to help me collect the drawings, and I was surprised that he was so gentle with his hands as he picked up each paper. He formed a neat stack in his arms as he continued to pick them up, brushing off any dirt that may have swept onto the drawings as they scattered across the ground.
It was then his fingers brushed along a certain drawing, and he froze. He never added it to the stack, but instead stared down at it with curiosity and interest. I couldn't see exactly which drawing it was, but whatever it was obviously had him enthralled.
"So, who exactly is that supposed to be?"
He finally turned the drawing around for me to see, and I quickly recognized the drawing as the drawing I was currently working on for my mid-term in art: 'Fuoco-volare Amore,' which translates into 'Fire-fly Love.' The picture was of me, standing under the gently drooping blossoms of a weeping willow. However, I wasn't alone in the gentle glow of the moonlight. Fire-flies danced around the anonymous figure I was with, due to the fact that I'd only drawn the base of the character. Whoever he was, I seemed captivated in him, as if he was the answer to everything I'd ever known. Just beyond the gentle canopy of the weeping willow tree was a crisp blue lake, whose waters reflected the elegance of the fire-flies and the moon that shone above it, making it appear as if the lake was a living creature itself. The lake had a gentle ripple to it, caused by the smooth yet chilling wind that brushed along it's surface, which also caused the soft yellow sundress I wore to gently flutter around my knees in a almost magical manner, along with my freely-flowing brown hair. Green grass acted as a cushion for my bare feet, tying the whole picture together with it's marvelously vivid color.
"Why would I tell you?" I said, likely coming off harsher than I'd expected. I took the picture away from him and hastily slid it back into my briefcase, but he quickly rested his hand on the clasps to keep me from leaving him.
"Come on," He pressed, reaching for the drawing once more. "I won't tell anyone, honest." The look on his face was one of genuine interest, but nevertheless, I couldn't bring myself to tell him who it was.
"I don't know," I lied, letting out a small sigh. "That's why it's not finished. I don't know."
"Well, I'll tell you what," he began, taking the drawing out of the bag and carefully slipping it into his laptop case. "I'll finish it for you."
"You can't be seriou-"
"Relax. I'll get it back to you before mid-terms tomorrow." He smiled.
...He was serious.
"Jessê! I need that!" I said, careful to close my briefcase fully before reaching out for his laptop case. He turned swiftly away from me before I could grab onto it, and though I knew I was no match for his reflexes, it didn't stop me from trying to snatch the case from him a second time. He laughed and turned away once more, deep brown eyes shining with mischief.
"Don't worry! I'll handle it!" He shouted, right as he began to sprint away. I didn't even bother with chasing him, but instead shouted several insults at him that I doubt he could even hear. I was going to kill him if I failed my mid-terms because of him. I watched as he disappeared in the crowd of students, like a small droplet of water falling into a massive, consuming ocean. However, right before he was engulfed, I caught him glance over his shoulder and lock eyes with me with a fraction of a second.
Within that second, the world seemed to freeze, but only momentarily. I was drug back into reality by the sound of an especially loud bomb exploding in my ear drums, causing the world to leap forward in full motion. I let out a low grow and shook my head, steps sluggish as I slowly proceeded back to my dorm. How could he just run off like that? And why was the stupid painting so important to him anyways? It's not like we were good friends at all. It left me bewildered...
I pushed through the masses of people without speaking a word, until I felt a hand on my back. The touch stunned me, leaving me stiff and afraid.
"I didn't mean to scare ya lass, I apologize." The thick Scottish accent gave away who it was, making me release I relived sigh as I turned to face the fiery-haired boy as I pushed his hand away. It was none other than Allistor Breckenridge, by best friend since lower secondary school. You could tell he'd come from Scotland, and he stuck out like a rose in a field of violets.
"Oh shut up, you're never sorry." I grinned, playfully punching him in the shoulder. He laughed and rested his arm on my head, due to the fact that I was drastically shorter than him. His lively green eyes complemented his quite literally red hair well, along with his average statute.
"Aye, you're right..." He sighed, ruffling my hair as we stepped into the elevator that would carry us to the floor my dorm room was on. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about, lass."
"And what would that be?"
"I saw you with that young lad today," He grinned, drawing a heart in the air with his hands.
"And who exactly would this 'young lad' be?" I tried my best to imitate his funny accent, but it blended miserably with the Italian accent I already held.
"Oh come on, don't play dumb. You know exactly who I'm talking about. Jessê Santiago." He smirked, just as the large steel doors of the elevator drew open. We pushed past a few people on the way to my dorm room, number 119. I assumed Allistor would hang out with me for a while before returning to his own dorm, 316.
"I can explain that..." I sighed, knowing exactly what his thoughts were. He then looked down at me with an even wider smirk, awaiting the answer that I knew I was unable to give. How could I explain what happened if I had no idea myself?
At a loss for words, I could do nothing but reach for the door of my dorm room in humiliation. With another booming laugh, Allistor slapped my back and stepped into the room as I sulked quietly and threw my briefcase on my bed with an exaggerated sigh.
"It's not like that..." I grumbled, pulling up a chair beside my mahogany desk that was set in the corner of the room, covered in art supplies, paper, and canvas. "I just don't know what he wanted."
I took a canvas form the desk and slid it onto the easel, spinning my chair to face it as I set various paints beside me.
"For an Italian lass, you sure are a bad liar." He sighed with a small smile, sitting behind the canvas on a small stool near the windowsill. I sighed and was about to retaliate, but it was then a realized how good of a painting his current position would make.
"Don't move." I said, and he instantly knew what I was doing. I walked over and drew the curtains covering the window back, and the beautiful moonlight now draped over Allistor's shoulders like a starry blanket. "You can talk, but don't move otherwise." I instructed, running a comb through his hair and and straightening his shoulders.
"I came here to hang out, not to be your model," He sighed. He didn't have the same respect for art as I did, but I knew he'd do it for me. I took my leathery chair once more and began to paint, sketching his base with a small graphite pencil.
"Well too bad. I need something to turn in for mid-terms tomorrow," I explained, placing a tiny drop of orange in the red paint I had to make a vivid scarlet I'd use for his hair. It was then he looked perplexed, eyes dropping to the large briefcase resting on my bed.
"Aye, but what about 'Fuoco-volare Amore?' I thought you'd almost finished it..."
I let out a small laugh as he attempted to speak Italian, but it came out as some weird sounding gibberish. He cracked a small smile as well, but looked the slightest bit offended.
"Ask Jessê. Apparently he's finishing it for me. I don't know, he just... Took it."
"So that's what this is about, aye? Well, lass, all ya had to do was say the words. I'll kill the bloo-" Allistor began, facial expression turning to one of anger and anxiousness. I only sighed and shook my head, pushing back the creamy brown strands of hair that fell in my face as I did so.
"Allistor, that won't be necessary. And stop making so many facial expressions. Try to look... Stoic." I instructed, gently sketching the outline of his lips with my pencil. I curved them in a small frown, careful to stoke the lines gently across the canvas.
"Ya know I don't like wee lads trying to mess with you," He sighed, adjusting his expression like I'd asked.
"He's not 'wee.' He's way taller than both of us." I grinned, setting my pencil aside and dipping a small paintbrush into the scarlet I'd created earlier. I swiped it across the canvas in repeated strokes, making a few tiny strokes right under his chin, where his small beard had begun to grow.
"Whatever. I could take the Spaniard, it'd be easy."
"Whatever you say, o' mighty one..." I sighed, painting the long scar that curved around his neck in a simple swipe. I took a minute to study him before going back to work, this time focusing on his uniform. His tie was the same color as his emerald eyes, loosely tied around his neck as he lit a cigarette and slid it in between his lips.
"Ooooh, nice touch!" I smiled, going back and making sure I left enough space between his lips for a cigarette to fit in the painting. He grinned and took a slow puff of the cigarette, able to move his head around as I finished painting his upper portion.
"I'm just that awesome, aye?" He grinned, pushing the cigarette around with his tongue. I sighed and shook my head, adding a smoldering look to the cigarette burning in his mouth. I added a small amount of smoke slipping from the small gap between his lips, clouding in the atmosphere around him.
"Only because my paintings make you look better," I laughed, holding the paintbrush between my lips as I reached for another color of paint, a dark navy color I'd use to paint the night sky.
"Hey, don't think we're done talking about this 'Jessê' guy, either."
"Alliso-"
"Lass, I'm not kidding ya. I don't like him. Ya don't just run up to someone you barley talk to and 'hope ya could talk to them for a second.' It doesn't happen."
"I know, but still..." I sighed, swirling the paintbrush across the canvas as I painted the darkened sky. The painting slowly started to come together, Allistor's red hair a perfect combination with the moonlit sky I had now begun to paint. His tan suit was an accent to the green on his tie and his bright eyes, the perfect mix of color for any painting.
"Aye, I get it..." He sighed, hopping down from the barstool as he put out his cigarette on the side of his wrist. The burning didn't faze him at all, tossing the object aside as he wiped ashes from his bare arm. There were always times when he got frustrated like this, as he was known for having a hot-headed yet devious personality. I set my paint brush aside, knowing I'd wake up early and finish it then. Allistor yawned and glanced over to the door, and then back to me.
"Lorenza won't be here tonight, right?" He asked, eyes finding their way to her empty bed. Lorenza was my roommate, but she was always so busy with her international studies that she rarely ever used the room. She was pretty cool, but I didn't know her too well despite the fact that we shared a room.
"Nah. She's in Norway. I believe it'll be about three months until she gets back."
That's all I had to say for him to make up his mind, flopping down on her bed with a happy yawn. This wasn't the first time he did this, but I now knew I wouldn't be getting any sleep. The guy snores louder than a freight train, I swear...
"Aye, that's what I assumed."
He looked over at me and threw his tie off, fluffing his pillow with a small sigh. He fell back against the bed and reached down to cover himself in a striped blanket, rubbing his eyes. He was obviously exhausted, and it was to. He reached for the small desk lamp I'd lit in the room, clicking it off with a small good-night. I mumbled my response back before stepping in the bathroom to change, pulling on a black tank-top and checkerboard pants. I threw my hair up in a messy bun, glancing to the mirror as I did so. There, I saw the long scar that ran from my shoulder to my forearm, a scar that only Allistor knew of other than myself.
I'd gotten it on a visit to France, right at the beginning of the war. You see, though Italy was a safe-haven, I'd always been a curious person. I'd always wondered what war would be like, and I had to figure it out. It was a foolish decision, and I ended up being beaten by a French military official for trying to get into Paris. There were numerous scars on my back from the torture as well, but none came close to the severity of the one on my arm. The weird thing was, I still had a desire to experience war. I knew good and well that I shouldn't, but what could I do about my curiosity? I wanted to go back, deep down inside. Allistor said I was a mad man. The reason he left Scotland like he did was because of the war. I'm sure that that's why Jessê left Spain, too. I grew up here, safe and untouchable. I'd never had to go through the things they had to, but I really wanted to. Allistor said it was hell, and he always got pretty mad when I brought it up. It was something I had to keep to myself now, for his sake.
I brushed my thumb along the long, jagged scar, turning away from the mirror as I walked back towards my bed. Allistor's snoring already filled the room, mouth wide open and partly on his pillow. I felt a small smile tug at my lips just looking at him, falling against my own bed with another yawn. It'd been on of those days that seemed to drag on forever. Aside from being long, it also confused me greatly. I didn't enjoy being confused or left hanging, as I had an issue with anxiety. I couldn't help it, it was just that I could always think of the worst possible outcome and I eventually started to believe it.
I lay on my side now, facing the wall as I slowly let my eyes flutter shut. I figured it'd be best just to let tomorrow come, rather than to dwell on what might happen. I nuzzled into the sheets and shifted slightly until warmth overcame me completely, and I could feel my consciousness slowly slipping right out from under me. I gladly let it, drifting out of my own thoughts of war and being consumed by sleep.
Maybe I'd realize how wrong I was in the morning. About what, you may ask?
Well...
Everything.