💘 ❝ Light In The Darkness ❞ - Oneshot Book 💘

Old Pals

Payment for pastelchromist

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“When will we see each other again?” the centaur had launched his question out towards the fox that gripped the stainless steel of the train’s handle. The handle that his childhood best friend would continue to grip as his yellow eyes gazed back at him. 

“College won’t be long, hopefully. It should take a couple of years and then I’ll be back! I’ll be back home and we will meet up just like old times, okay?” 

“Kay.” was all he could say as his eyes turned away as his friend took the fateful footsteps onto the train and fading from his view, probably sitting down in a comfy blue seat and reading his favorite book, one that he had always read while traveling. 

The years had passed and gone like the seasons changing. He had sent handwritten letters with swirly loops and doodled hearts in the corners of the pages, signing off with “love” and handing them off to his adoptive brother to mail them back; however, he never received any. 

He often heard the train come by, trotting in the distance, watching the train station, hoping one day his friend would step back into the limelight and pretend they had never been apart. That Maxwell never went off to college and the accident had never happened. 

He often thought about it. Quite a lot, to be frank. Sometimes he wrapped his mind around Maxwell and his vast knowledge in books while he sat and drew planets and made worlds, Maxwell would be reading to him as he never had a proper education. 

His parents were strict and devoted to their faith, something he had fallen out of love with the more and more he aged. He longed to see the stars instead of staying underground, hearing rumors and stories from those who have seen them. His parents had homeschooled him about their faith, taught him little to read and built him up for failure. 

“Hey Maxwell, what was that word you just read?” 

“Oh, you mean preposterous?” 

“Yes, that.” 

“Utterly ridiculous,” Maxwell would answer, feeling the corners of his book as the young centaur ran his hands through the fox’s fluffy, orange hair, something he wished he had instead of the sticky horse hair he had inherited from his father. His father was a well known Rabbi that went around, praying and saying prayers that his father would often ring a small bell that he could hear a mile away, meaning he was needed home. 

“Goodbye, Maxie. Meet you here tomorrow?” 

“I don’t see why not.” He shut his book, feeling the letterings on the cover as he adjusted his glasses, sprinting home. 

He recalled his friend’s laugh; warm like a thousand suns as he rested in the dark room, stars glittering on the ceiling as his daughter's chit chatted in the room over. He wished he could fill the empty space that seemed so prevalent with the way their eyes tried to search through the cracks of his almost closed door. His huffs pained as he grabbed a brochure he kept close to him, OakEbbot College: For The Talented & Full Of Wits. 

“Hey, Gali, can I ask you a question?” the fox slithered down from the tree branch that he often sat on when he wished to see the horizon and stood in front of the centaur that had reached the bark, kicking his hoofs to shake the grass out from underneath them.