To my Dearest Friend

Paris

Yves Montague

My eyes burn from not getting enough sleep as I look out of the window full of scratches from people who were unsuccesful in their attempts to open it. The sun is shining birght and warm on the lands of France, making it seem more inviting than I feel it is. Or at least, more inviting than it is to me.

We are almost in Paris, the city of his dreams. I sigh as I fight the tears that feel the need to express my feelings. My stomach has tied intself into a masterful knot, I am so scared to see him again, what is the right thing to say? I will be constantly walking on eggshells, minding my mouth, the thing I hate, the thing that I enjoyed most about him, I could speak so freely. And at  at the same time I couldn't be happier to be seeing him again. My heart still desires his lovem his touch.

I take a deep shaking breath and with trembling hands grab the tiny box out of my suitcase. I open it, the spring seems to hate that I want to open it, just like my heart, they both don't want to be opened, they don't want to be reminded. I look at it, I had planned to give this ring to him before Paris but it wasn't ready at that time. I was so excited to give it to him. He mentioned he loved acrostic rings, he said his mother used to wear one all her life.

I still have both rings, a tear appears in my eyes as I look at the gemstones, A Yellow saphire, vermarine, an emerald and a sapphire. It spells out my name, acrostic rings work like that, the first one of the gemstones name spells a name. The one that was supposed to be for me contains a cymphane or cat's eye, a yellow saphirre, a ruby, an imperial topaz and lapis lazuli. Spelling out the name of my forbidden lover, or better, my friend. I am hesitant to give him the acrostic ring, will it give him the wrong impression, I think it will. But than again I wish he would be aware I would love to give him the wrong impressing. I am thinking too much. Far too much.

I feel as if I could lose my breakfast at every second, my throat is dry but also weirdly moist, probably because of the tears I am swallowing. The deep scar in my heart is slowly being ripped open as we near Paris. I excuse myself and go to the restroom. I grab bottle from my pocket. It's laudanum, I take a bit.I am perfectly aware I should not be taking it, I am perfectly aware of it and that makes me all the more ashamed of it. I hate myself so much. I wait till it starts to work. I feel like it has been slowly starting to stop working, I need to take more and more everytime I want it to work. It's like it's losing effectiveness. I take a deep breath and walk back into the compartement. I notice that Akiva woke up. 'Look.' He points to the pylon (Eiffel tower), I smile. 'We're here!'

Cyril Courtenay

I am fidgeting with my pocket watch, they should be arriving about now. They're late, We are waiting impatiently on the platform for Yves to arrive.  What if he has decided not to come? Would he do that.

'He'll be here shortly, right?' Émile ask. Obiviously a bit irritated by my agitated nature. I try my best to smile but end up looking like I am chewing metal. 'He will' I say, trying to exude confidence. And exactely at that moment the train arrives. The same kind of train that brought me here. The cursed train that delivered me into this living nightmare, the harbinger of tragedy. I have a feeling this will be the case with Yves too. British and french people alike flood the platform. I try to find Yves, a few months ago I would have found him in two second even when we would be surrounded by everyone who looks like him. But right now I cannot find him. My eyes are prickling with fear when hear a voice behind me.

'Cyril!' The happiness in the voice brings tears to my eyes. I am home, I am finally home. He was the thing I've been missing all this time, it was him I needed. I turn around and Yves immediately walks towards me and embraces me. So strong, so full of happiness and sadness, so full of hope, as if he will never let go again. Well, I would understand if he wouldn't. I do not want him to let go. I am home. Finally...