He held his pose, kneeling on the ground as he starred at the disturbed dirt. He didn’t understand why it had to be this way. He didn’t understand why such a kind man had to die such a horrible death. He himself couldn’t picture the fear the man had in his final moments, the pain, as well as the loneliness. Did the man cry? Scream? Who was the last one on his mind? He couldn’t imagine it at all. Dying all alone, that was a horrible way to go.
“Oh god Marco, I’m so sorry.” He whimpered. This was his usual routine. He’d always pray Marco was happy wherever Marco went. He prayed that the world Marco was in now wasn’t as cruel as the world he lived in. Maybe in another world Marco would have a family, maybe he’d be in the inner wall protecting the King; maybe he would have never joined the military in the first place.
“No. If you had never joined I would have never met someone like you. I’m sorry it had to be this way Marco. I really am. I’ll try and be strong for you. I won’t cry anymore. Instead of crying when I think of you, I’ll smile. Remembering you not because of your death, but because of the impact your life had on all of us. I love you Marco. I love you so much. I loved your smile, your laugh, everything. And when I think of you I’ll smile cause of the beauty you brought into my ugly life.”
He stood from his position with a sigh. He had promised Marco this over and over. But he never could stop crying. Even when he smiled at the thought of Marco, the tears would still flow.
“Oh God Marco do I miss you.” He murmured at last, rubbing his red and puffy eyes. The pain in his chest wouldn’t go away for a long while. He knew that it might never go away. Turning away from the tree he headed back towards his friends. He hoped they wouldn’t see the tears that still trailed down his face.
“Have you been crying?”
“What’s wrong Jean?”
“Are you ok?”
Why won’t they stop? They know the answers to these pointless questions. They ask them every time as if they had simply forgotten the answers over night.
“It’s because they care Jean.” Said a painfully familiar voice, an attempt to breathe was failed as he processed who it was.
“M-Marco?” The name fell from his lips as nothing more than a whisper.
In that one part of his mind he pictured the man, standing tall and beautiful. Smiling as is stood in front of Jean. In that one part of his mind he pictured the moment as if Marco was alive.
But he wasn’t, and the words he heard were nothing more than his mind trying to comfort him. He was trying to pull himself together. For Marco.
“H-heh. I now know how you felt.” He whispered as he lay helpless on the ground, his injuries keeping him from moving.
“Alone. In pain. Scared. “ He murmured, his left side numb, and missing.
“But unlike me, I’m here for you Jean.” Said a friendly voice as he heard someone sit next to him.
“I’ll stay until you sleep. And when you do fall asleep, I’ll be there to wake you up and take you to a far away place.” The man said running his hand through Jean’s hair, and giving him a small peck on his forehead.
“Before you know it, the pain will fade, and we can walk together again.”