Amour

𝟘𝟙
But we might never find them. Your family, I mean, if we go off together.
That’s what she said to him the night before the end.
He answered ——
I don’t care.

···

𝟘𝟚
They meet in a football stadium.
She sits five rows behind him - he’s sitting in the front row. He’s wearing a white toga and turban, even in the hot sun.
(She’s wearing a toga too but she’s sweating profusely.)
Her country’s team isn’t playing - but this game is worth seeing.
(His team is loosing. His expression is hidden from her but she knows he’s grimacing.)
Fans are screaming, jumping, baboons all around her and she is a calm storm’s eye in a hurricane.
(She isn’t that excited - it’s not like either team is as good as her own.)
She watches the game calmly and with an almost amused air.
(Alright, his country’s team really sucks. It’s obvious the opposite team is winning.)
The game lasts ninety minutes exactly. 2:0. His team is dead.
She sees him throw up his hands in outrage - for God’s sake, has the coach taught them nothing? - and he turns around.
Then she realises she must look profusely outré, amidst all the raging, booing, disappointed fans.

His gaze lingers on her for a split second and he doesn’t think she notices.
(She’s so calm it’s rather infuriating.)
Then he steals another glance at her and thinks - she’s not from this country.
Oh. That’s why she’s not interested.
(Suppose her team’s the winning one?)
He looks away.
Suddenly he feels like blushing.

···

𝟘𝟛
They meet again in the night after the game.
She’s going to her hotel from the stadium and she meets him on the way.
It’s a rainy night and the rain is falling on the moist ground like droplets in a pool, creating pleasant splashes. She walks on the dark sidewalk of a wide cobblestone road, going towards a lit, busy shopping street.
He’s in a large black car and seemingly in a bad mood - she can see his face through the window.
(That is him, right?)
Then she wonders why he is in a car. Doesn’t he live near?
(Hmm. Perhaps he’s going somewhere further to eat.)
Her umbrella is too small and the rain drips on her backpack.
(Oh, he’s looking out of the window.)
She looks away decisively but catches his glance to see his amused expression.
Then she hears him shout something muffled to his driver.
The car stops.
An umbrella is suddenly sailing through the air towards her. The boy grins out of the window and waves his hands.
(Hmm. Is that supposed to be rude or nice?)
She opens the umbrella under his encouraging gaze - it’s a huge one.
She nods her thanks and gives back a polite smile. He gives her a wave and then closes the window as the car pulls away.
The black limo drives away and then she looks down at her feet. She blushes a little and smiles shyly.

He shifts back into the comfortable cushions.
(Ahh, what he would’ve done to be walking with that girl.)
He sighs lightly and looks out of the window. The lights are passing and the small raindrops on the window catch the light of neon signs over the crowded and noisy shops, much like how crystals yearn for light.
The night is noisy and colourful, with tourists and fans babbling amongst each other, fish steaming and sizzling, smoke drifting into he air and dimming the lights; everything feels fine - except that he’s not actually met the girl yet. If he could it would be the best night ever.
(But he can’t - it goes against his character.)
Well that was that then - her team plays tomorrow and he’ll arrange to sit somewhere near her.

···

𝟘𝟜
The third time they meet fits exactly to his plans.
He had seen the girl in the seat rather high up in the stadium, and being rather early, he arranged for her seat to be exchanged. The problem was, her brother (or so he guessed) was at her side so he couldn’t converse with her freely.
(A defect to the perfect plan.)
He looks at her, now sitting in the row behind him.
The players arrive and the previously humming crowd bursts into hoots and cheers and screams.
(They’re so loud.)
He hears the brother screaming like a barbarian and he can sense her annoyance.

···

𝟘𝟝
The fourth time they meet fits exactly to her plans.
She had saw his car parked in the lot already, and he seemed to be departing later.
So she had waved off her prodding brother and went up boldly to the car, sitting down on the curb next to it.
She waits - and he comes out of the stadium.
Then she starts - what is she going to do?

He sees her rise from her seat and waves her brother off.
(Should he follow her?)
He does.
She’s sitting on the curb. He goes to her.
She stands up and looks at him. She’s thinking.
Then she suddenly takes a breath, “Your umbrella. I still have it.”
(Her voice - lilting and musical. She’s got an accent - it makes her voice more song-like.)
He smiles, “You can keep it.”
She flushes, “But what if it rains again?”
He shrugs, “My house is nearby.”
They chat for a while. Then he asks her out to lunch.
“Oh, um,” she says hesitantly, “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check with my brother.”

···

𝟘𝟞
Turns out she’s free. She follows him and after they come out of an alley, they’re appear suddenly in a gorgeous café.
They dine together, chat, and then go off to watch the next game together.
They watch the game and casually talk to each other when the screaming’s not too loud.
(I like him.)
After the game ends, she smiles to him and waves goodbye, suddenly feeling a little shy. Thank God it’s night and he can’t see the blush on her cheeks.

···

𝟘𝟟
He gets in the car and hums with thoughtfulness.
He buries his head in his hands.
She’s from the neighbouring country.
But their countries are almost in war.
(Dangerous. Very dangerous)

···

𝟘𝟠
One week later the games end.
They exchange numbers and they chat whilst she waits in the airport. She has just told him that it’s she’d like to meet him again when someone knocks her to the ground.
A gun is at her temple.

···

𝟘𝟡
War comes. Their countries are officially opening fire.
She’s taken back to the same hotel she had stayed in the past few weeks.
She meets him again.

···

𝟙𝟘
She’s in that endless line marching back.
He can’t save her.
She shouldn’t be part of this feud!
Her eyes peer into his.
He feels rage, but he can’t do anything.

···

𝟙𝟙
When war starts after a long planning, it always comes fast.
So does this war.
It travels to where they stay within two days.
Everyone is fleeing but the hotel is locked. Nobody can get out.
He stays with her, even at the protests of his driver.
(He’s supposed to listen to his driver, his legal guardian, after his parents died. But he can’t leave her.)
Eventually he gets too much fear. In the night, he takes the guards out and made them drink. Seeing as he was an inhabitant of the city, the guards set down guard soon and became drunk in less than an hour.
He pays the bill and then sprints back to the hotel. He breaks open the lock. His hands tremble. The lock is so loud everyone in the neighbourhood could’ve heard.
He sprints up to her room - he knows it because he’d seen her face at the window.
He breaks her out and they open all the other doors silently.
The guards - are they coming?
The night is quiet and still.
The prisoners slip into the streets like shadows out of a cave, spilling like rivulets into the ocean.
He takes her hand and together, they walk down the street.
Where is the car? Where is the car?
And then they hear something.
A minute sound, really. It’s just that they are alert.
A small whistling at first - they ignore it.
It develops into a tearing sound - they stop, look up.
They see it.
The bright, orange missile rising into the sky.
It’s aimed at this city, they know, because it’s getting bigger and bigger.
Screams sound through the city and everyone’s suddenly awake, awake, awake!
People trampling the streets!
How much time do they have?
Perhaps none.
They can’t escape.
They sit down where they are.
She leans towards him, trembling.
He embraces her, “Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“You’re a nice person.”
“Sorry?”
“I like you.”
“I…I like you too.”
They hold hands as the end begins, illuminating the city in red and orange.

···

𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖
The boy yells, “Where are you, Nadine?”
The man is hoarse, “Cyril, son?”
They think - but we might never find them.