A herd of heavy footsteps finding their way to the exit. The shuffle of soles on cheap carpet. Lucien stepped off the plane and into the stale breath of the terminal— air conditioned, fluorescent, and too far awake. The crowd of voices and suitcase wheels echoed through the gate like a soft stampede. His eyes fluttered, adjusting to the brightness. Grabbing his single but large suitcase from the conveyor, he hates way towards a cab. The driver opening the door for Lucien as he places his stuff in the trunk, rushing to get to the driver's door.
"Address?" The driver asked, glancing at him through the rear view.
Lucien fished out his phone, reading the street name aloud like it belonged to someone else. As the cab pulled away from the curb, he leaned his head against the window, watching a city he hadn't seen in years scroll by like a dream in reverse— buildings covered in heeps of white, bustling buses, and familiar sidewalks. He didn't say much. His soul was still somewhere between leaving and arriving.
The cab finally reached his apartment. Despite the busy noise in the city, he was quite silent as he tipped the driver before lugging out his suitcase from the back. His silhouette turns, facing the tall apartment building in front of him. The wheels of his suitcase heard as they trailed his every step. Heading inside, his dark eyes fall upon the numbers on listed in the elevator. Lucien's finger grazing the highest one. His top floor penthouse in New York. Pounding each number into the code door.
Beep Beep
The sounds filled the hallway silence. The city lights luminating the spacious room as he takes his first steps inside. His old furniture wrapped and put in place as he had asked. He didn't stay for long.
Heading down, he hauled a cab over, directing to the town square. The first snow of the season drifted silently from the night sky, settling upon the town square in a hush of white. Flakes caught the light of the street lamps, settled gently on rooftops, benches, and tall buildings. At the center of it all stood a towering billboard. Lucien's lengthy stature glued to the ground. His slender hands wiggled in his pockets tightly catching a hold of hand warms he had just bought at the corner store. Those night-dark eyes of his lingered towards the bright billboard screen. Intently embedding the beauty of her in his memory as though he could lose sight of it at any moment. His night like eyes staring at Elinora's gentle smile, her wavy brunette hair, and soft features plastered upon the screen commemorating the 10th year of her book's release.
The girl whom he once adored was no longer by his side but was always there. Her presence, once appreciated, but now taunting. Snow clinging to his face as a single tear shriveled down. The scene all too familiar, as if time was teaching him a lesson.
"...cien"
"Lucien!" The voice cut through the haze in his chest— sharp, warm, familiar. It sliced clean through the snowfall and the ache twisting in his throat. Lucien turned slowly, as if pulled out a memory by force.
Theo was a few steps away, standing beneath the dim glow of a street lamps that painted his outline in soft amber. Snowflakes clung to the edges of his hair and lashes like stars that had forgotten how to fall. His scarf covered most of his face, but his eyes— bright, amused, a little tired— were unmistakable.
"You surely took your time." Theo said, voice muffled by his scarf but teasing.
Lucien let out a half-breath, half-laugh. "Didn't realize I was being timed."
Theo stepped closer, his boots crunching against the snow-covered stone. "You always make people wait when it comes to her."
Lucien said nothing. His eyes drifted towards the billboard once more. Theo's gaze following his.
They stood there for a moment in peace, the city light still humming beneath the snow. A siren wailed somewhere in the distance. A couple walked past them, laughing, the girl's red scarf trailing behind her like a ribbon unraveling.
"She looks the same," Lucien murmured.
"She looks like she's doing well," Theo replied, softer now. "That's what you're really staring at isn't it?"
Lucien clenched the hand warmer tighter in his pocket. "You think I'm pathetic."
"No," Theo said, turning to face him fully. "I think you're human. And maybe a little in denial."
Lucien didn't answer. The snow falling more steadily now, softening the edges of buildings, dimming the sounds of the city.
"Come on," Theo said, nudging him. "Let's get some food. You haven't eaten, have you?"
Lucien shook his head. "Not since the airport."
"Then I'm saving your life. Again." Theo smiled beneath the scarf, eyes crinkling. His first bumping softly against Lucien's shoulder— a soft, familiar gesture that asked for nothing but presence. "First ramen's on me. After that, you owe me one full breakdown over some beer."
Lucien rolled his eyes but didn't resist when Theo started walking, he followed. Their footsteps leaving faint impressions in the snow— two shadows moving forward, one memory at a time.
Theo said something— probably another sarcastic remark about ramen or emotion constipation— but Lucien barely heard it. His mind had already slipped.
Back to that summer day. The one with bright classroom windows, the too-warm sun, and the way Elinora's hair clung to her cheeks like it had a mind of its own. She had looked up at him then, squinting against the light, her voice too soft and too sure all at once. Elinora Santos.