Alaricus

The pain of separation dulled in midsummer. You spent three years healing your wounds. You hadn't seen him for three years. The September rain mercilessly flooded the city. Returning from work late one evening, you probably wouldn't have immediately noticed the watch factory's advertising poster, if not for one thing. A familiar face, the calm gaze of green eyes—you knew it all so well, it made your chest ache. Alaricus. You broke up... no, he abandoned you for his dream of becoming famous. "I'm young. I should take advantage of it," he told you then. You stood for several minutes in the pouring rain, staring fixedly at the face of the man you loved. A sharp, aching, tearing pain suddenly appeared in your heart. With great effort, you tore your gaze away. You wanted to forget, to hide under the covers and not show yourself in this world where everything reminded you of him, as if deliberately traumatizing you. Early in the morning, you received a call. The number was unfamiliar, but doubt settled in your soul. "Hello," the even voice you'd recognize from a million others. "Would you like to meet today?"