Sweet Valentine

Chapter 1

Gabes P.O.V.

Friday, I used to call her. One memory was stuck in my head. Dawn would cover the sun and let the moon creep up in the sky. Her smile was the only star I had my eyes on. It was the brightest of them all. I remember the way her dirty blond hair was pressed against her neck when she laid down. And how her hazel eyes sparkled as she looked at the sky. She kept on complaining about how the grass was irritating her side. But I didn't mind. I got to hear her voice one more time. I remember her feeling chilly, so she grabbed onto my arm, putting it over her head. She inched closer to me and laid her head on my chest. It was the simplest memory. I don't know why this memory isn't leaving my head. I'm laying on the patch of grass we laid only a few months ago and I'm calling her beautiful name. "Friday, come back to me," I yelled at the blue sky. But it's been three months since the last time I saw her and I'm wondering if she ever will. I remember all these times that I shared with her. How she got her nickname, how we met, everything. I don't want it erased from my mind and how can you blame me? If you saw Friday, you wouldn't either.

Friday isn't her name. Friday is a day that represented her. Fridays were exciting, enjoyable, and carefree. And so was she. Her name is Valerie. "Oh my sweet Valentine," I used to say to her in the morning. She would blush at the ceiling and rest her hand in mine. "Oh my sweet Valentine," I call late at night when she's not around or around she was. "Oh my sweet Valentine," I whisper in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

I imagined her listening to my heartbeat. I imagined her cheeks turning scarlet as I called her "my love" or "my angel." She loved it when I used to label her as mine and it was a pleasure to do so. I missed kissing her dimples and the little wrinkles when she squinted her eyes. I missed feeling her touch as her hands went down my bare stomach. I almost forgot her touch, but one day I woke up with someone's arms around mine that felt like hers. It wasn't hers. It was no ones because nights after nights I sleep alone. My stomach would drop when my body fell on the left side of the bed. My hand would wander to her pillow where her head used to lie. I used to brush my fingertips through her long dirty blond hair, but now a pillow took her place.

As I lay here in the bright moonlight in this abandoned park, I start to become restless and impatient. I was waiting for the day she would walk into this park and surprise me. Surprise me with her beauty, her laugh, her smile, everything that made her... her. But as the days stretch into months, there is no beauty that walks through those guides; just teenagers looking to drink. That should be me, but I knew drinking would kill me. I knew if I drank my sorrows away, my thoughts would become louder and start screaming at me like they always were. I should be hating her for leaving me, but it's been three months and I don't blame her. She would have came back or at least I thought she would. I closed my eyes on this late Saturday night and let the movie in my head repeating over and over again. Even if it was painful to think about, I had to. It was the last day I saw the angel. I was stuck in my eighteen-year-old ways with only myself and myself on my mind. We went to this senior party that lasted only a few hours. Val wanted to come with her friends and surprise me, but I guess I got sick of waiting and the drinks started to pile up. I remember my head feeling dizzy and I could barely think straight. Then Val opened the front door and I remember seeing her beautiful long hair flowing in the breeze. I blinked for a second and I was kissing someone. It wasn't Val. Their lips were messy and wet. No sense of compassion was left on my tongue. It was nothing until I felt her hazel eyes on me from afar. I pushed back, sobering up, and I watched those hazel eyes into red puffy ones. She shook her head and walked away and out the door, she went. And that was it. I opened my eyes and she slipped through my fingertips so fast. That's the last time I ever got to see her and that would dwell in my mind constantly.

As I fell asleep, dreaming of different memories, I felt a hot breath hit my neck. I opened my eyes instantly and saw an older man hovering on top of me. His blue eyes stared into my dark ones. I pushed back, sitting up. "I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were dead, patron me," he laughed, standing up straight. I smiled, getting up to my feet. "What are you doing out here all alone? It's almost eight at night!" he asked. "Waiting for someone," I mumbled, running my fingertips through my brown hair. "She never showed, huh?" he asked, tilting his head. "I'm afraid not," I answered. "Girls are very tricky, you see. They want a chase. They want someone to not give up on them, so they pull stunts like these to find it," he explained. "Yeah," I exhaled. I observed his body and his clothes were dirty and worn out. "What's your name?" the old man asked. "Gabe," I answered. "You?" "My name is David. Nice to meet you, buddy. I'm sorry, but I'm very tired. Do you mind if I lay on that bench over there? Excuse me if I come off rude. I just need some rest," David asked, pointing into the other different. My eyes followed his finger to a metal park bench across the pathway. "That seems uncomfortable. Don't you have a home?" I asked, looking back at his blue eyes. He sighed, "This is my home. Has been this way for ten years now." "You're homeless?" I asked. "Yes, I am. Now come back tomorrow if you want. Go home now," he smiled, walking away. "I can't just leave you here alone," I yelled. He turned around and waved his hand, "Don't worry everyone does."