To my Dearest Friend

My worries, guilt and prayer

Akiva Meier

II rest my head full of worries on my hands which don't know what to do anymore. I look at Yves as he's sleeping. His breath is dangerously slow, I barely dare to go five minutes without checking his pulse. I am so scared he will still die, I am scared of not being able to save him. I feel guilty, I should not have left him there. I could see those boys were a bad influence, and I simply left. I feel a tear in my eye, I need to protect him and I didn't. I feel a tear in my eyes the bitter feeling of anger is consuming my guilt and cursing Yves ways. I could've guessed it would go wrong today. And still I believe it's my fault that he's laying here, I wonder if he even was afraid when he realised he might be losing his life. I wipe away the tear before it falls on his hand. I feel like I let him fall back in after I have done so much to convince him to grab my hand, in order to climb out.

I decide that right here and right now this needs to stop, he needs to get out of this forest of sadnees. I begin to look through his stuff and grab everything that has anything to with Cyril and alcohol. I haul it to my room and lock it in the closet of my room. I don't want him to fall anymore. I need to take action and sometimes that will result in breaking their heart. I hope he understands.

I sit back down beside him. His face almost looks like a child that has been thrown the world, only to be hurt again and again. He was simply too young, he was simply too kind, he is a child weathered by the world. Who has ever protected this boy, because even though he really wants you to believe he is a man you can see how much he still resembles a boy. He has never gotten a normal healthy childhood who could blame him for being so broken when he grows up. No one put him together in the first place.

I check his pulse again, everytime my breathing seems to stop for a moment, afraid to feel nothing. But everytime I feel his heart beating, it's almost as if his heart is too stubborn to forgive his soul and let him die. I dont want him to die but I can imagine Yves would like to, because what is this is for if not utter torture. What has his life been but utter torture? I wonder, how would he describe his life?

I look at his face and feel my eyes begging for me to let them rest. I go to bed, I can't sit here for the whole night, it would only be a hazard to my own sanity . I sigh perhaps if he died that would be fate right. Maybe he couldn't let go because I was looking over him, he had too much guilt.  I couldn't save him if it would happen, even if I wanted to. I enter my room and lay down on my bed. I feel tears streaming down my face I don-t understand this. Why am I so worried? well, I know why. It feels like my brothe is dying again. I know scared again only because I know that death lingers in the room beside me. I close my eyes. Fall asleep Akiva.

I am back in my house in Germany again. The black and white tiles are cold against my my blue feet, my mother said I wasn't allowed to walk barefoot but I continued doing it anyway. It's night, I should be in bed but I wanted to see my brother. I looked thought the tiny sliver of the slightly ajar door. 'Akiva? My mother asked,  "come inside'. She said and of course I obliged. She took my hand and lead me to the bed. 'Say goodbye to your brother.' I look at the bed and I am surprised and horrified to see the blueish face of Yves. I grab his hand, the room fades away. 'Yves!' the icecold hand of the boy I am not sure if it Yves, it looks not even human anymore. It almost looks like a procelain doll. I try to warm his hand and his blueish face as it is lowered into this black hole of his grave nothingness. The blue faced boy opens his eyes filled with tears. "Why did you leave me! You could've saved me!"

 The fear wakes me up as iI feel the cold air in my lung. I wipe the sweat from my face and step out of bed. I feel the tears streaming down my face. I pray to Adonai for strength because who would I be to ask for his life. I must say that I haven't prayed a lot except the mandatory ones. I thought I didn't need them, but perhaps I should've prayed for him instead.

I look at the clock and put on my clothes. I knock on Yves door. Afraid only his soul will open.

But he opens the door with his signature arrogant smile. I smirk. He's alive. That's a big relief. He's sitting across the table as I eat my breakfast, the only thing he is consuming is coffee. I understand that he might not be hungry but I put half of my breakfast in front or him. He looks up at me. 'I am not hungry Malachi.' I smile, 'That doesnt mean you shouldn't eat.' 'It also doesn't mean you should give up half of your breakfast dear.' He says with a smirk. ' But maybe I want to, maybe I have had enough? He raises his eyebrows, and says: 'and you expect me to believe that' 'I thought you would be gullible enough' I say jokingly, his face drops and I understand that might've stung but he immeditely smiles again. 'I am not gullible.' he says, now I raise my eyebrows. 'Ugh, perhaps I might be just a tiny bit. I like to think I am not.' 'Everyone likes to think they're not their worst traits, it doesn't make them less true.' I spot a tear in Yves Eye and immediately switch subjects.

'How cold will it be tonight? are you excited to see Katherina at the opera tonignt?' He looks at me and says sarcasticly. 'I will thorougly enjoy it.' I frown, 'If that's how you feel why did you invite her?' he smiles a modest smile with pain shining through. 'well, she is everything my father would wish for in a partner for me. She is beautiful, Has enough money. has a title. And she doesn't expect me to love her, I think she just likes the way I look. I would look good paired with her jewelery" He says with a smirk and I can't hold my laughter with the notion that Yves is an accesory,  'And I think she's pragmatic enough to marry me.' he finishes. I sigh, I have never felt more sadness in a declaration of the possibility of marriage. 'But are you pragmatic enough?' I ask him.

he looks me deep in the eye and we both know the answer, but no one dares to say anything.