The Tragedy of Marco

Chapter VIII: The Past

I met Marco in October of 2009. I was first year and he was sophomore. I remember seeing him for the first time. It was in a coffee bar next to the university. He was standing in front of me, wearing a long-sleeved beige shirt and black jeans. His order was double cappuccino and a glass of water. He then sat at a small table in a corner and waited. He was the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life. Everything, from his messy, light brown, almost blonde hair to his deep green eyes was perfect to me. I stared at him for about ten minutes hoping he would notice me. But he didn't. He was focused on a book he was reading and his coffee. I had to leave the café, as my friend was already waiting for me outside. I was longing to see him again. The next day I was looking around the university trying to find him. I didn't want to be too obvious but my friends later told me, I looked like I was a gold digger searching for a treasure. They were not wrong. The man I was looking for was a treasure, treasure I needed to find.

For the next few days I made sure I wore the best clothes I had in my closet. My hair was on point and my makeup perfectly detailed.

A week had passed since I last saw him in the café. I began to think that he was not even from this university and that I just made a fool out of myself. There was no sight of him for a whole week. I was disappointed and sad because I really had a good feeling about this guy. And just when I got back to my old self, a girl without exhaustive makeup and dressed in jeans and t-shirt, I saw him sitting under a linden tree at the university's park. I became nervous and for a second, I froze. I knew this was my chance to meet him, yet I didn't know how to start a conversation, neither was I looking the best. I made a stroll around park and then finally decided to get closer. I thought the worst that could happen was he ignoring me. I realized he was looking me. His eyes were heartbreakingly gorgeous on sunlight.

"Hey," I said awkwardly. For a second he just rubbernecked me and I became utterly anxious. It was the first time I had ever addressed a guy.

"Good afternoon. It's a lovely day, isn't it?" His voice was shaky and he was obviously nervous. Knowing he was uneasy made me feel little bit less uncomfortable.

"Yes it is. We finally have some sun. I hate rainy days."

"Well, if you hate rainy days, you will hate me as I am the metaphor for rain," he said jokingly. I blushed and smiled. I might have even laughed a little bit.

"I am Gabrielle, but most people call me Gaby."

"Oh, that's a beautiful name, Gabrielle. Pleasure to meet you. I am Marco. Marco Sebastian if we are precise. Here, take a seat, unless you don't want to sit on the grass. We can go sit somewhere else?"

I sat down, thanked him and we started talking.

"Did you know Marco means war in Latin?"

"Oh really," he said surprised. "I didn't know that."

We hit it off right away and after around two hours of talking, he invited me for a dinner. In my mind I thanked God I was free that evening. We went to a lovely restaurant in old part of the town. The discussion went on and we held conversation about almost everything. From my family to his art course. He seemed to be uncomfortable to talk about his parents so I didn't question much. After dinner we took a walk around the town and we said goodbye at half past midnight.

*

Afterwards, the only thing on my mind was his smile. Marco. Marco. Marco. I sank deep in love with him. We talked every day. Either we talked in person or we held hours long conversations over phone. I noticed he started dressing nicer and he even fixed his hair. The soul of a lost artist didn't leave his looks though, and that was what attracted me to him the most.