STRANGERS FOR YEARS, THREE NIGHTS AS FRIENDS

˗ˏˋ IN EVERY UNIVERSE 'ˎ˗

Seagulls soar through the gloomy clouds full of gray and black. Their pearl-feathered wings glide past the unmoving, enormous cruise ship. An eerie silence hangs in the air, only the squawks of birds slicing the quietness. Shadowed clouds gathered together, concealing the sun from shining its hopeful rays. Because this day marked the end of any humane hope. A cruise ship rested on the waters, the words 'St. Louisa' painted in scarlet, enormous enough for anyone to read from far away. Their last journey across the sea was troublesome the closer they got to their final destination. Who knew another nation could be so violent?

It was an important day for the Audonia Family. Today was the day when they would bring back the masquerade gala's that would increase their families' wealthy name–as well as being a day of entertainment. To witness laughter in the air and then a deathly silence accompanied by screams and bloodshed. It's the same old story that never got old.

Another fun game.

The last game they hosted by Prosper ended smoothly. However, when they arrived at their destination, it wasn't very pretty. Sailing from Lumina to Khotivane was the worst decision yet. Khotivanian citizens mocked the Audonia name, simply because they were Luminian. Any movie they tried to get into the theaters was automatically rejected. Some of the family members got so fed up and went berserk, choking a Khotivanian man in frustration. The family wouldn't reveal themselves to the public for several months afterward.

A man covered in a white-colored Victorian blouse stood alone at the harbor. His black wide pants gently swayed as cold winds whispered secrets. Secrets of the past and unwanted memories that always haunted him, where his heart cracked and shattered into pieces he could never redeem back. Running away from the memories and constant whispers was a futile attempt. They would only chase him–then crash into his most vulnerable moments.

Approaching footsteps shut the whispers out before they could fully haunt Prosper. Without glimpsing back, Prosper could tell who it already was. The footsteps ceased, and he heard a voice full of spoiled warmth, hidden with disdain.

"Prosper, aren't you excited? Today, we can finally host another masquerade gala. However, you won't be hosting this time. There will be another member arriving soon."

No response came from the man. He stood silently, a hand holding a black suitcase while the other fell on his side. Then, his right-hand moves into his pocket to pull out a folded photo. He unfolds it quietly, eyes settling on the two faces he will never see again.

Prosper was forced to be a part of this group photo, even though he never enjoyed taking them. But Kenji insisted, and how could Prosper reject the offer made by a beloved friend? Seven, on the other hand, was dragged along, though he never said anything about being against it. Prosper could hear the curse words from the black-haired man's mouth and the giggles that escaped from the lips of a noisy man.

Finally, with a husked tone, he responds but never looks at the woman.

"Yes, mother," He can hear her boasting about useless information that he managed to tune out of his head, only listening to a third of it.

Eyes glued to the delicate photo, he brings it closer to his vision, grazing his finger gently over the black-haired man's face. A voice echoes through his head–a voice that he desperately tries to keep remembered: the monotonous tone, the curious tone, and the anger.

His thumb presses onto the photo a bit tighter. Had he refused to take this photo with the two, he would have no way of seeing their faces. He would have to rely on his weak memory.

His voice lowers to a whisper and his eyes soften while a tinge of regret burns in his throat.

"When can we see each other again?"

In every universe, we will all laugh.

In every universe, we will all cry.

In every universe, you two will die.