Bruised (Completed)

Chapter 1 Alistair

Every face in the extensive swallowing crowd is a blur, nothing distinguishing one person from the next. Meaningless chatter fills the buzzing air lightly scented by the aroma of the sea despite the actual destination being a few miles from the airport where the plane has just landed in a country formerly called ''home''. Truth be told, it has always been called so regardless of the many years spent away from it.

And in that time nothing has remained as it once was, that much is already clear from merely standing here at border control among hundreds of suitcases like the one held firmly on the right side, fingers wrapped around the British travel documents that have formed an escape from a place which is gladly left behind. Happily, a piece of Hell is traded for a slice of the past that is inherently different from what can be remembered, even though this is logical since this city is alien territory.

Nevertheless, there is one thing from the past that has apparently been continuous: him, the childhood friend that has unsuspectedly been found in a place of old.

One step further towards passing customs, towards getting the Visa checked and that stamp of allowance in the brand new passport containing a name that has been greatly discussed in the news in Korea and in the social circles of Britain, though it shall soon mean as much as the next one.

More waiting, thoughts wandering off to the Daegu farm boy with the odd boxy smile that had been the sole friend during the youth spent carelessly, free of the burdens that would come upon the return to the land of origin.

To the roots of a hellish life.

I wonder if he is still the same or would that be an idle wish?

Years have gone by and in all honesty, it is not to be expected for the lad with caramel skin to be the same because how can he be when both of us have grown up? The answer to the question would not be unknown if only the probably biggest regret in the entire twenty-one years of living did not exist, if only contact was maintained after the move to the United Kingdom.

The one digital conversation that surprisingly happened did not give any clues to go on to use in creating an image of the contemporary version of the companion unwillingly abandoned, so there is next to nothing known about how time and life has treated a best friend turned stranger, how the silent period apart has shaped character and shall influence the reunion on the horizon.

Another advance temporarily breaks the reverie to step in the direction of the birch counter behind which sits a stern-looking customs authority, blank yet overtly bored expression unwavering while checking the presented papers and finally putting a stamp in the little booklet, parting our ways with a stern nod.

The reminiscence begins again on the way to the hall of arrivals where a familiar comrade is supposedly waiting among the many shops and eateries. The thought that has been gnawing away at common sense continues to feed the sense of guilt which has grown immense due to the days spent apart without any indication as to well-being. Not that it was necessary to talk about since the personal problems would only be a burden to the other party and there was no solution to them until this opportunity arose.

Even a simple greeting was apparently too great a grace.

Mayhaps, if contact had been maintained, disgraced sneakers would not have committed the mistakes they have.

Have been safe from harm.

From lonely pain.

The effects of which were unconsciously pressed upon an absent supporting pillar.

Why did I leave you alone?

***

A couple of days ago an extraordinary contact was established by the adult version of a forgotten childish soul by email. The moment weary eyes wandered to the newly arrived message after having answered a few assignment-related ones, a sharp intake of breath accompanied by a sudden giddiness guided the fingers rapidly sliding over the keyboard to the mousepad to click on the notification, having to make sure it was truly him and confirming so. It was astonishing to learn the chap with the square smile still had the personal email address turned into a professional point of contact after all this time.