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Dear Rolf,

"The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end."

Benjamin Disraeli

It was still dark when Rolf woke up. His head was hurting badly and merely moving would prove to be impossible without feeling that terrible aching pulsating, numbing every inch of his tired and worn-out body. Not even thinking could be regarded as being easy and it certainly wasn’t relieving in any way at that time. Nevertheless, he opened his eyes, feeling partly grateful that the sun had yet to rise – the light would have been a real hindrance for his tired eyes – and partly disappointed because it hadn’t, since now he had to move in order to get some lighting in the room.

He then remembered having a bottle of the potion that his grandmother gave to him when he had a hang-over and it always helped eased the pain and the usual ill-humour. It was in one of the upper cabinets, a short distance away from his bed. How he would manage to walk over to it without feeling that sharp pain crossing every damned cell of his brain was an issue that could prove to be problematic at some point, but the urge to have his problem fixed should be after all, reason good enough to face the aching. Or so he thought. He lifted from the bed holding his fingers next to the temple, hoping that if the pain should come at least the coldness in his hand would numb it instantly. He stood astir and tried to guess where he truly was. He made up through the darkness the shape of the closet whose door was wide open revealing much of his clothes.

He noticed the desired cabinet and headed straight to it. He reached out for a green coloured potion which he engulfed as soon as he managed to open the tap. It didn’t look appealing, nor did it smell tempting but Rolf knew that it would do him all the good. He drank it all as his grandmother had often instructed him to and then threw the tiny empty flask in the rubbish bin, just beneath the desk.

Rolf tried to remember what had happened that night: he had gone to Zabini’s party, had had so much fun and had drunk enormous amounts of Firewhiskey and that red wine that smelled so fine and aristocratic. And then he had snogged that girl whose name he didn’t even remember now, though he had a hunch that she had never mentioned it anyway. He had not wanted to kiss her, it had just happened. He had been driven by the alcohol swarming in his veins and he now regretted it. A memory flashed before his eyes and he realized that Luna had seen it all. She had barged into the music room and had seen him there, drunker than he had ever been in his life. And he had hurt her; he had said things that he would not have said if he had been sober. He had seen her eyes watering – he had made her cry.

Rolf buried his head between his hands, not being able to believe his own attitude. He had behaved horribly and towards someone who had done nothing, but love him. Panic took over his heart, the blood started pumping faster in his veins and merely breathing seemed impossible at that point. Thousands of questions and scenarios wandered through his hazy mind.

He opened his eyes, hoping that it was all a dream and that Luna was still there in the very room they had spent so many wonderful moments. But she wasn’t there. He clasped his mouth with his palm afraid that he might scream. He then wringed his hands forcefully and moved slowly across the room trying to put some sense into his thoughts. But nothing made sense anymore.

Why hadn’t he gone with her to that party? Why had he lied to the only woman who had ever cared for him truly? Why had he cheated on her when at no time had he planned such thing?

What had he done?

He started shivering. His legs didn’t seem to listen to him anymore and before even realizing it he was halfway down to Luna’s old room, hoping that she had slept there. He opened the door slowly, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t wake her up, never really understanding that it was her absence that he dreaded the most. And his worst fear had been true. Luna was gone. She was not there. The bed was just as she had left it when they had decided to share his bedroom. There were no clothes in the closet because she had relocated them all in his armoire only a couple of months prior to that night. Everything was still and that deathly silence worried him in a way it would have never done it before.

Rolf returned to his room and the very thing he did upon entering was checking if her clothes were still in the closet. He opened both of its doors wide only to come across the desolate sight of the empty shelves where once her coloured clothes had been. He touched the wooden surface and silently sniffed the air that still carried her scent. Luna had left him.

He stood astir, in front of the closet, speechless and without daring to make a movement. He couldn’t think properly… he couldn’t even open his mouth or make any other simple gesture because the pain in his heart was too grave.

He thought he would die of it and at that point it was the only thing he ever wanted to do – to die like a pitiful, despicable being. He deserved it and perhaps it would serve him as some sort of liberation, because having to go through the day without Luna did not seem to work for him anymore. How could he have been so stupid?

He finally managed to move and decided that he could not stand anymore and so he sat on the edge of the bed. The pain that he had so complained about as he had woken up seemed to have died away. The one in his heart though, hadn’t. It was there and it made breathing impossible, not that the air would seem inspirable at that point. Nothing was as it once had been if Luna was gone. Nothing…

He gazed up – tired of contemplating his toes – and as soon as he had lifted his head, he noticed an envelope resting on the desk. He picked it up and opened it, realizing that it had been written by Luna. He was afraid to unfold the paper, because he knew what lay between the lines. It was her heart – the one that he had shamelessly shattered. Nevertheless, he understood that he needed to read it… he needed to see her pain expressed, to feel guilty and get that stab in the heart, like she had experienced it that same night when she had seen the man she loved, kissing another woman. He opened the letter, fully aware that if he did it, he would never be the same again. He did not want to be the same again.

“Dear Rolf,

By the time you read this letter, hopefully I shall be long gone – somewhere where we can’t hurt each other anymore, where I can finally stop dreaming that you’re the man I want you to be… in a place where my heart will learn to heal and return to its habitual state again.

Leaving you, Rolf, is not a simple thing to do but then, loving you was not that facile either. As I sit here, at the desk where you’re probably sitting just as you read these lines, I condemn myself for having hung on too tightly of this illusion that you and I were… I wanted so badly to believe in us that halfway through it I missed the things that mattered. There were signs Rolf…so many signs, which I’ve ignored because I loved you and I loved the idea of us. I always was the type who noticed things that others did not see, but I’m afraid that this hope of you ever loving me, has blinded me until I could see nothing but you and the illusion which you fed my heart with. I was the narrow-minded.

It sounds so unlike of me to settle with ignorance. This time, however, I think I was not myself anymore.

Tonight I’ve finally decided to let go because it just hurts too much to stand in your way. I’m afraid that if I stay just a little bit, I’ll never be able to find my path again. I had come into your house with a plan that I’ve put on a second place when you walked into my life. Now it’s time I granted it my full attention because of all the things that I’ve ever clung to, you were the only one who’s never proven himself towards all the effort that I invested.

You know… I once heard that love is blind, but I did not believe it then, nor could I understand it at that moment. Now I see what it means. I feel it. As I am on the verge of leaving you forever, I feel like this blindfold that you’ve place on my eyes has finally been lifted and I can see so clearly. Everything seems so obvious to me now. My heart did not let my eyes acknowledge the truth. We’re different. You are different.

There’s always someone who loves more in a relationship and faith had it, that it should be me that person. I’m not afraid to admit that I love you and perhaps I’ll love you for a long time, despite the pain you’ve submitted me to.

I’m leaving and I don’t want to remain in debt with you. So, on the table, next to the envelope you’ll find a galleon. A galleon for the bet that I lost that day, during summer… Apologize to your grandparents for having left without even saying a proper goodbye – this should probably be the last thing I ever require of you. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, that I was not enough for you...

I could fill now pages and pages, trying to explain you what you need to understand, but I know that words could never really describe how this feels like. I can only hope that my silence will do…


He felt his lips shaking nervously but he knew that nothing could make them stop. He read and read her letter until his eyes started hurting, or perhaps their wetting was due to the sadness conveyed by those sentences that he now understood perfectly. He had been a fool… he had hurt the only woman who had truly loved him… the one he loved with all his heart. Yes, he loved her and it had taken a bitter letter of goodbye to make him see that. It had not been Luna the one that had been kept under a permanent blindfold all these months, but him. He had neither seen the love that she felt for him, nor the one that had, at one point, started growing in him. Luna was the woman for him and he had lost her. Nothing could ever bring her back again.

He dropped the letter and as soon as his eyes fixed the golden galleon on the desk, he fell to his knees. He could not longer stand up. It hurt too much, knowing that she would never hold him again, that she would never speak to him… that she would never be his Luna. He had let her down when she had laid all her trust on him. He touched the place where her lips had often been but he could not sense their warmth, their softness… not even their memory lingered now on his skin and that mere acknowledgement of this brought tears to his eyes.

Soon enough the perfume of her neck would leave his nostrils, the shape of her body would disappear from his bed, the warmth of her hand would no longer numb the frozenness in his and the taste of her lips would be nothing but a distant memory. It was over and the mere idea of him having to go on without her felt like a knife piercing his flesh. Her name started resounding in his head, at first like an echo slowly dragging him in a sweet oblivion; “Luna, Luna, Lunaaa”… and then, as Rolf gazed up at one of those portraits that he had painted of her, the sound in his head became clearer and louder. It pained him. He had always believed that heartaches take a figurative form, that they do not really feel outside one’s mind. But now he realized that when one’s heart is shattered, the whole body takes the burden. Everything hurt and there was this void in his chest that felt like a freefall.

Rolf had never cried before, had never even tried hard to contain tears for they had never formed in his eyes. But as he looked around, acknowledging the nothingness that surrounded him, for the first time in years a tear escaped his big green eye without any sort of effort. It surprised him even to notice how incredibly easy it is to let the pain out, to express it physically. But it did not help him. It did not offer any sort of solace and instead it only seemed to remind him evermore of his mistakes. One fell and then another one and then another one without any conclusion. And then he suddenly realized that he had nothing. Luna had been everything and without her, Rolf was left purposeless.

He rose from the floor, grabbed the coin from the desk and went outside, on the hallway, where the same paining silence ruled. He went downstairs and then opened the front door. He stepped outside, completely ignoring the chillness of the morning and headed straight for the eastern part of the domain. He walked through the alcove, his bare feet touched the cold asphalt but he didn’t even flinch as the chillness pierced him through the bones.

The fountain was still there with the tiny smiling angels made of marble, on which he had leaned that day when he and Luna had first talked. He closed his eyes, turned around, sitting backwards from the water, and then threw the golden sickle into the fountain.

“I wish Luna would come back to me,” he whispered and then stood there with his eyes still closed, trying to remember every detail of her face, every flourishing of her raging laughter… every single moment that had defined her.

He opened his eyes but there was no one around, no living or dead soul; just him and his memories of the woman he loved, but to whom he had never told the three words that she had longed to hear. He turned around, this time facing the endlessness of the horizon that she often lost her gaze into. The sun was rising from within the sea. He sat there all by himself, barefoot on the cold asphalt, watching a sunrise that would never feel the same without Luna.

ANThank you guys for all of your wonderful reviews:) Your feedback has been amazing! Well this is a new chapter, dedicated entirely to our dear Rolf and his own sense of guilt. I am rather sad to inform you that there are only four more chapters left to this story! I can't believe it! I'm getting tears now... but let's not hasten... we've still got four more to go:) Expect fast updates from now on, because I really don't want to keep you guys waiting!!!! And also expect a new video soon! Love, Roe!

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