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The curls of his bangs still held the mold of the fingers that once teased them. It had become a morning routine of sorts, trying to smooth them out in any way possible. Twisting them in the opposite direction, wet brushing, more aggressive dry brushing, and a variety of hair products, nothing worked. He wasn't being rational, after all his hair had grown out and been trimmed multiple times over the past three years. Maybe his curls had already forgotten the shape of those slender fingers. But the imprint left on his soul burned every time he looked in the mirror.
His one last attempt at running away from his past was trying to hide his red hair under his beret. He wasn't satisfied but he decided to leave it at that. Attenborough was waiting for him in the dining hall. He wouldn't want to keep the man waiting.
—
His eggs and sausages were going cold but that wasn’t important right now. He wanted to hide. The staring eyes directed at him were always more severe in the fortress dining hall. It wasn't as if he hadn't experienced this before but back then they were directed at a certain golden haired angel beside him. He was still getting used to being at the brunt of it.
“Stop fidgeting! Just take it off.” Attenborough waved his spoon at the redhead who was still fussing over the beret. “You look very stuffy in it anyway.”
Poplin scooted over to join in on their conversation, grinning “Yeah, a beret can't hide a walking traffic light.”
The redhead pursed his lips at Poplin’s comment, feigning annoyance. He was grateful to his friends for always trying to lighten the mood without ever mentioning his discomfort.
—
For the past three years, Siegfried Kircheis had found much comfort in the company of the 13th fleet.
Friends.
That's what they were. Perhaps not the kind of friendship he had experienced before. Not the same intensity but friends nonetheless.
He had a place to belong to. They did not look at him like he used to. Friends…
“Loyal subordinate”
He tried to focus on finishing his work early. It was almost evening. Commander Schönkopf had arranged a ‘defection anniversary’ party for him (or as Poplin liked to call it; Rebirth day) at a local bar. That fateful somber day had now turned into a celebration. A smile formed on his lips at the thought of the drunken karaoke they had last year. The sound of cheesy love ballads from the Empire thrumming painfully in his ears, shared laughter and alcohol rushing to this head.
Schönkopf had held him tight when Kircheis couldn't stop the tears from flowing in his drunken haze. He missed his parents dearly.
—
A crowd starts forming on the bridge. Men cheering in the halls all across the fortress. Curious, Kircheis weaves through the crowd to see what the fuss was about.
Some sort of news report is playing on the main screen. Admiral Yang is among the crowd; his face pulled taut. They make eye contact. Kircheis is confused. Why is the Admiral looking at him like that?
The crowd cheers again, throwing their berets in the air. He keeps his own on tight. A wave of nausea washes over him as his eyes scan over the various screens trying to make sense of what he's seeing. He's going to be late to the party at this rate. Every fiber of his being feels wrong. Something obscures his vision. He blinks. He needs to read what the news report says but he can't see. Why are they cheering? His cheeks are wet and the FPA uniform sits uncomfortably on his body. He can't breathe.
Someone is talking to him. Attenborough? Maybe it's time for the party.
He wants to run away. Insects piercing through his skin and clawing at his heart. His legs crumble beneath him. The beret falls on the floor. With trembling hands he reaches for his hair. His wretched bloody hair has forgotten the shape of those fingers.
Kaiser Reinhard von Lohengramm has died
He was still stuck reliving that day over and over. Pleasant dreams of bygone halcyon days that morphed into nightmares would wake him at dawn. He rushed about his days, skipping meals, barely getting any sleep, just work and more work is what kept him going. It was his fault the Reuenthal rebellion had succeeded. If only he had stayed, Reinhard would be alive. If, if, if- never ending series of regrets replayed in his mind every second of his day.
Lady Annerose had moved to Heinessen with Hildegard von Mariendorf after her brother’s death two years ago. He had shamelessly gone to meet her. Wanting to catch a glimpse of his visage in hers. He had failed to uphold his promise.
—
“You're the only one here who can verify if he’s the real one. We’re sorry for making you do something like this.”
Vice Admiral Cazerne squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. The words had not yet properly registered in his mind yet. He felt like he was walking in zero gravity, limbs weightless and head foggy. What would he find beyond that door? His heart beat thrummed in his ears painfully and he pushed the door open. He shouldn't have false hope.
His eyes met Admiral Yang’s before falling on the slender figure with long blonde locks that had their back to him. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, reality setting in.
Oh
I can recognize your back anywhere from the curve of your ear to the nape of your neck, every curl in your hair is burned into my memories.
“Reinh-”
Your name dies on my lips, the sounds are unrecognizable to you. I wished to see betrayal, anger, resentment...love in your eyes but all I saw was my own reflection staring back at me. Those eyes were void of recognition.
How dare you forget the pain I inflicted on you?
I realized how arrogant I had been, for thinking my kindness and forgiveness extended to you. My arrogance led me to believe I had forgiven you but all this time I had actually blamed you. Blamed you for making me leave what I loved. Forcing me to leave you. You have always been the exception. The turbulence of anger and sorrow I suppressed in front of others came undone the moment I set eyes on you.
Why must you make me act in unexpected ways? Why is it always you? You're not allowed to forget. Please. Where have you been all this time? Why do your wrists look so fragile? I used to search for her in your face, now I can't look in her direction without thinking of you. Don't forget me. Half of my soul has already been ripped apart by my own doing. What is the point of reunion if you can't even remember half of yours?
The gaunt face of the blonde angel smiled at him.