Lonely

Date/Timing: 12 June 2006
Setting: Berlin, Germany
.
Bastien trudges to the director's office, shoulders up around his ears, heart in his throat, and creeps into the anteroom—
„Hey, Bunny.“
His head snaps up. „Dee? Why're you ...?“
„You forgot your lunch.“ Dee holds out a paper sack.
„I did?“
„Yep. So I raided Sabine's fridge and found you something.“
Bastien raises an eyebrow, accepts it. „Thanks.“
„If there's anything left over, save it for Manny.“
Cocks his head.
„He'll walk you home tonight, because I have to work.“
„Alriiiight.“ Brightens. „Do we have permission to eat out or go to the movies?“
„No such luck.“
„Darn.“
„Get back to class,“ laughs Dee, ruffles—
Bastien ducks, squawking, „Don't mess it up!“
—squeezes his shoulder, aims him for the door.
Bastien grumbles back to his classroom, stuffs the gift into his rucksack, and bides his time until lunch.
He sighs in at an empty cafeteria table, opens Dee's 'gift' to find two glorious sandwiches, an apple, and four cookies (chocolate chip!)—all of which he inhales. He checks the bottom of the bag: an envelope with 'Hermann' in square-ish letters in the front.
„Of course,“ he mutters, extracting and flipping the stupid thing over and over. „Of /course this isn't about me. I'm just /fiiine.'“
„Are you alright?“
Bastien startles. „Oh, yea.“ Rubs his neck. „I just, uh, kinda talk to myself sometimes.“
„I do that, too,“ says a new girl with a fancy braid, sitting down across from him. „I'm Anaïs.“
„I'm Bastien.“
She lights up. „Are you French?“
„German.“
„But it's a French name?“
Bastien shrugs. „I think my mum just wanted something 'different'.“
„It's a very pretty name.“
He shrugs again.
She flicks her braid back over her shoulder. „Do you mind if I sit here?“
„It's fine.“
Bastien gathers the wreckage of his lunch.
„What do you do for fun?“
Bastien sighs. „Listen, I don't really do friendships.“
„What? Why not?“
„I don't have a mobile or email and I have to go straight home after classes and I can't have friends over or visit anyone, either.“
„But why?“
„My father's /really strict.“
„Oh. That's too bad.“ Anaïs hangs her head. „I only ... I just moved here—“ She grabs and plays with the end of her braid. „—with my new family.“
Bastien wrinkles his forehead. „You're adopted?“
„Yes.“ Anaïs twists her hair. „Grandfather thought I'd be happier with a smaller family.“
„I don't suppose your parents want another kid?“
Anaïs blinks. „I can ask?“
„I'm kidding.“ Sighs. „Mostly.“
„You're sure we can't be friends? I-I-I—“ Curls around herself. „You're the first person to talk to me.“
Bastien sniffs. „These guys're a bunch of jerks.“ He brightens a little. „I can introduce you to Sofie tomorrow!“
„Sofie?“
„We've been in the same class for ages, but she's out sick today.“
„I'd love to—“
The bell screams the end of the period.
Bastien and Anaïs sigh, drag themselves to their feet, then to their separate classrooms.
The afternoon plods by.
/Finally, it ends. 
Bastien puts Manny's letter in his trouser pocket, slings his rucksack onto his back, shtumps to the hallway, dreading—
Anaïs waits, shifting her feet and twisting her hands.
He stuffs a sigh, raises an eyebrow instead.
„Maybe, we—uh—maybe we could walk together to the bus stop?“
„I'm going the other way with my brother, but we can walk to the gate.“
Anaïs matches his steps, quiet, as they leave the building and cross the forecourt.
Manny leans against the school fence, watching the street.
„Hey.“
Manny straightens, turns, smiles. „Hi, Bastien.“
„Anaïs, this's my brother, Hermann.“
She bows. „Pleased to meet you, Hermann.“
Manny bows back, says, „The same, Miss Anaïs.“
She glows at him.
„Anaïs just moved here.“
„I hope Berlin is kind to you, Miss.“
She glances at Bastien. „It's getting better.“
„Brilliant.“ Manny ducks his head. „If you'll excuse us, Miss. We're expected home very shortly.“
Anaïs' face falls. „O-of course. I'll see you tomorrow, Bastien?“
„Yup. Tomorrow.“
„'bye, then!“
„'bye.“
Bastien jams his hands in his trouser pockets, trumps for home.
Manny hobbles after him, finally catching up around the first corner. „I'm sorry,“ he says.
„Why?“
„Because she desperately wants to be your friend and Father—“
„Here.“ Bastien stuffs the envelope from lunch into Manny's chest.
Manny stumbles, catches himself with his cane.
Bastien cringes, mumbles, „Sorry.“
Manny waves it off, focuses on opening the note.
Bastien slumps against a handy tree trunk, crosses his arms, watches sunlight dancing on overhanging leaves.
A sniffle.
„What's it say?“
Manny wipes his eyes, hands over the folded paper.
- ♫ ♪ Happy birthday to youuuuuu! ♪ ♫
I couldn't think of any /thing to send you which you wouldn't have to spin a hell of a yarn about to explain to your dad, so I give you this:
Leannan.
It's an all-purpose Gaelic word for darling, sweetheart, beloved, sweetie, et c, et c. 
As a bonus, it's obscure enough for plausible deniability if I get caught saying it you. It can be our secret for the next 370 days.
Love,
Edan 
4 Jun. '06
Manchester -
Bastien's heart hiccups and he passes it back.
Manny sets to tearing it into tiny, tiny pieces.
Bastien bonks his head against the trunk, bites his lip to stay quiet.
Manny dumps the bits in a bin, turns—„What's wrong?“
„Nothing.“
„Bunny ....“ Manny steps closer.
„It's nothing.“
Manny waits.
Bastien sags, mumbles, „I'm lonely.“
Manny ....
„I want real friends, but.“ Shrugs.
„I'm sorry, Bastien—“ He shifts his grip on his cane. „—but I'm here for you, whatever that's worth.“
„Until you leave for England next year.“
„I'm sorry ....“
Bastien snuffs, pushes off, plods toward home.Category:Ficlet
Category:Berlin (setting)
Category:Bastien
Category:Bastien's POV
Category:Hermann
Category:Hermann (ficlet)
Category:Bastien (ficlet)
Category:Anais
Category:Anais (ficlet)
Category:Dietrich
Category:Sofie (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images
Category:Conversations via snail mail
Category:Lars (mention)
Category:Sabine (mention)
Category:Edan
Category:Edan (ficlet)
Category:Dietrich (ficlet)