#hanging out with his bestie noisette

[s0ckh3adstudios]

[silverefflux]

Never Forget You

König bumps into his childhood bestie.

A/N: There's no real ship here. Just König in a café and a look-see into his life.

Photo by Annie Spratt

Never Forget You // Noisettes

“Here you go,” a waiter said as he set a cup of coffee down on König’s table. “By the way, I’m really sorry for the plate thing last time.” 

“It’s all right, danke,” he replied with a nod.

König’s eyes trailed the waiter as he walked away when he saw a woman standing tall in front of the counter waiting for an order, which he assumed she was having to-go. She looked elegant in a tweed blazer and trousers. Her auburn hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. While he was almost certain he never met her before, her face seemed familiar.

Ok, don’t stare too much, he thought. Might be creepy.

He looked down and feigned inspecting his coffee, albeit too intensely. Then he realized something.

“Bruno?” said a woman’s voice.

There was only one person who would call him that.

He looked up and realized the lady in tweed was now in front of him, excitedly waiting for his response.

“It’s me, Lutz!” she continued.

His best friend from childhood.

Despite the uncanny resemblance with their faces, the Lutz he knew carried herself entirely differently. Back then, Lutz sported shaggy, jet black hair that was up to her chin. Her eyes looked sharp thanks to smudged eyeliner. She dressed like a boy and punched other boys, especially those who would tease him. If the boys in his hometown were mean, she was meaner—except to him.

Not this Lutz. This Lutz looked like a sweet woman who had her shit together.

Lutz made waving gestures before him and slowly raised her brows. “Still the silent type, huh?”

“Oh schei—” König awoke from his mild shock and pulled himself up to shake her hand. “It’s been a while,” he chuckled, running his other hand down the back of his neck.

“Eh, what’s this? Don’t we do this instead?” she responded, slapping the back of his hand.

And a slap to the back of her hand. Fist bump. Then the top. Then bottom. Lock fingers. One shake. Explosion thing—pshhhh….

“I didn’t forget,” he assured her proudly.

They both erupted into laughter over them remembering such a silly thing. They went on to catch up with each other’s lives. They were quite the duo when they were little. A classic story of an extrovert kid randomly adopting an introvert one. At some point, she invited him to secretly check out this “new stupid film about Austrians” with her and they found it funny. In reference to the film, they jokingly agreed to give each other bizarre nicknames. He was Bruno because it sounded like his surname, Brunner. And she was Lutz, his assistant’s assistant.

By high school, they both did their own thing, König preferring to hang out by himself and Lutz finding new friends. But every time someone tried to bully König, Lutz still fiercely had his back. After they graduated, they never spoke again for no apparent reason other than growing apart. In the years that passed, though, he stayed with the military until he retired and was back and forth between Germany and Austria ever since. She went off to college, found work abroad, and settled there.

“A banker? That’s great to hear, but very different from the old Lutz,” he said.

“Right? Younger me would’ve been straight-up an outlaw. And I’m glad the military worked well for you too. I really couldn’t see you wanting to do anything else after high school.”

“Me neither. Ah bitte, have a coffee with me?” he offered, gesturing to the chair in front of his.

Her smile turned upside down. “Oh sorry, I’d love to but I’ll just be quick. Gotta get these drinks around before they get cold.”

Suddenly, a kid’s giggle rang out in the distance. “Mama!” the same voice called out. Some meters behind Lutz was a little girl, the exact image of her face. Same pale skin, same ginger hair. Lutz’s daughter ran to her mother and hugged her leg.

“Sweetie! You came here early, darling, I was going to fetch you. Where’s Papa?”

The child pointed to a man who was now walking towards them. Lutz was relieved to see her husband not far from their child. She greeted him with a kiss.

“I should introduce you,” she said to König, “This is my husband, Alex, and our daughter Emma.” She moved her gaze towards her husband and gestured to König. “This is Lukas. We grew up together in Austria.”

König and Alex shook hands. Meanwhile, Lutz picked up her daughter in her arms.

“Sweetie, say hello to Uncle Lukas.”

“Hallo,” she murmured before hiding her face in the crook of her mother���s neck, which earned chuckles and awws from the adults.

It wasn’t long before the family had to bid their goodbyes to König.

“Well, I guess we have to go now,” Lutz told König in mild sorrow, “See you around, maybe?”

“Yeah, tschüss,” he said, giving a short wave goodbye.

König sat back down and watched the family leave. Bumping into his childhood buddy after so many years made him feel as if the world was indeed small. It was sweet seeing her again. Also, he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find this new version of Lutz pretty. If he denied that his stomach dropped at the sight of her daughter, then her husband. If he convinced himself that he didn’t wonder how things would have turned out had they met again sooner.

Nevertheless, he is genuinely happy for her, and in no way does he want to ruin someone else’s family, especially that of his friend’s. There is not sadness, but emptiness gnawing inside of him, basking in the what-ifs and maybes brought about by nostalgia. A longing for the familiar. After all, she was the only girl in his life whom she had the deepest connection with. But then, he understood that was simply the way things are. All that would just be a passing thought.

He sighed, and did what he recently would in the face of heavy thoughts. He took a red bracelet out of his pocket and looked at it, rolling it around in his hand to look at the intensity of its color and the way light reflects on it. He then threaded his fingers into the bracelet, almost stretching the string that bound it, then let it loose, the beads sticking together in a synchronous click. He would do the same thing over and over to soothe himself. Thread. Click. Thread. Click.

He stopped himself, remembering that the clicks of the beads were audible in the cafe. To avoid further embarrassment, he paid the bill and headed out, continuing his fidgeting on his walk home until his thoughts quieted down.

Thread.

Click.

Thread.

Click.

Thread.

Click…