Taking the Plunge

Falling in love was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He still remembered every single detail in full clarity. It was another bleak, winter day in the middle of December, where people rushed off to their businesses huddled in coats and snow boots. He was twenty years old, skinny, awkward and alone. He was out even though he didn't have any classes that day. He was out, ignoring the comfort and warmth of his cozy, studio-type apartment, for one thing. Rather, one person.

He stood behind that brick wall, watching. Waiting. It started to snow earlier today and little flakes of white had begun coating the sidewalk again. The tiny white stuff dropped onto his head, covered his jet black mane and sank to his scalp. Another set of white balls settled on his face, stuck to his forehead, to his black, long lashes and to his prominent nose. His skin absorbed the cold and he shivered. He brought his gloved hands to his mouth and blew a hot steam of air in them as he rubbed his palms together, trying to double up the heat of his body. It worked for a couple of tries and it distracted him long enough to not feel the icy temperature anymore.

But it didn't distract him from his mission. Across the street, where several shops lined, a familiar figure emerged from the corner of 10th and 15th street. He tensed as he watched her walked briskly, caught in a trance as she passed down the boutique shops that made most women stop and ogle, but she didn't. Instead, she kept her pace. The pace that most women fail to manifest. The pace that said this particular woman was in no mood for non sense things. This pace said it all. She had a mission, just like him.

He sighed unconsciously as he drank on her appearance for today. She was still wearing that blue green shirt which hugged her curves, that bell-bottom, faded jeans and her signature black boots. Her gorgeous, auburn, long and curly hair was surprisingly let loose. It hung and swayed just below her shoulders. She was as always, walking with a purpose. He took note of her eager steps, faster and jumpy than usual. At first, he thought she was in some kind of trouble. It worried him that she might get hurt or he might reveal himself accidentally and end up making a complete fool of himself.

However, he realized that this was not the cause, not at all, for there was also something he could detect in that confident-yet-off gait. He followed her like what he did a million times already, past the boutiques, down to the library and video store, past the Witches' Workshop- a café themed with witchery and wizardry, past the empty liquor store and finally, to an old trinkets shop. He knew this place. It was her favorite place.

She stopped in front of the store and took a deep breath. He ducked behind a tree, anticipating her every move. He watched as she squared her shoulders and grabbed the knob. She twisted it and stepped in. The yellow light from the shop suddenly pooled at the snow-covered ground but it quickly faded as the door swung shut behind her.

He straightened from behind the tree and put his foot forward. He inhaled and the frigid air inflated his lungs, sending shivers down his spine. He suddenly felt bad about this. Right after he left his apartment, he was determined that this was the day. This was the perfect day to tell her. To confess. After months of deliberated planning, this was it. He knew what he wrote and memorized every word of his speech. He didn't need any notes, the words were practically engraved in his heart. He took another calming breath but it only accelerated his heartbeat.

"Madeline." He uttered her name and closed his eyes. There was no turning back.

He strode to the front of the shop and yanked open the door. The brightness blinded him for a second as he stepped in. The door shut behind him and he waited for his eyes to readjust themselves. He curled his fist, dear God, he was shaking. He felt so vulnerable and foolish. He was nervous. He sighed and re-gathered his wits. He was just going to talk to the woman, it wasn't like he was proposing to her. He was just going to strike a conversation and tell her casually about his feelings and ask her out on a date, maybe go old school and ask to court her. He clutched his fist harder, giving himself the pep talk was not working, he had just to get this over with.

His eyes scanned the shop, looking for her. It was his first time to enter this shop with her in it. He only had the courage to go inside whenever he was sure she wasn't. It was an old trinket shop with dusty, wooden bookshelves and antique books and stuff only God knew what. He carefully walked around, to the left, searching for that auburn, shiny hair. He almost reached the end of the shop when he caught a glimpse of her hair. He turned east and picked up his pace, his heart skipping in his chest. This was it!

He arrived at the far corner of the shop, right behind the antique dream catcher's section. He knew this spot very well. It was Maddie's favorite. The ghost section. And he was right, Madeline stood there, stunning as always with her perfect hair and her perfect body. Only the scene he walked in on was not quite perfect.

Maddie, as he liked to call her in his mind, was wrapped in the arms of some ridiculous oaf who called himself Vlad's best friend, Jack Fenton.

Jack was holding Maddie, Vlad's Maddie, in his arms, kissing her.

Vlad stopped breathing. Inside, he thought he could hear his heart cracked and shattered into a million jagged pieces.

He bolted from the shop as quickly as he could. He ran from that place as fast as his wimpy limbs would take him, never once looking back with tears streaming down his face. He ran and ran until he didn't know where he was.

Up ahead, Vlad saw the old, rusty bridge that led to the edge of the town and he knew in that instant that it was the answer, the only option. He reached the bridge and hauled himself up. He stood on the thin plank outside the metal rail and took a deep breath.

Madeline…

Vlad plunged himself to the biting cold water and closed his eyes.

Maybe God (if Vlad ever believe in him) would let him die quickly to leave all this ridiculous pain behind. Maybe his death would make Madeline guilty and would realize that she had feelings for him.

Or maybe he would die and became Madeline's favorite thing, a ghost.

A/N: This is an experimental one-shot to help alleviate my writer's block. It's also something that I've never done before and the idea is not entirely mine, credits go to t-rex989.

Feel free to leave reviews.

~T.E