Disclaimer: All characters belong to ASP. The only thing that's mine is this short ficlet. Please don't sue.
Dedication: To all my wacky friends! 'Specially my girlie Kristen. Thanks for believing in me!
She was sitting on the bench, reading.
"Sylvia Plath?" He says.
She looks up from her book, and says nothing.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for her type, you look more like a Dickens kind of person," he states.
She doesn't look up from her book.
"You know, Plath stuck her head in an oven." He sighs.
She does not reply. She still reads.
"Inhaled the fumes," he says. "Killed herself."
And still, there is no response.
He stands a minute longer, and starts to walk away.
Slowly, she lowers the book from her face.
"So you think you can just come back again, and win me over again?" she says.
He stops walking. "And now she speaks."
"Look, you left, you came back, you told me you loved me, and then you left again," she states.
"Look, Rory. I had stuff I needed to take care of," he replies.
She looks at him, and then, suddenly, kisses him. It is a kiss reminiscent of one shared at a wedding long ago. But that is just a memory now.
They slowly pull apart.
"Come with me," he pleads.
"Stay here," she replies.
He knows he cannot stay. He has nothing here. Nothing here, but her.
She knows she is asking the impossible.
"I understand." And she does.
He looks at her. "I have to go."
She bites her lip, holding back tears. "I know."
"I love you," he tells her.
"I love you," she replies.
He walks away from her, and she slowly makes her way back to her dorm.
***
It is later that night, and she is sitting on her bed, going through her box. She comes across a picture of the two of them. They are sitting on their bridge. His arm is around her, and she is smiling.
She holds the picture to her heart and starts to cry.
And just a town away from where she lives, he is sitting on a bed, looking at a picture, crying.
Dedication: To all my wacky friends! 'Specially my girlie Kristen. Thanks for believing in me!
She was sitting on the bench, reading.
"Sylvia Plath?" He says.
She looks up from her book, and says nothing.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for her type, you look more like a Dickens kind of person," he states.
She doesn't look up from her book.
"You know, Plath stuck her head in an oven." He sighs.
She does not reply. She still reads.
"Inhaled the fumes," he says. "Killed herself."
And still, there is no response.
He stands a minute longer, and starts to walk away.
Slowly, she lowers the book from her face.
"So you think you can just come back again, and win me over again?" she says.
He stops walking. "And now she speaks."
"Look, you left, you came back, you told me you loved me, and then you left again," she states.
"Look, Rory. I had stuff I needed to take care of," he replies.
She looks at him, and then, suddenly, kisses him. It is a kiss reminiscent of one shared at a wedding long ago. But that is just a memory now.
They slowly pull apart.
"Come with me," he pleads.
"Stay here," she replies.
He knows he cannot stay. He has nothing here. Nothing here, but her.
She knows she is asking the impossible.
"I understand." And she does.
He looks at her. "I have to go."
She bites her lip, holding back tears. "I know."
"I love you," he tells her.
"I love you," she replies.
He walks away from her, and she slowly makes her way back to her dorm.
***
It is later that night, and she is sitting on her bed, going through her box. She comes across a picture of the two of them. They are sitting on their bridge. His arm is around her, and she is smiling.
She holds the picture to her heart and starts to cry.
And just a town away from where she lives, he is sitting on a bed, looking at a picture, crying.