Life hadn't turned out as Blossom Utonium had expected.
Time had trickled by like running water, and the girls—herself included—slowly began drifting apart. Driftwood, you might call it. The trio, who had once been inseparable from each other as fishes were from the water, began discovering and innovating in their own directions. As soon as their senior year had flown past them on the spouting white wings of possibilities, each of the sisters had flung themselves into their separate goals, and that had been the end of it. Buttercup, always the more rambunctious and risky, had set her sights on high-flying places with opportunities—especially to do with sports and leisure—sprouting in every corner. Bubbles had, of course—and expectedly, nonetheless—whizzed herself to every bustling city with soaring economics as a plus, hoping to find the perfect spot in the society of art for herself. Blossom, however, had sensibly stayed in Townsville. After all, the vicinity always needed a guardian.
As mediocre as it seemed, the redhead hadn't led a completely humdrum life on the range either. She was completely satisfied with the quaint little town she called home, and every matter in her life was settled and perfect. Having an unnaturally high IQ really paid off—you could stay anywhere with a sturdy chance of settling.
Before anybody knew it, years had gone by, and Blossom wasn't the little, naïve girl everybody made her out to be anymore. The ginger was older now, and equally matured, and she had a fine life goal in mind. That was all you needed, right? To get by in life, happily?
Little did she know, her well-planned lifestyle was about to go entirely out of whack, and all because of a single complication.
Blossom hastily brushed a few strands of stray hair out of her face as a steady breeze whipped up, curling the edges of her long, auburn locks. Wrapping the tips of her fingers around the device fitted snugly into her hand, a sigh escaped her lips seeing the screen light up. Upon acknowledging the new voice mail, her fingers moved automatically to punch in a quick reply. Her colleague's voice filtered through the sound panel on her phone immediately.
"Good morning, Blossom! I was wondering if, uh—if you were free—crrk—on Friday, two weeks from now? Sorry, my signal isn't too good, but—are you free on that day, seeing that it's Valentine's Day?"
Of course it has to be Valentine's Day, Blossom mused bitterly, before swiping across her phone screen. Her reply came out apologetic, saying she had plans and that she was sorry. Of course she was sorry. Of course it had to be another invitation or old-fashioned love letter—the former, in this case. For some unknown reason, a niggling feeling gnawed away at her heart upon thinking about Valentine's Day. Promptly, her gaze dropped to the dull grey of the concrete slabs beneath her feet, and she forced down the hopeless longing that clawed at her throat. Her phone found its way into her thick coat pocket.
Longing to be part of a real family again.
Longing to be whole again.
The redhead brushed her wayward bangs out of her eyes and pushed open the glass doors of her reception. As always, the front desk was empty. Spotless, even. With another sigh threatening to escape, Blossom prodded the 'Up' button and stepped into the nearest elevator as the doors filed open. While, the rushing feeling of flying upward greeted her, her rose irises searched for the ceiling of the elevator, and she puffed out her cheeks in waiting as the box came to a smooth stop.
The sight that greeted her when she paced out of the elevator was a pleasant surprise.
Large cardboard boxes lay piled atop one another in the landing, arranged messily, each filled to the brim with miscellaneous objects Blossom cared not to find out about. A few movers from the local moving company shuffled in and out of the open doorway located conveniently next to the Powerpuff's own abode. Dust clouds very visibly arose with every thump of battered cardboard, and she waved at the air in front of her face briskly in an attempt to keep the dust mites away. The air reeked of sweat.
Stepping over a misplaced soccer ball, curiosity got the best of her. "Excuse me," she ventured politely, and one of the workers' heads popped up in response. "Is somebody moving in?" Surprise was evident in her voice.
"'Morning, Miss Utonium," came the greeting. Blossom nodded her salutation. "You're right about that," the mover continued, straightening and wiping his brow. "Whew, it's real hot in Townsville."
"That's interesting," the redhead noted, "I didn't hear of this news beforehand."
"Don't worry, miss," the man replied with a casual wave of disinterest, "we heard it was impromptu too."
"Alright then," Blossom concluded with a smile, "thank you for your time. Have a great day." She barely had the time to take the man's offhand reply into account as she jammed the key into her immaculately clean lock and swung the door shut behind her with calculated measure.
Another shift over.
It wasn't as if she wasn't busy, even if it was a Saturday and she was supposed to be relaxing. In reality, weekends seemed all the busier for the redhead as she stalked into the kitchen, her slippers shuffling against the linoleum tiles. Pulling open the fridge door, Blossom's world seemed to collapse a little as she took in the sight of the bare shelves within. She groaned involuntarily.
"And to the supermarket it is," she sighed, blinking, and closed the ajar door before returning to her living room, where her coat rack seemed to lie in wait for her to retrieve her article of clothing. Shrugging it on, she pocketed her set of keys and reached for her door handle. The movers acknowledged her politely on the way out, but she only managed a tired nod at them as she reentered the elevator.
The people in the supermarket were surprisingly scarce for a weekday, Blossom noted, shoving a cart down the refrigerated aisle. The red-tinted slabs of frozen meat glared back accusingly at her, and the redhead sighed in figurative response as she maneuvered her metal vehicle over to the side and reached down to inspect the prices on the glass shelves.
"Hey, Blossom!" someone beside the redhead voiced, and her rose pink eyes blinked. Straightening, she pivoted around to see her childhood best friend. Only best friend now, a tiny voice poked at her heart, and she felt a stab of a rather familiar emotion.
Regret. Guilt.
"Robin!" she greeted cheerily enough, and the brunette seemed to believe her as she wrapped her arms enthusiastically around Blossom; she returned the embrace.
"Oh my God, Blossom!" Robin gushed ebulliently, adding to her speech with overdramatic hand gestures, "You won't believe what happened earlier in the week! I mean, you've been buried in your work all day long. You'll never guess what happened..."
Blossom shook her head, but a smile played on her face. "Well, I'm sure another surprise today won't hurt."
"Okay, well," Robin trailed off, her eyes darting to and fro suspiciously, and she gripped her trolley's handle. Her violet irises glimmered as she spoke. "I heard that there's this new guy in town, and he's super hot—!"
"Um, not to be rude, Robin, but, if I remember correctly, you are married, aren't you?" Blossom interjected uneasily. Said person waved her off offhandedly.
"Yeah, and Mike's a real sweetheart, but doesn't mean us girls can't have any other eye candy, right?" She nudged Blossom playfully with her elbow, and Blossom rolled her eyes, grinning amicably.
"Really?"
"Anyway, black hair, dreamy blue eyes—or were they green? And he's super tall! He's, uh—well, actually, come to think of it..." Robin trailed off, finger on her chin for emphasis as she searched her thoughts for what she was going to say. "Actually, Blossom," she cautioned, "come to think of it, he looks a lot like B—"
Blossom's face drained of color and she cut her friend short before she could go on further. "Um, no, that's okay," she rushed, dashing it off with another smile, "you don't have to continue that thought." Robin sighed heavily, eyes clouding with concern.
"Aw, Blossom, I'm sor—" she started, but Blossom regained her composure and inhaled deeply, before shooting her a cheerful look to let her know she was fine.
"No, that's alright, Robin. That was far too long ago for me to care about, right?" She began carting her trolley forward, and Robin stared after the redhead's retreating form.
"Maybe if you weren't so closed off about your emotions, you could've spared your feelings," the brunette admonished lowly with a disparaged sigh, before slowly making her way after her.
Blossom's thoughts led her astray as she sauntered at an uncharacteristically slow pace down the pavement, enjoying the soft clack from her heels hitting the concrete. Two grocery bags dangled precariously from her fingertips, and she quickened her pace upon noticing the sun hanging bright in the blue canvas of sky above her.
I still have an entire day left.
Lofty footsteps sounded behind her, but the redhead took no notice of them—they probably belonged to another stranger anyway. Blossom uneasily shifted both bags to the crook of her left arm while she smoothed out an unnoticeable crinkle in her clean white blouse, and the footsteps from afar gradually neared. It was at that exact moment that a voice she hadn't heard in a long time—albeit, a voice she had yet to miss—materialized from a few meters behind her, and the footsteps suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Unknowingly, Blossom's eyes widened, and she froze on the spot.
"Blossom?" She stifled a rising, involuntary gasp, and all the words that had previously formulated in her mind began trickling away.
Ever so slowly, she turned her upper half backwards slightly, and swallowed the mass of emotion bubbling up in her throat. In front of her (technically, behind her, but what was the point anyway?), a few meters away, stood the very sight she had dreaded seeing for several empty years.
The Powerpuff sucked in a breath and struggled to maintain herself as she turned fully around, and took everything in.
There he is.
Phone in hand, slouched over a tad, wild ebony locks, forest green eyes. Blossom's heart constricted painfully at the sight of him, and her breathing fluctuated unstably. She clutched at the plastic handles of the bags she was holding, as if she was grasping onto some leverage. As if that would work.
"Long time no see," she breathed resignedly, and she couldn't help but notice how his eyes looked like that of a deer caught in headlights—funny, that analogy.
She closed her eyes, hoping to shield herself away from the vision of him.
"... Butch."
Hi everybody! I know I really don't have the right to talk to you guys now, seeing that I practically 'retired' from writing, but I happened upon a couple of PPG fanfics—namely, sbj's More Than Human—and an idea suddenly popped back into my head. So... here I am. :)
This is dedicated to a-maze-ZINGfReAk2002.
