A/N: Sorry.
"Fuck. I'm late. I hope he's stil there."
She paces around the park, oblivious to the multitude of people she's either shoved or deliberately pushed out of the way. Her hands are deep in the pockets of her coat and she feels so helpless right now. She can see the air she's exhaled float amidst the cold air around her. She finally spots the specific area she told him to meet her at. And she knows she's way past late because it's half past eleven and she was supposed to be here at ten.
She looks around the vicinity, trying to look for a tall figure in a blue coat because of course he'd wear blue. That's the only thing he ever wears. She should stop joking, she thinks. She runs up to the oak tree and looks around the bend. She sighs and gradually sits down and leans against the oak. "I messed up badly."
"How in hell can Riley Matthews mess up so badly?" She looks up and sees Lucas offering a hand to help her up.
"F-Farkle! You're still here...?"
He chuckles lightly to himself and nods, "Yeah, apparently." She reciprocates and joins in his laughing. "I'm so sorry, Farkle. They asked me if I can stay back for another hour to help on one project for the case on Tuesday and I complied and I only thought it was one, but then there came one after the other—" He interrupted her with a hand, and you would think for a moment she would kill him, but a smile replaced the notion.
"It's okay, Riley. I understand. I was thinking you'd be a bit late. But even then, I knew you would at least stop by. And I'm always willing to wait for you."
"Am I that bad that I can't even be early to a date I proposed?" He looked down at her and shook his head, his face lighting up at her tense demeanor. He thought she looked cute.
"Nah. You're just human. And why are you so on edge? This isn't like you to worry much. It's very unlike you." She shrugged awkwardly, letting a little chuckle slip off her soft lips.
"Just a little stressed is all. You should be able to understand, right? I mean, you're a rheumatologist and you have a lot of patients." Farkle chuckled to himself. Riley was blatantly tired. Her eyes had soft dark marks underneath which was so visible even to the naked eye yet her eyes still manage to shed a mere glow. He felt a familiar hiraeth that tinged his heart with grief.
"So, um, why the park? I was thinking we would go to a restaurant or something else." She tilted her head at his query. She never knew why he wanted to always go to some fancy restaurant that had served her little food on the plate. It looked like "some stereotypical fancy shit" by her definition at least.
"Memories. This is where we first met, remember? That was twenty years ago. Can't you believe that?" She looked up at him as he scanned the whole place. He remembered when they were just kids oscillating on swings and holding hands naïvely near the sandbox.
"That was a long time ago."
"Yeah. And besides, why would I go to a restaurant that serves no food," she scoffs at the notion (seriously? What is this?), "instead of a place that holds a time that seems like thousands of years of memories? You have utterly no soul."
He rolled his eyes, "Whatever, Riley. And, touché," she folded her arms at that. She seemed amused and vexed somehow at his word choice."
"Anyway, it's getting late. We should head home."
"Wow. Already? You'd better let me stay at your house for the night after leaving me here to rot for an hour," he said sarcastically, chuckling along with her at his remark. Even if it was supposed to be a joke, she agreed.
"You can stay the night. I hope you forgive me."
"Oh, Riley...you know I'm kidding, right?"
"Yeah. And, don't take this as an act of chivalry or something to make you pity me. I just want your company tonight," he smiled at her response and felt obliged to stay with her now. He couldn't wait to show her what he got for her. "I love you, Farkle," she continued, "and thank you for being the cheesiest boyfriend ever.
"Ha, and I love you."
They walked along the wet sidewalk, hands intertwined and fingers quintessentially laced in unison. Her hands fit in his perfectly, Riley's curiosity getting the best of her, wondering how the hell he had the hands of a god.
Under the moonlight the avenue lay still. The heat of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze and they sauntered under the trees with a sweater dangling from Riley's arm. They moved between the pools of streetlight, feet almost silent of the sidewalk still wet from the spring rain. A pair of headlights came bouncing over the hill, blinding them temporarily before passing and disappearing.
"There's something I want to show you at your apartment..."
"Mmm," she hummed mellifluously, the sound lingering for a bit. Her attention had been trained on her feet, placing one in front of the other as if on a balance beam. She used the yellow mark along the road as a beam, getting out of her well kept poise as she walked further, "really, you say?"
She had let go of his hand a few seconds ago, keeping her hands up in the air at her sides, maintaining her stability. He gave her a simple "yup" as he watched her in awe. He continued to ponder everyday how she could be so enthralling to witness.
He could recollect the memories that he had tattooed in his heart and written in his mind with a thread of hope that was laced into the eye of a needle in which the beautiful brunette had sewn his life with.
She had the most incredible hues of brown he's ever seen. Her eyes being a fertile earth that was eternally rich and sustaining. Oh, he would always miss that little twinkle that danced in her eyes whenever she was happy—when he would serenade his love to her with the silliest of tunes or when he would be at his clumsiest (deliberately, just to see that smile from her soft lips) and trip over the smallest of objects. Her hair being a milky chocolate fountain that had dropped with every cent of optimism and exuberance she could give off.
And when he would kiss her, every time he would yearn for more. When their lips brushed against each other, it initiated an infinite spark that appeared to linger forever. Every breath lost was a sense of pleasure and intensity pumping the blood through their veins and to their hearts. Every reverberation and thrust against the soft pink clouds being pressed with trails of kisses had been put with such passion. But, that was not the only thing he loved about her.
He loved how she cared so much for him. How she would put him above her happiness every single time. He would, too, not in an act of chivalry or reciprocation, but because of the main reason being that he loved her as much as he was sure that his name was Farkle. He couldn't believe how overwhelming his emotions had been over him, rising and falling upon him, crashing onto the surface of his mind and the structure of his heart like a failing empire.
He laughed at his little reference to "Hamilton," also remembering the times he and Riley stayed up 'till 4 in the morning just to learn Jefferson's mini rap in "Cabinet Battle #2" or all of "Guns and Ships." He got her so addicted.
Riley heard him laugh and questioned him absentmindedly, "What's so funny, genius?" He smiled and was about to say something before it happened.
It just occurred so quickly.
It was all a blur in Riley's memory: she was already across the street, waiting impatiently for him to cross. He was halfway there and began to jog towards her. Then, a car came speeding by at who knows how fast and she screamed. His attention was on her and he seemed perplexed. She was so startled and couldn't think quickly.
And then her wits failed her.
All she's done, all she's learned, all she's experienced.
They failed her.
Because in that moment—that second of crying and screaming and warning, he was hit. The driver's expression was frozen and his demeanor was still in place, not caring about what he had just done.
She couldn't believe it.
She ran to him. She pushed passed every obstacle in her way and she dived down to where Farkle was at. She fell to her knees and yelled. She cried.
Riley's world seemed to collapse around her. Her heart had this sudden burst of anger and melancholy and sadness that she's never felt before. Her neck was jolted with electricity and her palms were cold and numb. She was so overwhelmed.
She could've stopped it but all she could do was just stop and stare. All she could do was allow her boyfriend—her best friend of twenty years—to die in front of her.
"FARKLE!" She tried, "PLEASE, FARKLE! Can you hear me?! Tell me you're okay. Don't die, please..." Fourteen simple words constructed of simple letters, spoken courteously through her soft tone of voice, that cut through Farkle. His eyes burned with an ache to sob as his stomach rock back and forth on the harsh waves of fear. Why are we taught to fear it, he asked himself. Why? Whether deaths is an eternal abyss of darkness, a fiery pit, of a clouded castle, we fear it. Whether it comes as a relief or a surprise, we fear it. Farkle couldn't remember anyone teaching him to fear the inevitable, yet he did, but why?
"HELP! Please, someone..."
Her words flooded his senses and every thought of her clouded his mind. He was about to die.
Death was near—in about a minute he could die and that was it. No redoes, no remakes, no starting over. His life was just going to go just like that. This moment wouldn't be delayed, because he can't, he just can't stay alive for her. Not today, not in this moment, not in this life. It was humanely impossible.
He couldn't chase false hope. He couldn't continue to believe that he would actually continue to live on and forget that this day ever happened. He would be happy with Riley and give her what he had wanted to earlier. Oh, no.
He had summoned all the strength he could, pushed through the immense pain he felt, the burning feeling that stung through his skin and down in the core of his abdomen, and reached for his pocket. He pulled out a red velvet box and it didn't take her even a second to realize what it was.
The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. She could feel the muscles of her chin tremble like a small child and she look toward the streetlights, as if the incandescence could soothe her. There is static in her head once more, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress she lives with. She hear her own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of her she didn't know she had left to give. That's the way it is when people are hard. It's like a theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see.
He tried opening, grunting at the pain, but still managing to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. Her stomach was in knots and she was on the verge of crying once more, her heart unable to grasp what she was experiencing. She pursed her lips and hoped that he would stay alive, "Farkle, please...please don't go. I can't—I just can't take this if you're not staying with me, PLEASE," she begged him and he started to cry, too: his cheeks were red and he chuckled with a bittersweet tone.
"Will you marry me, Riley? Give me the happiest ending of my life..." he croaked, his voice raspy and hard in his throat. He would genuinely be happy. She nodded and let him slip the ring on her finger, adorning it perfectly.
"Farkle, you have made me the happiest woman in the world. For the last twenty six years, you have. I love you, Farkle. Let that knowledge sink to your heart and let me illustrate that in your mind with my words, please. Let what I say stay with you forever."
"Go to Mars for me, okay?"
"I will. I promise you, I will. I love you, Farkle."
"...love you, Riley."
He died in her arms and she let the sound of sirens and gasps and screams and tears fade out as she felt the last beats of his heart with her hands.
Boom. B-boom...oom...
She felt empty inside.
Farkle Minkus
2001—2027
He would always be remembered.