Wally West One Shot:
Those that Remember...
"Sorry..."
A light voice fluttered past his ears, quietly ringing through his mind even though the sounds of the café had been washed over him since the moment he stepped in. He would've ignored it, thinking it was an apology to someone else, someone who had taken a seat behind him. But he didn't.
Instead, he jerked to alertness, as if startled, and turned towards the sound. Green eyes clashed with grey, and he knew them somehow. Knew the colours that melded into shades in which he saw his own reflection, knew the flecks of lights and darks, knew the hue of every pinprick of colour that composed the irises he looked into.
And yet, he could not recall where he had seen those eyes before. Not with all the time he had to think with, to search his mind for to answer the question those eyes had asked him. The question that was asked silently, and burned into his very being.
He knew this girl. But he didn't recognize her voice, which she used once again to speak, only adding more questions than subtracting them.
"Thank you."
He pondered this. Racked his brain for the hundredth time to find an inkling to this girl's identity. Did he save her, once? Did he help her, once? College? High school? Middle school? Grade school? Kindergarten?
How did she know him?
How did he know her?
He couldn't find an answer in her bright eyes, or curled lips. Couldn't find it in the light freckles that dotted her face, or the dark hair that rested just below her shoulders.
She said nothing more, and as quick as she had made herself known, she disappeared. He kept staring, though. Long after she had rounded the corner and the bell above the door rang again and again, welcoming new people into the busy Cafe, he still stood there. Waiting. Wondering.
Staring into the grey eyes that no longer looked at him. Into him. Through him. His mouth curled, first upwards, then downwards, then somewhere in between. As if even his facial expressions didn't know how to show the complex emotions that ran through him at this very moment.
He knew that girl.
She had to see him again. Had to see his smile, his laugh, his eyes. She watched him from across the road, saw him sip his coffee and fiddle with his phone, disconnected from the world around him for a few moments. A break, a rest, a reprieve from everyone and everything that wanted his time. He had lots of it, more time than anyone alive. But he gave all of it away. To strangers, to friends, to dreams and hopes and... Justice. It was rare to see him so distracted, and she liked the look of it. Liked how his shoulders looked lighter, and how the ever-present smile had drifted from his face, lost to time as it was replaced by a neutral curve. Relaxed. Calm. Restful. She liked seeing him like this.
Her fingers twitched, her foot counted the seconds as she watched him. It wouldn't be long before he devoted himself to the world again, and he left the cafe she stood across from. His seconds were counted by a different measure than hers, after all. He wasn't constricted by the hours in a day, the weeks in a year. Years, even, stretched longer for him.
So, when her foot counted the seconds, what she really was counting was how long ago she should have left. He could look up, see her there, and then she would crumble. Her fingers twitched again, and she rubbed them together in a feeble attempt to occupy them. To occupy her thoughts and turn them away from the desire to touch his skin and let his warm hands melt the chill that ran through her body. To be surrounded by those arms again and feel the fear gripping her heart fade and be replaced with the warmth that embodied his soul. To run her fingers through his hair and lay his head on her lap, and watch him rest. Watch his dreams play across his face and wish to join him, but also wishing that time could bend the measuring stick she lived by. Twist and turn it so that the moment could be just that little bit longer. Make the memory just that little bit sweeter.
Her thoughts of him couldn't be stopped, so she let them through. Let them remind her why she was watching him across the street and not beside him now. Why she couldn't feel his warmth or touch his skin or see his dreams. She felt her heart sink, and grow heavier. She could feel the thud in which it pounded in her body. Felt it deep inside her soul, which knew, that she would have to continue on without him for a very long time. The heart that felt heavy and laid like a stone inside her chest froze, as she pretended she didn't feel it anymore. She pretended not to feel it pound feebly, waveringly, as if trying to say: 'you don't mean it, right?'.
But she did mean it.
She pretended to, at least. And she knew she had to believe the little lies she told herself. She knew it quite well.
But it didn't stop her heart from crying out in denial.
She pretended she didn't hear it. Didn't feel it shattering slowly. She pretended that this was what she knew would happen from the very beginning. When she first saw the smile that beckoned her closer and guided her through the darkness she feared so much.
She loved him.
She knew long before this point, standing across the street and watching him, alone. She knew it, and she thinks he did too. Words that would be left unspoken, it seems. Words that would've been too soon to voice, and now too late to say.
If only she had been uncertain. Uncertain about how much time they would spend together. She had made a mistake. A miscalculation. One that she would spend the rest of her life paying for. Knowing. Knowing that he would move on without any thought to her. Knowing that she had to let him. And that probably hurt the most out of everything.
Knowing that one day, every line on his face, every mark on his skin, every smile, and every expression known to someone else. Every thought and dream and hope and wish... Told to someone who wasn't her.
And she would be stuck.
Stuck with an icy, fragile heart that pounded and yearned for him. Stuck with memories and laughs, wishes and dreams. And tears, of which emotion she couldn't be sure.
Knowing that he wouldn't feel this. The hole, that threatened to swallow her with his absence in her life.
She began walking, and pulled out her phone and scrolled to the bottom of what few contacts she kept. When his name was highlighted. She stopped, and felt time stand still. Wishing desperately for the first time that it wouldn't. So she wouldn't feel the hesitation and want with every fibre of her being to return to him. But she couldn't conform time to his measuring stick, and she pressed the delete button.
And he was gone.
Every late night phone call, every text, every whispered word and hesitant truth. It all disappeared. And she felt the hole swallow her up a little more inside.
She felt afraid and unsure of this new darkness. This pit that consumed her, slowly. But the number she called when her fear came was no more, and so she accepted the fear. Accepted that she had caused this. Decided this.
She didn't move for a while, almost dazed in the finality of her action. When she returned to reality, she decided she would warm her heart once more, before stepping out into the cold, long winter that had harshly and suddenly fallen over her summer fields.
She stepped into the cafe, across the street from where she'd watched him. Fully knowing, that when she came out those doors, she would have to tell one more lie, and pretend to believe it.
She pretended not to love him.