So this has been lying on my hard drive for a couple of months and I still can't decide if I like it or not, but the idea keeps coming back to me.

I don't own anything.

Please feel free to comment if you feel so inspired:) (poistive, negative, neutral, I love it all)

It begins like this... they're young, 18, and just about to finish high school. She's graduating with flying colours, he does alright. They're not really talking but there's a dance and he invites her. He doesn't know if she will show and it matters more than he'd like to admit so to calm his nerves he drinks, it won't be the last time he tries to erase her with alcohol.

He's drunk and won't remember what he said the next day. Parts of it come back to him as he, dumbfounded, tries to piece together the night after her unexpected and unfortunate visit in the morning. Only blurry fragments: a black dress and a loose pony tail, bells ringing (but maybe that's just the lyrics to a song).

The rest he learns later as they're playing one of her games of truth on his bed in the early days of college. It's the only time he ever used his turn to pose a serious question. It's also one of the only times this game has left him feeling better than he did before.

She remembers every single word he said down to the ruined lives and the bloodshed. They laugh at that a little, see themselves as having passed that hurdle and think the future is bright and filled with unicorns. Something about the way she retells it demonstrates how much it all meant to her, how much it still does. His urgency and his ability to bare his soul in a way she has never been able to do. (This means something but the moment is too precious for them to analyse exactly what). He can't quite reconcile her awe with his own self-perception. He wants to tell her that but he doesn't, it's nice to know someone still thinks highly of him. Instead he promises himself never to drink himself senseless again. That promise lasts a couple of weeks when a trip to Mexico ends in a blur.

The words he used to describe them: epic.

Back then that felt like something covetable to be.

¤o¤o¤c

They are midway through their sophomore year at Hearst. Despite their tacit understanding they haven't done a whole lot of communicating on their lonesome lately but she has finally nailed the Castle case and there's really only one person she feels like celebrating with.

'You know they don't recommend drinking alone.' She smiles awkwardly, demonstrating the bottle of bubbly she picked up on the way.

'Personally I've never felt eager to follow the drinking guidelines but for you I'll make an exception.' He inspects the bottle. Grimaces. 'I didn't know they made champagne in Slovenia. Are you sure you just want to celebrate? It seems to me you've rather gone for the cheapest way to make me drunk and seduce me. Take my advice; something with a higher alcohol percentage usually works quicker. I've been told I'm an easy lay.'

'Know your geography darling, it's not Slovenia but Belarus, at least so they told me. It seemed appropriate.' She smiles wider, knowingly. He senses there's a back-story but they've not really shared their deepest darkest secrets lately so he wouldn't know, really. 'And dude, I'm a classy girl, I don't need liquids to win over my man. Though, now that I think about it, bubbly stuff seems to give you that pour-your-heart- out bonus which I do so enjoy.'

'Oh, so her true purpose is revealed. If you'd called in advance I could have told you that that kind of gold really only comes with the top-level bottles. But A for effort.'

'A girl has got to try.'

¤o¤o¤c

Getting together is easy, natural. They gloss over the periods in between and bask in being together. They repress the thought at the back of the mind that they've been here before and that history tells them they didn't sign up for easy. Somehow summer always turns to winter and they have never learn' to brave the cold together. Breaking-up... is not so nice.

¤o¤o¤c

'And behind door number three, it's whatever the cat dragged in. You know, I really ought to notify the management that despite their best attempts they're not keeping the riff raff out. This is supposed to be a respectable place.'

'Well, with that policy I'm surprised they haven't kicked you out a long time ago. Have I missed something; did playing video games in the midst of your own dirt suddenly become reputable employment. Man, I should really reconsider my career.'

'Oh dear, surely business isn't that bad; honey, I warned you that in your trade hard-earned experience really only translates as worn and haggard. For what it's worth I'm sure you could find someone willing to stoop low enough if you gave them a good discount. Unfortunately I'm not really in the mood to give you a glowing reference if that's what you're here for. '

¤o¤o¤c

If words were poison they'd have killed each other a million times over. Words make them and words break them. They use them to cover their scars, the hurt... and the joy. If the need to always bring a shield means something, a lack of faith in the 'happy ending' of their own destiny, then maybe that's simply a truth they're not yet ready to face.

Still, there are things the words can't quite protect them against. There are their bodies and their hearts against themselves. So there are tears. Shows of regret. Bitterness, laughter and break-up sex. Every time and many times over; always in different measures. Just enough for each time to feel familiar but different.

Each time they promise themselves this will be the last.

¤o¤o¤c

'So will I eventually be rewarded if I wait nervously by the phone or were you just blowing off steam?'

'Excuse me; I wasn't aware we were doing this post-modern style. I thought it was the guy who was supposed to call.'

'Exactly! I know it's been a while, but if memory serves we agreed you were the man in this relationship.'

'Well in that case sugarpuss; if I were you I'd better get started on ordering something to eat or that phone call you were talking about just now ain't gonna happen.'

'Hey, you just say how high and I'll jump.'

¤o¤o¤c

It plays out in different combinations every time: romance, comedy, tragedy on a continued run.

Variations of the same theme recur through time; lures them in and tears them apart. A boiling pot of emotions threatening to erupt at any time. Yeah, they'd ask someone to switch the channel but the thing is they've forgotten that there are other ways their life can play out.

¤o¤o¤c

'So... about last time.'

'Don't mention it; in the business we call it water under the bridge.'

'Is that what they call it, you know I'd been wondering. I feel like I should congratulate you on your maturity; your eyes did look older this morning.'

'Wow. Old enough not to get me carded in the store?'

'Well, I wouldn't go that far. Don't worry though I'm sure it'll happen as soon as those wrinkles start appearing. I've heard it all goes downhill from 25.'

'Really, you don't say. Maybe I should rethink my use of facial crème; any opinion on this?'

¤o¤o¤c

In the end they realise what really defines epic is the length. Time drags on; teases them with new beginnings just around the corner. Leads them to think that they might finally make it. But happily ever after is postponed indefinitely to make room for endless action; there's never any rest.

If this realisation affects them further it's still too early to say.

¤o¤o¤c

'You think we're really ready for this?'

'This person, born ready.'

'Yeah, that's what my parents told me too.'

'And if that doesn't say meant to be I don't know what does? Now hand me the key, mister.'

¤o¤o¤c

As time goes by there's perhaps less of the bloodshed, fewer verbal lashes. They consider this a good thing, a relief. They'd had too much drama when they started out and they hope it means they're veering towards an end.

Still, it doesn't lessen the heartbreaks. Or neutralise their passion.

And so the years pass by and mostly it shows in the scenery around them. College buildings are swapped for work places. Neptune warps into LA, Virginia, San Francisco, the D.C., Miami, New York. Locations change at the blink of an eye and they're not as young as they used to be. Maybe their love doesn't exactly span continents, but it certainly does take them all over the US of A. Sometimes together, sometimes apart.

His face loses its last traces of boyhood, there's less bleach in his hair; but the eyes and the smile remain the same. The shell necklace only gets an outing on surfing trips with Dick beyond the border.

She doesn't entirely give up her punk but the Agency does expect more suits. There are more rules but there are ways to make the system flexible. She learns when to treat the rules as guidelines and when to keep in line. At some point her haircut stops being permitted to grow below shoulder length.

¤o¤o¤c

'I'd like to have my key back.'

'That's it. That's really all you're going to say. Don't you think we should talk about this?'

'Kind of thought we had. Guess I just don't have anything else to say. It's clear you're not going to change your mind about this but you know what, neither am I.'

'But why now? Why does it suddenly matter? I thought we'd worked things out. I thought we'd agreed.'

'You know, it's not called an agreement when you discuss something with yourself. If I were you I'd maybe start worrying about those internal monologues of yours.'

¤o¤o¤c

Even if they fall apart with less vitriol than they used to there is definitely more of the ruined lives. Each time it is harder both to be in and to be out. The highs and the lows become more marked each time, leaving scars on their psyche if not their bodies. If it started out as a rollercoaster it has ended up as acrobatics on a tight-rope. They're fifty metre high in the air with no safety net and whenever they fall they risk breaking their necks.

Avoiding it altogether and get on with their separate lives, they've tried that too. Mostly what it means is they're inflicting pain on more than just the two of them.

¤o¤o¤c

'Hey any chance I'm going to be introduced to this wonder of a woman anytime soon? I need to make sure she's not just a figment of alcohol fumes.'

'Give a guy some credit, if I needed to create figments I leave it to the imagination only. In my experience mixing in alcohol leads to disappointment the morning after.'

'And there, the mystery is explained, why Logan Echolls stopped drunk-dialling.'

'I knew you weren't going to let that go.'

'Well, it was the best call I'd had all year.'

'Wow, you must have a boring life.'

'Well, what can I say, I have some dull friends. Dull and selfish, I might add, keeping the exciting aspects of their lives to themselves. They should count themselves lucky that this person hasn't dug up the dirt using her vast connections.'

'Restraint or the fact that they don't take misuse of resources so well at the Agency? What can I say, you've convinced me; when shall I pencil you in?'

¤o¤o¤c

They avoid the question about whether they somehow miscalculated. Like maybe they could have gone a different way. Come to think of it there are actually songs that don't involve misfortune or star-crossed lovers. Sometimes love lasts even if it isn't 'epic'.

¤o¤o¤c

It's an ordinary day, they're on the beach. He has been surfing and his hair is still wet. Her finger is tracing one drop of water as it slides down his chest. The wet mark slowly evaporates in the heat leaving a nearly invisible trace of salt.

'Have I told you lately that I'm kind of in love with you?'

Days can fool you like that; they look ordinary and then... poof, something unexpected happens. She's not looking at him. He could make a big deal of it but she's not looking at him and that means he probably shouldn't.

'The things a girl will say to get a guy out of his wetsuit.'

If his smile grows a bit wider afterwards it's possible there's a correlation, but then it could all just be incidental.

'Well it is Tuesday after all. In my experience you have got to work extra hard for it on a Tuesday.'

¤o¤o¤c

At some point repetition kind of ruins things.

They never really discussed it but one time they must have decided to give up. Maybe it was just that epic seems a lot more romantic at the age of seventeen than it does at thirty-five. Constant emotional turmoil is harder to handle when you're trying to juggle a draining daytime job and other obligations. Maybe it's that contrary to what most stories would have you think people do grow tired of living life on repeat. Maybe it's that they look around them and see people getting on with their lives while they still feel like they're stuck in high school.

¤o¤o¤c

'Haven't we had this conversation a million times already? Isn't it time we stopped? Because I'm tired, I'm just tired.'

'So am I.'

¤o¤o¤c

They used to think they were epic; and while they realised epic wasn't easy they took comfort in the fact that big torments must lead to big rewards. They forgot the reward is seldom the end. At some point they realise epic really isn't all it's cracked up to be.

It doesn't matter how many times they did their routine before they finally called it quits.

It doesn't matter who broke up with who the last time.

What matters is they started asking themselves if it was worth it.

...

If things ended there then they ended there. But that's just one possible conclusion.