He had watched from the sidelines for a while now. He had seen the lives of his friends unfold in different directions: Marshall and Lily having a baby, and Barney—well—just being Barney. It had been a while since conflict had passed by his doorstep, and he found himself remembering what had been: the year of the goat, the slutty pumpkin, punchy's wedding, sock puppets, zoey, and the time when he was left at the altar…
those moments seemed to rush on by, the colors vivid in the memories, disappearing as he let go, and he watched the jubilant cries of laughter emanating from his friends, cheering to what seemed like a great year. Marshall handled the champagne bottle, shaking it vigorously, and Lily watching her husband warily, shifting to the left side of the couch beside Barney, and Barney drinking nervously as he shifted his gaze towards Robin.
Robin.
She had seemed distant, and he thought she'd be happy with Kevin, her former-therapist-now-boyfriend. But she wasn't. He had asked her a couple of times, asked her what the matter was, and she would snap at him, brushing him off like he was a mere acquaintance.
He hoped it wasn't one of those senior moments, wherein you had to constantly remind that someone about certain anecdotes in their lives. But even that annoyingly noisy old couple just across the hall would find themselves intertwined, connected, in those dusty old photographs they had kept for so long.
Why was she steering clear of him?
He took a swig of his beer as he leaned on the fireplace, and he watched her laugh. Marshall was telling one of his no-brainer jokes again, with Barney chiming in.
(By the way, it was three slutty nuns.)
That laugh seemed to pull her out of her misery, just for a while, before she sunk into distant thought again. That laugh, that same laugh she had given after that smurf penis incident. Seven years passed, and that sound she made still tugged at his heartstrings.
But the memory of that Christmas gathering had faded to black, and reality had settled in. That was more than a week ago, yet he found himself coloring the apartment with the memories of then, when all was well. Her laugh echoed in his head again, and he smiled.
He found her staying by the phone constantly, watching, waiting for the phone to ring. He texted Marshall, asking him where he was, and all he got was a photo of a penis with the caption: . He texted back, 'thanks for the offer, but not in the mood tonight' and sighed.
Robin had walked out of the baby shop that day and he was left with Barney and Lily speculating over the reasons. He watched Barney, and he noticed he was shook up. They had played detective, pinpointing the factors to Robin's sudden depression. Barney would laugh exaggeratedly, and he would take a long swig of his drink.
"THAT'S GOTTA BE IT!" Barney exclaimed.
"Either that, or she slept with Barney." Lily stated flatly.
They laughed afterwards, and he returned home to Robin with a ticket in hand. She declined, insisting she wanted to stay.
"I just thought you were bummed about not going home to Canada for Christmas." he said sheepishly.
"Are you kidding? I love New Yorker Christmas. It's so quiet, and I have… I have Eggnog."
She was always the stubborn one.
"Robin, what's wrong?"
"Why do you need to know so bad?"
"So I can cheer you up."
She turned him down again, this time with a forceful tone. He insisted and she declined again, snapping at him for being too involved. She stormed out of the house, the door slamming in his face. He sighed frustratingly, and wondered what had made her forget about the relationship they had once.
He glanced at the center of the room, and remembered that sometime about six years ago, she told him she loved him. That set his mind ablaze, and he knew he had to do something, whether she liked it or not.
Sometime later that night, the door creaked open and the sound of labored inhales acted as a cue. The Christmas tree suddenly glowed, different colors illuminating the living room: bright yellow, blue—french horn blue, purple. The chairs glowed, the lights wrapped tightly around the arms of one of the chairs, and the rest splayed on the couch.
"Highway to Hell" blasted through the speakers, and she let out a gasp and put on a look of confusion, finding him behind her.
"Look, you don't wanna tell me what's wrong? Fine, I don't need to know. But you'll never stop me from cheering you up. It's a fact of life. You're just going to have to deal with it."
"Ted, I…"
He stopped her, gently turning her around. "Wait, hold on, this is the best part."
Merry Christmas, Robin glowed in red, and the lights danced, interchanging turns to dim and to brighten. He watched her tear up, bobbing their heads synonymously to the rhythm of the song. He ran his hand up and down her arm tenderly, smiling brightly as she shut her eyes, tears falling down her cheeks. She turned to face him, her face crumpled and wept on his chest, her tears of anguish and pain soaking his purple sweater vest.
And just like that, memories flooded through his mind as he inhaled the scent of her hair.
It was like something from an old movie, where the sailor sees the girl across the crowded room—she wants casual?—why am I not wired like that, Ted?—hey man, I thought we had a deal—you re-returned for me—if the years go by and we're still single—I wasn't trying to win the break-up, I was trying to survive it—I missed you in an 'I miss you' way—I think I'm in love with you—falafel—Wanna make juice?—GENERAL KNOWLEDGE!—we have an expiration date, don't we?—you stole a blue french horn for me—come on, robin, I made it rain!—I would have stolen you a whole orchestra.
He remembered those moments, as if they all happened yesterday. The time where they held each other in her apartment after they broke up, the new year's eve kiss, the rooftop kiss, their endless moments in bed, the re-return, making it rain, stealing a french horn for her, their best friendship, and the moment he saw her in MacLarens.
She looked beautiful even in that green v-neck sweater. They matched that night, and he remembered her smile, mirth dancing in her eyes. As he held her in the glow of the lights, he stroked her hair, wishing, wishing deep inside that they still shared something more than best friendship.
Because the pain and the discovery of loving someone at first sight… those feelings would never fully disappear. They would linger, as the entirety and being of her lingered in him.
There is a reason that it didn't work out between you and me, but it's not Germany. And I'm willing to bet it's the same reason none of your other relationships in the last six years have lasted either. It's Robin. She is so much bigger in your world than you realize.
He heard the echo of Victoria's words when she left him that night, and reluctantly agreed she was right. The blue french horn, the rain dance, and now this.
Old Teddy Westside had done it again.