It was a hot Saturday morning, and Luke headed upstairs to his apartment to grab the screwdriver. He needed the tool to fix the oven... again. That damn oven. He was in a hurry, the place was packed, so he made his way up two steps at time. Upon his arrival at his place he went straight ahead to the closet, the place he kept his toolbox. When he opened it, he immediately saw it. The box. Her box. Stupid box, he thought.
He still vividly remembers the day he put the box together. Lorelai told him she had slept with Christopher, he went to the guy's place, punched him, and drove back home. He made it upstairs to think, but all he seemed to do was bump into her stuff. He opened his drawer and found her sweater, he went to his bathroom and saw her purple toothbrush neatly placed on her shelf – the one he built especially for her – he opened his fridge and saw the 2 milk carton, which he bought for her, and for her only, 'cause he couldn't care less about the variety of milks out there. B.L., that's "Before Lorelai", he bought the cheapest and that was that. But a.L., he paid attention to the details, he always wanted to please her. Anyhow, everywhere he turned... she was there. That's it! He went downstairs to the diner, grabbed an empty box from the storage room, and rushed back to his place.
He started grabbing everything and placing, no, throwing it into the box. The sweater, the toothbrush, the shampoo bottle... At that moment he couldn't fight the urge, he opened the bottle and inhaled the scent, her scent, that familiar vanilla, soapy smell that he liked so much. He remembered the feel of her hair through his fingers, how at night her locks brushed gently in his nose liberating the oh-so-good aroma. He pressed his eyes closed and put the bottle inside the box as well, the nostalgic feeling brought with it anger, and Luke wound up slamming her shelf. It broke in half, completely ruined it, but at least he got a second of satisfaction out of it. Not as much as punching him, but enjoyable nonetheless.
After half an hour of putting away cd's, books, a few items of clothing, and every other trace of her presence there, he closed the box and put it in his closet. He'd give it to her when he wasn't this upset. She dated the other guy, married him, and separated – not that she took long to go through all the phases aforementioned – but he still hadn't summed up the guts to do as planned. Not that he was still that upset. He just kept putting it off, and when he realized time took his tomorrows and turned them into yesterdays.
This is ridiculous, he thought back in the present. It was going to be now rather than later. He was going to her house and give her the damn box. He was fueled with determination, maybe it was the heat, but he wasn't going to put it off any longer. He grabbed the box violently and made it downstairs through the diner.
"Caesar, gotta run an errand. Be back in a few," he said quickly.
"Sure, boss!" Caesar replied from the kitchen.
He got in the car, placed the box on the passenger's seat, and headed towards her house as fast as Taylor's stupid speed limits allowed him. Stupid Taylor. It didn't take long to arrive at her place, that's a plus when you live in small towns. He parked in her front lawn and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. One last thing before I go. He took out his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and retrieved a small, worn, old piece of folded paper from one of the wallet's compartments. It was the horoscope. Their horoscope. Some luck it brought me, huh? He unfolded the tiny piece of paper, and took the time to read the words she had written so many years ago, for one last time. He shook his head, not really sure if he did so out of sadness for what he, they've lost, or out of fondness for what they've once had, for what they've once shared.
He chased those thoughts away and threw the last memento into the box. It landed next to the blue baseball cap. His cap. His old cap. He made sure to replace the damn thing, it kept taunting him, reminding him of her every single day. He couldn't have that. He already did that job all by himself, the last thing he needed was something to lend a hand. He had a new one anyway. It sure didn't fit perfectly like the previous one, but he was getting used to it. It was black. It suited much better the current him.
He took the box under his right arm, opened the truck door, and got out. He used his other arm to shut the door closed, it slammed a little harder than he had planned. He put it on his nervousness' account. He took a deep breath and strode confidently towards her house, he climbed the porch steps one by one, and made it to her door. It took a few seconds until he mustered the courage to knock, but he had made this far, he wasn't going to back down now.
He knocked firmly but not too hard, he learned a lesson of self-control with the car door slamming issue moments earlier. He looked at his watch, he knew her all too well. She was no early bird. But it wasn't too early, she should be up. And as on cue he heard footsteps towards the front door. The heat wasn't helping, he felt his face burning up, and his heart began to race. Here we go.
She opened the door and the first thing he noticed was her eyes. He always thought that her eyes were unbelievably gorgeous. He missed them, every since their break-up they haven't seen each other much. Anyhow, that wasn't his point, he needed to get a hold of himself. He noticed that she was surprised, there were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence – which felt like ten minutes to both of them – but she regained conscious and broke it.
"Hi... Luke," was all she could muster while tucking a strand of lose hair behind her ear.
TBC