**I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, OR THE STORY "ELEANOR & PARK", BY RAINBOW ROWELL
***This is a work in progress. Enjoy, and comment if you want more :-)
park
Park was sitting on his bed. Replaying every perfect moment they'd ever had together. Except they hadn't been perfect. Nothing had ever been perfect. But the imperfection of them, her imperfection is what he had loved. What he still loved. And every day, every morning that he woke up, he was ripped away from his dreams of the past and shoved back into the presence. And his heart broke. Freshly bleeding every morning, soaking his bed with blood. And it's as these thought raced through his head, as these tears glistened down his cheeks that the door knocked. And his stomach lurched so violently, he had to sit up in fear of having to make a run for the bathroom. He should be used to this by now after a year. But it always took him by surprise. Every time the phone rang, or he saw the pile of mail on the table, or the bell rang, his stomach leaped. He took deep breaths, tying to call himself down. It wasn't her. It was never her. She hadn't replied to any of his letters. Letters in which he had poured his whole self in. Letters that broke him. She wasn't coming back, so just stop. It was probably his grandma, or grandpa. Or Josh coming home. So he slowly, cautiously rolled back on his back, back to his puddle of blood. He closed his eyes. And drowned his mind in past recollections of what they had been. He didn't even notice his mom coming in; she had to tap his should for him to begrudgingly open one eye.
"What is it?" It wasn't until he focused on his mom, that he noticed something odd in her face. Her eyes were wide with an expression he couldn't quite place.
"Um, someone here for you," she says.
"Tell Call I'm not in the mood to hang out," and assuming the conversation would come to an end there, he lied back down and closed his eyes.
"It not Cal," she says, with her voice cracking on the 'a'.
"Hi." Upon hearing this simple one-syllabled word, his stomach lurched again, except with the volume turned up. Way up. His eyes popped open, and he stood up so quickly, he was seeing black splotches. When it finally cleared up, his mom had already left, and there she was standing in the doorway. Standing awkwardly, looking down at her feet. All he could see at was her red curls. Eleanor. His Eleanor.
eleanor
Blue Vans. She was wearing her favorite pair of shows that her uncle had so graciously bought her after telling him the horrible toilet-incident with Tina. But she didn't even notice. Even with her head bowed down to her feet, she couldn't see her shoes, or the floor. Park's floor. In his bedroom. Her head was a dead weight, and her eyes were goggles under water. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. What would she see? Was his floppy black hair she had found so adorable gone? Would he be wearing all black? And his facial expression. Oh god. Is he staring at her now? Probably. Is he staring in disgust, confusion, hurt? Eleanor wasn't sure she could face his pained face. This was a mistake. She shouldn't have come here, he probably had forgotten about her, and had brought girl-zzz in his bedroom. Maybe he was glad. Good riddance of the weird, messy, ugly girl with the screwed up family. Goodbye to the girl who ignored his letters for a year. Goodbye to the girl who ripped him in half. Oh god. She was going to turn around and run, perhaps run right back to her uncle's, but he'd cross the room without her noticing, and he reached for her wrist, bringing her into his. He took her hand, and his thumb circled her palm. Just like he had, the first time they held hands on the bus. He remembered.