Her feet pounded on the pavement as she desperately tried to read the street signs. She hadn't been in New York City for so long she couldn't remember the way to his apartment. She knew it was in Manhattan, though, so at least she was on the right island.
She probably looked like a deranged woman, running around in a blue – Prussian blue – cocktail dress, holding a pair of black high heels in her left hand and wearing black converse on her feet. At least she has a winter coat, but God was it cold out there. And it had started to snow.
But she really had more pressing matters to think about. Like where on Earth his apartment was, because she had just had an epiphany here, prompting her to run out of her rehearsal dinner and break off her engagement. He'd kept popping up in her mind, and wouldn't leave; and then in the middle of dinner she'd accidently called Roderich Gilbert.
"I love you, Elizaveta."
"I love you, too, Gilbert."
Everyone had stared in shock, including herself, and then she'd ripped off her ring and run out. He always invaded her thoughts at the wrong moments.
He'd always had horrible timing, though. But she loved that about him.
She reached into the pocket of her black coat, rubbing the charm on the chain that sits deep in her pocket. His necklace – the one he never took off until the day he gave it to her, a key strung on a chain next to it. He'd mumbled to her something about remembering him and the key was for if she ever needed him. And then he'd turned on his heel, slouched away back to his car and left, leaving her standing in the doorway of her house clutching the charm and key in her hand. He hadn't spoken to her since. She'd tried calling him, asking him to please come to the wedding, or at least answer; but Roderich had told her to let him go and move on.
But Elizaveta was stubborn to a fault, and God damn it if she was letting Gilbert go.
Of course, she hadn't realized she'd thought of him that way until a few hours ago, but wasn't that the definition of an epiphany? She'd always favored Gilbert over Roderich, even if she pretended she didn't or wasn't aware she did. And Gilbert needed to know that.
She saw an apartment building up the road, high-rise, with a familiar looking doorman standing formally next to it. Yes! That was the building. She took off running towards the building. The sign read "Hohenzollern Place." She'd finally found –
The sidewalks were icy and her converse couldn't get a grip on the surface, and she went flying down onto the sidewalk in front of the building. She landed on her side on a rough pavement, and she could feel herself skid. She let out a hiss, and stayed crumpled on the ground after she stopped moving.
"M-miss! A-are you all right?" the doorman stuttered in shock, leaving his post to help her up.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," she replied politely. Her cocktail dress was ripped on the side she'd fallen on, and she could feel her right cheek bleeding, but it was just a scrape. Gilbert had given her much worse when they'd wrestled as kids. "I'm actually looking for someone. I think he lives here. Annoying albino man who thinks he's awesome and laughs like an idiot? He also usually has a bird on his head."
"Oh, yes. Him. He lives here. Are you a friend?"
"Something like that," she answered, pulling the necklace out of her coat pocket and examining it for damage. It was unscathed. She put it around her neck and smiled at the doorman. "Do you know where he lives?"
"I believe he's in J-18, Miss."
"Thank you!" She called before bursting through the doors and into the lobby. She jabbed the button on the elevator, waiting for it to come down. When it dinged and the doors opened, Elizaveta stepped on and selected the button labeled "J." The elevator dinged at each floor, and her heart began pounding as she got closer to his floor.
She was really about to tell Gilbert Beilschmidt that she was in love with him. Ding. She hadn't even spoken to him in weeks, and he never answered her calls. Ding. What if he hated her? Ding. What if he didn't love her back? Ding. He'd given her the key to his apartment, so he had to love her, right? Ding. Or at least care…Ding. The doors slid open and Elizaveta stepped out into the hallway with a deep breath.
She walked down the hallway, scanning the numbers on the doors while forcing her breathing to even. She stopped in front of J-18, one hand gripping the Iron Cross on the necklace he gave her, the other poised to knock on the door. She rapped on the door. No answer. She waited and tried again. Still no answer. She let her forehead rest against the door. He wasn't even home? She almost turned around and left, but she didn't. She was going to tell him tonight, no matter what.
She pulled the necklace off, and grabbed ahold of the key. She gazed at it for a second before inserting it into the lock and turning, hearing the lock click open, and then she pushed the door in. The lights were off in his apartment. She took a step inside.
"Gilbert?" she called tentatively. "Gil?" No answer. She paced around through the familiar rooms of his apartment. He wasn't in the kitchen, or the living room, or the bathroom. The door to his bedroom was open, and she peered in briefly, but he wasn't in there, either. A picture on his nightstand caught her attention. It was the two of them, back in high school, both wearing their uniforms; his arm was slung around her shoulder, pulling her close, and he was grinning wildly while she allowed herself to be yanked closer and laughed. She picked up the photograph and sat on his bed, smiling to herself. She laid back on the bed – it smelled just like him – and held the picture above her head.
"I think I loved you even then," she muttered to herself, pulling the picture down to rest on her chest. She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Elizaveta?"
Her eyes snapped open and she turned towards the sound of the noise. Gilbert was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his hair disheveled and bags under his eyes. He had a beer can in one hand, a grocery bag in the other. He stared at her with wide eyes.
"Gil…" she said. "I…."
"What the hell happened to you?" he said first, walking over to her. "Your face is covered in blood. C'mere, I'll clean you up." He handed her the beer can, and helped her up by grabbing her hand. She felt her cheeks grow red for a moment, and looked down as she let herself be led to the sofa in the living room. Gilbert left to get a first-aid kit, and Elizaveta took a swig of the beer to calm her nerves.
Gilbert appeared moments later with a wet towel and a bandage and started rubbing at her bloodied cheek. "What the hell happened to you, Liz? Aren't you supposed to be at your damn rehearsal dinner or something?"
"…I ran out."
He stopped wiping her face. "You what?"
"Ran out," she repeated. "I broke it off with Roderich."
He gently started to wipe the blood off her face again, very quietly. The silence was unlike him, and it unnerved her. She took another swig of his beer. He reached for the band-aid, and applied it to her face. "I told you he wasn't right for you," he whispered.
"I know," she said back. "And I realized I was in love with someone else."
His red eyes met her green ones and she smiled. "I called Roderich Gilbert at dinner. And then I came here, and used the key you gave me. And…really…I want to be with the person I love. Not the person everyone thinks I should love, and…." She took a deep breath, still looking him in the eye. "That person's you."
She leaned forward and pushed her lips against his. After a moment, she felt him push back, and wrapped her arms around his neck as his moved to hold her around her waist, tightly. Her fingers threaded themselves through his hair as the kiss deepened, and they found themselves laying down on the couch, him hovering over her as she grips his shirt tightly. He cupped her cheek as they pull away, and grinned.
"I love you, too, y'know. And I can't blame you for loving me. After all, no one can resist the awesome."
"Oh, shut up," she said, yanking him down for another kiss.
