Author's Note: So, this story is set in the future. At eighteen, Rachel and Noah broke up after she stormed away when they got into a fight. They haven't seen each other for seven years. Rachel and Noah are both 25, they're both with different people. So, enjoy. I'd love to hear your reviews. For those of you who have inquired, yes, you have read this story before. I wrote it once, and never finished it, and deleted it one day. This time, I did finish it, and this is part I of III. (The song is Kate Voegele: Forever and Almost Always)
so the story goes on down the less traveled road
it's a variation on the one I was told
and although it's not the same
it's awfully close, yeah
It started with a crowded NYC platform, where he saw her standing across from him, hands folded across her chest, slightly swaying sideways. She never could stand still. He used to love that about her, the way she was in constant movement, the grace of her ballerina's build. He used to love her fluid motions, the way she could bend herself so easily.
She's changed, no longer wearing her infamous knee socks and her short skirts like she did those high school years. Her wardrobe choices have matured. A multicolored green scarf is tied loosely around her neck, skinny jeans tucked into her heels. He remembers those shoes after all these years. She hated them when he bought them for her as a gift. She doesn't wear heels, she whimpered. He lets out a bitter laugh. The relationship ended seven years ago, but the shoes have lasted above and beyond. A navy leather jacket wraps around her petite body, lightly exposing a striped gray and orange shirt. He doesn't remember her liking orange, much less ever wanting to wear the color.
She doesn't notice him staring, distracted by the music in white iPod headphones. He wonders what she's listening to, if it's still Broadway and show tunes like before. Maybe she's listening to the mix CD he made her during their senior year, the one before everything that happened following. He sees her train coming, and decides to take a chance. He runs up the stairs, running to her platform, appearing to her like a ghost, out of breath and pale.
"Hi, Rachel." She looks different. So much has changed in the past seven years, and it shows in the worry lines around her face. She's only twenty five, he wonders why the worry lines are there. He wants to ask. She's still beautiful, even after all this time.
She looks stunned. She never expected to see him again, and certainly not on a subway platform. He hates trains. She didn't get a lot of sleep last night, not her usual eight. Sleeping felt different with her fiancée out of town. Rachel looks at Noah, and hopes she dreamt his face.
"Hello, Noah."
"Let's get coffee. Catch up for old times sake." It comes across more as an order than a polite request.
She looks like she'd rather do anything, anything, else, but she slowly nods. She misses her train, and later on, when everything happens, she'll wonder if she should have caught it after all.
in an ordinary fairy tale land
there's a promise of a perfect happy end
and i imagine having just sort of that
it's better than nothing
Rachel follows him out of the station, and she observes him quietly out of the corner of her eye. He hasn't changed much. He's still wonderful on the eyes, and his physique doesn't appear to have changed much, even underneath the layers of the suit. Noah still walks in quick strides, almost as if they're running together again. They make it down to the nearest Starbucks, all this time walking in silence, and they marvel at how they found each other again.
She orders, she always orders the same thing: Venti black iced tea with two pumps classic and extra sweetened. She hasn't changed much in the time that elapsed. Even ordering with her feels as though she's begun a walk into her past. Noah doesn't go fancy on his order, he takes his usual black coffee and they settle into the comfortable chairs by the window, the ones furthest from the doors and closest to the windows.
Rachel takes a sip of her drink, and they sit in stormy silence, both of them remembering what their silences used to sound like. They were comfortable, and well-worn. They spent Sunday mornings covered in them, underneath the blankets, not saying a word. Neither of them had to talk to fill the gaps and now it feels awkward, and sad. More sad than awkward. Noah speaks first, himself startled by the sound of his own voice.
"So, this is a little foreign to me. I didn't expect to run into you on the subway platform, of all places. Must be my lucky day." He makes a weak smile, and she finds herself lightly smiling back, not enough to mean it. She wonders when she can leave to go home again. She wants to crawl underneath her covers, and pretend this exchange never occurred.
"You were never fond of the trains, convinced they were speeding so fast so they could crash into the wall, and we could all die." She thinks back to the first time they took the train together. He gripped her hand tightly, his knuckles turning white. When they got above ground again, he nearly kissed the concrete but settled on kissing her instead, muttering that taxis are now the default form of transportation. He doesn't care to talk about trains, he wants to hear of her life. He wants to know if they can have back the forever they talked about.
"How have you been? Last I heard through the grapevine, you graduated law school with honors. Congratulations. I always figured you'd up under the bright lights of Broadway instead."
"Thanks, Noah. It still feels weird, not performing. But I loved my law school experience, I love how challenging and rewarding it is. I made the right choice, after all. Everyone was a little worried I wouldn't have. But I mean, I'm sure you'd agree, being a lawyer yourself. It's nice to hear you made partner, that you're doing well for yourself. You look well, you know. " She's rambling again, like she used to. He misses hearing her talk.
"It has it's benefits." Noah thinks back to his apartment on the Upper East side, and the millions he's accumulating in that empty penthouse. They fall back into the silence, unsure of what else to say.
"I still remember that day." She says softly, her voice hovering above a whisper. "It was beautiful, the sun was shining like it hadn't shined all week. We woke up together, showered together, went to the park, kissed our last kiss." Rachel doesn't know what compels her to bring up their last day. She's tried to forget that part of her life for so long but she can't forget something, someone, she knows like the back of her hand.
"Do you regret leaving?" He's always wondered, and he's never understood. Seven years and he's never known why.
"I don't know. No. We were different, then. We were changing, and growing apart. When I saw you talking to her, you looked so happy, you hadn't smiled like that for weeks. I don't know. We were too young, and everything was going too fast. It was always a hundred miles an hour with us, and it was getting tiring. It was better this way. We would have hated each other in the end." He stays silent at her speech, convinced she's rehearsed it in her sleep in preparation for this moment.
"I don't believe that. I think you were just searching for an excuse, and you finally found one that night. You were getting bored. You saw your reason to bolt, and you did. You left."
She has the decency to look out the window instead of replying. She's tired of fighting, she escaped him before so the arguments could cease. He decides it's not the best time to pour salt on old wounds, and changes the subject.
"Are you happy?" He doesn't know why he asks that, actually. It's such a personal thing to talk about. He wants to tell her he hasn't been happy since she left. He wants to hear she hasn't been happy, either.
"I have everything I've dreamed of. This is what I've wanted from my life for so long." She doesn't know why she said that. Some nights she lays and stares at the stars she tacked up on the ceiling, wondering if this is it.
"Right."
"Oh. You're engaged."
He notices the ring when she brings her cup to her lips again, and he should have expected it. He didn't mean to say those words out loud, until they came by themselves. He wishes he could take them back, roll them back underneath his tongue.
She nods. "To Finn." She whispers lightly. She shouldn't have said Finn. She should have just said yes, left it at that. She doesn't want to talk about her engagement.
"Have you set a date?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"It's too soon."
"But you're engaged. Shouldn't you want to set a date?"
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Okay. He looks away uncomfortably, staring out the window, thinking back to the ring he bought her, the one still hidden in an old shoe box. He would have proposed that weekend, they would have been married by now if she didn't leave. He always wanted to marry her, even on their worst days. He doesn't like the ring Finn gave her, it's simplistic and boring, neither of which she is.
"How is Finn doing now?" It's been years since they've spoken, probably not since the summer after they graduated. They were looking for reasons to grow apart ever since Rachel chose Noah over Finn in high school. Not that he cares how Finn is doing. He's trying to fill the void by talking, talking about anything.
"He's fine. He deals with mortgages over at HSBC. He's away on a business trip for the weekend, so I've been prowling around on my own. The city feels its best around the holiday time." Her smile curves around her lips as she thinks of the holiday season. She remembers her first year with Noah around the holiday time, the mistletoe at Rockefeller Center, the ice skating at midnight.
"Do you want to come over?" The question comes out abruptly, surprising him and jolting her out of her thoughts. He doesn't know why he asks her back to his apartment. He doesn't know why she nods before the words have finished leaving the tip of his tongue. But he doesn't question it.
She nods before she understands the question.
and i'll be fine, just love me when you can
She doesn't know why she comes back with him to his apartment.
She comes back with him, standing in the foyer, glancing at what he's done with the place. The night has become hazy, the darkness illuminating through his windows.
(She begins to wonder if this is a gift, this darkness; a shroud of secrecy to cover what she's about to do)
She doesn't know why she chooses that moment to kiss him when he walks up next to her but the lack of reason doesn't make her stop.
He kisses back, deepening the kiss until she has to pull back.
"You taste the same." He read an article once that women adjust their kissing style to their current partners. He hopes this means Rachel hasn't kissed anyone lately.
(He'd rather not think of the alternative)
Obviously, that's untrue but that's what he'd rather believe. He wants to go back to their high school years when she was only kissing him.
"Is that a bad thing?" She looks concerned, and she raises an eyebrow.
"You taste like magic."
She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to. He knows what she wants to say.
His mouth locates her collar bone, his tongue tracing the outline.
"Does he touch you like this?" There's more to this question that he wants to ask. Do you miss me, miss my breath on your shoulder blades and my hands across your back? He wants to ask but he doesn't, he doesn't want to know anything. Is he wonderful, is he everything you wanted, everything you bargained for? Are you happy with him, is he satisfying, do you stay up and want to talk to Finn about feelings and life, do you ask him what you asked me? Do your fingers trace his rib cage, do your fingertips brush his back, do you settle into him, do you touch Finn like you're touching me?
He doesn't say anything of these things, he bites his tongue until he tastes the faint blood underneath, the metallic bitterness covering the skin.
She runs her hands down his stomach, and doesn't answer.
She bites her lip and his mouth turns into a smirk. "I thought so."
His hand rests at the edge of her hip, circling over bone.
"Are you thinking of Finn right now?"
"No." Her lie doesn't match her eyes, she avoids eye contact to avoid the truth. She is thinking of Finn, and she hopes he never knows she's been here.
She plants her mouth downward with kisses, and Noah loses thought shortly after. He doesn't say anything when she's done, and forgets how to speak when she comes back for seconds.
Later in the night, he finds her in the dark, and she curls to fit his mold. He doesn't say anything when their hands intertwine, and her engagement ring cuts into his palm. It'll press in for the entire night, and it'll be the proof he needs that this happened.
and i'll wait patiently, i'll wake up every day just hoping you still care
and in the corner of my mind,
i know too well that surely even i deserve the best
but instead of leaving, i just put the issue to bed and out of my head.
She sneaks out in the morning, leaving before it becomes real.
(After she leaves, she wonders she always finds herself in the position of leaving him)
She has a life to return to, a life that doesn't include idealistic fantasies about her high school sweetheart. She returns to the bright lights of her potential and the coldness of her apartment, the bottles of wine she has in her lower cabinet.
She pours herself a glass of red, and sits on her couch, leaning against the cushions. Her engagement ring sparkles from her sky light roof, and she looks at it, wondering why she played it safe. She loves Finn, quietly and calmly, and it is enough for them both. He doesn't question why she never gives more of herself, and she never questions why she keeps herself hidden. Nobody wants to hear secrets that are better left unspoken. They've been engaged for several months now, taking the wedding process slow. They're not in a rush, they're content with their lives. Eventually, they'll tie the knot and have children, have a quiet suburban life. She'll have her picket fence, like she imagined. She imagined marriage when she was younger, a marriage to someone else.
She pours the remains into the sink, and she sits to wait for Finn.
oh, and just when i believe you've changed for good
well, you go and prove me wrong just like i knew you would.
Noah's not surprised when Rachel isn't there when he wakes. He expected it, a quiet disappearance in the night.
He sits in the kitchen as the morning light streams through his window, glimmering against his cabinets, and he drinks a Scotch, and waits for Quinn to walk through the door. They've formed a relationship neither of them can comprehend, a relationship where they live together but they spend the majority of their time with other people.
"It's only noon and you're drinking. I thought you stopped that."
He ignores her, like he has so many times before. He doesn't ask where she was last night. Asking her opens him to her questions, and he wants to avoid those.
"She was here, wasn't she?" He wonders how she knows. She always knows things, somehow. He hates it when she knows things without him telling her.
"Yeah. How did you know?"
"The air smells like her. Open a window. Plus, you only drink Scotch after her. I hope you didn't use our bed." She eyes him warily, a look of disgust seeping through her eyes.
"It's not our bed if we don't share it."
She rolls her eyes at him. "Whatever, N. Whatever." She grabs ice cream out of the freezer, and sits across from him at the kitchen table. She offers him a bite and isn't surprised when he pushes her hand away.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Her heart hurts for him. She hates Rachel for coming back.
He shakes his head, and picks up his glass, walks back to his home office. "See you later, Q."
She watches him go, leaning back in her chair, she finishes the ice cream, eventually throwing the remains out in the trash. She's gotten used to sharing him with other women all of these years but never, never with Rachel. She wonders what he's gotten himself into, and she hopes last night was the last night Rachel was here.
when i've run out of second chances, you give me that look,
and you're off the hook because you're mine, forever and almost always.