hey guys, i know some of you wanted this fic made longer and although i was reluctant to do so i have given in and written a new chapter. i apologise in advance for this chapter as it is not nearly as well structured as the previous one was, nor is the grammar and spelling anywhere near as good. also this chapter may come across drier than the last considering there is not nearly as much personal emotion in it due to the fact the first chapter was based on real life and this one is merely set around my thoughts of what could happen if i ever met her again and what my response would be. obviously this story is not what i expect to actually happen but im sure you get the gist of what i mean. anyway. to those who wanted this story made longer i hope you like it and there will hopefully be another/final chapter added soon. i feel the story is awaiting a conclusion, both here and in real life so when it happens it will be written down. to any new readers; i also hope youll enjoy this and arent too spooked by the slightly twisted natre of this fic. the all; ENJOY and if you have time please leave your thoughts. they really do mean so so much to me.
thank you all for reading
Rebecca/Becca
Remembrance
I saw her today for the first time in seven years, and just like I knew she would she looked good. It was like a punch in the gut seeing her again; seven years and she still made me catch my breath. There was no possible wat that she recognised me though as I am vastly changed from how she once knew me. I'm thankful for that at least. If she had known me she never would have looked at me with those eyes of hers; the ones that seemed to burn right into me as she slipped passed me-sending a coy knowing little smirk over her shoulder as she went- my eyes following her every move. She never would have flitted around me as I worked for nearly an hour letting me just breathe her in again, re-acquainting myself with her still achingly familiar scent. And she never would have left me her number when she went; sliding it into my hand as she danced her way out of my little shop- turning several heads as she went. She paused briefly to wink at the delivery boy on the way out, leaving him drooling before she casually hopped into some expensive looking car waiting for her outside. With a guy inside. Leaving me dazed and staring after her from the doorway- confused as hell but still desperately trying to remember every last detail of her visit.
I had forgotten just how intoxicating she can be, how she can make my knees quiver and my hands shake, how she can make my whole body turn to jelly with just one teasing little smile. God help me.
I don't doubt that she's doing well for herself; I always knew that somehow she'd eventually end up on her feet, if for no other reason than because of her father dragging her back to them. I couldn't help but drink in the sight of her though, even as she pranced around; flirting with anything that moved just like she always had but somehow still managing to pull of that charm and innocence that had always captivated me and make her seem enchanting rather than easy.
Watching the car disappear I expected that familiar blinding pain to cut through my chest at the sight of her leaving me and was surprised when it was more the feeling of someone sharply and tightly pinching my heart rather than the gut wrenching agony I used to feel even when in her mere presence. I waited to feel the familiar tidal wave of jealousy and insecurity threaten to swamp me as I recalled watching her blatantly trying to draw attention to herself, however I found even that had lessened. I was instead only met with a gentle lapping of the long remembered feelings at the edges of my consciousness and a slightly bitter sense of déjà vu.
I wondered briefly if that was how she had acted when we were together but quickly dismissed the though. I knew for a fact that she had been a hundred times worse. At least she had left her current shmuck waiting for her in the car instead of bringing him inside and subjecting him to it full on. She had never done that with me, with me it had been right in my face the whole time; I simply chose not to see it for the most part. I guess I should feel sorry for whoever she has playing perfect-pairs with at the moment but I cannot. Because in small some way I envy him.
Despite knowing everything I do now and the time that has passed I still sometimes look back on it all and wish I could re-do it. Despite the pain and the heartbreak, the lies and the tears, sometimes- every once in a melancholic while I slip back into the earlier days; not just of our relationship, but of our friendship too and I remember:
I remember how we used to laugh for hours on end, how I would do something ridiculously silly and she would laugh about it for months to come. Sometimes it could be something as simple as making an awkward face- one she would then request I make again and again; each time making herself convulse with the force of her laughter. Other times it could be something equally as silly; a phrase, a made up word, the way I itched my nose (something I had unconsciously picked up from her) sometimes it was something slightly more embarrassing like making an inappropriate comment at the dinner table- I would be left red faced for hours but the sight of her amusement was enough for me to play it off and grin at up at her father sheepishly before jokingly glaring at her only to receive a cheeky grin in response.
Then there were the times where I was the one unable to stop laughing: Like at our first figure skating lesson together.
She was hopeless. I remember how amazed I was that there was anything she couldn't do perfectly but there she was, bumbling about like a new born duckling unable to gain her balance while I, for the first time ever was the one receiving all the praise. Able to do the assigned move in moments and trying to help her master it I recall watching her totter around the edge of the rink gripping the side with one hand while tentatively lifting her leg backwards and trying to balance as I spun around further out demonstrating the ease of the arabesque style move. Half an hour later and she was finally moving slowly off the rail still practicing the move when I began to slide towards her; trying to entice her into a game of ice tag as she stumbled towards me.
Deciding to help her out I offered my hand and we skated slowly in circles for a few moments while she gained some balance. It was when she raised her head from watching her feet and smiled at me that it happened: she was re-adjusting her feet, leaning into me slightly- still smiling that million volt smile that I loved; all big brown shining eyes and perfect pearly while teeth, her too-long-but-just-perfect-for-her fringe falling in her eyes as she grinned up at me and I smiled adoringly back- when suddenly her feet began to slip.
Her eyes went wide and her hands instinctively gripped at mine as mine did hers but we were too slow; she ended up sprawled across the ice, her black trousers clinging to her and flecked with sprayed up chips of white snow, her pink hat a good few feet away- one glove lying near it- her hair whipped across her face and the most delicate display of outrage on her face I had ever seen. I couldn't help it. I began to laugh; snorting, choking splutters of laughter as she simply lay there staring at me in shock, her eyes flown wide and her face flushed from the cold.
I continued to laugh- unable to stop myself- even as I began to move forwards to help her. I leaned down slightly and offered her my hand managing to stop laughing long enough to grab the one she held up weakly in response. It was as I began to pull her up though that my own flimsy skates began to slide warningly across the glassy surface; I watched her slide slowly back down- why she didn't try to help herself I don't know- still holding my hand as she went and felt myself begin to topple forward as well.
Noticing I was about to land on her I quickly twisted to the side even as I felt the ice loom beneath me. Landing with a sharp 'crack' I quickly glanced over at her- checking frantically to see if she was okay and as soon as I was satisfied I had not hurt her promptly burst out laughing again. I could feel the water seeping into my trousers that matched hers, could feel the bruises forming from such an awkward landing and yet I couldn't help but laugh once again as I looked at her. She was sitting up this time, her hair still tossed around her shoulders but she was watching me lying next to her with such a look of confusion, shock and a hint of annoyance at still being on the frozen floor that I was unable not to laugh. I propped myself up on one (sore) elbow and just watched her (still giggling) for a moment, seeing her trying to contain her laughter as well until eventually she cracked and we both fell back onto the cold, wet ice- my arm thrown over her waist pulling her into me slightly and her hands clutching tightly to my arms while she shook with laughter.
We finally managed to calm down enough to wetly crawl the few short feet to the protective barrier surrounding the rink and stumblingly pull ourselves up it until we were once again standing shakily upright. Breathing deeply for a moment to catch my breath I risked a glance to the side and caught her eye as she did the same. And that was it. We spent the rest of the lesson in hysterics; giggling and laughing and chasing each other around the rink- grabbing the other swiftly (me grabbing her) if there was even a chance they were going to fall.
Best friends till then end was how it seemed that day. Maybe that was all we ever should have been, but I guess I got too greedy and thought I had the right to want more. I should have known better than to try and capture a phoenix I suppose but the thrill of her mere presence was enough for me to want to keep her close forever and never let go. the safety, warmth, excitement, exhilaration, danger and just plain love that she inspired when I was with her was enough to make even the most selfless of people fight like starving dogs for even the most simple of glances from her.
Perhaps I should call her. The chance to be around her again, to observe her, communicate with her, reacquaint myself with all the tiny details about her that have somehow managed to slip away from me over the years. It would be amazing I know, to get to know her again. As me this time. Me as I am now, not the me-and-her entity that I have been for as long as I can remember. Perhaps that is why she didn't recognise me. I am no longer her and as such she knows nothing about me now. I am to her as untouched, unknown and unrecognisable as a stranger on the street. I doubt she would even know me if I told her my name- showed her pictures of my family or related the most personal facts of my life to her. I am no longer a being entirely devoted to her so I am no longer consciously noticed. Maybe that is a good thing, if the one person I had given my whole self over to no longer knew me then maybe I am no longer that person, maybe I am someone entirely new, or maybe I have finally returned to the person I once was before I became ensnared in the mess we created about us in our foolishly trusting and ignorant youth and I should rejoice in that fact and stay far away from the one person who had the power to re-crumble my heart and turn me back into the slave I had once been.
But still, the pull to see her again is so strong it is almost if I can taste it; it fills the air around me as I work, clogs my senses until the only thing I can think of is her. I don't like it. I despise this feeling of powerlessness even as I begin to surrender to it. It is almost like falling asleep- re-entering a pleasant dreamland I never thought I would visit again, but all the same I hate it; the loss of control, the helplessness, the wanting, the begging, the pleading, the heartache. I hate it all and I know if I make that one little phone call I will be trapped. Once again spun back into that vicious dance that we called life for so long. But the want is so strong. It calls to me, draws me towards the phone- entices me with happy memories and promises of long remembered joy: The sweetness of those first years- the happiness and warmth, the playfulness and freedom. The lightness that consumed my days and filled my nights with happy sighs and dreams of the morrow.
I close my eyes now and I remember. I remember everything: from those first two days of shy little girl glances to the first time we kissed. From the moment she popped up in front of me during break and announced her name to the first time she chose someone else over me. From the day she chose me to the day I left. I remembered everything. I remembered the first time she slept over and the first birthday present she gave me. I remembered Christmases spent with her and unexpected gifts. I remembered furious fights and wary apologies, dreamy days and calm peaceful nights. I remembered agonised screams and burning tears. I remembered pain, and I remembered joy. I remembered the first moment I knew I was in love with her and the first time she broke my heart. I remembered the first time she kissed me back and the first time I forgave her. I remembered it all, and I reached for the phone. I had to know, even if it killed me.
