Author's note: These are 2 short chapters.
He has groupies. They adored him, his cars, and the power he wields. Each and every one of them craves his attention. When he's got the time AND the moment of weakness to be defiant of Gisele, he gives them that. He sleeps with a few, or some, of them like a hardcore rock star. He never brings them to his house. It's never with the same girl twice. And most of all, nothing that will fall anywhere near the concept of a relationship, no matter how dysfunctional it is a girl can tolerate. He is precaution personified. To him, they are as good as TV dinners. They all have the same bland taste which doesn't leave you wanting for more. No matter how appetizing they look or smell. You take it because of your hunger, but given a choice, you'd opt for the one your palate wants.
The girls never called him out for saying the wrong name or an endearment that they sure know was not meant for them. This happens, if he were to be honest, all the time. He'd slip into some language they couldn't care less for. And never once did he apologise for it. If they wanted to say something, they kept it to themselves. Frankly, if that puts them off, they can just leave. No big deal.
That doesn't mean to say he can't have girls clinging to his arms almost all the time. Appearances must be kept, after all. He doesn't give ideas, though. He makes sure they know what they're getting themselves into. He will not go any further than a one night stand. And it means just that, one night. No good morning, goodnight or see you later. Because despite all that, he returns to his apartment each time alone and somewhat sober. An apartment he never mentioned to anyone about. They need not know what's in there and who he was alone.
He beckons sleep through memories of her. He whispers her name again and again in his sleep. No matter what the dreams were, even nightmares that she was taken away from him or she walked away without a word, he welcomes it. So every time he wakes up realizing the dream is over and she's really gone, he feels like he just died a thousand deaths yet again.
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She was working the graveyard shift at the nearby convenience store, waiting for a bus at the station three blocks from his shop, even clinging to another man's arm during a race and a little too many times solicited sex from him. It used to be just girls that somehow remind him of her. Then it became almost every girl with the exception of the old cleaning lady across the street. It's bad, really bad.
His eyes wander from girl to girl and he realizes he finds them either unrealistically her or terribly not her. The disappointment of the latter brings him back to the time a bullet hit his torso. So, at most times he decided he liked imagining she's every girl he sees. He should call Dom so the guy can beat the crap out of him back to reality but that would mean admitting calm, collected Han is not as calm and collected.
He begins to question if he will ever get over the pain, forget eventually. Then he asks himself the biggest irony of it all. Would he like to forget her?
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