The Man Who Can't Be Moved

Owen looked up as he watched the uniformed figure making his way towards him.

"'Scuse me, do you have a license for that?"

"Since when do you need a licence to wait for someone?" Owen shot back, irritably.

"Well, wait somewhere else, you can't stay there." Said the policeman, stopping directly in front of him.

"This is the only place she'll meet me. So I can't move anywhere else." Owen replied, straining his neck slightly so as to meet the man's eyes.

"Can't you call her to arrange to meet in another spot or something?" He asked, now getting slightly aggravated.

"You don't think I've tried that?!"

The policeman gave up with a turn and a motion of his hand as if to say 'whatever…' as he walked away from Owen's slouched form. But Owen barely cared, it was hardly as if anyone had complained about him, and besides – there weren't any laws against waiting. Okay, so this wasn't the ordinary five-to-ten minute wait for someone, 'but' Owen thought, pulling the sleeping bag around him tighter so as to shield him from the cold wind, 'this is more important than the normal wait'.

Three days had passed since Owen had stood at the dark window of his home, watching the rain hit the panes as he formed his plan. Three days and he was sitting in the grey light of the cloud-covered street, watching the small raindrops form ripples on nearby puddles. Fifty six hours had found him in a very different place, and had changed his appearance rather dramatically – but those fifty six hours had done nothing to his heart but straighten it's determination and longing.

His plan was simple, though not exactly among the most logical of plans when trying to get a loved one back. But on that night he decided that this was the only thing he could do to reach that goal – or, at least, prove to her that he loved her. He had given up sleep at that moment and spent the hours till the sunlight reached over the tops of the buildings developing his thought, getting what he needed from cupboards and the attic, and going over the plan again and again.

When the time finally came, he grabbed his sleeping bag, a sheet of cardboard and the picture, which had sat on the small table, from the night that he and Kay had had their first kiss together. Then, ring securely in his shirt pocket, he set off to the place that his mind had set so firmly upon.

Shopkeepers and onlookers watched in puzzlement and curiosity as he set down his cardboard and his rolled-up sleeping bag on the pavement – his self following swiftly to sit down outside the café.

It was inside that very café that Owen had first set his eyes on Kay. Admittedly, it had not been one of those 'love-at-first-sight' moments, where he knew that she was the one just from a single glance. In fact, he had not actually said that much to her on that day.

It had been two days before Liam and his girlfriend, Demi's, two-year anniversary and he, James, Liam, Demi and her two friends had taken their lunch breaks to get together in the café, to plan how they would celebrate the memory. This proved to be a much harder task than first thought, as James and Owen were also aware of Liam's 'surprise proposal' secret – and they had to plan the whole evening around that – without letting on what they were doing. For that reason, Owen was far too preoccupied with his best friend and Demi to start making strong acquaintances with Liam's soon-to-be-fiancé's friends.

And, although he had said little to her that time, it was that day that they had met – and the plans on that day that, in the end, lead to so much more. Without that day, he would have never gone to the party; never held his breath as he watched his best friend get down on one knee and cheered as the woman he loved agree to spend the rest of her life with him. Without that day Liam and his fiancé would have never come to be so close that she came to almost every night that they went out together – occasionally bringing her friends, who then joined the group in their nights out. Without that, Owen would have never found himself making his way over to Kay's dark figure sitting by the wall on that Friday night – and without that they would have never poured their hearts out to each other and ended the night with a kiss in the cold January air. If that had never happened, he would have never found himself on the way home from his brother's funeral, his whole self –emotional and physical – in a wreck, to find Kay on her way to his house in thought of supporting him. They had then made their way over to sit outside a nearby pub, where she held him whilst he let his heart take over and wept silently by her side; and without that, he would have never looked up into her deep eyes at ten-past-one in the morning and realised – this was the girl that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Without that night, he would have never found himself in the pouring rain, asking her if she would agree to making him the happiest man alive, by agreeing to marry him. And without that night…he would have never found himself on the wet ground at 10am, sitting outside that very café to try and win her back.

Owen's prayers were that one day soon, just one moment would pass, when she may want to visit the café, so that she could remember how it all once was. And that one day, when she did come, she would find him, sitting there – waiting just to get her back.

Owen jumped as the ringing from his phone pierced the dull sound of the morning traffic. His body lunged forward to grab it, but stopped as he saw the name 'James' flash across the small screen. Sighing internally, he pressed the red button to cut the call yet again, and slowly lifted his body, heavy with disappointment, back to it's previous upright position.

He repeated this action, almost routinely, about twice every few hours – though the number of times it happened had deteriorated over the past two days. He didn't want to answer it, as he already knew what the call would consist of, and – frankly, he was too tired to go through the conversation again. He knew that the person on the other end was just going to tell him how stupid and senseless what he was doing was, and try to convince him to come back home – but every time, no matter whom it was calling, Owen would refuse point blank. He knew all too well that they were all correct in what they were saying, but he truly didn't know what else he could do.

A couple of them (James and Liam more specifically) had come to the spot where he sat on the very first day, the moment that they had heard of what Owen had done. They stood there, trying every trick in the book to get him to move – and to stop being so stupid. They had talked calmly – trying to talk sense into the man, shouted, bribed, blackmailed even threatened, but still Owen refused to leave the street corner. After five hours, the two extremely frustrated and worried men gave up and headed home – as they had other commitments in their lives apart from a friend that seemed to have traded his mind for a book of, 'ideas for trying to get your girlfriend back - but will only succeed in driving people who care about you up the wall'. However, Owen couldn't find it in his head to see sense and pack up, so as to head back home. It was as though his broken heart could no longer pump the sufficient amount of blood to his brain – leaving it numb and functioning poorly.

"Yeh. Just over there, by the traffic lights. Make sure you get them in the background."

Owen watched the news crew setting up their cameras on a nearby pavement, thinking faintly. This wasn't an important story that they were covering – nothing particularly interesting had happened around here lately…maybe…if he could grab their attention…

His mind went over the thought. If he could get their attention, tell them what he was doing…what would the chances be that they would do a small piece about him? It wasn't every day a well-off man sat down on a street corner to wait for his fiancé that had walked out on him… Not that he wanted fame, but what if she were to see him on the news…? She would know that it was all for her, and what an easy way to show her exactly what he was doing. Even if the irony of the term 'easy' was questionable for this situation. Would she come back to him? Would she realise what he was doing? Would she even pay enough attention to recognise him on the screen in front of her? Wherever she was…

But Owen's thoughts were interrupted by the twang of metal meeting concrete as a single coin bounced in front of him. "I'm not asking for money, I'm asking if – oh never mind…" The woman paid no attention to Owen's angry calls behind her – they never did. He hated them thinking him a beggar, for it clearly stated on his sheet of cardboard exactly why he was sitting there. He was not asking for spare change – he never in his life had asked for money, but he had come to realise over the past two days how wrapped up everyone was in their own lives, giving little attention to others whom they felt they had nothing to do with. 'But,' thought Owen, as he pressed the button to hang up his phone whilst it vibrated on the ground again, 'maybe I'm not all that different'.

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A week passed with little change, the only one being the weather, with the ground drying up, to getting damp, to so soaked that Owen was able to watch the tiny stream that had formed flow down the road, as cars and countless people passed him by. But still he had not seen her, and still he had not moved.

Not a day passed when Owen did not internally bless the fact that he had first met Kay at a café. He was kept alive each day by the kind waitress that came outside to hand him food and cups of hot coffee. He constantly promised to pay her back, but she refused – saying that she could not let him starve whilst he was waiting for his fiancé. She constantly insisted that he come inside, to shelter from the rain and the cold wind, but he refused – saying that he did not want to be a burden on the owners of the café; and besides, Owen wanted to make sure he caught her when the day came that she decided to visit the café. Never if, always when; he made sure of that.

It was on one such morning, when the rain had taken a pause and let the sun shine over the street, that Owen took a cup of coffee from the waitress, wrapping his hands around the hot mug so as to warm them, when he looked up – and his heart skipped a beat.

Forgetting the waitress was there, he jumped up – letting the mug fall to the ground with a crash, but he took no notice of the sound of it splintering as it hit the pavement. His mind was too focused on the figure exiting the shop across the street.

He stood still for a minute, as if he had forgotten what to do – though he had gone over this moment so many times in his head. It seemed that his body was not used to the sudden rush of blood, sent through his veins by his pounding heart. A moment passed before finally, finally, he re-gained control of his body with one single word from the throat that had not said anything for so long:

"KAY!"

He began to run forward as she turned around, stopping at the edge of the curb as he impatiently waited for cars to pass so that he could cross. So that he could run over and grab her, finally having her back after she had been so close to slipping away from him.

A small van passed, momentarily blocking his view of the street, but he caught sight of her figure making her way back towards the crossing that was situated in front of the entrance to the shop, once the van passed. He moaned impatiently as another car rushed passed him, followed by a lorry that completely obscured his view of the street.

However, when the end of the lorry finally came, and the buildings came into sight again, he saw that she was not making her way towards the crossing, but in fact to the shop entrance, where she put her arm out to hold the door open, before grabbing an arm and being embraced by the tall figure of an unfamiliar man.

Owen stood there, watching them turn their backs and walk away, his arm around her waist, as the hot coffee spread around the concrete and trickled slowly into the gutter below his feet.

AN: Eee...pressure to do well on this chapter, as it's their proper signature song, that people would have heard of. Hope I did it justice :]

Anywho, thanks so much for all those who have read this far!! Can't believe I'm on the 4th chapter and people are still taking time to read, and even the care to drop a review... Thanks so much!! x

Disclaimer:

I do not own The Script, their album or [sadly] any of their lyrics. I am just another fan that has been inspired.