a/n: been in writing mode the last week. totally on a role here.
modern au, episodic plot (because chronological order is for squares:p)
"Mary!" If he let her go now, he'd lose her.
So he ran, dodging through the scattered crowd. Time warped around him- moving too fast and too slow all at the same time. Don't be too late. Just... please don't be too late.
He searched through the sea of nameless persons about to board the train. But he couldn't find her.
"It's okay" she said, glancing to him, then back to her rain-boots. She exhaled, leaving a patch of fog on the clean glass of his beaten-down blue pick-up. Water drained from the sky in thick, grey sheets.
"It's okay." He repeated. He lied.
That sweltered in the cold silence, before he pulled to a stop in front of the station.
"It really isn't all that bad," she said, thinking better of everything she'd just said.
"You don't need to tell me," Bash frowned. "He's my brother."
"I know," she said, looking down at her palms, empty. "I know."
He looked at her, with patient blue-green eyes, giving her permission to go on or stop or fumble around in between.
"I shouldn't be complaining to you." It wasn't appropriate. Especially when they would probably get back together- her and Francis. She was taking a train to go see him tomorrow morning. This happened all the time. And she was glad Bash was the kind of person who could stay on good terms. Where other people would be awkward.
He was one in a one and a million and two that way.
He glanced at her, and then away, quickly. Because he shouldn't be looking at her.
"If you need to talk..."
"Mary," He said.
God. She was beautiful. And she just... geez. Francis didn't even know- didn't even know how good he had it. And now, she was coming to his house, because it was closer to the train station. And he was going to drive her there. So she could run to someone who didn't know her worth.
"Bash," she said. She stood in the frame of his doorway, dark hair coated in dewy rain drops. She kept her smile up. But a bluish tinge hugged her voice.
"Will you come inside?"
Love was a peculiar thing.
In fact it sucked.
That's what he thought as he watched her pour the dregs of her coffee down the sink.
"And he's so arrogant sometimes I just-" she shook her head, pushing up the sleeves of her slouchy forest green shirt. "He makes me feel like I'm crazy or like-"
"Like he can't imagine how you could be so wrong."
Yes. That was it exactly.
Like no matter how hard she tried- or didn't try, or tried to try- like there was something inadequate about her.
"These are beautiful."
She noted the pictures scattered on the coffee table, as he handed her a hot blue cup, a small chip in the handle, filled with her coffee, just the way she liked it: too much creamer and too much sugar and a very small part coffee.
Francis still handed her cups of black- so that she would grimace swallowing it down, until there was room for the proper goodies. Bash- he knew how important it was to be sweet.
She selected a photo of Bash playing with his cousin's daughter, a baby girl of about six months. She treasured the sunshine candid look of it- he had no idea it was being taken, but had this smile- the way things should be.
"Just like you." He grinned at her.
She rolled her eyes. "You're cheeky."
He shrugged. He'd spent his whole life being too honest.
They slammed into each other.
A mutual collison.
He could still feel the dampness of the tears on her face.
"...I'm here for you."
And he meant it in so many ways. He adored her, for so long.
Looking at him, her lip quivered. Tears broke down her eyes- slowly. Not violent, in the way most brokenhearted would.
He looked at her for a moment- before putting an arm around her. He pressed his cheek to her forehead.
She sighed. Did people always fall out of love this way? Did it always hurt this much, to not feel anything at all? Francis hadn't loved her in a long time.
And, like lightening hitting the earth, in one glowing, electrified shock- she looked up to the man looking down at her, wondering what it would be like to be touched by someone who cared.
He was inches from her. She was inches from him. Just this once just this once just this once.
"I'm sorry." He lied.
Great. He couldn't even calculate the damage he'd just done.
"You're going to be late for your train."
Blush filled her cheeks. An ache blossomed in her chest.
"Right." She said, picking up her purse.
Sitting in his car he clutched the steering wheel, watching her walk up the stone steps, no umbrella, just braving the room. And when the doors swallowed her up he stayed, planted.
Let her go.
He took his foot off the break.
But only for a second, before hurling into park, right against a red curb.
He turned, bewildered, searching. But she wasn't there.
"Bash,"
He turned.
And there she was. Waiting for him. No, running toward him.
He caught her, clutching her to himself. They could fix it later. For now, they'd love.
a/n: please review darlings!
