Honey & the Moon
"It's you" he mumbled softly, shocked at running into her at a place like this. He ran his hand through his freshly washed blond hair. At the last minute he had thrown on an old grey sweatshirt and his comfiest jeans, not forgetting to add his now trademark leather wristband and beads, trinkets he had picked up on his travels through South East Asia.
He was visiting an old friend on campus and had decided to catch up on some of the washing that cluttered his worn backpack.
"Yeah, it's me" she answered back simply, as she rested her basket on the table that separated the room down the middle, and now separated two people who hadn't laid eyes on each other in almost four years.
She coyly tucked a strand of her now long hair behind her left ear, unsure of how to proceed.
It was 10:39 on a Tuesday night and they were the only two people in the deserted laundry room. The overhead light was growing weak and cast a shadow over their faces.
Neither dared to speak, still taking in each others appearance and how the years had changed them.
He noticed that she no longer looked lost or out of place. She was no longer the girl who had transferred to a strange school in her sophomore year. She now looked at home, clad in the requisite college uniform of jeans, and a v-neck sweater.
"You go here" he began, more as a statement then a question.
"For three years running" she answered, "And you?"
"Visiting a friend" he replied, as he glanced over his shoulder to check on the progress of his load.
"Anyone I know?" she questioned, feigning interest, but in reality searching for a way in which to respond. It seemed idle chit chat was all that she could muster.
"I doubt it" he answered.
"Oh" she said, fidgeting with the silver ring that sat on the middle finger of her right hand.
"You know I was going to call you" he said suddenly, "But I never did".
Rory just looked at him, unsure of what to say in return. He was instantly recognisable, as soon as she had entered the room she had realised who he was. Even though he hadn't been facing her, she had somehow felt his presence. When he had turned around, he had seemed just as the last time she had seen him. His hair was a little longer and his face a little darker, but his eyes were still the same, and the small smirk that always seemed to grace his face, even when he smiled, was still present on his lips.
"You never came home for any of the summers" she said out of the blue.
"Checking up on me" he replied, the tiny glimmer of a smirk turning into the full fledged version.
"I heard things" she stated evenly.
"Never wanted too" he answered, playing with his beads.
"And now" she inquired
"Now…" he began searching for a way in which to finish the sentence, "I'm not the person I used to be".
"What does that mean?" she asked, trying to read his expression.
"It's means, that now I realise none of it matters. I've travelled. I've lived on my own, seen things that change the way in which you see life everyday. And now coming home isn't such a big deal. I'm not a part of them anymore and I don't need them and they can't change me. And now for some strange reason I want to see them, because with all there flaws they're still my family" Tristan stated. Immediately berating him self for opening up so much. It had just taken a simple question from her and he had practically revealed the inner workings of his mind.
As much as he had changed in the past few years, opening up was something he still rarely did. He had gotten over his anger and resentment and come away with a new outlook on things, but actually sharing these changes with someone else was still something he had yet to experience.
Although she was slightly taken back by his candour, she felt for him. Glad to see that the path he had taken was for the better. She could already see that the glimmer of intelligence and goodness, that she had been able to see behind the mask of ego and aggravation he had while they were in school together, was finally shining through.
"You know I think I might have you mistaken with someone I used to know" she joked, "He was this total jerk who thought he was God's gift to woman and constantly tortured me, but he can't be you. You actually seem like a pretty together guy" she continued, feigning confusion.
"That guy sounds like a real loser if you ask me" he replied.
"He really was" she returned, "Well most of the time at least, a few times here and there he bordered on normal, almost likable".
"Maybe he wasn't really that bad, just misunderstood" he ventured, smiling.
"Maybe" she returned, matching his grin.
They stared at each other, as if daring the other to continue the banter that they had shared in the past.
"Rory" he said softly, leaning over the bench that separated them, "It's really good to see you".
"You too Tristan" she returned, placing her hands on the edge of he table, unsure of where to direct her gaze.
He looked up at her, as if trying to read her thoughts.
"What" she asked, colouring slightly under his intense gaze.
"You look as beautiful as ever" he stated simply.
"Don't say that" she replied, blushing.
"Why" he returned, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets, "You are".
"How is someone supposed to respond to that?"
"Thankyou" Tristan ventured.
Rory sighed in frustration, unsure of why he said things like that and realising that there was defiantly some of the old Tristan present in this slightly improved package.
"You…" she began, but stopped when the whirling sound of a washing machine came to a halt interrupted her and the room fell silent. Tristan removed his dripping clothes and placed them in an empty basket that had been lying around.
"I'm done" he stated, as if she wasn't already aware of the fact, given she was standing a foot away.
"Looks that way" Rory replied stupidly.
Tristan smirked and headed for the door, leaving Rory standing there, slightly confused at the events of the last few minutes.
"Oh and Mary" he began, as he turned around to close the door behind him, "Don't let another four years go by".
Rory nodded and held up her hand in a gesture of goodbye, before turning her attention to her reason for coming down to this strange place in the first place.