A Bar, a Napkin, and a Homeless Guy
A/N: okay, sucky chapter .. i know. so sorry .. but i just cant write anymro esigh anyways .. i'll try to update faster. reviews please! i'll give you a cookie shows cookie to everyone
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"Hello? Who's this?" Buffy froze. What should she say? Hi was too insignificant, but I love you was to strong. Wait, I love you?, where the hell did that come from. Buffy shook her head; this is Angel you're talking to, not Riley.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" Shake out of it Summers, before he hangs up.
"Angel?" She asked, her voice small. She heard a gasp on the other line.
"Buffy?"
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Ten years ago, she had her whole life planned out, you know? Graduate, go to college, get married, because Mrs. Angel O'Connor. It was simple, and what she wanted. But then that stupid acceptance letter to Paris came. She didn't even know that he had applied. He had said that he didn't tell her because the chance of him getting accepted was one in a million. Apparently, he was one of the ones.
Fast forward ten years, and she's sitting at a bar, waiting for Angel. She shouldn't be here; it was too date-like for her comfort. But it wasn't like she still had feelings for Angel right? She was just here to see a friend she hadn't seen in ten years. So then why did she feel like a nervous school-girl on her first date? Buffy got up, signaling for a check.
"Leaving already ma'am?" The bartender asked.
Buffy paused, if she left now, there would be no turning back. She looked at the bartender. She had promised Angel that she would be here, but she couldn't deal with him. Not before she sorted out her feelings. She nodded.
"Can you do me a favor though?" She asked, fiddling with her coat.
"Sure ma'am."
Buffy leaned forward, "Will you please give this note to a man? He's about six foot, brunette, goes by the name Angel." She thrust a folded napkin into his hands.
"Sure." Buffy smiled, "Thank you." Lifting her head up high, she left. It wasn't until she reached her flat that the tears began to fall.
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Angel walked into the bar looking around. Not spotting Buffy, he took a seat. Buffy. He closed his eyes at her name. He hadn't seen her since he left for Paris ten years ago. Angel sighed, trying to remember her voice. It sounded the same, sadder, older, but still the same old voice he had once loved.
"Excuse me, sir?" Angel looked up, at the bartender. "Is your name Angel?"
"Yes, it is," Angel answered, curious as to how the bartender knew his name.
"A lady asked me to give you this." The bartender said, handing Angel a folded napkin. Angel's brow furrowed as he accepted the napkin. He unfolded it, reading the note inside. His breath hitched slightly. He looked back up at the bartender.
"When did she leave?" Angel asked, desperately trying to keep his composure.
"About fifteen minutes ago." Angel cursed, stuffing the napkin into his jacket. He drew out two dollars and threw them on the table before taking off. He stood on the street, looking around. Angel started walking, not paying attention to where he was going, just walking.
Reaching a trash can, Angel reached for the napkin. Without glancing at it, he threw it away, and continued on walking. He ignored the people around him, and continued on walking. Anything to keep his mind off the pain. Anything.
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A homeless man picked through a trashcan on Main Street. The things that people threw away were unbelievable. One time, he had found a Rolex watch. The man looked around; he spotted a napkin with writing on it. He took it out slowly, and unfolded it.
It read: Angel, I'm sorry I had to leave but I couldn't … can't deal with seeing you again. I don't know what it is … but I just can't do it. I'm sorry; I guess our time together is up. Maybe another time, Buffy.
tbc.