Note: This is weird. I had to do something with the song "You'd Be Surprised" by Idina Menzel, so I wrote this (rather, I wrote the story that this came from). In brackets are the lyrics. Uh, they're in the bathroom at a bar.
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"Oh." My hand rises to cover my mouth, and I've convinced myself so thoroughly that she wasn't in the city that I almost believe she's a figment of my imagination; that she'll vanish as soon as I look away. I see her eyes widen in recognition as she notices me standing there, and our eyes meet in the glass before I close mine for a second to prepare myself, and then turn around.
(We'd make up time for all that's disappeared.)
Obviously, she's still there when I open my eyes, and I'm so amazed to see her that for a few minutes I can do nothing but repeat the process from moments before, noticing every detail about her appearance that has changed in the past three years. She looks incredible, and I bring my eyes to meet hers, telling her, "You look good," around a lump in my throat. I smile shakily as she watches me with trepidation, and then I see that her eyes are filled with tears and she's trembling.
My smile fades to concern, and I wait for her to speak. She opens her mouth, then closes it; raises her hand toward me and then turns to the side and shakes her head, tears beginning to stream down her face.
(And I-- I'd hold you like I never could.)
I move toward her and tentatively take her into my arms, and I feel a pang as she turns her head against my shoulder and tries to stop her tears.
"Oh, sweetie."
She takes a shaky breath and then pushes away from me, glaring tearfully in my general direction. "What are you doing?"
My brow furrows and I watch her for a second without speaking. She's looking at the floor now, and twisting her hands together. She sniffles and then raises her gaze back to mine, looking pitiful and ridiculously adorable. Her eyes are wide and forlorn, and her lower lip trembles.
"Why don't you hate me?"
(You'd be surprised, my life is often sweet.
You'd be surprised; it's you who brings me peace.)
"Life is far too short," I respond finally, my voice soft. "You said that. Remember?" I move forward again and take her hands, smiling at her. "It's been a long time."
She looks at me in amazement, and her tears have stopped now. She shakes her head slowly from side to side and then tugs her hands away and shakes her head once, firmly.
"No. You can't just... do that! Just act like nothing happened, like I didn't—" She breaks off.
(And for some unearthly reason it takes losing you to see;
If you were here, I'd know exactly what you'd need.)
I'm not smiling any longer, and I speak carefully.
"No, you did. And it happened. And we should go get dinner, and you can tell me why you left, why I haven't heard from you in three years. But three years is a long time… so much has happened, and so much has changed, and--" I raise my hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I've missed you so much. If you're going to leave again, it won't be because I chased you away."
She steps toward me, shaking her head a little frantically. "No, you didn't-- it wasn't--" She stops and drives her hands back through her hair in frustration as someone pushes open the door and passes us to enter the stall.
"Let's get out of here."