Finally

I've grown tired of being so alone
I feel like me and you could grow old
Just passing time like love notes I've been holding out

For someone, for some love

Now we can dance, we can dance
Because I've found you finally
Now at last we can sing

We can sing what I've held inside me

All this time you've been mine
You just didn't know 'til that night
When I let you find me

Now we can dance, finally

- Niykee Heaton (Finally)

There used to be a time when she didn't mind being alone.

Before.

In fact, as strange as it is to think after the fact, she used to like it.

Outside, a car door slammed, effectively startling her.

The silence used to be welcoming, not deafening.

The quiet used to be solitude, not loneliness.

Before, it was a time when she used those still hours to reset, to blend back into the things that made her her. The layers of makeup and bravado would melt away, swept clean by a hot shower and zealous use of shampoo and soap. She'd sing loudly as whatever character she portrayed that day relinquished its hold on her. After, when she looked in the mirror, it was bare faced with naked eyes that glowed.

There was no one around to see her vulnerability, to see her stripped down to her core.

Her smile was her own.

Before, the reticence enveloped her, caressing her skin with the featherest of touches as she breathed back into her own body, her own mind. It wrapped around her like a velveteen blanket, soothing her into her own solitude.

Now the sound of the car door slamming set her on edge, because her silence was darker than it had ever been.

She arched her back and took a deep breath, trying to remember before.

She could read for those unmoving hours. Study. Write. Create within the delicate expanse of her mind, connecting and decompressing from whatever adventure she'd been on that day.

Yes, the silence used to be a relief, not a burden.

But time moves in strange ways, warping around life without any pattern or prediction.

It changes things.

It changes perspective.

It changes events.

It changed her.

She wondered now, if she listened hard enough, could she hear footsteps approaching the door? Surely not.

Ever since the disease, the quiet hurt.

It was desolation, barren from the things that used to make it beautiful. The lack of voices, of socialization, paralyzed her. It physically hurt to have nothing vibrating the inside her ear drums. She knew most others felt the same way.

She filled the silence with artificial sound. The fan constantly blew. Music blared through speakers. TV shows and movies were played louder than necessary.

Her showers became about deprivation, not restoration. The heat of the water sensitized her skin painfully. Though, at least it created a problem she could control.

Her daydreams became her best friends. Became her solace. The only things that kept her rooted in reality, though they were the categorically the opposite of that.

Most of them included him. Her mind growing around their future; about when this would all be over. When they would reunite and be joyful, together.

When, if there was silence again, it would be welcomed the way it once was. It would be peace. It would be happiness.

She hadn't heard footsteps, she was sure. But now she thought she heard a knock on the door.

She imagined them laying on the beach, or by a pool. She imagined them in the snow and in the sunshine. She imagined them in his bedroom, in passion. She imagined attending weddings and parties togehter. She imagined meeting his hometown friends. She imagined him holding her, curved around her like a spoon, stroking her hair and murmuring loving words.

She imagined it all.

Because that was all she had time for. Time to fill the blank spaces in her vision. Time to believe that it could happen, that it was out there. That it was coming.

Those fantasies were what kept her sane through the isolation.

And finally.

Finally.

Finally, after would become before.

Finally, one of those fantasies would be saturated in reality. Painted clearly as day in front of her. Because today was the day she got to see him.

The silence had been suffocating for so long, overwhelming for such a vast stretch of time that her nerves felt ferally alive. She was buzzing with an energy she hadn't felt in eons, or at least that's what it felt like. She might've identified it as anxiety if she hadn't been alone for so long.

Now, she classified it as excitement.

Excitement that made her sick to her stomach, albeit, but excitement nonetheless.

She drummed her fingers against her knee, feeling sweat gather in patches across her back. Her eyes darted toward the mirror for the hundredth time, checking her foundation was still flawless, that her mascara hadn't started to bleed.

Had someone knocked on the door? She wasn't entirely sure.

She knew he wouldn't care if she was wearing makeup, not really. But she'd had a couple of breakouts that morning, she didn't want their first reunion to be when she was wondering about if he was staring at the angry blemish beneath her mouth or if he just wanted to kiss her lips. She liked being pretty, and she hadn't felt that in the past several months.

There was another knock.

An involuntary gasp forced its way through her diaphragm. That was definitely a knock.

The car door slam.

The whisper of footsteps.

The rap of knuckles on the front door. Again.

Was she ready for this?

She supposed it was time to find out.

Finally.

She edged herself off the stool, her skin sticking because of the heat. And her sweat.

She forced herself to breathe normally but felt her heart hammering away in her chest anyway, though she could no longer hear it. All she heard was inert buzzing, the silence so loud that it was hard to focus.

She wrapped her clammy hand around the doorknob. It felt abruptly cold under her hand.

But the coldness settled her briefly, grounding her in a way she didn't expect. She didn't have to force herself to breathe for a moment.

With a click and creak that she didn't hear, the door opened and her vision flooded with the culmination of her fantasies of him converging into a single manifestation.

His beard was clipped short, neatly trimmed to his face in a way that could only be described as devastatingly attractive. His hair was short and his lovely eyes stared back her, unchanged from the last time she'd seen them.

His eyes danced with something she didn't have the bandwidth to recognize in the moment, his lips pulled up at the corners into a smile.

"Hey," he said, the specific sound of his voice finally breaking the silence that had consumed her.

Suddenly she heard the distant gales of wind in the trees behind him. Maybe a bird chirping. A dog barking. Her heart slammed excitedly against her chest. Blood rushed through her veins.

"Um," her voice sounded alien to her, trying to rise above the orchestra of sound she now heard. "Hi."

His smile grew into a grin and she knew he was about to mock her. The familiarity of the action soothed the ambient noise and she felt herself snap back into place all at once.

"Shut up," she snapped quickly, before his mischievous words could escape. "Whatever you're going to say, shut up."

He laughed, and it sounded like chimes, despite the deep harth of its timbre. The orchestra of sound was gone now. It was only them. Silence again.

She wanted to sway, to fall under his spell without any further thought. But she didn't, because then he certainly would mock her.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he said, but the glint in his eyes told another story. "Other than to comment on how pretty you look."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it would be a trigger for both of them, and she wasn't quite ready for that. One step at a time.

Still, being here with him, it felt like nothing had changed. Like after was before.

"Stop it."

"I'm serious," he said, his tone rich and comforting. "You look even more beautiful than I remember."

His words melted her despite her effort not to let them. Whenever he said unexpected sincere things like that she couldn't help herself. It often made her tongue tied. She usually had the sense to pretend it didn't affect her. But, beneath that, it was everything.

The truthfulness of his tone was hard to deny, because he so rarely gave anyone such compliments. Coming from anyone else she wouldn't let it make her heart race, knowing it could be a game. But it wasn't from him. From him it meant the world, because he did mean it.

The only problem was he knew it. Which made his mischievous grin get impossibly bigger.

"You. . ." She was at a loss for words, which is what he'd wanted. It'd been his intention all along.

"Yes?" he said, his voice clear as a bell.

This time she did roll her eyes, and his grin quickly fell. He had his own undoings afterall. It was never intentional, but she knew it drove him crazy. His eyes darted to her lips and it was in that instant she knew. They both did.

She could hear his breath, more shallow and nervous than she'd noticed before. She also could see his hands were hiding something behind his back. Pastel pink petals gleamed in the sunlight and her breath caught again. He'd brought her flowers. She knew they'd be roses.

"Jesus," she breathed as he stared at her, suddenly immobilized. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

He unfroze and in one smooth motion his grin resurfaced and his eyes met hers, leaning in breathtakingly close to her. He pressed his lips delicately but firmly against hers. They both felt relief flood into their blood.

It felt like nothing had changed. Like the last several months hadn't happened. Whatever nervousness she'd felt had vanished, and all that mattered was that moment.

They still didn't know what lay ahead. What mysteries these strange times would bring them.

But right then, it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that he'd come for her. He'd found her, amongst all the chaos and noise. Despite everything, they were together again. Even if it was temporary.

Between the two of them it had always been so unclear. Their feelings had always been sacrificed to laughter or sex, so it was so hard to tell where either of them stood. Had their relationship been a game? Had it been more? Were they just friends?

But this moment had finally proved the sincerity of it. The joy she felt seeing him reflected in his eyes made her glow. He felt it too, unspoken or otherwise. He wanted her. He probably loved her. She probably loved him. It was too early to tell, but it was coming. They both knew it. And they were ready to jump and let the distance between him dissipate.

He pulled away slowly, both of them blinking dazedly, gazing at the other with undreable expressions.

"Hi," she breathed again, because it was what she always said. In fact, she'd once explained how she was a 'hi' person and he was a 'hey' person, and that was why they worked so well.

He grinned, obviously remembering.

"Hey," he replied, knowing it would give him her favorite smile. She didn't disappoint.

She wanted to say it, but it got stuck in her throat. It was strange, staring into the eyes of someone you cared about so much but hadn't seen in so long. She felt like she was searching for something she didn't know how to find. It felt like the heat of his hands on her hips should've been enough, or the committed look in his eyes.

But they were both looking for more. Both trying to peer into the bottom of the other's soul, to pierce the thin veil that still separated them.

They hadn't gotten there yet, but they were close.

She cleared her throat. "Did you, um, want to come in?"

He laughed, and it was deep and low in his throat, and the sound of it did funny things to her body.

"I'd love to."

She nodded, and stepped aside, feeling oddly off balance. Maybe it'd been his use of the word 'love' so casually.

When he turned to look at her, his expression was so sincere she just about lost it.

"I missed you," she said, the words impossible to keep back any longer.

She saw it in his eyes, the softening of his brow, life echoing into the thin lines of his face. He'd never been good with words. A point of contention for her, one he never seemed to realize. But it didn't matter, because his actions always spoke louder than words. His words never told her how much he meant to her.

If they did, they would be underwhelming, because his remembrance of how she liked her coffee, her favorite scrunchie and the names and characteristics of every one of her friends told her so much more.

"I missed you too," he said, looking at her in a way so intense she thought she might faint. He meant it, and he knew she needed to hear it right then.

She knew, definitively, in that moment that the silence had retreated and reconvened. But it didn't feel scary anymore. It didn't feel deafening or all consuming. It felt normal. It felt comfortable. Better than that, it felt good.

Because now she was sharing it again, with someone she cared so much about. With this man that made her world spin and her heart race.

Finally, the silence was quiet again.

After had become before.

GREETINGS!

Tbh, never thought I'd be back on fanfiction, I haven't written anything good in ages, but here we are.

This is my quarantine manifestation of some moment between Cammie and Zach in the future with very vague surroundings that don't make a whole lot of sense in their universe, but in ours im sure everyone can relate at least a little bit.

To anyone reading this (espeically loyal, lovely followers): I hope you all are doing ok, and that maybe this Zammie oneshot brings you a little bit of relief through the power of art and writing, I know creating it for me unburdened some of the terrible stress brought on by these bizarre times.

A lot of my own heart and emotion went into this, so if you have any thoughts at all, I'd love to hear 'em.

Stay safe :)