So I've been terrible and let some prompts just sit for three months, but I'm back! For a bit anyway! With hopefully three little stories tonight! This one's on Alone Together by Fall Out Boy, as requested by Erraticmess. Not gonna lie, I read the lyrics and ran off with an idea before I even listened to the song. So if the story doesn't match...that's why. Enjoy!
She was nineteen and he was far too old but somehow they just…clicked. She was a waitress, and he was just passing through, but in him she found someone who believed in her. And in her, he found someone who would still believe in him.
And so he stayed—a full week longer than he'd planned; it was practically unheard of. But he stayed and every morning he'd drag himself to her diner for a cup of coffee, and stay until the end of her shift, when he'd buy her a slice of banana cream pie and then steal most of it.
And they talked. They talked and they talked and he learned that she thought she would never leave that town and everyone thought the same. She learned that he was running; running all the time, but from what he wouldn't—couldn't—say. And that was alright. Because he told her she would be great. And she told him that he already was.
And so the day came when he knew it was time to go; he'd stayed too long, become too attached, and if he didn't do it now, oh, it would hurt. It would hurt when he disappointed her, when she hated him. When she wanted him out of her life.
But just as he was starting the truck, he heard the thump of something land in the bed, and while he was turning to look and see whether something had dropped out of his decrepit vehicle, the door opened and one Rose Tyler—still clad in her diner uniform—climbed in and grinned at him. "Got room for one more?"
Two years and three countries later, everything he'd feared was coming true. He'd said some things, done some things, and she was done. She was done and she was leaving him, and oh, God, it hurt so much more than he thought it would. It was like trying to breathe but there was nothing but fire but he pulled it into his lungs anyway just to try and fill the void.
He'd known it was stupid when he'd done it. He'd known it would hurt her. But he loved her and it scared him and he needed to prove to himself that he didn't care, that he didn't need her the way he so obviously did. And all he managed to do was make her leave and he was breaking, God, this was going to be the end and—
He had to fix it.
So he forced his old truck into life, and started the longest, loneliest trip of his life. Back down roads he'd known with her, through towns they stayed in. He drove like a mad man, broke more laws than usual. He made a drive that should have taken two weeks in one, and he was going to have to spend a good chunk of his savings on speeding tickets.
But she was there, he could see her, back in that diner where it had all started. Back in the place where no one believed in her and where her beautiful soul was caged and stifled. He stayed across the street and stared through the window. So many miles, so many hours, and he had nothing to say. Part of him hoped she'd turn and see him and beckon him in and they'd share a slice of banana cream pie and all would be as it was but the majority of him knew he had to fix this he had to apologize he had to—
She turned. Stared at him for a moment. Then turned away again.
He deflated. She would never forgive him, she would never come back into his life and there was nothing he could do—
He sat in his truck for hours, staring at the darkening sky.
A thud. Slow steps. The door opened. A slow, still slightly distrusting, but still there, smile. "Got room for one more?"
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Until next time!