A/N: Thanks to anyone who is still reading. Hope you enjoyed.

Because we only have one life
The timing and the moment
All seem so right
So would you say you're mine? (We'll be just fine)
Would you say you're mine? (We'll be just fine)

Rory stared blankly at the ceiling.

It felt like he'd been lying there for years, like his existence had ceased to be linear and instead had imploded into this, right here. Gazing blankly at the textured drywall above him, the feel of his scratchy duvet under him, with an uncomfortable lump pressing into his lower back.

He hadn't let himself cry about it until morning. The first thing he did was tear down the sign before dejectedly throwing it away. Then he'd gone straight to his room and locked the door. His dad knocked once, and after receiving no reply, had left him alone. Rory didn't sleep all night, his thoughts on a maddening loop in his head as he lay on top of his covers. When the sun began to lighten the sky to a murky grey, the sickening feeling that had been turning over in his stomach suddenly gripped his throat, and he started to quietly cry.

Rory wasn't prone to crying or self pity; he never had been. But the combined frustration from all his failures, the sting of rejection, the loss of the girl of his dreams, and just the general downer of being Rory had slammed down on him all at once.

Now he was just staring upwards while his face dried.

This is it. The end. I've finally screwed it up, just like I always knew I would.

What was he going to do now? Probably just continue pursuing his doctor dream. He still had that.

It took a massive effort, but Rory got himself up and shuffled to the adjoining bathroom to splash some water on his face, washing away the salt trails. He stared at his own face in the mirror - a big nose, and small lips. Plain hair. Plain skin.

The next thing Rory did was take down all the mementos of Amy that decorated the walls. Pictures, old drawings of Rory dressed as the Doctor, movie tickets and the like. He put them into his previously empty wastebasket and then sat back on his mattress. Staring at that now full wastebasket made him think that he'd quite like to cry again. His eyes stayed dry, to his annoyance.

A knock came on the door.

"Rory, d'you want some eggs? I made some eggs." Rory's dad wasn't an idiot; he could probably put things together for himself.

"No thanks, dad. Not hungry." His voice sounded swollen in his own ears.

"Are you sure? I made strawberry milk too. Your favorite."

Rory didn't bother reminding his father that he hadn't said such a thing for half a decade. The offer was appreciated, but Rory knew better than to be around anyone right now.

"Maybe later," Rory answered.

"Alright then. I'll leave it in the fridge for when you get hungry."

Rory doubted he'd get hungry at all today. He pulled out his phone and glanced over his work schedule. He had the night shift tonight, so he'd best get some sleep before heading in. He lay out on his bed, but he ended up staring at the ceiling again.

Another knock sounded.

"Dad, can you please leave me alone? I need to sleep," Rory said, hoping to sound irritable but just sounding pathetic instead.

The door opened, and Rory sighed. His dad was terrible at comfort.

There was a rather long pause, during which Rory prepared himself for all the usual platitudes.

"Well, that's rude."

Rory's eyes snapped to the doorway, where Amy was standing as she looked at the wastebasket. Her voice was righteously offended, but her eyes belied the tone.

"I never thought you the spiteful type." Now she seemed fully bitter, and her hands were tightly closed.

"I - I didn't want to look at it, and that was the only empty container I had." Rory wasn't totally sure if that was the entire truth.

Rory looked closely at Amy, who was wearing the same clothes as last night. He saw that her eyes looked puffy and red, like she hadn't slept all night either.

"I unpacked the bag." She said it like she was confused. Rory blinked in surprise.

"The one you kept packed for-"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"I know."

Amy crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, and Rory sat up, putting his hands on his knees.

"I thought he was coming back this time, Rory," she said. Her voice sounded strangely choked. Once again, Rory had to keep his shock in check. "I really thought he was going to come back for me." Rory could see her face begin twist in grief. It was a sharper pain than anything he'd ever felt. Until now he'd never truly understood the word compassion. Even though every cell of his body was screaming at him to rush over to Amy and hug her for all he was worth, he held back. He knew better than to give Amy something that she hadn't asked for, especially now.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she ducked her head, putting the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. "Hug me, you idiot!" she hiccuped loudly.

Rory took no more convincing, and quickly wrapped her up in his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder, and all Rory could think that this was worse than seeing her run away. She cried into his shoulder for a few more minutes while he rocked her back and forth, surprised to find that he had to swallow back his own tears. It was just that kind of day. Right here, in this moment, he wanted to meet the Doctor again, just so that he could punch the alien (or whatever he was) in the face. Amy didn't deserve this.

"Rory?" she said after a while.

"Yes?"

"You're hurting me."

Rory realized he was holding her so tightly that his muscles were aching, and he quickly let go. Amy wiped at her eyes, smearing makeup everywhere. She glanced into her reflection through the open door to the bathroom.

"Not my finest moment," she said with a laugh that was thick and sloppy. Rory got her some tissues and waited until she'd cleaned her face up, and then sat her on his bed. He sat next to her, not knowing what to expect. When Amy was completely and totally composed, she spoke up.

"Oh, I almost forgot." She reached into her pocket, and pulled out - the ring?

Rory stared at it, more bewildered than he ever had been in his life.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, pointing at it. He was honestly surprised his mouth was still working. Amy rolled her eyes.

"Would you do the honours?" she said, tucking the ring into his palm, and the holding her hand out, fingers extended with feminine grace. Rory balked.

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly, looking at the flawless, mannequin-like hand in front of him.

"Not really," Amy answered.

Rory would take what he could get. He slipped the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit, and the band suited her well.

"Wow. That just happened," Amy said. She looked at her ring finger like it was a calculus equation.

"I love you, Amy."

Amy kissed him, and Rory kissed back. It was a moment Rory wanted to live in. When they finally pulled apart, Rory hugged her briefly before finding the box the ring went in.

"Here, let's keep it in here." The phrase because you'll probably lose it otherwise didn't need to be said. Amy's room was haphazard and she lost things often. Rory, on the other hand, was meticulous in nature and rarely lost anything. Rory was terrified that she'd lose the ring and then use that as an excuse to back out, irrational though it might be.

"Yeah, that's probably smart," Amy admitted, and slipped the ring off and tucked it snugly into the box.

She hugged him again. Rory saw no reason to object. He took care not to grip her as tightly as last time, but still held her snugly to himself, all too aware that he had no guarantee she would stay.

"Thanks for being there," she whispered.

"Always."