His heart was heavy as he stepped into the elevator, relieved that it took virtually no time at all to arrive on the lobby floor. He quietly exited, even more grateful when he saw no sign of Morrie, the doorman. The last thing he wanted to do was to engage in conversation; one that would inevitably lead to questions about the Snow Ball.
The only thing he wanted to do was to go to his comfortable yet lonely home and crawl into bed. At least alone in his bedroom he could dream of what could have been, what might have been and what he wanted so much to have been.
But first he had to make it there.
When he climbed into his car, he was instantly reminded of her. The scent of her was everywhere, filling his senses as though her angelic presence was still there with him. Her scent remained faint yet powerful as he pulled out onto the street and turned right, starting the well-worn journey to his home.
But she was with him in other ways too, not only in his mind. She was always there in his heart even when he did not want her to be (like now, or perhaps ever again). The thought was unfathomable; for there had never been a moment since he first laid eyes on her that he did not want her. But that was before she'd hurt him deeper than she could ever imagine.
She'd called him an actor.
Once again, tears threatened to fall, but this time he didn't care. He let them do what nature intended. He inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain that had become so familiar as of late.
Damn.
Did she really think so little of him that she would even suggest that he was putting on an act for Maris' friends? Sure, he'd gone out of his way at parties and gatherings to make himself seem superior; especially if if meant being better at something than Frasier. But with Niles and Frasier it was mutual. Sibling rivalry. And although it drove their father up the wall, it was simply who they were and who they would always be.
The world might tilt on its axis if Niles and Frasier were ever to attend an event in Seattle without flaunting their wealth, popularity and prestige. It just wouldn't happen. So what if they were thought to be pretentious snobs who, to some, thought they were the greatest additions to Seattle since the Space Needle? Niles certainly didn't care.
But now he realized that he did care. He cared deeply. For if he didn't care, he wouldn't be in such a wretched state.
Around everyone else, Niles felt the pressure to be the best no matter what the cost. He lived for prestige and the pride of his ethics. But at the Snow Ball, dancing in Daphne's arms, everything was different. When he was with Daphne he could be himself. They'd known each other for almost three years and in that all too brief time, they'd become friends. Good friends. Dare he hope, best friends.
He felt as though he could tell her anything. Anything at all.
And it only took a few minutes for it all to wash away, like waves on the shores of Puget Sound.
Eternally grateful when he arrived at his building, he shut off the ending and made his way inside. And it was when he caught a glimpse of his antique clock that he realized how late it was. In his haste to leave Daphne's side, he'd jumped into his care, intending on heading straight home.
It was now almost four hours later.