Disclaimer: I don't own The MBS

Epilogue

(Constance's POV)

"So, these are filled with poems you've written?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that, I mean yes of course they were, but I was used to burying my feelings not sharing them. So how was I supposed to say that besides being poems I'd written they were written mostly about him? So I just frowned before giving a hesitant nod.

Sticky just nodded too before reaching to adjust his glasses for the millionth time. I guess he seemed nervous too… I crossed my arms. Why was this so difficult anyway? I thought if he ever kind of felt the way I did all my problems would be over. Yet now, facing this, it almost seemed like all the worst problems were just beginning…? Or maybe that was just the crummy lump in my throat talking?

"May I?" He asked slowly as he looked up to meet my eyes with his. Blue on brown. "Sure George Washington, knock yourself out, I don't care."

Though admittedly that last part didn't really feel all that true. In fact I felt about close to passing out as I watched him slowly flip open a notebook and start reading a page. A page that had my deepest hidden feelings scribbled out in ink. Suddenly I realized just how much I did care. How much I wanted to grab the book right out of his hands. But none of that mattered since I knew I couldn't. Instead I just sat there bracing my racing heart on the frown that I felt cutting deeper by the second. After what felt like forever he slowly looked up from my notebook and back over to me. It was looking like he'd never saw me before in his entire life.

"You really wrote this?" He questioned.

I looked down not bothering to hide the slight annoyance that flickered in me at that comment. "Is it that hard to believe?"

He smiled nervously. "No, I'm sorry I didn't mean it that way. It's just…" Then he sighed as if he was searching for the right words. "You…" He pushed his glasses slowly up the bridge of his nose as his eyes locked on me. "You never showed anyone this side of you, right?"

I bit my lip harder before nodding slowly. "I wasn't sure anyone wanted to see it…"

"I wanted to see it Constance…" He looked down and then back up at me. "If...um if I had maybe this wouldn't have taken nearly as long as it did…"

"It's okay…" I mumbled as I fiddled with my fingernails.

"But it's still hard on you isn't it? To show me things I mean."

I sucked in a deep breath before letting it go gently. "Okay fine, you got me George Washington, I'm no good with feelings that aren't covered in ink. That's just another problem with me right…?"

He shook his head as he reached across the table and held my hand suddenly. "No, that's not, but the way you view yourself is. It's a bad habit that needs to be broken for sure."

I looked up at him slowly trying not to think about how hot my cheeks suddenly felt. "But Constance, we can work on it together, right?" He touched the side of his glasses in a quick nervous gesture. "Every problem has a solution, that's just logical."

Logical? Logic? Just the sound of the words seemed foreign to me. I dealt in emotion, and knew first hand how often it didn't make any logical sense. So maybe I should have scoffed at him thinking logic could help at all. But the thing is...well I didn't. Instead I nodded as I felt his hand gently squeeze my own tighter. Because a part of me wanted to believe that if Sticky was going to be the one helping me, I could do anything at all. That was another good example of emotion over logic, but all the same… Well, I still wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that we could figure a way to bring out the best in each other.

So I was...well I was willing to try.

After a few more moments of awkward silence I finally spoke up. "Do you remember that time last year when Kate forced us to bake together?"

He thought for a second before smiling suddenly. "And I added salt in the place of sugar?"

I nodded a little smugly before turning a few pages in the notebook in front of him. "It was good inspiration anyway."

He looked wordlessly down at the page until he slowly started to read it aloud. "Of Sticky pie and the hope of a friendship that will never die. Worst of all, it's not friendship but a fall. And since there is no gain in this pain, I've decided to forget I ever knew him at all. But I digress that he's hard to sift away with the rest. If I could choose, I'd reuse my one chance at falling in love. But because you were my first and only, I'll just shut up and deal with all this boloney."

Looking up at me he smiled softly and I finally felt like returning it. "Sometimes I like to go back to the basics of style. I think the three year old me had a way of saying things that you miss if you add too much mushy lingo."

He laughed. "Maybe. Well, I think I like it both ways." It was right then that I saw a glint in his eyes that probably meant he was about as happy as he'd ever been. The fact that it was all because of me though was a little hard to swallow. But that's just what it seemed like. In fact he looked like he wanted to say something else, but maybe the words were too hard to find. Maybe the truth was we both had a lot we still needed to say. A lot that was left in our story. But maybe I was wrong, maybe the hardest parts really were over now?

That was something I couldn't stop myself from thinking about for the rest of the day. And if it was true...then what was next…?

(Sticky's POV)

My old childhood bedroom was covered in a thick layer of dust. I could still remember when I moved away from my parent's house and into an apartment across Stonetown. I wanted to be more mature and independent, but honestly leaving Mr. Benedict's house and everyone that lived in it was hard. I still spent more time there than anywhere else, but I guess it was just the principle.

But now I was back, well just for one more night anyway. I was kneeling down at my old window because everything was different now wasn't it? Because life had led me to being almost the last of my friends and coworkers to still be single. And that was just so it could lead me to falling in love with the one friend I thought I could hardly stand growing up. She was younger than me but more mature than most people twice her age. And deeper than anyone I'd ever met before.

But she was also more emotional than anyone else ever could be. And I guessed that a life with her would amount to a collection of all the best and worst moments of my childhood. I figured she'd always be the same old Constance in all the ways that mattered most. But that was okay. In fact, I don't think I could have loved her if she had been any other way. Because, I'd learned something important in the last few months. But it wasn't really the time we'd spent dating that convinced me of how I felt about her. No I think it was everything that must have come before…

So with a feeling of finality, of one thing ending and another beginning, I placed my flashlight against the glass pane and started flipping the switch on and off in a rhythm I hoped she'd understand. With the other hand I reached to straighten my glasses as I felt my heart beating out the same coded message that was being carried by my blinking light. I just hoped she was still awake, that she'd see it and understand. That all those old lessons in Morse code I'd taught her were still somewhere in her memory. Because I needed her to remember just this one last time…

I half expected her bedroom light to come on, but instead nothing happened. Nothing happened even though I kept repeating a message I hoped no one else was decoding. I could only imagine Kate or Reynie picking up on it… Just the thought made my face turn red in the dim light. But I kept at it like a faithful sentry. But after a solid fifteen minutes I lowered the light and felt my body slump a little. Then giving into the old urge I pulled off my glasses and started polishing them against my sweater. I guessed she hadn't seen it, that she was asleep, but one part of me just wondered if she was ignoring my question.

I was about to give up and leave the dusty old room when a sudden flashlight beam blinded me. Then it changed to a series of blinks. Long and short. Long and short. It was a code. But more than that it was an answer. It was the answer...

"Did you just ask me to marry you or mow the lawn?

Yes to the first, no to the second.

Sincerely, Constance Contraire"

FIN

Thank you guys so much for sticking with me and reading until the end, I hope you enjoyed it! Anyway, be on the look out for any MBS one shots or short stories I might do sometime in the future. Thanks again! :D