The End?

He couldn't find a way to calm down. It would be his first time to see her again after two years had passed, and he wasn't sure if he mustered up the courage to meet her. His grip tightening on his tie, he exhaled through his nose.

Len looked at his reflection, carefully studying his clothing. The colors she said that suit him most were the ones he picked up. He could still hear her voice somewhere in his mind, saying that he should find a matching pair of shoes to complement his top. Len didn't have a good sense in matching the colors of whatever he was wearing, so for the past years they were together, he heavily relied upon her choices.

He could feel his palms sweating. Suddenly he reached up to loosen the topmost button near his collar—to enable deep breathing. Len was nervous. When it comes to her, He always was. Like it was always a first time.

It was a simple dinner anyway, why did he have to worry a lot? It was just a friendly dinner. No, actually it wasn't. He didn't think this would be a simple meeting after all. Once upon a time, she used to be his world but it was all in the past now. Reuniting with her would require thicker skin and colder heart—in which he had put on. Yes, he needed to show her that he was doing good for all these years.

Len ran a hand through his blond hair, pushing up a wisp of golden hair that fell loose on his eyes. She always liked his messy hair, but he wouldn't put it that way. He wouldn't meet her to please her or anything, so Len was very cautious just in case he might convey a different message to her. It wasn't like they were getting back after two years of silence and hostility, anyway. Casting a last glance on how he looked like, he ran to his nightstand and picked up his keys, grabbing the small box on the corner as well. It took him an hour just to prepare for this dinner — he never cared how he looked during his past dates before, but this one wasn't strictly business.

Len's mind was plagued with his rehearsed greetings once he came face to face with her. He didn't want to sound awkward or flustered once their eyes meet, he wasn't affected by her that way anymore.

Perhaps.

Two years had done him good, right? It changed him a lot, so his feelings for her might have changed as well. As of the moment he was nervous, but besides that there was nothing else. Len locked the front door and marched to his car, ready to go.

The car door closed after him, he had fired up the ignition soon as he took his seat. It would be a fifteen minutes drive to the restaurant they mutually chose — the place where everything between them had begun.

October was almost ending when Len first saw the newly renovated restaurant at the downtown. He was on his way home that day, standing on a certain spot where the tram would stop thirty minutes later. The sky was dark and the streets were slowly illuminated by the lampposts and consecutive random stalls.

While standing on his usual spot next to the streetlight, his eyes were fixated on the lot he would usually see closed—surrounded by tall tarpaulins. His bare hands were kept inside the deep pockets of his coat, fingertips playing with the ball of thread he could pull from the overcoat. Take a look or not? he asked himself. The warm lighting and wooden tables from the restaurant looked inviting against the wintry breeze blowing on his face.

His eyes lingered at the restaurant for another moment, wondering whether they serve good warming dishes that evening. He was starving too, and his house was still thirty minutes away, cutting trip. For a moment his thoughts drifted to buying a car next year. Taking the tram was taking him too long sometimes. It was dismissed quickly though, for he was already crossing the street.

The warm air caressed his bare, cold face as he pushed his way in. The smell of caramel wafted while he walked briskly further in the restaurant to find a good place to eat his dinner. Len saw a table set right against the wall, located near the hall leading to the loo and the serving counter. The blond scurried towards the ghostly table, ignoring the murmurs of the other customers. When he finally settled down on a seat, he realized that it was already occupied. There was a purse left on the chair next to him, and before he could even leave, the owner was already standing by his side.

Her hair was caught up in a side bun, some teal locks fell loose messily on her shoulder. She was wearing a black dress that evening, a tight one which hugged her body in right places. He couldn't tear his eyes off her, she was stunning. The way her eyes widened in surprise, the coy look on her face as she looked around as though finding a different table — Len was instantly attracted with her. What he liked about her the most was her pretty nose turning pink against her dead white complexion. He guessed it was just the normal shade of her skin. Stunning Caucasian. However, her eyes were somewhat red, too. Must have cried?

Len stopped gaping when she finally spoke, asking bashfully to hand her purse back. The blond just smiled at her—she blushed, he noticed—and apologized for intruding her table. She laughed it off—oh, her laughter sounded sweet—saying, she wasn't waiting for someone anyway. Len was delighted to hear that and proposed if they could share the table then. The night went on smoothly, Len treating the beautiful stranger with a good dinner.

That dinner was followed by countless dates. By the end of the year, Len introduced the girl to his family. His girlfriend, Hatsune Miku, was liked by his family and close friends. She was a sweet talker, her sense of humor captured his parents well. His older sister liked her just as much, and he knew nothing could go wrong.

Miku was working as an editorial staff in a popular magazine. Her office was three buildings away from the company where Len was working, so they decided to live together. She stayed in Len's house as if she was his wife and treated him like a husband too. They were so in love—he was—and it could be seen through how they would look at each other with such fondness.

They started each other's mornings with kisses and pancakes, and kissed each other good night. He would drop Miku to her office (this was when he finally got a car of his own) and pick her up when she was out. They had been into different places, they had done things a husband and wife would do. Like most of the couples in the world thought of, they dreamt of living the rest of their lives together. For six years, nothing had gone wrong.

Like other couples, they always had a fight. Miku was getting tired with how their relationship was going. Ever since Len was promoted in his job, they got lesser time to spend to themselves. He even brought his job home. Len proposed marriage to her that evening, amid Miku's raging tirade, only to make the girl cry harder.

It wasn't as easy as that, she told him in between her sobs. If Len couldn't find time for both of them now, what would she expect in the future? So, her answer was no. It wasn't a breakup but she obviously turned down his proposal. Len didn't react about this anymore, he just gave her a downcast gaze. He had work waiting. Leaving the ring on their nightstand, he left his girlfriend crying in their room.

The cold war continued for as long as he could remember. She continued to fix his tie and pick his clothes. He dropped her in the office and picked her up. Nothing broke their cold silence, and none of them tried to. The next thing Len knew, he was riding his car alone. He was eating breakfast alone. The bed was all to himself. Miku left him with a note, two years ago.

I love you, but this is killing me. — was all that she said. Perhaps it was a goodbye. He loved her—he loves her—but he couldn't bring himself to mope so much about this loss. Work, he still got one. It was demanding time. Len didn't know if he'd call her and ask her back, he wanted to. But he knew that he told her about his feelings more than a million times if possible, and he had his word. His feelings wouldn't change. If she would remember it, she'd come back. He said enough. That's enough.

He sent her a text message in reply. I love you. But maybe she thought his words had lost their meaning already.

She never came back.

Len pulled over the lot. He could see the familiar warm lights refracted by the chandeliers and the cozy wooden chairs and tables. Two years had passed since the last time he went here, knowing that this place would only plague his heart with regret after letting her go. He still loves her—he was such a bad liar if he would try telling himself that he didn't love her anymore. He tried to believe that, he just told himself before leaving the house, but this place made him feel the warm fluttering sensation in his stomach. No good.

Once again, he pushed his way inside the restaurant. The scent of the air changed, but it was still warm. The soft murmurs of the people dining in were still there, though this time it was louder. And the staffs were busier. Len walked forward and saw her seated on the same table where they first met, hair fixed neatly in a tight bun. She was clad in a simple white dress, her skin still pale as porcelain jar. Her eyes were focused on her phone while sipping on her glass of juice. Len was sure that Miku was not nervous meeting him at all.

"Hey," he pulled a seat in front of her. Her nose was still pink—she was always like this whenever it was cold—he noticed. A smile forced its way on his lips.

Miku smiled, "You look good today, as always. I miss you."

He chuckled. He wouldn't reply at that, though. If they were still together, he'd give her lips a lingering kiss. God, he still loved her.

"I have a news though," she started, raising a hand to signal the waiter to hand her pre-ordered meal. "I'm getting married, Len."

His smile remained. I heard of it already, he wanted to tell her. "Congratulations."

It was pointless anyway, if he'd tell her how he felt for all these years. And the ring he wished to give to her again, remained in his pocket.

As he stared at her in the eyes, he wanted to know—he needed an honest answer. Have you forgotten what I told you? My feelings will never change.

But as he saw her face soften, as she let out a sigh, he knew she was delighted that he didn't say anything about it. Was she expecting him to object? If he would hear it from her, he could. He would. If Miku wanted for him to take her back again, just say so.

His left hand remained in his pocket, almost crushing the box of their supposed engagement ring.

He was fine.

Len just wanted to know...if she had forgotten his promise. That's all.

tumblr au: "so I know we haven't talked in like, two years, and that things ended pretty badly between us but what the fuck do you mean you're engaged to be married"

a/n: wow, failed. lol so lousy. idk if i should continue this lol. now i got a prompt so let's see what will the next story be. (i freaking want to write a daddy len wtf)

REQUEST BOX IS OPEN!

Thanks for reading!

-ivan.