Distance

Flynn liked the city best in the late mornings - when the rush had burned off and everything felt just slightly worn in. He'd take his time walking nowhere in particular, coffee in hand, jacket open even when the wind bit.

He was in between gigs again. Not that he minded. He liked the space between things. The freedom to float.

Lately, though, it didn't feel as light.
Flynn noticed it in the quiet ways.

Meg still showed up. Still answered his texts - eventually. Still said yes when he asked if she wanted to hang out. But lately, her yeses came slower. Her smiles didn't quite reach her eyes.

She didn't stay as long.
Didn't laugh as loud.
Didn't look at him the way she used to.

It started - he was pretty sure - after that Serious Talk with Esme. The kind that came with lattes and loaded silences. Meg came back from it different. Not angry. Just… quieter. Like she was somewhere else, someplace he couldn't see.

When he asked what they'd talked about, she'd shrugged. "Nothing scandalous. Sorry to disappoint."

And he'd let it go. That was how they worked.

But a few days later, they were sitting at some café neither of them could afford but always ended up in. Meg was staring into the distance, fingers twitching restlessly on a napkin. Flynn reached into his bag without thinking and set a pen on the table beside her, sliding it gently into her orbit.

She didn't even look. Just picked it up, started sketching. Quick, instinctive lines - like her hand remembered something her heart hadn't given permission for. She didn't notice him watching.

Didn't notice that he'd known, somehow, that she'd need it.

He watched her for a while. The way she leaned in, fully absorbed. The way her face softened - not happy, but present.

Then she blinked, looked down at what she'd drawn like it belonged to someone else. Her jaw tightened. She crumpled the napkin and shoved it into her bag before he could say anything.

Flynn leaned back on the park bench, hands in his coat pockets, teeth picking at a thumbnail. He watched her from the corner of his eye. Meg sat beside him like she always had, but something in her posture felt farther away.

He didn't know what was going on in her head. He never really had.

But he knew what it felt like when someone started sketching the outline of a life that didn't include you.

Not because they were cruel. Just because they were going.

He shoved his hands deeper into his coat. "So," he said, casual, easy, like none of it mattered, "did Esme finally talk you into becoming a productive member of society?"

Meg blinked. "What?"

He smirked. "You're different lately. Thought maybe she got to you."

She didn't answer right away. Just turned her gaze to the river, the sunlight glancing off the water and catching gold in her hair.

"Maybe," she said softly. "I don't know. I just… I needed something."

Flynn's smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but didn't quite settle. He nudged her shoulder. "You've already got something. Me. Terrible ideas. Questionable moral compass. What more could a girl want?"

Meg let out a breath of laughter - just air, no warmth.

"That's the problem, isn't it?"

And that-
That stuck.

Flynn glanced at her, but she wasn't looking at him anymore.

He didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know how to fix something when he didn't know what was breaking.

So he let the silence stretch between them, long and thin and fragile.

The wind stirred the trees above. Somewhere behind them, a dog barked and traffic hissed past. The city moved on, oblivious.

But Flynn knew something had shifted. Just a little. Just enough.
He couldn't name it.

But he felt it all the same.

Author's Note:

A little check-in with Flynn, as promised. He's such a sweetheart and I really wish Meg was paying more attention.

The thing with writing a story in your head for a decade is that you do a lot of it on the commute, headphones on. So many of the chapters of this fic and the characters are deeply tied to songs that I've collected and stored away on a massive playlist. None of these chapters are songfics (although I do have a good story about one song and a particular chapter much later), but I might pop in a 'recommended listening' where a particular song has inspired of just accompanied me in the development of a moment. Here's one for this chapter:

Recommend Listening: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder. This song just sounds like Flynn for me, especially the safety net he is for Meg. I think it's 10 years old this year, so pretty fitting with me finally putting this fic on the page.

Anyway - thank you for indulging me! Speaking of which, I'm excited to upload the next chapter. It was the first one where I got to write Meg in all her dry, unimpressed glory. So you can expect less of her wistful drifting and more of the sly smiles and cutting wit. Can't wait!

As always - thank you for being here.

CB