The Art Of Us

12 • Not Every Story Gets A Happy End

After a long night of intense kisses and sharing intimate touches that meant more than  any of them could describe into words. Things still weren't alright, and all the things that they had to talk about were still hanging like a cloud above their heads. But for now, all was well for a little while.

FP laid on his stomach, his head buried into one of the pillows, as he looked up, opening one eye to face the woman who was running her hair though his dark locks.

She was sitting straight up with her head against the wall, and though the only daylight that was shining into the old bedroom was through the tiny window above the bed, she looked like an angel, dressed in his clothes from last night before she took them off.

"You look so much better in dress shirts than I do." FP said groggily, as he pushed himself up to sit against the headboard.

"Hmm, maybe I'll keep this one." Alice hummed happily, before leaning in to kiss him.

"It has been so long since I woke up next to you." FP looked at her intensely, as if he was also trying to tell her that it had been his dream for an eternity.

Sleeping next to one another in an old, small twin size bed seemed anything but comfortable, but it had been one of the best night's sleep he had in years.

"You said things were changing... maybe they are changing for the better." Alice said quietly, her hand still playing with his hair.

"I hope so." He said, smiling a little.

"Hey... do you think the three of us could do something together anytime soon? Does Charles want that?" FP didn't want to overwhelm her, but now he knew that he had a son, he couldn't pretend that he didn't exist, nor did he want to.

"Does he even know?" He questioned, suddenly insecure about having to keep this a secret.

"He does. I've told him a little while ago. That's why he walked away." She told him, feeling embarrassed about that particular night.

"So, when I found him... he knew?" FP recalled his memory, and replayed his talk with the boy in his head.

"He did everything to keep you in Riverdale." Alice said softly.

"And I will too." She promised.

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere." FP smiled, before kissing her again.

Neither of them knew if last night had been a moment of weakness, or if it were two people reacting on feelings that had been there for years, but for the time being it didn't matter.

Just as Alice was about to push him back into the old mattress, his phone rang again. FP reached for it and sighed deeply, letting it ring until it stopped, refusing to pick up.

"What's wrong?" Alice asked him, reading the worry on his face.

"Gladys... I have ten missed calls from her." FP said, tossing his phone aside again.

He stood up from the bed and took his pants and a fresh shirt out of his suitcase, giving himself a distraction instead of letting his thoughts run free.

"Then shouldn't you call your wife back? She's probably worried." Alice said, trying to look for his eyes.

"Worried? Yeah sure. All she wants is for me to send a draft of the ending." FP scoffed, as he buttoned up his shirt.

He caught her eyes for a brief second and saw an odd mix of confusion, worry and insecurity, which made him realize that if he wanted her to understand, he needed to open up a little more than he was used to.