iMeet Cute | ✓

↺ 030 : alternate endings & afterwords

this is like, totally unrelated to the rest of the book

'Yes', she says in a breath, and two months later she's eating her words out of her palm. 'I'm sorry, I thought I was over it. I'm so sorry'. she's done it again. she's hurt yet another person, only this time, it hurts, and it hurts so bad and she's wishing she could scoop up those words and digest them, but it's too late. she can't. He's heard her, he knows it was a mistake, he knows they should have waited. She wipes the tears that stream down her cheeks, but no matter how much she tries, she can't stop them from falling.

'You didn't know this would happen', he mutters in an attempt to give her some level of comfort, but it doesn't help. He can tell. his heart is breaking with every passing second, every upward heave of her chest, every heart wrenching sob that passes her rosy lips. 'it'll be fine', he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat. 'What's the use in promising something you have no control over? what happens if it doesn't turn out fine? if we wake up every single fucking day thinking about what we had, and what we lost, simply because ...'

'It's my fault, and you know it', she screams silently. It's the second time this has happened, and she doesn't want it to become a habit. she doesn't want it to repeat itself. she looks up at him, taking in the slight quiver of his soft lips, the tears in his eyes. She wants to remember his face, print this picture in her mind for the rest of eternity, because even when in tears, he is beautiful. and she knows it. and she hates herself all over again. 'I love you. I love you and I always will, but we can't—' the words die on her lips. Enough has been said.

The next few months are tortuous in more ways than one. On most days, there is no shared contact, and to the outside eye, things are fine. but no one sees the unopened voicemails and unsent texts, no one hears the cries late in the night, long after the world has fallen silent. and they yearn and hope and wish and keep their distance, him because he knows it's his only choice, and her because she's too scared to face him.

She knows better than to try.

And then comes the intervention. Their perky, butty coworker is no stranger to the tension that hangs still in the air. Sometimes it seems as though they pretend the other isn't there, but eir eagle eyes never fail to catch those forlorn glances sent when they think no one is watching. it kills em to see them both hurting, so e butts in, asking the owner to reshuffle the rotas. 'They are hurting. You have to do something'. and so she does.

He is first to take notice of the shuffle. He takes note of her allotted hours as well, if only to avoid running into her. or maybe to properly plan his ambush. Perhaps he thinks they've spent enough time apart. He certainly knows he's had his fair share of loneliness. He is willing to try again, but slower. whatever it takes to get her back. to get them back.

She's hanging up her apron when he walks in, and her attention is easily distracted. It's been weeks since their last run-in; since their last shared shift, and she has to admit that she's missed him. it didn't matter that she was the reason they were no longer on speaking terms, she missed him. she missed everything about him, from the sight of him to the smell of him, and dare she say, the taste of him. she'd just about had it with the little games. she was sick of all that distance, taunting them like her brother used to.

'My shift is over, but I guess I can still take your order.'

He smiles. He'd missed hearing that voice more than he knew. their butty co-worker slips into the back and shuts the door softly, not wanting to interrupt their moment. 'a lemonca—' His voice catches in his throat. A slew of curses pass under his breath. 'I've been thinking about you,' he finally says, 'and I know what went wrong.'

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. 'So have I. It was my fault.'

he says nothing, too enchanted by the way her lips are moving. more than anything, he wants to pull her in and kiss her, trace those marvelous curves of hers, to give her the whole fucking world, but he doesn't.

'Do you hate me?' she questions, a wave of anxiety washing over her as she does. she tucks her hands in her pockets, afraid to look him in the eyes.

'I couldn't even if I tried.'

slowly, she nods. she feels every bit of nervousness slip away. 'I'd like to give us another shot,' she whispers. The air is still as she waits for something, anything. Some indication that she isn't the only one who misses what they had.

'Are you sure you can handle that?' he asks. She can't tell if he's serious. 'Look what happened last time.'

'That was my fault. I was scared, but now, I guess ...' she sighs. 'I guess I'm ready.' Time stops for the first time in a while as he takes her hand. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to hold her. 'But please, be gentle.'

Their love is powerful, swift, eternal. It is something that just is. Something that's always just been. Something that would forever be. It's lingered, unspoken, for so long, and it needs no excess light shed on it.

He smiles. He hasn't forgotten. their lips collide in a frenzy of heartbeats, moving in a synchronization that can only be described as perfect. Squealing is heard from behind the door with the white chipped employees only sign.

✗

hey! so, i've realized i don't like this very much anymore, so i'll be taking it down ("for editing") pretty early next year. i hope the time frame is enough for anyone who's reading currently to complete it, and if you've come this far, i love you.