𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒

ʚ𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕ɞ

Meeting Y/n was nothing more than pure coincidence. Two people crossing paths in a small town, nothing special about that, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet stood here, at the end of her drive, I wonder. How did a chance encounter become a game of fate?

The fact is irrefutable. There's absolutely no question, no misjudgment, no confusion, it's her. The girl I used to see walk down the street, embracing the delicacy of the rain and relishing in the feeling of each drop hitting her skin.

The girl who I never desired to meet, nor thought I'd ever get the chance to. The girl who I've grown accustomed to being on my mind as regularly as I think to breathe.

Y/n.

"This is your house?"

The question is unnecessary in my mind, the idea of Y/n being the mystery girl is solidified and undeniable.

But she, like me moments ago, has no idea that I had seen her before, on multiple occasions before our paths ever truly crossed. That alone is a story worth telling, but I won't be telling it. Not yet.

"Uh yeah this is my house, why?" The confusion lacing her tone is completely valid, my question was threaded with disbelief as if the thought of her living here was unbelievable. Unexpected yes, unbelievable, no.

"Sorry, I just thought you lived further away that's all." My weak defence seems to convince her as she just nods slowly before turning to her door.

She slides the key in slowly, each calculated click of the lock fills the silence in the air.

As her hand completes the final twist, she hesitates. Her head turns to glance at me over her shoulder, lips parting willing her unsure words to escape.

"Do you want to come in?"

__

The pale walls are littered with photos of a small girl and her parents. It doesn't take a genius to know the girl is Y/n, those eyes are burned into my memory and detectable for miles. However the lopsided pigtails and missing teeth are a new development for the mental diary of Y/n in my mind.

"You were a cute kid, what happened?" I tease.

She groans in response, "Don't even get me started, my dad was insistent on doing my hair that day, something about showing off his expertise. But after many tears and snapped hair ties later, my hair was finished and I didn't have the heart to tell him how bad it was." My lips quirk upwards slightly at her confession before disappearing as if it was never there.

It's not fair to be jealous of a child, albeit she isn't one anymore but I wish I was able to boast about a happy childhood with more positive memories then bad ones.