What if? | Frank x Brenda

Chapter 02

Frank offered Brenda a ride back, and without much hesitation, she accepted. As they left the grand stadium and stepped out into the cool night air, there was a mutual understanding between them—neither wanted the evening to end just yet.

Frank led her to his old, beat-up hover car, a relic of the past that still ran thanks to his makeshift repairs. The drive was quiet at first, the silence between them filled with the hum of the car's engine and the occasional flicker of the city's lights as they passed through the streets. 

"Where are we going?" Brenda asked eventually, her curiosity piqued as they veered away from the bustling city center.

Frank glanced at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "I thought you might like to see the old place," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "You know, where it all started."

Brenda's eyes widened slightly as she realized where they were heading. "The grocery store?" she asked, a mix of surprise and excitement in her tone.

"Yeah," Frank confirmed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. "It's not what it used to be, but...it's home."

The grocery store had once been a battlefield, the site of the revolution where Frank and Brenda, along with their friends, had fought for freedom. But now, decades later, it was little more than a shell of its former self—a crumbling relic of a bygone era. The humans had been eradicated long ago, leaving the planet to the sentient food that had once been nothing more than commodities on shelves. 

When they arrived, Brenda could hardly believe her eyes. The once-bustling aisles were now barren, the shelves long since emptied, but there was something strangely comforting about the place. It was as if the walls themselves held memories, echoes of the past that whispered to her as they walked inside.

Frank led her through the familiar layout, his steps sure as he navigated the darkened space. "I've been living here for a while now," he explained, his voice echoing slightly in the vast emptiness. "It's not much, but it's...well, it's home."

Brenda nodded, taking in the sight of the makeshift living space Frank had created. There was a small bed in the corner, a table littered with tools and parts, and a few crates that served as seating. It was humble, far from the luxurious accommodations that many foods now enjoyed, but it was undeniably Frank.

As they settled onto the crates, the night stretched out before them, filled with the soft murmur of their voices as they talked. They spoke of the revolution, of the times when they had stood side by side against impossible odds, fueled by the hope of a better future. They reminisced about their friends, the ones they had lost and the ones who had drifted away as the years passed.

But eventually, the conversation turned to something deeper, more personal. Frank hesitated for a moment, then asked the question that had been on his mind since they met earlier that evening. "Do you ever think about...us?"

Brenda looked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do," she admitted, her voice soft. "We had something special, didn't we?"

Frank smiled faintly, his eyes distant as he thought back to those days. "Yeah, we did. I guess I never really got over it."

Brenda's gaze dropped to her hands, which rested in her lap. "Neither did I," she confessed. "But life...it took us in different directions."

"I know," Frank said quietly, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. "I've always wondered what would have happened if we'd stayed together. If we'd fought a little harder for what we had."

Brenda reached out, her fingers brushing his. "Maybe we would have made it. Or maybe we wouldn't have. But I don't regret what we had, Frank. It was real, and it mattered."