Just for Tonight

27.

One year later.

Chloe was on her way home after a long day at work. The cold streets of Helsinki had greeted her as she left the local newspaper.

A few more moments and she could think of him.

She caught her reflection in a shop window. Her hair now reached the small of her back.

Just a few more moments.
Not now. Not now.

Matti caught up with her: "We're going for a drink with the others at the Crow Bar. Are you coming?".

"Not tonight, Matti, thanks!" she said with an apologetic smile.

"A date?" he laughed. "You're never available in the evening, that's terrible."

"You could call it a date," she said enigmatically.

"See you on Monday!", he shouted as he walked away.

She continued towards her apartment and saw a silhouette in front of her, the figure of a tall, thin man, his hair hidden under a beanie.

She closed her eyes and opened them again. The street was deserted. She always seemed to see him everywhere, wherever she was.

Not now, though. Hold on, just a moment longer.

She shivered. This winter wouldn't end.

Just walk to the end of the street and turn right. Then, a hundred meters further on, she'd insert the key in the door, close it behind her, and she'd be ready for her appointment.

A rendezvous with her pain, which she only allowed herself once a day, on her way home from work. That moment when she would face the pain of her broken heart.

"Vi... ," she murmured, tears on the edge of her eyes. Hold on. Not now.

She turned right. Again, she thought she saw him a few yards away. She closed her eyes again to make the figure disappear. When she opened them again, the apparition was still there. In fact, it was standing right in front of her apartment, staring at the door. The figure reached for its beanie to put it back on.

She moved slowly towards the figure that didn't fade away from her imagination.

It turned to her.
"Chloe."

Even in the midst of a thousand people, she would have recognized his voice. She stopped. An imaginary figure wasn't supposed to talk.

"Ville," she tried to say. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

She walked over to him.

"Hi," he said, his expression unreadable.

"Hi," she said, shaking from head to toe. She inserted her key in the lock and opened.

"You want... Please come in," she continued.

He followed her inside. She put down her bag and looked at him. He stood, not knowing where to put himself.

Chloe walked over to the coffee machine, placed two cups and turned on the machine.
"Couch ?" she tried to say again.

He nodded and took a seat on the sofa.

She joined him and put the cups on the table. She sat down opposite him and waited.

Ville looked around the apartment. The CD collection, the paintings on the wall... He noticed a large frame with a photo of the two of them, hanging just above the telly. He didn't know what to make of it.

Finally, he laid eyes on her. She had changed. Her hair was longer. She dressed differently, more conservatively. Rock style seemed a thing of the past. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. He thought for a moment about her lips, her hands in his hair, the special way she let herself go against him at night. When she still trusted him. But above all, he could see the light in her eyes again.
"I'm doing something stupid coming here," he thought.

She was watching him. He had taken off his beanie and his hair had also become very long. His face had changed slightly, fine wrinkles framing his eyes, but maybe it was the lack of sleep. Had he just come back from a tour? She had forbidden herself to consult the Internet to follow the band or read the gossips, and over the past year she'd managed to do just that. Just her and her memories. But above all, he was so big! Impressive... And she felt intimidated by his presence.
"Why did he come?" she thought.

Silence surrounded them. He seemed frozen, and she was impressed by him . How could she have forgotten he was so tall. They looked like two strangers who knew each other intimately.

He sighed, not knowing where to start. "I... My steps... I found myself on your street, then in front of your house...", he began.

She shaked even more. His voice was lower, deeper and warmer than she remembered.

He noticed. "How are you?" he asked, mentally preventing himself from placing his hands on hers.

"Fine," she managed to say. " And you ?"

"Fine ," he replied.

For the first time, they looked into each other's eyes.

Ville bit his cheek to stop some of the words coming out.

"When you arrived, you were coming back... From work?" he asked.

"Yes, I got a job at the local newspaper. It's small, it's cool, I feel like I'm getting back into the basics of journalism," she smiled and he saw that she was happy with her new job.

"When did you... All of you... Came back from the tour?" she asked.

"Eight or nine months ago," he calculated.

"Oh... I thought you'd be staying in the US until mid-July ? ," she questioned.

"There have been some... problems... We canceled the end of the tour..", he tried to explain.

"And you've stayed in Helsinki ever since? We've never met...", she pondered.

"It's true. On the way home... You know how I am... I locked myself up at home, I wrote songs... I needed that. .. Also composed music... An album is coming out soon, I think... So...", he explained almost shyly.

" Keep on going with your music", she smiled as she avoided his gaze. " The world turns a little better when you share your songs."

" Do you mean it ?", he asked.

" I do.. Why asking ?", she replied, puzzled.

" I thought... You were... Mad or, at least, no more supportive since we... Ended our relationship ?", he softly said.

" Ville... You know it has nothing to do with your music", she whispered.

" Chloe... Nothing happened... You know... With Kat", he lowered his voice.

"It was... Unbearable, Ville. The way you looked at her... And it happened right after Bam... It was too much to handle. I'm not that strong...", she said with her eyes watering.

" I didn't mean to hurt you that way, I'm so sorry... ".

He saw her shaking even more as she remembered what had happened. He wanted to hug her, hold her tight against him so bad. It was hurting him like hell. Maybe was it time for him to leave.

He stood up and pulled his beanie back over his hair.

"Thanks for the coffee. Thanks for letting me come in. It was good to see you again," he said, heading for the door.

She stood up and accompanied him. He opened the door and seemed to hesitate for a moment. He took one step outside, then a second. Without turning, he said:

"Maybe I'll send you a message one day. And maybe if you answer, we can spend another moment together. I'll leave it up to you whether you answer or not. You'll always have the choice".

And he sank into the night.