Forget Me Not - A Phanfiction

Chapter 4

Dan

I finally finish with the chaotic rush of customers and take a deep breath before scanning the room. I can't find him anywhere. Panic begins to set in when I think I missed my opportunity and he's run out before I've had the chance to talk to him, to be to close to him. My breathing begins to speed up, and my chest tightens, jolts of fear and lonliness are spreading throughout my entire body. I deliberate on whether I should run outside and see if I can catch up to him walking down the sidewalk, when Bryony comes in and grabs my hand.

"Shhh, it's okay, Dan." she tells me softly

"No, it's not okay," I choke out, becoming increasingly more hysterical by the second. "I've missed my chance, and it's not going to be okay." 

Bryony steers me towards the other side of the counter and points to the back wall filled with photographs.

"See he's just looking at the photographs," she tells me, and I let out of sigh of relief.

I still have a chance.

Handing me a cup of tea, Bryony unties my apron and pushes me from behind the counter.

"Go," she orders, and I tentatively walk over to him.

I don't want to go over immediately, him seeing me with red-rimmed eyes would be horrible, so I fall back for a bit. Trying to compose myself. I brace myself against a wall and take a sip of tea, sighing at the calming scent of chamomile as it enters my nose. A few sips and some deep breaths later, I walk slowly over to him. But stop when I see what he's looking at.

Phil is gazing at the wall of photographs I've taken, and more specifically at the one of the field. My fingers tingle, just wanting to reach out and hold him, to shake him so he can see what I see. But I can't. Instead, I bide my time, watching him  take it all in, curious to see if anything stirs something inside of him.

A small flicker of hope occurs when he closes his eyes, a small grin spreading across his face, but it's replaced by an irritated and fretful look. It doesn't suit him. I quietly walk until I'm behind him. Suppressing the strong urge to wrap my arms around him, I place a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"This one's my favorite." I say, my voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. 

If only he could remember why it's my favorite..

"It's amazing." he replies, and I nod slightly

"Care to have a drink with me?" I ask as I walk into his line of sight. I motion to my cup , hoping he'll agree.

He stammers for a few seconds before nodding quickly.

I follow him to the table he'd been sitting in before and slide into the wooden chair across from him.

"Who's the photographer?" he inquires, jerking his head towards the photographs.

I blush profusely before answering

"I am."

He grins, seeming to enjoy this little fact.

" I should have known, they certainly are beautiful."

I grin at his words, his naturally flirtyness finally making an appearance. I clutch the mug tighter and avert my eyes, unsure if I can keep it together.

"Thank you." I whisper softly.

I drain the last of my tea to fill the silence and set my cup down. After a brief moment we start talking, and it's easy and effortless, which is simultaneously the best and worst thing for me. During a brief pause in the conversation, I find myself playing with the rim of my mug, tracing circles around it with my fingers. I can feel his stare on me and look up to see Phil staring at my ring finger. My heart immediately drops.

His face flushes in embarrassment when he realizes he's been caught staring, but it still didn't stop him from asking the question.

"You're... married?"

I glance down at the gold band around my finger and try to fight the tears that sting my eyes.

"Yes."

I don't go into detail, I don't want to. Luckily, he doesn't ask me to. Instead his eyes wander to is own, bare hand..

"Oh," he says, a mixture of sadness and relief creeps onto his face. "I'm not."