the doorman » a.i au

epilogue

note: this is gonna be in 3rd person pov!

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Piles of postcards and letters sat on a corner in his kitchen. A corner just for her. Because he knew that if she had been with him, it would have been her favourite corner to sit and have a coffee on. It was a cool marble tabletop placed next to a window that overlooked the busy streets. She loved watching people and she loved observing the smallest things that would never have mattered to any other people-watchers. That was why he bought the apartment in the first place – he wanted to have a piece of her in his mind.  Sure, reminders of your past lover hurt but it was fine. He was fine, because he knew that no matter how often she wrote to him about her dates, she’d always have a piece of him. Just like how he’d always belong to her in some way. Because home is where the heart is and she was home.

 Sometimes he’d lay out all the coloured envelopes and postcards with beaches and landmarks at their fronts and wonder if it was too late to rekindle the flame that once lit both their lives. Starting from the tear-stained ones from two years ago (he, too, shed a tear or two when his thumbs grazed over the wet spots on the papers she used) to the ones that she crumpled (probably from frustration caused by the fact that never once had he replied and yet, she kept trying to reach him) to the smoothest one that he last received. It was bad when the letters came daily, though he admitted it was worse when they stopped. He received the last one about two weeks ago and he knew it was the last one she’d ever send. “I hope you’re happy. I’ll always love you in one way or another. You know I’ll still be here when you come back,” it said, at the bottom of the page.

She hadn’t given up on him entirely, he knew that. He knew who she was and she wouldn’t give up, not until there was a conclusion to their story. Truth be told - besides the fact that he wanted her to date other guys and find meaning and happiness in them - that was why he never replied to any of her mails; he didn’t want a pattern in their relationship (or rather, the nonexistence of it). Patterns were for people who were bound to each other in one way or another. They weren’t. Not for the time being, anyway. They were bound to get sick of the repetition and they’d eventually stop bothering to write to each other. And honestly, that was more tragic than any conclusions to any relationship. Plus, keeping her in suspense indirectly meant keeping her curious. Keeping her faith in him. It was a selfish thing to do but he couldn’t lose her, not like that.

A week ago, he decided that it was killing him to keep doing that. He couldn’t keep her waiting for him yet not give her any sign that he was still into her too. Hence why he was on the way up to her apartment. Well, besides the fact that he got to spend the last year of college in the comfort of his home since his classes were online. He decided that he would no longer live with his parents since he had saved up enough money from the part-time jobs he took up in college. He wanted to be independent. Coincidentally (or fate, he believed), she was renting out a room in her apartment at the time when he was looking for a place to live in. Without a second thought, he rented that room. Thankfully, his agent took care of everything and she was never suspicious of his identity.

He had never been more nervous in his life. He kept his fingers crossed, hoping she wasn’t out. And that she would actually be happy to see him. How was she, really? Did she honestly still want him after everything he put her through? How was she gonna react to him?       

He knocked her front door. Once, and then twice, just like the old days.

She opened the door, standing there, looking as beautiful as ever. She parted and shut her lips repeatedly, as if she was too struck to say anything. But he wasn’t. He spent nights standing in front of his bathroom mirror, reciting the same line over and over until he got it right without stuttering.

“Hey, I rented a room at your place. I was wondering if I could, like, y’know, start organizing my stuff now?”

And when she crashed right into his chest, putting her arms around his neck, all his questions were answered. He was home.

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): oK i wrote like three different versions of the epilogue and i think this is the best (though, granted, it's not my best piece of writing) so it'd suck if you think this sucks ):

but seriously thank you thank you THANK YOU if you've made it this far into the story because i've lost hope about a thousand times but your comments and appreciation for this kept me going idk it's as if you guys have more faith in the story than i do myself. which shouldn't be the case. but no back to my point THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of you. all your comments made me laugh/smile (ok except the ones about the temperature in chapter 2 because those made me feel stupid but look on the bright side i'm now more enlightened about temperatures in your countries). it's absolutely crazy to think of how much support you've given me wow i'm gonna stop now because it's cheesy as heck. BUT THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU GUYS.

oh yes unfortunately there won't be a sequel ):

also if you are a michael girl/genuinely enjoy my writing (which will be a surprise but yknow) then please give my michael fic (anacampserote) a try! i won't be updating it until next week because i'll be on vacation until saturday but yeah, please just give it a try :)

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU