[ It's the 27th. It's early. He considered just leaving the gift here, but instead he's come himself, and now he's not sure if that was the right call. He paces outside, overthinking it.
His mind is full of-- bad things. Hope, turning to him with that look on his face. The brief flash of relief when, for a moment, he'd thought his plan had worked and she was feeling something. The swiftness with which it was extinguished when she tore open his throat, the feeling of life flowing away. It had been quick. It had lasted forever.
He'd thought of all the people he hadn't said goodbye to, the people he loved. The people he was hurting. Alex, Dick, Kyle, Max, Isobel, Rosa, Nick, Maria. Some here, some not. In the moment, he hadn't remembered that he'd come back. Now, he knows that he shouldn't have.
And then he'd found those gifts in his wardrobe, the same gifts he'd been looking at for a week without memory of who they were for. Now he knows. It's easier, frankly, to deal with that than unpack everything else in his head. He should just leave the box, and go.
He doesn't. Instead he rings the doorbell, and waits.
When Alex answers, he's standing there holding the box. It's a long, flat thing. Inside it there's a new leather jacket, and inside the breast pocket there's a picture of Alex, Michael, Kyle and Maria from the opening night of her bar, here. Beneath that, there's a couple of bottles of tequila. Beside Michael, on the ground, there's a carrier bag full of treats for Alex's pets. Michael puts a smile on his face. ]
Before you open this, I made you something, too. It's in the truck.
[ The truck, which is new, actually. Michael had refurbished it at the garage, and the exterior still looks kind of worn. The interior is perfect, though. There's something bulky in the back; we'll get to that. ]
It would've been here for the holidays, but I didn't remember until today.
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momijizukamori
Gift Delivery
Date: 2021-12-27 04:43 pm (UTC)His mind is full of-- bad things. Hope, turning to him with that look on his face. The brief flash of relief when, for a moment, he'd thought his plan had worked and she was feeling something. The swiftness with which it was extinguished when she tore open his throat, the feeling of life flowing away. It had been quick. It had lasted forever.
He'd thought of all the people he hadn't said goodbye to, the people he loved. The people he was hurting. Alex, Dick, Kyle, Max, Isobel, Rosa, Nick, Maria. Some here, some not. In the moment, he hadn't remembered that he'd come back. Now, he knows that he shouldn't have.
And then he'd found those gifts in his wardrobe, the same gifts he'd been looking at for a week without memory of who they were for. Now he knows. It's easier, frankly, to deal with that than unpack everything else in his head. He should just leave the box, and go.
He doesn't. Instead he rings the doorbell, and waits.
When Alex answers, he's standing there holding the box. It's a long, flat thing. Inside it there's a new leather jacket, and inside the breast pocket there's a picture of Alex, Michael, Kyle and Maria from the opening night of her bar, here. Beneath that, there's a couple of bottles of tequila. Beside Michael, on the ground, there's a carrier bag full of treats for Alex's pets. Michael puts a smile on his face. ]
Before you open this, I made you something, too. It's in the truck.
[ The truck, which is new, actually. Michael had refurbished it at the garage, and the exterior still looks kind of worn. The interior is perfect, though. There's something bulky in the back; we'll get to that. ]
It would've been here for the holidays, but I didn't remember until today.