stilljustandrew | (no subject)

(no subject)

*There should be a word for the inverse of deja vu, Andrew thinks as he crosses the street away from Central Park, squinting against the sun. A word for the way everything he passes seems to be sliding into place to form a tableau, a single moment he saw once through a door he couldn't step through.*

*Buses, taxis, pedestrians -- a car passes by, its radio playing something with a hip-hop beat, far too loud --*

*There. There.*

*Andrew steps onto the sidewalk and starts toward the mini-mart door, and toward the young man in a tuxedo who's standing just outside it, staring back through.*

*As the door closes:*

Hey.

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Warren spins around on his heel and looks confused. And stressed. And younger than he would have when Andrew...this Andrew...last saw him in the bar. This Warren has not yet had children.

"...Hey."

He eyes Andrew. The poor boy thinks he's tired now.

Don't spoil him.

*It's like opening an old high school yearbook and having someone look back out at you and wave.*

*God, he's so much younger.*

*...right. Explanations.*

It's cool. I couldn't get through from the bar because I was already here. I mean, here, in-this-world here.

But, you know. Here here too. Glad I got the time right.

*Andrew smiles. And it's genuine.*

I wouldn't miss this for the worlds.

Warren's gaze slowly tavels from Andrew's feet, to his face. And then a little higher. Where it lingers pointedly. And then...

"Nice...hair."

It's totally just as funny the second time around.

*And it's just so ... so Warren that it's all he can do not to laugh.*

Damn, I've missed you.

*It falls out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he keeps talking hurriedly before Warren can respond.*

So I hear there's a lady somewhere around here waiting for you to show up and marry her.

"Yeah-huh. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it."

It has gone right over Warren's head what Andrew's first comment might mean. He's a little self-involved at the moment.

...

That is, more so that usual, and Andrew has brought up the exact reason why at exactly the right moment. Well played.

*He grins.* Sounds like I better check this story out.

*Wait, there was something -- Andrew pats at his pocket. Damn, damn, he forgot the matches --*

Need to make a stop along the way, though.

Warren smirks.

"What? You don't trust me now?"

Warren is sweating it. Well, not that, specifically, but...sweating. Need to get this show on the road. This is, like, the first day of the rest of his life.

For, like, the second time.

*Andrew glances at him sidelong, and quickly away again, and works hard to get the smile back.*

*This is a happy day. He is not going to ruin it. He's going to go, and work the Summoning like he promised so Wes can attend, and not talk about the future. Or the past.*

*Just ... now. Be in the now. This is a happy day.*

C'mon. Let's get moving.

Warren frowns. Perhaps not so well played after all, Mr. Wells.

But Warren will never get that answer. That's not how this scene goes.

"I missed you too. Manly, heterosexual hugs?" He suggests.

*Warren's voice sounds in his memory: I think I used to think you were in love with me.*

...Sure.

*And he steps into the hug -- not too tight, a minimum of hearty congratulatory shoulder-clapping, for god's sake don't cling, let go now, let go now --*

*When he steps back, the glance at his watch is as much to regain his composure as to actually check the time.*

Seriously, come on. This is gonna take some time to set up.

Seriously, seriously.

Warren has a married to be.

*And Andrew has duties as a groomsman to perform.*

*Including helping one of the wedding guests arrive.*

The ceremony's over.

It's gone well so far. Isabel looked beautiful and radiant, Warren looked sincerely happy, and they're easy to focus on - especially if you're trying to avoid looking at, say, the groom's party. Or meeting anyone's eyes therein. Meg's been astonishingly successful at it.

And now there's the reception to navigate. For which, Meg feels, she will need caffeine, and so she makes her way over to the coffee table and pours herself half a cup.

This is not an unexpected move for anyone who knows Meg.

*Easy enough for members of the groom's party and the bride's party to avoid one another's eyes, if they make the effort.*

*Andrew's managed by focusing entirely on the bride and groom. But now they're gone, whisked off somewhere by the photographers, and there is nobody at all here he can talk to without fighting to keep his mouth shut about their future --*

*And as he turns away from the liquor table, there she is, and it's too late to even think about looking away.*

*Meg takes an instant step backwards, towards the coffee table.

It's involuntary.*

Bonjour, *she says, inanely, as the silence stretches - unable to think of anything else.*

*Only a year's difference between her and the Meg he last saw in the bar. Not nearly as much as the -- five years? seven years? -- between the Warren who just got married and the one he saw last on Antar, with two small children in tow. Only a year.*

*Only a lifetime.*

*He's holding out his hands, and making himself smile at her, and saying the words he'd planned and rehearsed --*

I know. It's okay. I'm not going to tell you anything.

*He knew this was coming. He knew this was coming.*

*It shouldn't hurt this much to see her alive.*

Future's not ours to see, right?

I can't -

*She hears how high her voice is, feels how stiff she's standing.

(She's staring at him as if he's the ghost.)*

Andrew, I can't do this - je te vous en prie -

*And of course she can't do this. What did he expect? Especially when he remembers her coming back to the bar after this, coming back to their room, too distraught for words...*

*And it isn't until that thought that it hits him: he's there. The younger him is there for her on the other side of her door.*

*And they've still got a year left together before she dies. And another year and a half after. Two and a half years he wouldn't trade for anything.*

*He manages a smile, and it's heartfelt.*

Shh. Je sais. It's okay.

*Goodbye, Meg.*

Go on.

*The younger Andrew is there for her, on the other side of the door.

For how much longer, the younger Meg - though not all that much younger; a year, half a year older is all she'll ever get - doesn't know, and doesn't want to.

Maybe it's okay. Maybe it's not. Either way, she can pretend it is if she leaves, now, turns, disappears into the crowd -

And doesn't look (forward) back.*

*It's been a lovely wedding.*

*Really it has. And it's still in full swing, but the bride and groom are about to make a quick getaway and leave their guests to finish carousing on their own.*

Carousing is a really polite word for it. Actually, they're off to catch a plane to an exotic local. The carousing there is way better.

Warren has distracted words for a select few as he makes for the door. Cue the Andrew.

"Thanks dude," Warren says, eyes darting toward his new bride who is doing her own conversing several feet away.

*Andrew keeps being startled at the sight of Warren: no short beard, no glasses, the lines of his face softer. Younger.*

*His whole future ahead of him.*

No problem. I'm glad I could be here.

"Yeah, uh, how did-...?" Warren asks. "Or, if it's a thing, you know what? Don't worry about it."

Warren keeps being startled by Andrew's hair. It may be alive.

Yeah.

*He follows Warren's earlier glance toward Isabel.*

You two heading off now?

"Honeymoon."

Warren smirks a crooked smirk and barely restrains himself from giving Andrew a good rib-elbowing. You know: because of the obvious carousing that's going to go down.

"So, uh, we should..."

Nudity. They should nudity.

Got it.

*Andrew hesitates, then holds out a hand. He's smiling, but it's a very sober smile.*

You take care of each other, okay?

"Oooooh yeah."

Warren's mind? In the gutter. Where it belongs.

Warren shakes, like a good dog.

*The thing is: this is goodbye. Maybe for good.*

*And he can't say that.*

So, um.

I'll see you back at Milliways, yeah?

*Because from Warren's perspective ... he will.*

"Uh, yeah-huh," Warren snorts.

Because from Warren's perspective...he will. And so any somberness goes over Warren's head. Warren: detrimental to touching situations everywhere.

Take care. Be happy.

*A pause, and he hoists the This Is A Happy Day smile onto his face again, and lets go Warren's hand.*

Now get going. I'll cover your escape.

Warren smiles back (no hoisting required), and then runs evasive action toward Isabel and the door. He throws in a serpentine, but draws the line at a barrel roll. This tux is rented.

And I have been told that every day in the sun is a good day
And I will put this one away
I will put this one away
I'm gonna put this one away
*Andrew stands where he is, and watches them go.*
Would you believe me if I told you the stories were true?
Would you believe me if I told you the whole world is feeling blue?
Would you believe me if I told you I was wrong?
Would you believe me if I told you this was a song about love?

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