Noah hasn’t been in town for long. He’s had a place rented out since two weeks back, and he was meant to arrive sooner, but complications had arisen, and so here he is. He’s all but fresh off the plane, restless with pent-up energy he knows isn’t likely to be satiated in a place like this, but surprisingly pulled together despite his long journey from London. The tawny leather jacket pulled over his shoulders keeps him warm, hiding his braces away beneath it, and his jeans are new, something not typically seen with him despite the fact he can very obviously afford it. Designer labels on old clothes make them vintage, right? Or maybe they just mean he doesn’t care. Regardless, what he’s wearing isn’t the only ‘vintage’ thing he’s looking at today, and as he passes by the front window of an antique shop, he finds himself giving pause. He’s always been attracted to places like that, not really a shocker considering his infatuation with history as a whole, with _old_ things as a whole. His decision to go inside was already made.
The scent of dust and sweet things assaults his senses to go along with the wave of heat as lets himself inside. There’s a bell above the door that jingles merrily with his presence, likely alerting the shop owner, wherever they happen to be, of his arrival. He might have just arrived, but he isn’t entirely new to town either, and he’s pretty sure he didn’t see this place the last time he was around. It’s kind of weird, but it reminds him of someone he knows, the way things are arranged, chosen, displayed with familiarity that doesn’t make sense, but somehow does at the same time. He’s reaching up to push his glasses further back on his nose, his footsteps quiet on the floorboards as he makes his way around an old piece, and that’s when he notices her. Before she speaks, before he even knows it’s her he’s noticing, his head turns, and the wind is knocked out of him a little. Just a little.
Adelia looks… Well, quite the same as she always does, which isn’t to say that it’s any less overwhelming this time around than it ever has been. They’ve known each other for about ten years now, give or take, and he thinks this is the first time they’ve ever met anywhere that wasn’t a ridiculously expensive hotel, a ballroom, something grandeur and framing her in a light that seemed to perfectly coincide with the way she presented at the time. Now Noah realises that, perhaps despite his thoughts, it wasn’t perfect. Where she stands now? That’s perfect.
“I should’ve expected this.” He doesn’t say it unkindly, looking down at her from his height vantage, the heels still not quite reaching where he stands. He’s always been freakishly tall. “We were about due time with it, weren’t we?” It’s been years. Actual years, and it still feels the same as it has every other time. The change of scenery hasn’t altered that any, and there’s a little smile at the corners of his mouth, dark eyes lingering on her features.
books had an obvious influence on adelia’s life. she took stories and applied them to life, and vice versa. while she detested nicholas sparks and his shallow form of story telling, the substance he writes about, tends to be a theme she finds in other, more well written stories. the dramatics of romance an star crossed lovers. leaping bounds to reach one another. the idea of love was intoxicating and she got drunk off of it. however, true love was lost on her in the literal sense. she has had declarations of love, some as poetic and memorable as the scenes described in her novels. one that has swept her heart across oceans, but they never stayed. love was fleeting on her. love did not last. but it was art. and before her stood the oldest story in the book. one without leaps or bounds. with satin painted lips and silken ball gowns. glasses of champagne and quips soon lost to the stars. heavy hands and knowing eyes. morning dust and loving goodbyes. a means to part way. an old friend. perhaps something more. perhaps something less.
nothing could change the fact that noah looked dashing. even in mid afternoon with pale sunlight pouring through her windows, curtains blowing and music playing around her, he was still captivating. he wore that tweed jacket, as per always, and just like many times before, she wanted to reach out and touch the beautiful fabric used. it soaked of heavenly old and he should know nothing makes her more weak than looking like a man of history. maybe that’s why they fit. he was of history, and she was of the past.
adelia gazes down at her wrist, where her 1950 movado watch ticked in time. she smiled warmly, looking up again. “ i believe so. and just in the nick of time. you are so good at that. “ and as adelia had no boundaries, no limitations to the world’s unspoken rules of what no to do, she reached up to touch him. like a dream where she might fade in a moment. her smile looked of roses and her fingers along his cheek with delicacy. it had been years. to say she missed him would be absolutely true. she was fond of his company. “ heaven knows the world has tied us together. “ she says softly, not exactly with the intent of being deep and renowned, but it was simply her means of speaking. but her hand pulled away, hands clasping together. “ we must celebrate. once again you and i are joined and we shall not make light of this. “ she broke into a grin, turning onto her heel to walk deeper into the store, leaving a trail of her perfume behind. “ come ! there is never not a good time for champagne, mister hawthorn ! “ around the corner into a realm he has yet to travel. in a world he hasn’t totally be in. the cluttered yet stunning mess of her shop, the true simplicity of her day-to-day life. adelia still had champagne, it was mandatory in every space she spent large amounts of time in. and in an antique shop, there were plenty of options for glasses.
