It’s a city of jagged lines and soft grays, desolate, bloodied alleyways and crowds that light up alongside the street lamps. Foreign, unfamiliar; a modern relic in itself.
It is the 15th when he arrives, the streets somehow speak of the day before. The pathetic sight of bouquets driven into concrete, chocolates littering the pavement, the telltale sign of a broken heart somewhere off in the distance.
The people pay little mind to him; he is wary nonetheless, blade tucked away and underneath his sleeve. His eyes rove over every building, every vendor, every passerby in some attempt to understand.
The store is no more than a remnant of what once was, a day that’s already passed. The shelves are hollow, the leftover stock now piled atop boxes, advertised with a gaudy “FOR SALE” sign. In the corner are flowers, sloped and browning. The poor things, he thinks as his fingers ghost across them.
He hauls a single bouquet into his arms, a red tulip peeking through the wilted mass. Surely, they could be saved -- so long as he were to tend to them quickly enough.
It’s then that he sees her-- bountiful, brown braids, the heels of boots against the ground, her back arched forward, her expression pensive as she lingers about. “E--”
Before he can speak, her arms are wound around him -- as agile as ever, isn’t she? He brings his arms around her in turn, hands grazing against and rubbing circles into her back. He pulls her close against him, and a laugh slips out from his lips, light and subdued.
Warmth pools in the blues of her eyes; he sees the tears that well, and his expression softens, a smile tugging at his lips. It’s terribly surreal, truth be told.
Her missing him. Her loving him. The band she wears, his band, that glints at this moment.
He is speechless -- in awe, and opts to stroke her cheek and push a strand of hair behind her ear. “The wondrous Evie Frye, missing me? A tale for the ages.” He grips her hands, pulling away as he holds them, a thumb swiping over her own.
“I can only hope you haven’t given this city too much grief. Come, now. This is no place for a conversation.”
His fingers tighten around her own, and gradually does he bring her hands to his lips, placing a kiss atop their backs and letting them fall once again.
“On your mark. I’ll be beside you.”