☽˚｡⋆. crimson &amp; clover

Though he knew he met the owner of the bar, Roman had forgotten her name and what she looked like, due to the other drama that happened that Valentine’s Day party, but remembered the details of the speakeasy; Holy Spirits. He had ventured on his own that evening, the once solitary large house in Summit Lake slowly being filled with laughter and life. And Roman was enjoying it, truly, ached for these days where he’d feel lighter and normal again.

But a part of him knew it was temporary. That it’d be snatched from him because this wasn’t something he deserved.

So, he went to the bar, hoping that its atmosphere was more churchlike and less tongue-in-cheek. Though it was busy, it was everything he needed, ordering a scotch and tucking himself in the corner.

The French curse word, reverberating softly along with the soft jazz and chatter of the other patrons, had him jolt up, his first thought being Kaya following him here. He was both disappointed and relieved when his eyes met Matilda’s instead. She had made good on her promise to keep away from him since they had first reconnected, aside from the one birthday text he never responded to. So to see her, in a public space where neither of them knew the other one would be, was hard to navigate.

His heart sank at her promise to leave immediately, and Roman shook his head. “It’s allegedly a free country. You can stay, I have no claim here.” Just the record store, the radio station, and his house. He couldn’t expect Matilda to become a hermit in this town for his benefit. He turned away, glancing back, feeling like he had to say something else. “I…” The former bassist began, taking another sip of the scotch, the alcohol both burning and soothing down his throat. “Thank you. For the birthday well-wishes.” He wouldn’t acknowledge his own lack of response, because he was responding now, wasn’t he?

@mctildatautou

Matilda found herself chewing the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit that rarely surfaced these days. It struck her how quickly the evening had shifted, her go-with-the-flow plan completely derailing. Now... she was searching for a swift exit, and that wasn’t typical for her. She usually charged ahead with confidence, sometimes to a point of delusion, but when it came to Roman, there was always a layer of guilt lingering, even after all these years.

Instead of finding comfort in his response filling the air, Matilda felt a flicker of unease. She nodded, forcing a hesitant smile before turning away. But Roman’s voice pulled her back. Just in time, the bartender brought over her glass of merlot, grateful for the distraction.

As he took a quiet sip, Matilda didn't hesitate to take a generous one from her glass. The uncertainty of what he was going to say mirrored the unpredictability of running into someone from her past every corner in town. Roman’s thank you was a surprise, and Matilda's lips curved into a more genuine smile. "Yeah, of course," she responded with a soft laugh. "Your birthday is the one date I always remember, so I guess I had to."

Matilda sucked in a deep breath, nodding as some sort of 'alright then' and offering another smile. These awkward moments were exactly what she dreaded. She sipped her wine, leaving her signature lipstick mark on the rim of the glass. "Did you, um, do anything special for the big four one?", her heart began to speak without running through her brain. @rcmandaniels

leonwozniak

@mctildatautou farmer's market

sunday morning, the grey in the sky announcing upcoming rain and leon thought that it was just his luck - his first day off in so long and it was as depressing as ever. still, that meant less people than usual at the market, and leon couldn't find fault in that. the man was going through the merchants' stalls; there wasn't much vegetables at this time of year but the fish was fresh and there were some nice cuts of meat he could use.

he was just in the process of buying tomatoes when a presence made itself known next to him and matilda appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "hey you," leon finished his transaction before turning to the blonde, handing her an apple. "you took long enough, i'm practically done."

#interactions ft. leon #leonwozniak

Matilda had more free time than she ever imagined since moving to this new town. It was a sharp contrast from New York, where there was always a buzz of activity. She had worried she'd get bored in her new surroundings, but to her surprise, the easy-going lifestyle suited her just fine - at least for the time being.

She made her way leisurely to the farmer's market, planning to meet up with some company. She got lost in her thoughts and missed a turn or two, which delayed her, but she arrived... eventually. Spotting Leon, she slid up next to him and picked up a lemon from a pile beside the tomatoes. She rolled it up her arm, hitting it once it reached the crook of her elbow before catching it in her hand.

"Hey, hey," she greeted him, her smile bright. "Sorry sorry... Got a little sidetracked." Matilda placed the lemon back where she found it and turned to him. "What's next on our agenda for today, then?"

𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 : holy spirits 𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 : @rcmandaniels Matilda had shed a few habits over time, like the nightly routine of partying that had become a staple, no matter what the day was. She'd stopped reaching for the small baggie and even quit the habit of picking at her split ends when she was bored. But one thing she couldn't let go of was her craving for a glass of red wine after a long day. She was still settling into the town, and part of that process included a personal mission to explore every nook and cranny it had to offer. When someone at the grocery store mentioned a speakeasy tucked away in a church basement, she knew she had to check it out and she just so happened to be passing by it.

As she walked toward the bar, she was surprised to find it nearly full for a weeknight. Only one barstool remained empty in the corner, so she slid into it and settled in. Placing her purse against the wall, she leaned forward to catch the bartender's eye. He nodded in her direction, and she took it as her cue to order. "Glass of Merlot, please," she said with a small smile, sitting back in her seat.

Then it was time to indulge in one of Matilda's favorite pastimes: people-watching. In the dimly lit room, she shifted her gaze from one end of the bar all the way to the person seated next to her. But when her blue eyes landed on the profile of the one person she wished she could avoid in Providence Peak, the air was knocked out of her lungs. "Merde," she muttered, exhaling the breath she'd been holding. She could pretend she hadn't seen him, but that would lead to yet another embarassing situation she would much rather avoid. "I'll leave once I get my drink, I promise," she said out into the air, just in case he noticed her too.

#phoebeyates #interactions ft. phoebe

𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 : downtown 𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 : @phoebeyates Matilda and Phoebe had just wrapped up a huge breakfast at Amelie’s, each of them savoring their own dish with something sweet in the middle. It was the perfect way to start any morning. Though she didn’t often voice it, Matilda was intensely grateful for the friends she’d made in recent years.

"Did you hear that guy at the corner table?" Matilda asked as they stepped out of the restaurant. "He was definitely having a convo that did not belong at a restaurant table." She paused just outside the restaurant's door and turned to Phoebe. "Also, I'm heading to Skyline. If you’re not busy, come with me. I’ll even buy you to a pretzel and fill you in on my nonexistent love life."

camillerowep

February 28, 2024 — Camille Rowe co-hosted a dinner with Jean-Marc Loubier to celebrate Delvaux’s fall/ winter 2024 collection in Paris! (via tishweinstock)

#visual

cjwelford-archive

CJ brightened when the model admitted that her and driving didn’t exactly get on. It was something he related heavily with, the letter declaring his ban from driving to immediate effect, and the following letters denying his appeal to reverse the decision. He still had hope the ban would lift one day. “Heard.” He said of the driving, shuffling closer to examine the snacks. “Nah, I don’t mind the rain, just sometimes my arms feel like a jellyfish when I’m baked so it’s hard to carry chips. And Iunno where the roomies are to come pick me up.”

@mctildatautou

#interactions ft. cj #cjwelford

"Heard," Matilda echoed with a small smile, her eyes glimmered as she chuckled to herself. She turned her attention back to the snacks while the other person shuffled closer to take a peek. Matilda picked up a few random items, including the one thing she had come for, and then turned to face CJ again.

She cradled the armful of snacks like a small child in her arms. "You can put your stuff in here if you want," Matilda offered, giving her shoulder a little wiggle to gesture at the bag hanging there. "Or just kick them along the sidewalk until you get back home. That's another very viable option." @cjwelford

A tortured sigh left him, his left hand — his good hand — running through his hair, noting it was getting a bit longer again, and it was probably time for a haircut. That thought alone indicated just how well things were going with Matilda, that he was prioritizing his hair over her own thoughts and feelings.

He didn’t know which path to take. The one that kept poking the bear, that would have her explode, rip into him like she was clearly forcing herself to not do. Or the high-road, where they could maintain mature adults and have a civil conversation and finally, finally, put this all to bed?

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He chided, his face set into a glare. Their friendship wasn’t one completely platonic, the hint of lust and attraction lingered under Roman like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, waiting patiently for the day Matilda was wanting to take the next step. To be more than friends. But of course, her being the diva desperate for drama, was wanting to take it a different way.

“If it serves your narrative however, sure. Believe what you want.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t think walking out on your grieving and sick boyfriend warrants the same moniker as forgetting to separate the different colors when doing laundry. Regardless if you came to regret that decision, Matilda, it wasn't a mistake. You wanted to leave. And I do think I get to be an arsehole about that.” He didn’t address the perfect comment because he knew he wasn’t. That even if he was ever considered it before, that summer night fucked him up forever. He’d always be broken, just on the precipice of being almost okay. But never perfect.

He’d rather choke than give Matilda the satisfaction of admitting that, though.

☆ @mctildatautou

#interactions ft. roman #rcmandaniels #a month late :P

There was a sense of defeat etched across Matilda's face as Roman replied. Her breaths were sharp and shallow, escaping through her nostrils while her lips remained pressed together. She struggled to take it all in, even though she knew exactly what he was thinking. That was part of why they had worked so well together—because they understood each other, often without needing to say much at all.

Matilda propped her elbow up on the table and pressed her temples against her fingertips, massaging the delicate skin. "I know," she said, the frustration still coloring her voice. "But if you don't want my apology, I don't know what else I can give you, Ro. I need something from you." Her hand fell to her lap, and her frustration began to shift into desperation. "Anything..."

She knew trying to bring him back into her life wasn't the smartest move. The aftermath of their breakup had been proof enough of how quickly things could fall apart. But Matilda had a tendency to crave over things, focusing intensely until she satisfied the hyperfixation. After that, boredom took over and she moved onto the next. Roman had always been different, though—she never grew tired of him or their routine. She longed for that feeling again, even if the circumstances are different.

"I don't want to give up on us again," she whispered, her voice barely audible. @rcmandaniels

leonwozniak

there’s something so simple in hanging out with matilda. the way her laugh fills out the cold winter air, the space between them; two individuals finding each other in the ladt place they thought. no you idiot she says, smiling at him between two drags of her cigarette. leon averts his eyes; he has a reputation to uphold, and it wouldn't be tonight that he would blush at the easiness with which she teases him.

it's just her accent, he thinks. he's about to say that he is definitely not an idiot when she hits him with the big guns and the man can't stop the scoff escaping his lips. "too much garlic? weren't you a fan of my fucking tarte tatin? that i made so french just for the fuckin' likes of you? you french--"

of course matilda is not serious, leon isn't that stupid. but he would always play into this fake annoyance with her, that was their thing. that and gossip. "well, if you like that cheap coffee, no wonders you have no taste in bagel."

She may not have known Leon from the place she used to call home, but somehow he felt like a piece of it transplanted into this new town, a comforting echo of New York that she secretly craved. Her eyebrows danced upwards in amusement, a grin tugging at her lips as she held the cigarette between them. A laugh escaped her as she exhaled a stream of smoke into the air.

Matilda playfully pouted before teasing, "Aww... you made it French just for moi?" She placed a hand over her heart. "Fallait pas," she added with a wink, her gaze drifting from Leon to the windows above them.

"I'll try one of your bagels if you tell me the story about them," Matilda proposed, using the hand that held the cigarette to gesture towards the dimly lit complex, shadows shuffling within the square.

#interactions ft. leon #leonwozniak #smoking tw

cjwelford-archive

→ at your service. closed for @mctildatautou

Having an absolute hankering for jerky, CJ decided that the best place to get it was obviously the gas station. What was better than gas station jerky, after all? Unfortunately, it was more of a wet day, and walking there turned out to be not the…best idea.

But since when was CJ filled with good ideas as of late?

Entering the small store, CJ shook his head free from the water as if he were a dog, aware his dark locks were probably curlier than usual from the water. He heard a couple of people tutting at his actions, but paid them no mind, about to make a beeline to the snacks, stopping in his tracks when he noticed the familiar blonde.

“Yo, Matilda!” He called in greeting. CJ hadn’t become the most acquainted with the newest neighbor on the quaint terraced street, ruined by the reputation of him, Seb and Jeanie, but unlike some of the other residents, Matilda never seemed to mind their antics. “You drive here?” Might have been a silly question, but he sure as hell didn’t.

#weed tw #cjwelford #interactions ft. cj

She had taken one too many hits of her pen that certain night and the only thing on her mind was nerds gummy clusters. Amidst the countless ghosts she'd encountered in the few short weeks since moving to Providence Peak, one too many had haunted her thoughts, and she needed that release. Matilda grabbed her purse, ppping on her hood ( because, really, who owned umbrellas anymore? ) and stepped outside in search of the nearest open store.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for her to stumble into the gas station around the corner. She wandered the narrow, sparsely stocked aisles, nearly forgetting her purpose as she browsed the shelves. It was in front of the sunflower seeds when she heard her name. Her intended turn was delayed by a sluggish reaction.

"Oh, hey!" she responded, initially failing to recognize the face attached to the voice. "Hey hey !" she greeted more warmly once recognition dawned. "Nope, driving and I aren't exactly on speaking terms," Matilda admitted truthfully.

"What? Are you afraid of a little rain?"

He knew it was probably harsh to remind her of that, of the price she paid when she walked out the door that night. And, allegedly, returned to get turned away by Ophelia. Roman hadn’t seen the initial tabloids when someone leaked about their split, and was completely in the dark about the vitriolic remarks about her. How they had labeled her. And, by the time he discovered it, it felt like it was too late. That if Roman wanted to speak up, it would seem like a disingenuous gesture.

Also, he wanted to believe all the shit about Matilda. All the rumors about infidelity and using him for fame (a bullshit claim, considering her own career had bloomed by the time they met anyway). But he also knew the woman behind the model. The soul under the flawless mannequin that she presented to the rest of the world.

Her leaving was a more complex manner. If he gave her an inch, the tiniest of chances, perhaps Roman would gain the clarity she wanted him to have. But it was like something was simply stopping him. Perhaps his own complicated matters on whether or not he deserved it came into play here, but he swallowed it down. This wasn’t just about him anymore.

“Normal people don’t stay friends with their exes,” He replied cooly. “But it would have saved all this. It would have put everything into place like I’ve finally answered the world’s most fucking complicated jigsaw puzzle. But you’re right. We couldn’t have stayed friends.” After a beat, he shrugged, “We never really were friends. At least not on my end.”

☆ @mctildatautou

She often found herself contemplating the life she might have led had she not walked away that night. The likelihood of them still being together weighed heavily on her mind. Yet, what troubled her most was the uncertainty of whether that life would have been happy or sad. Would they have been sharing a home by now, or would she have overcome her fear of animals, and getting a pet with him?

With him sitting across from her, Matilda couldn't help but revisit those thoughts. She searched for any sign that their story could have unfolded differently, that they might have found happiness together instead of maintaining the six feet distance between them.

As Matilda prepared to voice her thoughts, Roman interjected, leaving her words hanging in the air. at least not on my end. She closed her mouth with a bitter taste lingering on her tongue. "Roman..." she sighed, struggling to maintain her calm composure.

A few moments passed in silence, interrupted only by the hum of the steaming wands blowing into the air in the background. Matilda's blue eyes continued their search, seeking something tangible to grasp onto. "What were we, then? I'm assuming nothing to you?" she questioned, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I guess you're right, because you're perfect. Everyone else makes mistakes, but not you, right? Only you get to be the asshole."

Her anger simmered beneath the surface. She wasn't known to have a short-tempered, quite the opposite in fact, but her fuse with the topic of them began shorter and shorter through the years. @rcmandaniels

Finally, a bit of honesty from her. After all this time, Roman was actually interested in what she had to say, even sitting up straighter so Matilda could see he was willing to hear her out. Then she trailed off and, with a disappointed slump of his shoulders, let out a sigh of defeat.

He knew this wouldn’t be beneficial, but he didn’t realise it’d be like pulling teeth at both sides.

As she watched the people around them, Roman watched her. Studying a face once burned into his memory, at the subtle differences made over the years, as well as what not changed at all. The way her brows pinched together, the roundness and colour in her cheeks. The last photo he had seen of Matilda was possibly her at her unhealthiest, gaunt and pale and — if he were a less bitter man — downright worrying. It soothed and irked him all at once, that she was seemingly better. Seemingly less self-destructive.

Then her eyes locked his unexpectedly, and Roman jumped as if he had just been slapped. He let out a low noise of agreement at her comment about his sister. Ophelia was not one to be crossed with at the best of times, but back then was her at her very worst. Overprotective and overemotional. “I’m not the only one you hurt when you walked away.” He pointed out, remembering that, before the accident, before everything was ripped away from him, how close the two women were. Who bonded over their similar backgrounds and interests, who banded together to annoy Roman when they could. How in the moment Roman wished they didn’t get along so well to give him some peace of mind, heart panging when he realised he’d do anything to get that time back.

“Yes,” He admitted. “I let Elijah run away, I let Antonio and Kaya cocoon in their own fucking trauma and grief. If I knew that you leaving was a temporary blip, I would have reached out. I would have…” Roman sighed, registering a beat too late he was potentially giving them both false hope here. “I would have ended things properly, with closure. A clean break.”

☆ @mctildatautou

#grief tw #accident tw #rcmandaniels #interactions ft. roman

"Yeah, I got that," she murmured softly. She lived with it everyday, consumed by the shame that clung to her that had her on a flight back to France.

Even with her own history of fame, she had eventually become synonymous with Roman. At first, she adored in it, almost as much as she adored him. But after their split, it lingered over her like the Grim Reaper ready to take her any moment.

The piercing questions from interviewers after the accident cut deep. She reached a breaking point where she couldn't bear it, but voicing her own stresses seemed unjustifiable. She hadn't been in the accident herself afterall. She hadn't lost one of her closest friend. She hadn't lost the what ifs for the future of a band. But she was losing him, slowly and painfully, as he fought to recover, and it tore her apart inside.

Her eyes were saying it all. He outlined what might have happened if she had fought for what she wanted instead of walking to her hotel that night humiliated. she which she stood face to face with roman, saying how she was stupid and it was a huge mistake getting to the point where all her emotions stuffed deep inside her bursted out all at once.

She didn't want what he said to be true. She wanted to call bullshit right then and there, but once again she held back. Instead, a simple nod while a few beats of silence passed by. Her head rushed with a mix of thoughts and memories as she grappled with what to say or do next. Matilda was the one who wanted to talk in the first place. She was looking for the honest truth in his words but it didn't seem fair, considering she herself had been holding back.

Leaning in, she rested her forearms on the table. "And then what?" she started. "Would we have just been friends after that? How did you plan on getting that clean slate, Ro? Because I don't think we could have friends." @rcmandaniels

He knew this was a mistake, knew it the minute the agreement to hear her out left his lips. There was just something about Matilda. It was like the model had her own gravitational pull, and everyone else were always unable to resist being drawn to her. The day they met on the music video shoot, how he kept making excuses to hang out near her, the first day he fully ignored Kaya, it was evident then that when it came to her, he’d never be able to combat the temptation of her.

Even now, all these years later, with the tangled webs of messy history — when he was half fuelled with rage and hatred — he was here. He was willing to hear her out.

An impatient sigh left him when she once again apologised, because it was clear it’d be a conversation that would end up going in circles if he didn’t nip it in the bud now. “I don’t want your apology.” He reminded her, shifting uncomfortably when she mentioned answering any questions, like it was some fucked up job interview. Roman didn’t even know if he had any questions, already having spent hours in counseling making the excruciating decision that he in fact, didn’t want to know the why behind what Matilda did what she did.

He was about to go into the depths of his mind to retrieve the speech he spent years perfecting, only stopping himself when Matilda interjected. “If I knew, don’t you think I would have been in touch?” He countered, gaining the courage to once again look her in the eyes, his own narrowed. “And how do I know you’re not just lying to make yourself look good?”

☆ @mctildatautou

#accident tw #rcmandaniels #interactions ft. roman

She really should've to have rehearsed it all, whatever it was she intended to say to Roman. But much like the rest of her life, Matilda winged it. Things usually fell into place for her without much effort from her side, so the preparing rarely ever crossed her mind. All she had to do was ruffle her blonde hair, zip up her shoes, and leave her door. But this time, here she awkwardly sat, across from Roman Daniels, lost for the words she so confidently used to speak.

Matilda felt herself treading the same grounds she had so cautiously attempted to tip toe through after Roman's accident. It was as though she had left a part of herself there and now felt right to pick up where she'd left off. Now, her usual assured self had went into hiding, but it was beginning to peek out.

His rejection of her apology struck a nerve. Her brows knit together, and her jaw flexed. He wasn't seeing past her trying, however feeble, and impatience began to gnaw at her. "I don't really know if you would've..." she truthfully spoke, her intention for this avoided conversation finally coming to light—some sort of tell all, an attempt to clear the air between them as much as she could.

She shook her head before sharing a brief glance off to the side, her sight brushing over the study-goers s at nearby tables, their focus fixed on glowing screens. When her gaze returned to Roman, their eyes locked once more, sending her heart plummeting to her stomach.

Matilda let out a breath, though inwardly she longed to scoff. "Because if anyone can see through my bullshit, it's you," she confessed, laying bare the truth once more. "I ran into Ophelia at the front gate. And the things she said... I mean - y'know firsthand how scary she can be.", Matilda continued to explain. Her mind finally caught up to what he had previously said. "You would've reached out if you knew?" @rcmandaniels

leonwozniak

@mctildatautou

life always has a way to bring back people together. in the most weird move the universe could pull out of its derriere was matilda tautou. how in hell, was she in providence peak. and why, why was she always refusing to eat his damn food. sure, it was the ostrea. would never be, because bagels were bagels.

(no disrespect to bagels, but anthony bourdain never came to lucky joe's)

but still, though he was bugged out of his mind, leon had to remind himself of who that was. and all his worries would disappear because it was probably not that deep. which he was telling her about just now.

"it annoys me, but it's probably not that deep. so just tell me."

they were back in their usual alleyway between houses downtown, in between both their home. it was a routine, meeting each other there. sitting on the wooden table that wasn't their property, smoking cigarettes. leon would top his in his empty beer can (he wasn't an animal), or in the empty lucky joe's coffee cup he brought matilda. the avocado cheese bagel he brought her was resting comfortably between them, untouched.

"is it because you're watching your carbs? are you on a diet again?"

#smoking tw #leonwozniak #interactions ft. leon

It's astonishing to think how many people you can meet in a lifetime. especially being in a place like New York City. Every day, in between the skyscrapers, you could easily cross paths with plenty of people – a few dozen on an ordinary day, perhaps several hundred on a particularly busy one. And as fate would have it, Leon happened to be one of those chance encounters. Now, here they were, in Providence Peak, sitting in the dark and somewhat sketchy alleyway, each with a cigarette dangling between their fingers and a bagel resting between them.

Matilda stretched out her long legs, comfortably crossing her ankles as she settled into their impromptu meeting spot. Initially, her gaze was fixed straight ahead, her blue eyes tracing the patterns of the worn down bricks in front of them. But then, Leon started to speak.

A laugh bubbled up and into the air. At first, she assumed Leon was joking, prepared to brush the comment off. But then, as she studied his face, it became clear that he was entirely serious. "Leon," she said his name, attempting to hide a second burst of laughter rising up, "No, you idiot."

She was about to explain to him. The real reason that she refused to try his bagel was her loyalty to another that was still on the corner of 110th and 1st Ave. But, seeing how bothered Leon was by her rejection, so she couldn't resist the temptation to tease him further.

"I just think your bagels suck," she taunted, her tone playful yet teasing. "Too much garlic – I could smell it from a mile away. You should consider yourself lucky that I even stop by for a cup of coffee."

There was a sharp inhale of breath as Matilda stepped forward, Roman’s body readying itself to defend itself from an attack, trying not to seem too relieved when she realised her mistake a moment later and retreated. It was confusing; the internal battle of wanting to make her suffer, and waving some sort of white flag, noting it was interesting he was willing to give this courtesy to the woman who caused so much pain in the aftermath, and not the bandmate who experienced the trauma side-by-side with the bassist.

“See you.” Was all he could say, the two syllables struggling to leave his throat. It felt like a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep and, for the rest of the work day, he debated if he even should.

Matilda got to walk away from him that night. Got to break her promises and end up virtually unscathed. Sure, the tabloids weren’t nice to her about the whole ordeal, and by that point Roman himself was too cut up with grief and sick of the cameras to even set the record straight, deciding it was karma for leaving him. But maybe she deserved a bit more, to feel even an ounce of what he felt that night, and the morning after. And the week after that.

The image of her sitting in the coffee shop on her own, sitting vigil for a man who would never show was almost inviting, but ultimately the twist in his gut betrayed the fact that Roman couldn’t go through with it. So, at five o’clock on the dot, after spending the remaining free hour ruminating over everything, he slowly walked to Deja Brew.

And he ordered a drink, and sat, noting the irony that she had done to him what he was planning on doing to her. As the minutes creeped by, each ding of the bell having him tense up, he decided that he was just going to call it a night. He tried, and she once again failed him. Then she appeared with her apologies, sitting opposite him, and they stared at each other in a way that was both utterly natural and foreign simultaneously.

Roman didn’t match her smile, didn’t comment on her tardiness in a way he would have teasingly done so once upon a time, but he dropped his gaze when her soft smile, the one that always made his heart melt, got too much, addressing his lukewarm mug of coffee instead. “You want to talk. Talk.” He was known for not beating around the bush, after all.

☆ @mctildatautou

The scent of his cologne filled the air, a familiar fragrance that only belonged to him. It brought back memories within her, memories she'd tucked away in the back of her mind, now rising like ghosts to haunt her. She knew all too well that he was probably feeling the same thing. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Matilda shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Roman began to speak. She was braced for the confrontation she'd was ready to beg for, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

He wasted no time, never did. Where she felt the urge to sugar-coat things, he met them head-on. People always said opposites attract, and in a sense they were opposites in some ways. But their differences fit together like mismatched puzzle pieces, complementing each other's shortcomings effortlessly. They worked too well and it was by chance they caught each other that day on the music video set.

"Yeah..." she breathed, her gaze tracing his downturned eyes. Gathering her courage, she pushed ahead. "I mostly wanted to say sorry." she spoke although she was well aware she had already apologized earlier. Her voice was soft, tentative, as if she were tiptoeing through a minefield of emotions. This was his forte, never hers and the last thing she wanted to do was upset him - which unfortunately for her... wasn't too hard to do.

"And I'm here to answer any questions, or... or just listen to what you have to say. I-," she continued, her voice gaining strength, only to cut herself off with another thought. "Did you know I came back that night?" she asked, her curiosity spilling forth since she always wondered to what extent he knew. @rcmandaniels

elifalvey

Running into Matilda still obviously came as a surprise to Elijah — because hell, when he spent so long running from everything and everyone he knew back in LA, surprising was honestly a lackluster word to describe a sudden reunion in such an unexpected place — however, underneath that, there was a strange sense of relief upon hearing her voice, upon confirming that it was her. She was met with none of the defensive hostility that Roman was when the same thing happened between them a few months prior, even though their obvious connection realistically should’ve kicked up a much more hesitant initial reaction.

No. Quite honestly, he found comfort in the fact that she seemed equally as confused; it meant that Roman, after all two of their encounters thus far, didn’t talk about them with her.

Of course, his first mistake was assuming that Roman would (one he was confident to make, at least, thanks to all the years he’d been the subject of his former bandmate’s favorite activity — complaining), and his second was assuming that the two of them — once lovers, at one point — were in any sort of contact, allowing that to happen in the first place.

Unfortunately, he’d never been the best at thinking things through when he was put on the spot, which would have done plenty in the way of chipping away at the awkwardness if he simply would. Instead, he rubbed off the remnants of crumbs from his palms into the open container, chuckling before he said, “I, uh — yeah, I’ve been alright. Same hair and everything, and . . . old, I suppose. Which is a bit of a stretch, no? A few years isn’t that long.”

There was a cheeky glimmer in his eye, only teasing her for her choice of wording as a means to break the ice, and he straightened up to stand. “Thank you, though. Yeah. You look . . . I mean, wonderful, as always. How’ve you been?”

And like it pained him to ask, almost like asking such a question was akin to getting teeth pulled, he continued, only in the name of being polite — to her, not to him. “How’s . . . um. You know, Rome? Roman. How's Roman?”

( @mctildatautou )