EVERYTHING'S HOW I REMEMBER IT TO BE; EVERYTHING EXCEPT US / MATTHEW KNIES
SUMMARY Matthew's walking down memory lane, and it leads him back to her.
WORD COUNT 1.4k
WARNING/TROPES exes, light angst, pretty reminiscent and bittersweet, honestly not much else
AUTHOR'S NOTE @nol-pat this one's for you.
The streets of the once-familiar campus were covered in a thick blanket of snow, with branches of the naked trees lining the sidewalks twinkling with warm, white lights as the dark winter night drew nearer.
It wasn't Matthew's first time back on campus since he'd left to make his big break in the NHL. He'd come back occasionally—over the summer or when the Leafs played the Wild—but it would be the first time he'd walked that street.
The street with the café he'd go and sit in while studying. The street with the entrance to the park he'd spent countless hours aimlessly walking through. The street with the tree he'd carved a heart into without getting caught. The street with the type of warmth that seemed to fizzle out the moment he turned onto another. The street with the memories revolving all around her.
But for some reason, like a string had softly twined around his heart and pulled him from his friends' house, he decided to visit the one place on campus he'd been avoiding.
His breath condensed before his very eyes as he peered into the boba shop, seeing a couple sitting in a booth, sharing laughs over their drinks. At the same time, a few employees goofed around behind the counter, awaiting their next customer. He noted how everything looked exactly the same—as if no time had passed at all.
Maybe two years wasn't enough for things to change. Not the way he had.
Matthew continued walking down the street, trying his best to avoid the slushy patches on the sidewalk but ultimately not caring enough. Not when he'd been too distracted, too overwhelmed with memorizing the details one last time, absorbing every little thing like the past would disappear and be forgotten the moment he averted his attention.
A shiver ran down his spine as the wind picked up, shimmering snowflakes dancing in the air and nipping at his rosy skin. His eyes darted from the hanging string lights to the path ahead of him, and he pulled his hat snugly against his head before stuffing his fists deeper into the pockets of his jacket.
The antique bookstore was a few doors down, and Matthew smiled to himself. He pushed past the threshold and was instantly greeted with the cozy air of towering shelves with the faintest scents of vanilla and almond. He easily made his way through the store, finding himself in the same aisle he always did.
He thought back to the weekends they'd spent together, always coming to the bookstore because she was always in need of a new book. It seemed like she got through books as quickly as hummingbirds flapped their wings, and Matthew wasn't much of a reader, not the way she was, but he'd spend hours on end watching her flip through the collection of novels all day if he could.
Once again, she'd come to invade his mind. He wondered if he prodded around in hers every once in a while.
Maybe he didn't.
The thought of that wrenched his heart slightly. How did two people who talked about spending the rest of their lives together, who carried nothing but soul-consuming admiration for one another, who tried to defy all odds...not?
Matthew had hoped they'd amount to something more than nothing. Yet, as he walked out of the bookstore, with the last book she'd talked about that he'd never gotten around to, he was reminded of the fact that he'd been screaming into an empty voice, unheard by everyone but himself.
The sky had blackened during his time indoors, but now all he could envision was the brightness of her smile every time they'd ventured out into the darkness, how it lit up their surroundings even in the absence of light.
God, everything about this street reminded him of her.
It was a bad idea: roaming down the street he'd been so good at avoiding during his rare visits to his alma mater. He should've known it'd only open up old wounds, slice through the stitches he tried to sew into his heart bit by bit.
He should've known his efforts were useless.
He'd never been that great at sewing, not the way she was.
Matthew was about to turn around and head home when his gaze landed on the café. He stopped, stared at the emblem he'd grown to know so well, then glanced at the time on his phone. It was far too late for coffee, but for the budding nostalgia's sake, he shoved open the cumbersome door and felt his chest warm at the jingle of the familiar bell welcoming him back.
At the front of the line, his lips pulled into a thin smile when he recognized the cashier—the same woman who'd been there from the summer before his sophomore year, also the same summer he'd jumped into a relationship with the girl currently looping through his mind.
The woman's eyes curved downward with pity, and that was all Matthew needed to know she knew. He supposed his almost two years of absence were a good enough indicator of what'd happened.
Matthew cleared his throat, uttered a greeting, ordered his usual, then moved aside. As he waited, his gaze trailed off again, noting any differences in the decoration or the layout that may have happened since he'd left.
He couldn't find any.
Not until he spotted the couple sitting at a table.
He could see the girl clearly—she was laughing with every fiber in her body as she showed the guy beside her something on her phone, leaning further into his side like two puzzle pieces that seemed to fit perfectly.
His chest flared with recognition as he picked out the familiar curves and edges of her face, the familiar shade and cut of her hair, the familiar sound of her voice amidst the relaxed music in the background.
It was her.
His girl.
Except, she wasn't really his. Not anymore. Hadn't been in nearly two years, he reminded himself.
The sight of her beaming smile, genuine and once only for him, pulled his heart in all different directions, conflicted between hurting and mending. And yet, despite the way she'd been prowling in his mind that night and despite the way he'd been swathed by the familiarity of the past when it was long gone, a strange sense of tranquility washed over him.
There was unbridled joy on her face, and Matthew could live with the knowledge that she was happy. Because that was all he'd ever wanted her to be—happy, content, loved.
Even if it wasn't with him.
Maybe he wasn't meant to be hers for the rest of their lives, despite his hopes and their friends and families cheering them on.
And maybe that was okay.
Matthew hadn't moved on quite yet, not the way she had, and maybe that was okay, too.
One day he would.
One day, he would stop comparing every girl he crossed paths with to her. One day, his heart could race at the thought of another girl who wasn't her. One day, she could be a memory he visited from time to time, someone he could recall with the type of fondness that told the world he'd loved.
He'd loved, and she was merely one of many examples of that.
His name was called out, and Matthew grabbed his steaming hot drink. He spared one final glance over his shoulder, and his eyes connected with hers.
Briefly, they lingered.
Then, she smiled—not quite inviting, but accepting—and Matthew knew she'd experienced a realization similar to his.
Not much had changed in two years, not around them at least, yet they had. Strangers now, traversing the world with the shared memories of an old life they'd outgrown.
Matthew returned the smile before walking away.
"Who was that?"
She watched Matthew turn down the street until he was out of view. For a split second, her mind replayed the year they spent together—all the shared dreams, the inside jokes, the spontaneous dates—and her face softened with the parts of her he'd taken with him when he left for Toronto.
For a split second, they were hers again.
But she'd let go of that rather quickly.
Because those parts of her didn't quite fit who she was anymore.
Turning to her boyfriend, her eyes gleamed with reminiscence. "Just someone I used to know."
