Thinking about Leave the Light on but it’s Two Bit. How every single night, he comes home exhausted from his job. It’s late and he just wants to sleep and ignore the world. But he can’t. So he makes himself a small dinner and glances around his house. It isn’t much, it’s small, but it was what Marcia always talked about. Marcia. God, everything came back to her didn’t it? He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let his mind wander back to her. He thought back to their long talks in the middle of the night. How he’d pull her close, take her cool hand in his and they’d just enjoy each other’s company like they had forever to do it.
Sometimes he lets himself hope that she’s just outside. She’s right around the corner and not twenty hours away, moving on and forgetting about him. He lets himself long for her in the late nights in his kitchen. He wonders too. About what their life could’ve been. If she’d stayed, would they have settled down? Would they have gotten married? Had kids? Would he be cooking up food for a whole family while listening to her laugh drift in from outside? Would they sit down for dinner and just talk about anything and everything?
But then reality comes crashing down as the kettle starts to whistle. She left. Marcia is gone and she isn’t coming back. And honestly, it’s good that she isn’t. Two Bit knows that. He knows that she deserves more than Tulsa and he can ever offer her. But damn it, if some part of him doesn’t wish she’d come back. She’d come back and knock on his door and tell him that she missed him. He knows it’s stupid, but god does he wish it would happen. But there was a reason he only allowed himself to wish late at night. Because late at night, no one was going to come by and see him. No one would notice if his eyes were raw and there were tears slipping down his cheeks.
It’s ok. That’s what he told himself. As long as she’s happy, it’s ok. So he’d sighed, straightened up in his chair, and poured water from the kettle. He lifted up his hand to rub his temples and try to fight away the growing headache he felt. It was late, he should sleep. But just as he went to turn off the light, someone knocked on his door. And when he opened it, there she was. Standing there, stance uncertain, hair longer, and face slightly changed, but there was no mistaking it. She was here. She was back. She was real.