Random Fact of the Week - Abby's ex edition
He only thought of her sometimes.
A song, a place, those blasted Doctor Who specials that aired on Christmas Day.
As the years wore on, the deep wound of losing her had faded into a tender scar. It hurt when it was pressed, but he welcomed the pain. Like a battle wound he'd earned for doing something noble in his life.
Loving someone who didn't love him back--at least, not the way he loved her. He was the tortured, selfless soul. The one everyone pitied.
Perhaps he was beginning to like how that felt.
Sam could feel bile rising in his throat at the thought.
"You're not listening, are you?"
He looked up at Maeve and swallowed it down. "I am. She's gonna be at the funeral--"
"She might be," Maeve said with exasperation. "And she's asked Cam several times if you're okay with it."
His heart swelled with both irritation and a stubborn affection. "It's been nearly four years and I'm not a bloody child. She can do what she pleases."
"She's in a relationship."
"Well, yes, she should be."
"I just mean, it--it makes sense. Why wouldn't she be, she's..."
He trailed off, not knowing how to salvage the rest of his sentence.
"Don't, please," he said, holding a hand up. "I know how pathetic I sound."
And there it was. The pity. Shining bright in his best friend's eyes. A part of of him lived for it. Another part loathed it.
"You know she wouldn't have considered coming if it were anyone else. But she loved Professor Ronan."
Sam bit his tongue to stop him from replying. Of course he knew that. He'd once known everything about her.
"Still can't believe he's gone..." Maeve said, and Sam jumped onto the new topic like a drowning man on a slab of wood.
She sat next to Cam (the traitor, his mind childishly supplied), looking as beautiful as the day he'd said goodbye to her. If not more.
Though he was relieved she'd come alone, he couldn't help but wonder about the new guy in her life. Whether he couldn't be arsed to stand by her side today.
Or worse....whether they were both considerate enough to not shove their relationship in his face.
He selfishly hoped it was the former.
Whatever the case, Sam dreaded the end of the funeral service. He had no idea how to behave in her presence. Did he ignore her completely? Be mature and say hello? Give her a friendly hug for old time's sake?
His heart clenched at the thought. They'd always been that first and foremost: friends. And even though he knew he'd made the right decision by stopping communication after the breakup, there were days he hated himself for not giving their friendship a chance.
"What's the plan?" Maeve whispered in his ear as a quiet shuffle began around the room after the service came to an end.
Sam swallowed hard. "Let's just get out of here," he said, feeling a weight drop in his stomach at his own words.
A window of opportunity was quickly closing. This would be his last chance.
He might never see her again.
His eyes traveled unbidden to her spot next to Cam, and as if sensing him, they both looked back at him at the same time.
"Shit," he said to himself as he saw Cam leading Abby over.
"We can still make a run for it," Maeve said, taking in the scene.
"Sammy!" Cam the arsehole said, slapping him on the back before coming in for a hug. "Abby and I were just talking about you."
Abby's face heated up in response. "He was--we were just..."
"It's ok," Sam said, reassuring her. "Cam, can you not be a little bitch for once in your life?"
Abby laughed quietly and Sam hated how his heart leapt in response.
They both started and stopped their sentences at the same time.
"Well, this is awkward," Cam said with a big smile. "I'll just be over there."
Sam rolled his eyes as Maeve quickly followed after him. "Sorry about him," he said. "He's not changed, clearly."
"Good for him," Abby said, smiling fondly as she watched him laugh with another old uni mate. "Change is overrated."
They were quiet for a moment, before Sam spoke. "It's good to see you, too," he said. "I mean, I wish it was under better circumstances, but..."
She folded her arms tightly and nodded.
"You've got a ride home, or...?"
She nodded again. Sam didn't ask any follow up questions.
"Well, I won't keep you, then," he said with an awkward smile.
Abby stood frozen for moment, her face unreadable. "Do you still like to bird watch?"
That was about the last thing he expected her to say.
"Only..." she said shaking her head. "Sometimes when I see a bird, I think of you. And I just wonder...does he still bird watch. I mean, I really hope that you do. Because it was nice, it was...well, it was you."
Sam felt an ache in his chest as he took in every bit of her that he could. From the furrow of her brows, to the hesitance in her blue eyes, to the small frown on her lips. So familiar, yet so foreign all at once.
"I still do, yeah," he said, his voice thick.
Abby nodded. "Good," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, I should be going."
"Maybe one day we could try again," Sam blurted out before she turned away. "Being friends, I mean."
She gave him a sad, wishful sort of smile that one might give to a child before telling them a difficult truth.
"One day...when I no longer hate the person whose waiting to take you home," he said.
Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, but she brushed them away. "What's my cab driver got anything to do with it?" she said.
He rolled his eyes but laughed despite himself. "You know what I mean."
And then he bid her goodbye.
The former, current, maybe forever love of his life.
Sam couldn't stop his feet from moving to the window to watch her, just one last glimpse for now. Even if it meant having to see him. Whoever he was.
He watched as Abby walked over to a bench across the street from the church where a bloke sat waiting in the brisk autumn wind.
Sam couldn't see the details of his face from this far. But he was tall-ish, black hair, lean. Abby fell into his arms as soon as she met him, and he pulled her in close.
Surely this was masochism, but Sam couldn't peel his eyes away.
Abby leant her head back, staring up at him. She zipped his jacket up higher, and then placed her hands on his cheeks as if to warm him up. But he removed them and tucked her in close to his side as they began walking.
Molded perfectly together, his long legs matching the steps of hers. Both taking care of each other. Abby talking animatedly with her all her body, while he listened with all of his.
Sam moved away from the window and sat back on one of the pews.
Most of the attendees had cleared out now, leaving only his small group of uni friends who surely were being polite enough to pretend not to notice him at the moment.
He knew Abby like he knew the back of his hand.
It didn't mean that it hurt any less.
He didn't know a thing about that man. But even a few seconds glimpse from afar was enough for him to see. They were equal. They were balanced. They moved like two gears that fit perfectly together.
Abby was in love. And he had to move on.
