Chapter Text
Riley’s gotten pretty decent at stepping back.
It’s easy; it should be second nature to her by now. But love is never an easy thing, and neither is watching the person you love, love someone else.
It sucks. It really does.
What sucks even worse is that she and Farkle can’t talk to each other. Well, they can, but their decision not to is mutual, only made worse by Farkle casting worried glances in her direction every so often. Is he afraid that she’s that fragile, that she’ll fall apart because of repeated rejection?
He certainly wouldn’t be wrong, and that notion infuriates her. When in life has Farkle been anything but right? She’s a freaking porcelain teapot, ready to crack and crumble under the vast pressure of loneliness and rejection.
Screw boys. They shouldn’t have this kind of power over her.
Except Farkle’s rejection hurts the most, because she does care for him deeply, deeper than the Mariana’s Trench, even. He may be her spark, but unfortunately for her, someone else is his. Isadora Smackle captivated Farkle’s heart through science, enduring resilience, and matching wit. Riley’s smart, but she can’t compete with what Smackle has to offer him.
It makes her heart ache that she’s known him for all these years and never knew just how much he really meant to her until it was too late. And for some stupid reason, she can’t change her mind about her feelings now that she’s made that discovery. She can’t shut off the fact that she’s not just stunned by the existence of Farkle Minkus, but enraptured. He’s not just a spark in her eyes, but a blazing fire, igniting wonderfully and eternally.
She hopes Smackle can realize that what she’s got is unlike any other.
She trusts that she does.
//
Riley always leaves her bay window unlocked.
It’s a sacred thing to her, the bay window, and everyone who knows it remains unfastened also knows that they have an open invitation.
She honestly doesn’t expect him to clamber through her window, however, not after how they last left things. In all honesty, she expects Maya more than anything to demand to know what’s going on with her recent moodiness, but she also respects that Maya’s working hard on an art project and hasn’t had much time for anything other than remembering to work, sleep, drink, and eat.
“Riley,” Farkle says softly after he’s climbed inside, taking residence upon her windowsill bench while she remains planted firmly on her bed across the room from him. The distance between them is still overwhelming.
“Farkle,” she echoes back in the same tone, a sigh lingering behind, “What brings you to my window? It’s late.”
He knows it’s late, but he has no clue as to what she’s referring to—the time, or the state of how things are. Riley’s not sure she knows, either.
“I have to know,” he begins, his legs bouncing around in typical Farkle fashion, “Why did you tell me those things you did? Why now, of all times?”
“What, do you think I have some kind of timer set for my feelings?” she snaps at him, taking pride (but feeling mostly guilty after) in his flinch-response. “I’m not a robot, Farkle. I’m just a teenage girl, and I feel what I feel. End of story.”
Although her eyes remained fixated on the soft, sky blue hue of her walls, she can still sense the heavy weight of his gaze upon her.
“I’m not saying you’re a robot, Riley. I’m just . . . I’m just confused.”
Her concentration on the wall breaks, and she turns to face him.
Oh, he’s the one who’s confused?
“What do you have to be confused about, Farkle? It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”
He sighs audibly.
“I don’t know,” Farkle whines, utter befuddlement noticeable in his intonation, “It’s just, ever since that night . . . I thought I had it figured all out, okay? I had all these puzzle pieces that fit into my jigsaw-life all perfectly, and everything was all good. Then one day I took a look under the magnifying glass to see that I had fit a piece into the wrong spot—it looked like it fit, I tried to make it fit, but it just wasn’t the right spot. Now I have no clue where to put it.”
“Maybe it belongs to a different puzzle,” Riley remarks. Farkle shakes his head.
“No, that’s not it at all.”
“Then what?” she demands. Why is he being all cagey like this?
“I don’t know, Riley. I really don’t know.” She huffs, pressing her arms against her chest in indignation. Riley doesn’t have time for his resignation he’s so hell-bent on communicating to her, but he elaborates further by asking her a question. “How can you know you love me?”
Riley’s jaw drops. Now he wants her to explain her love for him, to shed light on her side of what love is.
“I just know Farkle. I just know that you’re my friend and I love you that way, and that I also love you in a “I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-beside-you” kind of way.”
“And?”
He’s annoying her, but she knows it’s truly not on purpose. Farkle really wants to understand how exactly she loves him.
“Look, it’s all head and heart, mind and body and soul. My heart speaks and my head listens. I look at you and I don’t see a spark; I see a blazing fire, vivid and radiating, and I’m drawn towards you like a moth to a flame. You told me to look for my spark, Farkle, and I found it. It’s just that my spark belongs to someone else.” He doesn’t say anything once she’s finished, just remains quiet, as if he needs time to register her words. So she continues, “Is that what you wanted to know, Farkle? Because it’s too late to take it back now.”
“I think I’m . . . satisfied with your answer,” he responds a moment later, and Riley suppresses the urge to give him a swift punch to the throat. She doesn’t need him to validate her stupid, unrequited feelings, and he definitely doesn’t need to reply to them like an automated phone service.
“I’m glad you’re satisfied,” Riley mumbles sarcastically. “So are we done with this transaction or what?”
“How can you be sure that your feelings for me were formed because you genuinely love me? How do you know it’s not because you were feeling—” Farkle begins begins, but Riley cuts him off before he’s able to finish.
“Because I was what, lonely? Broken? Rejected? Go on, Farkle. Finish that statement and see how this ends, because I can guarantee you it won’t be a good ending.”
Her fists clench at her sides, her blood boiling. She doesn’t need this sort of crap from anyone, especially not him, and she won’t take it if he continues. Riley may be feeling like a doormat lately, but she’s certainly not going to let herself act like one.
“I—” Farkle attempts conversation, but shuts his mouth soon after, contemplating his next move, particularly one that won’t get him killed in the process. “I should probably go, shouldn’t I,” he says, more as a statement than a question. Riley nods her head.
“I think that’d be best, really,” she tells him, her voice lowering. “And . . . it’d probably be best if we spent some time apart.”
Farkle’s brow furrows.
“Riley?”
“You’re my best friend, Farkle, you really are, but we just can’t make it through this. Not unless we spend some time apart, give ourselves time to let this pass. Just give me time to get over you, okay?”
He wants to fight it; she can see it in his eyes.
But he doesn’t.
“Okay,” he agrees, crestfallen. “Okay. Time apart, gotcha. This is totally cool.”
Farkle rises from the bench to cross over to the open window, preparing to climb out. His fingers grip the wooden frame, ready to pull himself through the opening, but then he spares one more glance at Riley.
“Goodnight,” he tells her coolly. She thins her lips, nodding.
“Goodnight, Farkle Minkus. Don’t be a stranger.”
He turns from her, gaze trained out the window as he says,
“Never.”
//
The chilling of the winter months does nothing to raise her mood, not even when the first batch of snowflakes flutter delicately from the sky. Riley orders a pumpkin spice latte every day to try and cheer herself up, but to no avail.
It is never a good thing to keep things to yourself, especially to bottle them all up inside. Once Maya’s finished with her latest masterpiece, she pays more attention to Riley again, noticing almost immediately that something is up. Things are not all well in Rileytown, and Maya tells her she better smile soon or the mayor is gonna have to start whooping some butts to get answers.
Rileytown has been covered in rainstorms and she doesn’t think they’ll go away anytime soon. Riley wants to keep suppressing her feeling for the benefit of not wanting to distract Maya and to keep the balance of the earth in check, but Maya is her best friend and deserves to know the truth.
“Oh, sweetie,” Maya coos, leaning her head into the crook of Riley’s neck, “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I’ve left you suffering alone through all of this, too.”
“Maya, you don’t need to stop your life for me. I’m fine,” Riley insists, but Maya shakes her head.
“Riley, as long as we’ve been best friends, you should know that I’m here for you whenever you need it. It’s not me stopping my life, it’s me being your best friend to you. I want to be there for you when you’re struggling.”
Maya pulls her into a tight embrace then, and Riley can’t help but cry into her shoulder, the weight of all her burdens breaking her like a crack in a dam.
“Peaches, why are boys so awful?” she sobs into Maya’s shoulder.
“Because they’re emotionally stunted, honey,” Maya answers back, rubbing Riley’s back to console her, “And bastards,” she adds, causing Riley to pull away from her embrace, managing a half-sob, half-laugh.
“Maya!” Riley exclaims, but Maya only shrugs her shoulders.
“We’re in high school, Riley. You’re gonna have to get used to it.”
Maya always did know the best ways to cheer her up.
//
The next person to climb in through her window is completely and totally unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. He doesn’t come at odd hours of the night and knocks on the window gently before entering to announce his presence.
She still has a container full of half-pairs of his shoes sitting next to her bed, even after all this time.
“Riley, is it alright if I come in? I don’t want to bother you or anything,” he calls to her from her fire escape. Riley holds in a breath for a minute before revealing her answer.
“Of course, Lucas. Come on in,” she says, gesturing for him to crawl inside. Lucas bows his head once before sliding inside, showcasing his grace from the many times he’s done so. He takes a seat near her on her windowsill bench, and Riley can’t help but admire the cerulean blue of his eyes that she used to adore so much.
“So I came to talk about things,” Lucas tells her. Riley raises a brow.
“Things? What kinds of things?”
“We have unfinished business, you and I. I don’t think we ended on a good note, and I’d like to officially change that. I know it’s been a little over a month since we broke things off, but I would appreciate it if you let me try to settle things.”
Oh Lucas, ever the gentlemen. Why can’t she love him instead, damnit!
“Well, I’d be willing to hear anything you have to say. I think now is an appropriate time to do that.”
Lucas’ mouth quirks into a small grin, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“First off, I’d like to say that I’m sorry for how things happened. I never wanted it to end that way, but we were just—”
“Too similar?” Riley offers. He nods his head.
“Yeah. I mean, I really do love you, Riley. You’re one of the first people I met in New York, and you took a chance on me and stuck with me even after learning my truths. But we never loved each other in the way that we should have as a couple, and for that, I am awfully sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Lucas. It wasn’t your fault,” Riley tells him.
“No, I do need to apologize. You deserve to be loved and adored and I never gave you that. I hope you know you’re one of a kind, Riley Matthews. Anyone who treats you otherwise is a pile of dirt in my eyes.”
She laughs at that, actually laughs, glad for Lucas’s presence. She needed him as a friend again, missed it sorely.
“You’re a good one, Lucas. I hope whoever you find next loves you more than anything in the world.”
His grin turns into a full-fledged smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Same goes to you, Riley,” he says, his face dropping back to a neutral position after. “Now the next thing I want to address is . . . you have a whole bucket of my shoes I’d like back. I appreciate your dad’s need for a trophy collection, but I’m running thin on footwear.”
“Of course,” Riley chuckles as she rises from her bed to push the bucket of lefties towards him (“The left foot,” Lucas would always say, “Why is it always the left foot?!”) He takes the bucket and places it next to him on the bench, draping an arm around it for safety purposes.
“Alright, I have one more thing to say, but I want you to hear me out before you make a decision,” Lucas tells her, holding a hand up to keep her from leaving. Riley watches him cautiously, crossing her arms against her chest.
“Okaaaay,” she complies, still wary. “What is it?”
“Farkle wants to meet you at the park. He sent me to you because he didn’t want to violate your agreement to take some time apart, but he was insistent that you go see him. He also said that it’s your decision in the end, though, and if you don’t want to go then he’ll understand.”
Oh.
“Did he say anything else?”
Lucas shakes his head.
“No, that was about it. But he did mention that he’d be there all night, and if you weren’t there by midnight then he’d take that as your answer.”
Riley stares at Lucas, her mind buzzing with thought.
She could not visit him. Riley could easily say no, let herself have more time to herself to move on from this mess.
Or she could go to him. She could see what he has to say, hear him out and give him the benefit of the doubt.
A real predicament, indeed. She’s between the devil and the deep blue sea on this one.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” she tells him after careful consideration. “Now you go take those shoes back to their home where their partners are. I’m sure they’ve been missed dearly.”
Lucas laughs, smiling as he picks up the bucket and heads back to his exit.
“See you later?” he asks as he reaches the ajar glass.
“See you later,” she confirms, watching him as he departs, his figure disappearing from sight once he heads down the fire escape.
Riley’s left alone to her thoughts once again, contemplating what choice she’ll make.
To go, or not to go? That is the question.
//
Riley’s become a real sucker for those azure eyes, for sure. Maybe that’s what willed her to the park in the first place, all bundled up in a scarf and a thick pea coat to shield her from the ardent chill around her. Whatever the case, she’s in the park, freezing her butt off for a boy she’s trying desperately not to love.
What’s not to enjoy about this situation?
“Farkle,” she calls out to him when she approaches the bench he’s taken up residence at, gaining his attention immediately. He exhales right away when he catches sight of her, as if he were half-expecting her not to show up at all. She doesn’t blame him for that speculation one bit—she almost didn’t. But she did come, and she’s hoping to gain some sort of closure and be able to be friends with him again. She misses the hell out of him, for sure.
Damn her teenage heart, damn it all to hell! Why did it have to go and make a mess of things?
“Riley, you made it,” he says, still astonished by her presence. Riley takes careful notice of his red cheeks, flushed from the cold, and removes her scarf at once, wrapping it around his neck.
“Of course I made it. It’s a good thing I did, too, otherwise you’d be frostbitten by the end of the night. Do you not know how cold New York gets? I hope you do, since you’ve lived here long enough.” Farkle doesn’t laugh at that, doesn’t even chuckle in the slightest bit, and Riley seriously considers that he’s already started to get hypothermia. Instead, she chalks it up to him being serious Farkle, trying to keep his focus on one thing and one thing only.
“Uh, thanks,” he tells her, playing with the scarf for a moment before returning his attention to her. “I wanted to talk to you about some things.”
“So I’ve been told. What ya got for me, Farkley?”
“You wanna sit? We might be out here for a bit,” Farkle taps the empty spot next to him, waiting patiently for Riley to sit down instead of an actual answer. She does so, but leaves a couple inches of space inbetween, acknowledging that things are still awkward between them.
“What do you want to talk about, Farkle? I’m here,” Riley lets him know, drumming her fingers on the faded wood of the bench in anticipation.
“Remember how I was talking about that puzzle piece a bit ago, and I said that I didn’t know where exactly it fit?” he asks her. She nods her head.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I think I know where it goes. It’s kind of hard for me to want to fit it in so soon, but I’m afraid if I don’t try to put it into place soon, I might lose it forever.”
Riley watches as his feet kick at the ground, a stray rock rolling from the wake. Farkle sighs, licking at his lips that have grown chapped from the dry, winter air before turning to face her, eyes wide with uncertainty like a lost child in a grocery store.
“Smackle and I broke up,” he blurts aloud, hands gripping the edge of the wooden bench.
“I’m sorry, Farkle,” Riley tells him genuinely, her heart dropping with hurt for him. He shrugs in response.
“It’s alright, I suppose. I sort of saw it coming, but I didn’t really want the inevitable to happen until it did. She told me I didn’t love her like I should, and I couldn’t help but agree.”
“I see,” Riley remarks, “Then what?”
“Smackle told me the feeling was mutual. She said she appreciated our time together, but decided that, in the end, it was probably best that we be kept apart. Nemesis was always a better title shared between the two of us,” he says with a small chuckle. “But now I’m here, sitting in a park in climate more than ready to turn me into a popsicle, hoping that I’m not too late.”
“Too late for what?” Riley presses. She wants to hear what he has to say, needs to hear it.
“I hope it’s not too late for me to try to fit that puzzle piece where it’s belonged for a long while now. I hope it’s not too late for me to try to find my spark,” he says, staring her dead in the eyes while he says it. His eyes aren’t full of sadness like she expects; instead they’re filled with hope and want, something that she’s more than familiar with when she looks at him.
“I don’t think it’s too late for you to go for what you want. You never know until you try. And this puzzle piece would like to try something,” Riley tells him, holding out her hand. “Want to come with me?”
“Where?” Farkle asks, reaching to intertwine his fingers with hers. Together they rise from the bench, considering each other with eagerness plain upon their faces.
“To a warm house with a warm fire, where we can just sit together in silence and make up for lost time,” she answers, squeezing his hand for reassurance. He squeezes back, the corners of his mouth tugging upward into a hint of smile.
“I think I’d like that more than anything in the world.” Riley grins, her heart soaring within her chest, feeling content for the first time in a long while.
“I missed you, Farkle,” she whispers into his ear when they begin to take off down the sidewalk, her head resting against the empty space of his neck. She won’t ever say it aloud, not to him or even Maya, but she always has fit seamlessly there, like she was made for that gap. Farkle leans his cheek up against her, pressing his lips at the crease inbetween her brows.
“I love you, too, Riley,” he whispers back, and although everything is still jumbled and muddled, Riley thinks that it just might be okay.