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Nearly a year ago to the day, Brooke had left this street corner on that cold October night with tears streaming down her face. It was crazy to think about it now.
She was a different person back then. One that hadn’t known the epic highs and lows her career was about to experience. She was a person who didn’t know what it was like to be adored. Of course, she knew people fawned over her, admired her from across dance floors and on stages. But adoration? Pure, unadulterated adoration? For no reason other than she was good at her job? That was another beast entirely.
Brooke didn’t know nearly a year ago to the day how much she needed it. How much she was missing out on. How much she craved it now.
She was younger, albeit only in experience.
She knew better now.
Looking up at the same streetlight that had fractled through her tears that fateful night, she knew better now.
She knew now that she had to make herself appear human. Had to make herself weak.
She knew now that she had to make herself wrong. Had to give herself flaws.
Had to give herself flaws that were not her true flaws, because her true flaws were too personal to show. So she settled for flaws that didn’t fit her perfectly, but only if you looked close enough.
She knew now not to fall in love on national television.
That one should have been self-explanatory, Brooke thought.
Evidently, it hadn’t been, because here she was.
Standing under a streetlamp where a boy she swore she didn’t love broke her heart.
She still swears she didn’t love him.
Swears it was too short a timespan to call it love.
Swears that the episodes where she sees herself smiling and giggling and falling aren’t real.
It was a weird time.
It was a weird situation to be in.
It was convenient.
It wouldn’t have happened otherwise.
All these excuses she had used before seemed to be failing her now.
The streetlamp stared through her. Shooting down each of her flimsy excuses until she was left with nothing but the truth and her heart in her hands.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should turn and walk away.
It was dark after all, and her eyes were beginning to mist.
But something kept her rooted to the spot.
Flashes of a too-white smile and a warm hand in hers suddenly filled her senses.
Flashes of the past, glimpses of her life before played out on her now-closed eyelids.
There was a dock
Then the water
Then a kiss
Then a head on her shoulder
Then there was a movie theatre
Then a bucket of popcorn
Then too much butter
Then a soft smile
Then a greasy kiss
Then there was a bed
Then it was not hers
Then it was limbs
Then they were not hers
Then there was home
Then there was safety
Then there was warmth
Then there was comfort
Then there was love
And the love shone brighter the longer Brooke looked at the streetlamp
Her eyes were suddenly watering
Her hands were suddenly shaking
And the heart in her hands was suddenly falling
And then it was being caught
The light was too bright for Brooke to make out the face of her heart’s savior, but a moment later, when familiar hands traced the cracks, sealing them back up as if they had never been there before, she didn’t need to see
And just as soon as he was there he was gone
Brooke left the same streetlamp with tears in her eyes, but a heart in her chest.