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A week after he sees Rue again, Fezco braves a trip to the store.
It’s late July with a heat advisory in full swing, but a breeze chills him to the bone.
Each step gets heavy, like the ground is trying to drown him in place cause nothing about the store’s changed–and that fucking scares the shit out of him.
He’s half-hoping and half-dreading that it’s some kind of haze that’s trapped him in standstill all this time, that he’s gonna pick that padlock that was never there before and find Ash waiting for him behind the freezer door.
But the door creaks open and his heart drops into his stomach.
The store’s been turned upside down with shelves knocked over, collecting dust. Open bags of chips are scattered and the smell of rot burns his eyes as he passes by what’s left over in the dairy.
The place reeks of abandonment and Fezco blends right in.
She’s run through her lines a million times before.
An oh-so Lexi thing to do; rehearsing for something in the future that could never happen.
Like the off chance that Fezco just happens to find his way to the streets of Reno (because she’s looking, she’s always looking) and she catches freckles or a red beard or the feel of someone who once called her fearless like it’s the most obvious thing about her.
On cool, desert nights after the city gives into a blanket of night stitched with stars and the moon; when she’s not as daring as to go back home, Lexi conjures him like a ghost.
And it’s selfish she knows; calling on his name for a bit of company just to take confession instead.
She starts with the weather because it’s easy and honest. It’s quiet on his end but she’s sure he’s listening. He always is, even when a new rolled joint is between his fingers and Lexi feels the heat of a lighter kissing her cheek.
Then she’s talking about life and all she’s learned for him in the time in between. Scraps of life that are worth a fuck; collected, boxed, unboxed and reboxed. This gets a smile, a laugh and an occasional “What the fuck”.
And that’s how she’s confident enough to jump right into the finale.
Lexi turns to face this version of Fezco and starts with “I’m sorry he’s dead.”
He’s silent, immediately.
“ I’m sorry he’s dead and you got hurt,” she swallows, “And that you’re alone.”
It’s right about here when his eyes steel into something too tough for her to break through.
Now, the final blow.
“ I’m sorry that I left you too.”
He vanishes.
There’s a loose, hollow tile in the freezer he never knew about.
He shuffles through Ash’s stuff in the freezer, what’s left of it at least. That’s when Fezco catches a tile shifted up and pulls out a shoebox covered in dust.
It’s filled with Polaroids, some blurred and some faded, the corners folding in—all memories that he can’t ask anyone about.
There are some where it looks like they’re posing, barely awake. At the store, on their old couch, in the kitchen.
Some come with blocked letters on the back, like memos telling Fez to try to remember.
One where Fezco’s out cold on the dining table, mouth wide open.
It reads ‘FEZ- DUMB AF’ on the back when Fezco flips it over.
That little shit.
There’s one left at the bottom of the stack, folded.
On the flap it reads ‘FEZ –HAPPY (L)’
His hand reaches for it and—
The bell chimes out front and he’s pulled back.
“Place is closed”, he hollers out, hoping they’d leave.
Fez doesn’t hear the second chime of the door.
He rubs his hands against his face.
‘Fuck this.’
He drops the box down, hand already pushing on the freezer door to tear into whoever’s at his door, “I know you fuckin’ heard me so—”
“Fezco?”
His eyes meet brown ones, standing a couple of feet apart.
He isn't ready.
One look at curled brown locks and a set of doe eyes that always seem to ask him more questions than he’s ever ready for and he knows he’s not fucking ready for what’s next.
Not from this version of Lexi Howard, the one that slaps him with the cold truth that time did move, just not him.
Not just on that night, but all the time that came after.
He's sick to his stomach that the universe made his choice; whether he's running away from or towards her is never something he commits to but now—
He’s fucking pissed. Two years and he’s sure he’s done thinking the worst of East Highland, taking so much from him too soon.
"You're really here."
It's barely a whisper but the air carries it over.
"The place is closed", he croaks, hoping the repetition is enough for her to get it.
She’s frozen on the spot before a quiet stutter comes out.
“Yeah, um. Yeah. I come by every once in a while and the door’s always locked since—”
She stops and looks away.
Something else itches, like the thousand times he’s wanted to look for her, to actually find her, and to ask if he’s the only one who remembers half-written futures that aren’t possible because she’s there and Ash isn’t.
To carry parts of him that he’s left behind because she can bear witness to them.
It’s all coming back like a weighted mass in him and he’s sure he’ll choke on it if she doesn’t leave soon.
“Lexi.”
She looks back up at him.
“You cannot be here right now.”
And he fucking hates it, he hates how her eyes fall and he hates he’s not the fucking same anymore, as much as he desperately wants to be.
“Y-yeah, of course.”
She hurries out without another look and Fezco’s sure that he’s never burned a bridge any quicker than this.
And it's not long until he's out the door before he catches fire too.
It stings.
And no amount of rehearsing by herself could brace her for it.
For how he pushes her away within seconds of seeing her, like he’s been ready for it since the start.
And all she could do is turn away.
‘CowardCowardCoward’ is all she hears on her way home.
Fezco waits a few more days before going back.
He watches every corner and listens for the slightest noise; anything that’s remotely her is enough reason for him to turn the other way.
It’s stupid and selfish and cruel, but that’s all he’s made of.
He’s quiet, opening the door with one hand and stopping the chime with the other.
Anything from giving him away.
It is dark enough that he almost misses it; right before he turns to go inside the freezer, his eye catch something on the counter, folded up.
Numbers and the word ‘HAPPY (L)’ stick out against the dim light and his hand shakes as he picks it up.
It’s him under neon lights sitting next to the register.
Lexi, to the right of him.
It’s a long shot from the get-go but now, two days later, hope fades a lot quicker.
She tells herself it’s okay.
That maybe adding her number under the caption is not the best way to make him see there’s something worth in knowing her again, knowing her the first time around too.
But something about seeing both wide grins captured on a day neither of them probably remember; it pulls on a pocket of bravery tucked away in her heart.
So she waits in her old room.
And waits.
And waits.
And—
Her phone rings.