Work Text:
“It's that thing when you're with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it... but it's a party... and you're both talking to other people, and you're laughing and shining... and you look across the room and catch each other's eyes... but - but not because you're possessive, or it's precisely sexual... but because... that is your person in this life. And it's funny and sad, but only because this life will end, and it's this secret world that exists right there in public, unnoticed, that no one else knows about. It's sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us, but we don't have the ability to perceive them. That's what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess,” - Frances Ha
~~~~~~~
She’s never had a person before.
She’s heard about it in films and poetry. She’s seen it between her parents and friends.
She’s seen it.
She knows it exists.
She’s had love and friendship. She has had comradery and laughter. She has had family, in a sense, she guesses.
But she’s never had her person.
That person whose friendship and partnership make everything make a little more sense while at the same time being the same person that makes her heart race.
The person who understands her, supports her and encourages her while never trying to change her.
The person who knows that she runs cold at night and that they should carry an extra sweater just for her.
The person who knows how she prefers kettle popcorn to butter popcorn.
The person who knows she loves vanilla bean ice cream to chocolate ice cream.
The person who knows she loves fuzzy socks and hot chocolate in the summertime.
The person that knows she sings Lady Marmalade when she’s trying to study.
The person who knows that she cleans when she is stressed.
The person who is the first person she always wants to tell her best and her worst news.
The person who knows the best way to brighten her day is chips and salsa.
The person who always finds her eyes in a crowded room.
The person who knows exactly what she’s thinking by just the look on her face.
The person who knows her competitive nature and smiles genuinely in adoration instead of placating her.
The person who knows this all, and doesn’t just stick around despite all of it, but loves her because of it all.
But she’s never had her person before.
Until Tim.
She realizes that he is her person suddenly and out of nowhere one day while on shift.
With Tim.
It’s after their disastrous double date with their significant others, where they acted more like a couple than friends or colleagues ever should.
“Unless it’s more,” she thinks fleetingly, as she watches Tim go to pick up their lunch order.
Veggie burger and fries.
Extra pickles.
“Nope,” she thinks as she physically shakes her head and herself out of her train of thought before continuing her internal monologue.
“Your person doesn’t have to be your romantic partner. There is no rule I have to abide by,” she thinks as she watches him walk back to their shop with lunch in tow.
So he is her person.
But that doesn’t have to mean anything she tells herself time and again.
The next time she realizes he is her person is when he decides to list her as the arresting officer on all future reports.
He knows her.
He’s her person.
But that doesn’t have to mean anything
Except it does.
It means everything she realizes.
The cause of this realization is the one person who should be her person, Chris.
He doesn’t know her as Tim does. He doesn’t realize she can’t talk about moving in when she just watched someone die in front of her. He doesn’t see her discomfort at the discussion of moving in. He doesn’t see her.
Not the way Tim does.
“He’s just not….”
“You,” she thinks silently.
Chris doesn’t know her.
Tim does.
Tim is her person.
But that doesn’t have to mean anything
This is the thought running through her mind as she goes to find him at the front of the station.
Except then he asks her out for dinner.
And all of her well-thought-out reasons why him being her person doesn’t matter… suddenly vanish from her mind.
And all she can think is, “He’s my person, and it could mean everything.”
And so she says yes to dinner.
And now Tim is her person in all of the ways.
He finds her in a crowded room. He knows how she hums to certain songs on the radio. He knows if she runs cold at a certain time of night. He knows what kind of ice cream she loves and what kind she can’t stand. He knows her.
He is her person in this life.
He is her person in every life.
And it means everything.