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the end
When all is said and done, there is a gaping emptiness in his chest that leaves him unable to move. He’s afraid that if he does, he might tear it further, until his entire body is entirely ripped in half. So he holds still, tries not to breathe, tries not to exist. It doesn’t work.
Was any of it real? He wants to ask, but there’s no one here who can provide the answer, and even if there was, would he be satisfied with it? Where would he go from there?
Where does he go from here?
He remembers her desperate gaze, the way it smooths into something resembling acceptance right before her hand slips out of his as if she were nothing but a phantom. He wonders if he saw regret in the storm of emotions welling up in her eyes, in that second. He wonders if it was merely his own wishful thinking.
Lies, betrayal, death. It couldn’t have ended any other way between them. Yet he wonders, if given a second chance, he’d still do it all over again, knowing what he does now.
He will not find his answer here, or today. So he bites his lip, squares his shoulder, and soldiers on.
the middle
“Get yourself out of here, before it’s too late,” she implores, far from the first time, and yet there’s something achingly genuine in her eyes that it gives him pause.
Something has shifted in him as well. The realization that he could never bring himself to walk away from her. Either they both get out, or neither of them does.
Before today, he would’ve never believed that anyone could have such an effect on him. Now he can’t even remember his life before she strutted in and swept him off his feet with her unflappable confidence.
That drew him to her at first - the air of mystery, the sheer conviction in her words - but now it is the light tremble in her lips and the sad glint in her eyes that have him utterly entranced.
So when he says he’ll never leave her, it sounds like a promise. One he hopes he can keep.
the beginning
She turns away, and he knows that if he doesn’t stop her right now, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. So he reaches out blindly, and though she tears herself out of his grip, he succeeds in getting her to linger around, if only for a moment longer.
She looks at him, half expectant, half annoyed, and he realizes for the first time that he has nothing to offer her.
So he offers himself. “I’m Leon Kennedy.”
To his surprise, it manages to crack her frosty exterior. “Name’s Ada.”
Ada. He tests the weight of her name on the tip of his tongue, weighs it in the palm of his hand.
He holds on to it like a lifeline, willing himself to never let go.
And though she walks away from him again, it feels like the beginning of something good.
the interim
Most days, he doesn’t think about her.
Some days though, she fills up the space between the silence in his mind and the hammering of his heart, and he feels as if he were the one free-falling into the very same abyss that claimed her so many years ago.
It’s unfair, he thinks, for a single person to sweep into his life with the intensity of a raging hurricane, only to slip away so quietly, so swiftly and leave him scrambling for purchase ever since.
In his dreams, she is alive, and he is relieved of the guilt that weighs on his chest like a stone.
In his dreams, she is alive, and not at all the way he remembers.
Slowly, the pieces fall in place. The final proof that confirms what he wants and dreads the most.
It’s unfair, he thinks, that it took him years to rebuild himself, and only a second of a possibility of her to undo it all over again.
the reprise
The moment he steps into the room, he knows.
Perhaps it’s the way the air seems thicker here than anywhere else. Or maybe it’s the familiar scent that he’d still recognize with his eyes closed, in spite of the years that have passed.
“Ada.” he says her name. It feels rough on his tongue. Hardly surprising, he hasn’t said her name since that night. What’s the use in calling out to ghosts? After all, they’ll never answer.
But she isn’t a ghost any longer. She is real and alive, everything he’s ever wanted yet wasn’t ready to face, all of his irreconcilable feelings all wrapped up in one person.
He wants to scream and curse her, he wants to ask her a thousand questions he knows she won’t answer, he wants to walk away and never look back, he wants to take her in his arms and hold on so tight that neither of them can tell where one begins and the other ends.
He doesn’t do any of those things, of course. Instead, he grits his teeth, squares his shoulders, and asks, in the calmest voice he can muster, “Why here? Why now?”
She smiles. Sharp, dangerous, inviting. “Life has a way of surprising you.”
You have a way of surprising me, he wants to say. “What do you want this time?”
Though her smile doesn’t falter, the confidence in her eyes wavers slightly. “Would it really be so hard to believe that I simply wanted to see you?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Kind of, yeah.”
Ada’s gaze is uncomfortably discerning, and when she speaks again, it’s no longer a question. “You’ve missed me.”
“You’re not being fair, Ada,” he says, weakly. It’s as close to an admission as he would ever allow, and she sees right through it.
It’s unfair that she should be able to read him this way.
He wants to ask her now. The one question that’s always been on the tip of his tongue. But he can’t bring himself to. It’s all so unfair.
“Nothing ever is,” she says simply. “But here we are.”
There’s so much more he wants to say. But time is never on their side, it seems. Before he can think of an answer, she slips out of his grasp once more.
The room is quiet in her wake, but the storm of emotions brewing in his mind threatens to overflow.
the reunion
She comes to him, as she always does, when he least expects it. It’s a familiar routine by now, one he has grown comfortable with.
“Missed me?” she asks, sliding into the booth next to him. Beyond it, the world seems muffled, muted almost.
“You’re late,” he points out instead of answering, because that’s what they always do, don’t they, trade playful jabs in place of declarations of love and dedication? It’s certainly an unconventional arrangement, but what about them has ever been conventional?
She smiles. Gentle, soft, tender. “You waited.”
He pulls her into a deep, breathless kiss. “Because I know you’ll always come.”
Ada rolls her eyes, in the way he knows she does when she has no more witty comeback in her arsenal. He likes her better this way, little glimpses of the woman behind the mask.
“Should I order?” she asks, peering at the menu with only mild interest. “What are you in the mood for?”
He shrugs. “Surprise me.”
“I’ll do my best,” Ada says as she flags down a passing server.
When he holds her hand in his, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezes his hand back.
He knows it’s not forever. In a few hours, her hand will slip from his again as they say goodbye at the intersection, where late-night traffic lights blink steadily in yellow.
But he knows when the time comes, he’ll be able to hold her again.
Perhaps it was never about holding on and never letting go. Perhaps they’re always meant to go their separate ways. But in the end, they’ll come back together, in spite of everything.
And that promise alone is worth fighting for, as long as they both shall live.
end