Chapter Text
Scott and Ramona were at the arcade.
They meandered around various arcade machines, the blaring of electronic music and flashing lights. Scott's eyes were darting across various arcade machine screens and Ramona followed him quietly.
They walk past guitar hero and Scott's excitement sparked like a live wire.
“This game is coooool,” he exclaimed before hastily picking up a guitar. Ramona follows suit, putting the guitar strap across her shoulder.
“So it’s kind of complicated,” Scott begins, trying to explain the mechanics. “you have to match up the buttons-“
“I got it,” Ramona interrupted, looking at him and raising an eyebrow as her fingers are already deftly positioned on the frets. “Just pick a damn song.”
As the music blared and the game unfolded, it became clear that Ramona was no novice. She completely blew Scott away with her skills, leaving him slightly embarrassed.
“I didn’t know that you were like, secretly amazing at video games,” Scott admitted, scratching the back of his head. Ramona didn't even play real bass or guitar.
“I always liked listening to the songs,” she replied, placing her guitar back on the stand and slipping her hands into her pockets.
“You listen to The Offspring???” Scott said, his mouth agape in awe. “And I didn’t think you could get any cooler.”
“I listen to a lot of things,” Ramona said casually, wrapping her fingers around the strap of her bag.
“This is kind of weird,” Scott mused, putting his guitar on the stand. “Knives and I used to go to the arcade.”
Ramona nods slowly before sighing and looking to the side. “That is weird,” she said. “You’re not supposed to tell me that.”
“Shit I did it again, didn’t I,” Scott said while meeting her gaze.
“Yes Scott, you did,” She replied matter-of-factly, her brows raised in disappointment.
“It doesn’t matter,” Scott insisted, furrowing his brows. “She’s 18 now. We’re cool.”
Ramona nodded slowly, a confused look settling on her face. She stepped out into the snowy landscape of Toronto, and Scott followed, the chill in the air matching the tension in their conversation. Ramona turns around, raising her brows and facing Scott while walking backwards.
“I think we should leave,” Ramona said casually, her arms raised as she walked backward to face him.
“What?” Scott asked, surprise etched across his features.
“We should leave Toronto,” she repeated, leaning against a nearby pole.
“What?” he echoed, stopping in his tracks. “We can’t leave Toronto! What about the band and—”
“And Kim?” Ramona interjected bluntly, looking back at him while raising an eyebrow.
“No! Well, yes, but no,” Scott stammered, furrowing his brows in frustration. “That’s not fair,” he muttered quietly.
“Well I personally would be glad to never see Gideon again,” Ramona says, narrowing her eyes as she gazed off into the distance as the snow fell in front of the stores.
“You won’t,” Scott assures her, taking a step forward. “We’re past all of that.”
“I still want to leave Toronto,” Ramona reiterated, her voice firm as she turned to face him.
“Are you really?” he asked, moving to her side as she looked up at the night sky.
“Yes, Scott,” she replied, looking over at him, her gaze unwavering.
Scott looked at her silently, then back at the landscape that surrounded them as snow fell from the sky.
The next day, Scott sat up in bed, peering out the window. There was Ramona, who is skating past his apartment with an Amazon package in hand.
The memory of their conversation replayed in his mind, and he remembered the strange dream he’d had—subspace, as she called it. “Get out of my head,” he’d said, clutching his temples.
She had just looked at him with sorrow in her eyes as the snowy landscape of Toronto had faded, morphing into a desert behind them, the same one where their paths had first crossed in his dreams.
“I don’t want to be alone,” he confessed, looking back at her with his brows furrowed.
Ramona nodded quietly, looking down as if his words pressed heavily on her.
Now, as she glided down the street, package in hand, her mind raced with thoughts of her situation. She had always been alone before meeting Scott Pilgrim and his band of quirky friends, but she brushed the feelings aside.
Suddenly, a realization struck her. Ramona picked up speed and flung the package onto its designated doorstep, the finality of her decision hitting her like a tidal wave. She stopped at the train station, boarding the train that was heading south towards the States.
Just as she stepped onboard, Scott rounded the corner, breathless as the door shut behind them.
“You came,” Ramona said, her eyes wide as she looked at him.
He flashed her a cheeky grin and a thumbs-up despite his heavy breathing. “Y-yeah... I… did…,” he puffed, collapsing into the train seat that she was standing next to.
Hours later, Scott jolted awake to find himself resting on Ramona’s shoulder. She stared out the window, lost in thought.
“So why did you want to leave Toronto?” he asks softly, tilting his head to look up at her.
“Can we not get into that?” she replied, her brows furrowing slightly.
“Well I know you don’t like to tell me things... but i feel like I have the right to know this time,” Scott pressed, looking down.
Silence hung between them as Ramona looked off to the side, her expression unreadable.
“You’re changing our lives around and can’t even tell me why?” he said softly, still resting against her shoulder but more hesitantly now.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” Ramona countered, a sad look crossing her face.
“Whatever,” Scott replied, finally giving in. He leaned against her shoulder, crossing heis arms defiantly.
They sat together in silence.