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carmy’s eyes rove over the counter, giving himself something to do, vetting his cigarette options and considering purchasing a candy bar. the cashier is a young man who looks dead on his feet, stifling yawns every other minute even though it’s only 5 p.m. the letterman jacket over his uniform gives carmy the impression that he’s a college student trying to make ends meet. he wonders what it would be like if he did manage to get into college. maybe he’d have been an arts student, but not without some outright shaming from donna and subtle digs from mikey – they would have insisted he take something more masculine. like engineering or chemistry. which, ironically, are the two hard sciences that run a kitchen.
would he have gotten into the cia? he could never focus on a lecture to save his life, but maybe if it was something he was truly interested in…maybe he could have survived?
or maybe he barely would, and one week in he’d be sitting in some secluded corner contemplating on dropping out and a pretty girl with long braids and wide, brown eyes and a toothy, endearing smile would materialize and –
he blinks, the golden hue coloring the corners of his daydreams replaced by the sterile white lighting of the convenience store. it’s dangerous territory, letting her consume his every waking (and non-waking, if he was being real here) moment, when he had done nothing but bring her pain and confusion and loneliness. he couldn’t indulge in fantasies when the very thought of him probably made her chest constrict and her breathing erratic.
he thinks about all the screaming from twenty minutes ago, about the vitriol his mother and claire had hurled at him. he tries not to feel guilt and shame at the images in his mind of tiff burying her head in her palm, at richie herding tina, marcus and eva away, of pete looking resigned to his fate like he’d known this would happen the minute he learned donna would be in attendance. of course the berzattos couldn’t keep it in for one nice event.
you think you’re better than anyone else in here, don’t you? with your little awards and restaurants?
the sad truth about you? you’re incapable of happiness. i tried to give you a shot, and you called it a waste of time.
michael wouldn’t have left me alone. he wouldn’t have left me alone if you hadn’t left him alone.
this would have made mikey happy. he wanted you to be happy, with me.
there are still four people in line, so he makes another attempt at distraction, looking at the short aisles of drinks and snacks. he’s staring at the assortment of instant coffee when someone rounds the corner, heels softly clicking on the tiled concrete floor. she’s looking carefully up and down, left and right at the options as she walks down the aisle. now he stares at the yellow patterns on her dress, at the two braids framing her face, at her curious eyes settling over the chips assortment. her eyebrows knit, like an outside thought just occurred to her, and she looks up.
right at him.
there’s a steely look in her eyes, but there’s must be something she sees in his because her gaze turns soft in a blink of an eye. her shoulders sag as she chews on the inside of her cheek, contemplating. she sets down the sleeve of cookies she was holding onto, a singular sweet treat in the midst of all the sodium, and walks past him to the entrance. carmy tracks her every movement, thinking it’s the last he’ll see of her today, when she stops short of pushing the door open to look back at him. she jerks her head, a silent request for him to join her outside. he abandons his conquest to obtain a nicotine fix at the gesture, following her with his hands in his pockets through the small alleyway around to the back. a tall brick wall separates the convenience store area from the house behind it, giving them just enough seclusion from anyone who might recognize them.
sydney turns around and he freezes. he’d resigned himself to the idea that all admiring would be done discreetly and from afar, so a close-up view of her face, while not unwelcome, throws him off a little. it was her expression at the eruption at the wedding reception that he tried not to think of the most, because for once in his life he felt the genuine fear that he had just witnessed the exact moment she wanted out from his life for good. he’d been a thousand miles away from mikey when he pulled the trigger, separated by a slab of metal when he hurt claire’s feelings. he’d felt remorse, sure, regret, in spades. but when he’d looked into syd’s wide eyes as she stood ten feet away, unsure of what to do or what she could dare say or where to go? it was like the world had been pulled out from beneath his feet. this was her last straw; it had to be. he and his family had scared her for good, showed her something she could never unsee no matter how hard she tried to forget or how far she’d go to outrun him.
and all he’d wanted to do was scream at everyone to stop fucking fighting, take syd’s hands and beg her to stay. get on his knees if he had to. to explain that this was everything he was trying not to be, everything he was trying to escape. that this was the reason he was fucked in the head, but that she had given him a reason he wanted to not be.
but then his mother had grabbed his wrist and the next thing he knew, syd had disappeared.
now, in front of him, she sighs, like she’s about to do something she doesn’t want to regret, not quite able to meet his eyes. maybe this is where she tells him she couldn’t stay anymore, that the dysfunction was too much for her to handle, that she wishes she had never wasted her time on the wrong partner. her voice comes out shaky on the first couple of words, “just so we’re clear, i’m still mad at you. this doesn’t change that.”
he frowns, confused, “what doesn’t?”
syd meets his eyes for a brief second. she steps forward, tugging herself closer with the lapels of his jacket and wraps her arms around his neck. he bends forward with no hesitation, melting into her embrace as his arms come up to encircle her middle tightly.
but in his mind, he can’t help but think what the fuck? he thought this was the part where he would have to tell himself to learn to let her go. how is she still giving him the capacity to change? giving him one chance after the other like he didn’t go ahead and chain smoke them into ash?
he closes his eyes and holds on tighter because maybe it doesn’t fucking matter that he doesn’t have the answers, and that maybe she doesn’t have them either. but after everything he’s done, after every promise he’s broken, after every word he’d hurled at her, she’s here. it hits him that he doesn’t want her to be anywhere else. why he doesn’t want her to be anywhere else.
“i know it’s stupid to ask, but are you okay?” her voice nearly breaks with concern, one of her hands coming up to his nape, fingers slightly buried in his hair. he exhales and finds that anything that had lodged itself in his throat and his chest in the chaos of the reception had dissipated. it’s replaced by utter contentment, of safety and relief. of peace.
he turns his head so his nose rests on the spot where her shoulder meets her nape, almost like he wants to curl himself around her.
“yeah. now, i am.” he whispers into the cloth of her dress, holding on just a little bit tighter and hoping the calm seeps into her, too. it’s like time slows to a stop, and it’s just carmen and sydney in a hidden alleyway again. it’s all he’s ever wanted for the longest time, but never realized that he did, because he couldn’t quite figure out who he wanted it from. now he knows.
eventually she pulls back, and he swears he hears his heart crack in the slightest, but her adjusting his collar and fixing his hair stops the bleeding. if letting her go now felt like punishment, what more if she took adam’s offer and left him for good?
there’s a few inches of space between them now, and sydney smooths her palms on the skirt of her dress. she clears her throat but doesn’t speak, and carmen takes it as a cue for him to leave.
“i – i can go –" the words feel heavy in his mouth, like he’s speaking around cotton, and syd raises a hand to stop him.
“no, i’ll go.” she must've sensed his instant need to protest, because she sighs, looking him in the eyes, imploring him to listen and not argue. she takes another few steps backward, and it already feels so much colder again. “you have to let me be the one to walk away sometimes, carmen.”
“oh.” he hangs his head, hands going in his pockets, shame threatening to fill his body at the sound of syd using his full name. “right. yeah, you’re – that’s reasonable. i - i mean, you have every right to. i’m sorry for making today so hard, syd. and for every day before this that i’ve ruined.”
“it’s…it’s okay. the thing today is, at least.” she responds calmly, and surprises him when she says, “i’ll see you tuesday."
his head shoots up, the relief from earlier subtly tingling from his chest to the rest of his body, tapering the jitters in his nervous system. “you will?”
she nods, the fidgeting and the way her voice catches in the slightest betraying the collected exterior she was maintaining, “i…i’m still looking for reasons to stay.”
he wants to be one. he wants to be all of them. selfishly, he wants to be the only one.
(of course, that’s incredibly unrealistic. she was an entire constellation – all he could be and all he could give her was one star. three, if life shone kindly on them.)
it’s an olive branch, though. it’s something.
but right now, all he can do is nod. she gives him a small smile, seemingly relieved things are as okay as they can be right now. he watches her turn and walk away, and even though the sight of it is a little terrifying, for once he knows he’s got something he wants to fight for.
the golden hues of the sunset begin to color his vision and slowly seep into his bones as he walks toward the train station, his anxiety-fueled nicotine craving long-forgotten.