(no subject)
It's funny how 5 years can go by and everything changes. Five years ago she was working at the DA's office, falling hopelessly in love with a man who wasn't ever going to be ready for her, and forgetting everything that motivated her to make the move to the big city. Now, her name is well known among certain social circles and she can feel her passion on the tips of her fingers every day, not to mention she was so over the man that she didn't even feel that twinge of pain in her chest at the sound of his name anymore. And believe it or not, she's heard his name far more often than she needed to - so often that she's surprised that it's taken this long to run into him.
They catch eyes as she's stepping out of a coffee shop and he's hovering over a hot dog cart, and time just seems to stop. There isn't any other way that she thinks she can describe it other than time stops moving and her breath hitches in her throat beneath his gaze. For a moment, she racks her brain in an attempt to recall whether or not she has seen him on the street before, before she went into the coffee shop, before today, before this year; she tries to think if he looks the same or if all she sees is a stranger.
Before she can decide whether she wants him to see her or not, before she can decide if she can handle it for even a moment, he takes a half step towards her with a mouth full of street vendor hot dog. His hesitance isn't lost on her, like he's scared to approach her, like he still thinks about the way that they left things. She would be slow to admit that she thinks about it, often, because her life would have traveled down a different path if things hadn't ended up the way that they did, but instead she chastises herself. She keeps herself from thinking of all of the ways her life might have been with him, whether it be personal or professional. She simply does not think of it, not anymore for it keeps the sting at bay.
But, now that she's staring him in the eye, gazes locked as though no one else on the street exists, the feelings from before come rushing back like not a day has gone by. Everything happens in an instant. She takes a step back in an attempt to put distance between them, silently hoping that he'll get the hint that she doesn't want to talk to him as she turns away and heads in the other direction. Unfortunately, she knows that it doesn't work, that he just ignores the suggestions that she knows he understands even in their silence - they were always on the same page, that was never their problem.
"Donna," he yells from behind her, footsteps heavy on the concrete; his footsteps are so heavy that they echo in her head, every sound that he makes as if it's coming through a loudspeaker even in the harsh noises from the city, "Donna!"
Part of her trembles as she picks up her pace but her heels slow her down while his long legs allow him to take larger strides. He is able to catch up to her with minimal effort and every bit of energy that she encompasses immediately drains from within her. She isn't sure that she can escape him now if she tries, isn't sure that she can fight him on this right now. She isn't ready for this, for him.
She comes to a corner when she needs to cross the street but that isn't currently an option unless she runs out into traffic. For a moment, she thinks that she'd rather be hit by a car than confronted with her past. She feels him touch her elbow, an old habit she thinks he should have abandoned by now.
She swallows but before words can fall out of her mouth he's speaking again, "Donna, I need to talk to you."
"Are you following me?" She accuses.
His laugh catches in his throat and she realizes the absurdity of the accusation because she probably would have ran into him by now if he had been. He lightly shakes his head, she can see it out of the corner of her eye. She purses her lips together, lets her tongue wet them in a restrained bout of annoyance sneaking out.
"No," he finally says, "but I would like to talk to you. The way we left things-"
"Are irrelevant," she interjects, finishing his sentence in a completely opposite direction than where she's almost certain he is heading. She sighs, tightens her thumb around the strap of her purse and his fingers release the pressure against her skin as he removes his hand from her elbow. She feels a sense of relief wash over her as he does, like she can think just a bit more clearly now. "That was five years ago. It's time to move on."
"Listen, I have to be in court in fifteen minutes but can we do dinner?"
She pauses for a moment, tossing him a glare that he's sure to recognize, "no."
"No? Donna," he mutters.
"Stop saying my name," she growls, realizing that the more and more that he says her name she will melt and give in to him, "we're not friends, you don't know me anymore, stop saying my name and stop pretending that I mean something to you because I don't. I thought I did, but I was wrong."
"You did," he counters immediately, "you did. You meant so much to me."
He checks his watch and sighs but walks with her anyway when the sign switches even though the courthouse is the other direction. She knows that she's isn't going to shake him until she gives him what he wants but she can't, she doesn't know what he wants and she hasn't ever been able to figure it out. His fingers are dangerously close to hers and she is so close to losing her resolve when she remembers everything that she's been trying to forget.
"Donna," he starts again and she's beginning to hate the sound of her own name, "I didn't mean to run into you, okay? I just happened to be here and I saw you. I felt like I should take an opportunity that I haven't been offered yet because everything that happened has been eating me up inside."