Rosebud - Eternity
Eternity
Author: Ares
Word count 516
Disclaimer: I’m just playing.
Written for ba_rosebuds
Prompt: Eternity
Setting: Post everything.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, she rapped her knuckles on the door and stood back. What if he wasn’t home? What if he was? Will he be pleased to see her? What if he didn’t want to see her? She hadn’t thought about that. What if he no longer desired her? What if he had moved on? What if he had found someone else?
Oh God! This was a bad idea. She turned to go. Better to go than face humiliation. Three steps up the stairway, she stopped. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. She’d come halfway around the world to do this. Turning about, she made her way back to the entrance to his apartment. It was situated in the basement, no surprise there, and the door was solid-looking. An old-fashioned lock and doorhandle were the only adornment. Contemplating the door, she decided that she wouldn’t kick it down. Besides, it would be rude. She knocked again, wondering if she was wasting her time. The watch on her wrist told her it was ten past two. In the afternoon. Where the hell was he? It was then that the butterflies in her stomach started fluttering. The hairs on her neck and arms raised themselves. Angel was near. She pressed her hand against the door and waited.
He stood on his side of the door with his hand against the wood. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, trying to find the scent of her. It was impossible, of course. The door was too much a barrier for his senses. He couldn’t even hear her heart beating, but he knew it was her.
He had been asleep; exhausted from the hunt from the previous night. The knock on the door had gone unnoticed at first. And when the insistent sound had finally wormed its way into his skull, he had stumbled to the door, only to be brought up by a familiar but almost forgotten feeling in the pit of his stomach. Using his preternatural speed, he had returned to his bedroom and had thrown on a shirt and trousers. He could not open the door to Buffy in his boxers.
He could feel her there, waiting on the other side of his door. If his heart could beat it would be hammering hard. What did she want? Was she in trouble? Was she here just to say hello and then be gone, out of his life once more? Of course he was going to open the door. How could he not? He needed to get his bearings first: steel himself against heartache. Whenever he and Buffy got together, they both ended up sore of heart. He would drink in her beauty, her light, her smile, and fill his being with her essence, enough to last him a very long while. One of them was always leaving and he wished that it didn’t have to be that way. Eternity would be so much more bearable if he could spend some of it in her arms.
Opening his eyes, he turned the key and pulled the door wide.
“Buffy.”
“Angel.”
The end