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One day, he’ll go back to that bowling alley.
He’ll go back, and he’ll rent a pair of shoes he can't wear, and he’ll set them out beside the seat across from him. And he’ll sit and wait. And then he’ll realize nothing else is coming.
He’ll get out of his seat, slowly, and pick up his bowling ball. He’ll fix his stance, align his shoulders- but when he rolls the ball, even if he thought he was doing right, it lands in the gutter.
He’ll look back and expect something, but nobody is there.
And maybe then, he realizes it isn’t worth it to try again.
Love is a fickle thing. An emotion he didn’t truly understand. Even companionship was an odd concept, at first. Of course, he learned- he made friends, sure- but it was nothing like love. Naive, and pure, and so innocently, deceivingly simple- love, as a concept, was so difficult to grapple with. It was almost cruel. To have to come and go so quickly. It was only a year.
2,600 days of nothing. And then- something. And then, after that… there was more nothing. No, it was definitively cruel. To show someone how to live, to love, and then to take that so soon. Is it good to have learned? Or, now that it’s been lost, was it stupid to even try in the first place?
They both had their own friends now. Their own lives. They were apart, and that was… fine. It would be fine. He could look back on it fondly. As fondly as he could. He could remember it all- what they taught him, the emotions they showed him, and- he could keep those memories forever. Those good times they had. Those good feelings they shared.
He didn’t want to forget. That was the last thing he wanted. It was so, so cruel- but living without that memory would be crueler. If he hadn’t met them, he wouldn’t know anything. About the world. About the feelings he could never describe before. Maybe it was still hard to describe them. But maybe that was okay.
And maybe, when he stepped into that elevator, and needed to stare at them face to face. And maybe it’d be hard.
Maybe he wasn’t strong enough for that. Maybe that was the part of remembering that hurt- seeing someone you cared about, that you still care about, and remembering why. Remembering the things you’ll never experience again.
But he’d need to one day.
And maybe, one day, they would remember, too. Even if the chances were slim- so inexplicably slim- maybe. Just maybe. Maybe they’ll find a cure. And maybe they’ll be okay again.
And maybe, one day, they’ll both go to that bowling alley together.
And he'll rent a pair of shoes for them, and he’ll hand the pair to them with a dopey smile spread across his face, and he’ll sit and wait. And once they’ve tied their laces, and fixed their socks, they’ll look up and smile back at him.
He’ll get out of his seat, slowly, and pick up his bowling ball. He’ll fix his stance, align his shoulders- and when he rolls the ball, as they both watch in anticipation, it’ll crash right into all of the pins and knock them all over.
He’ll look back and expect something, and Kasper will be reaching for his camera in excitement. And maybe then, he’ll realize that it was worth it to remember, even if it hurt in the past.
That was wishful thinking. It wasn’t real anymore, but it was his.
It felt like something.
And that was more than nothing.