𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁࿐ ྂ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ-ꜰᴏᴜʀ

RAIN POURED DOWN ONTO MADISON AVENUE,
pelting the dirty sidewalks, and simultaneously cleaning them.

Before crossing the street, Polly gazed to her right, watching her reflection on the buildings window. Her hair, which all throughout her childhood and teen years was a light blonde, was now a darker, dirtier golden. Her kitchen scissors, choppy haircut that reached her shoulders didn't match her professional outfit, though it tied in with her dirty Doc Martens that were nearly hidden by her slacks.

She was turning twenty-six in a few weeks time, though she'd looked the same for years. Birthdays didn't mean all that much to Polly, just a bleak reminder that soon she wouldn't look the same.

It was also a reminder that other things change too with time. If she could freeze time and stay twenty-five forever, she would.

Despite Jeff being back in Manhattan, she hadn't seen much of him the past few days. He'd been in Woodstock, recording. He'd come home late at night, roll into their bed and tell her about the day until they both fell into a deep sleep.

It may have been simple, her day to day, but nothing could compare to it.

Today though, for Jeff, was different. Today, he wasn't recording, as that was basically finished, only a few more sessions in April then they'd be done. The tracks they had finished were being mixed, so he finally had much needed free time. Now, he walked around the rainy lower Manhattan, peering into shops windows.

He let his mind wander and his feet guide him, with his head in the clouds as it normally was.

Since his relationship with Polly had begun, he'd always looked for things she'd like. Whether that be something material like a bracelet or a new record, or something random he couldn't gift her like the way the sky looked early in the morning as he made his way to Woodstock. He always called her once he arrived to the studio to marvel at the trees that shrouded the building and the skies above him, much different from the concrete and smog of the city.

Though currently, he had found something material she would like, a white-gold ring with a small piece of blue topaz. It had little specks of orange too, if you looked close enough.

He paid the man who sold him it a bit extra for a small leather box to accompany the ring. Before he left the small hole-in-the-wall jeweler, the man wished him good luck.

Jeff thought about this as he continued on his way through the streets, wondering what he meant. Until he realized and almost laughed at himself. He pulled the leather box from his pocket and looked at the ring. It did look like an engagement ring. Possibly not the fanciest, nor the most conservative- but definitely an engagement ring.

He stuffed it back into his pocket, thinking that'd be stupid. Why propose when everything is fine how it is? He was perfectly content in their relationship. But he'd also be perfectly content if they weren't just boyfriend and girlfriend.

Jeff really wasn't in any rush to get married. Besides, his parents were over long before he could even form sentences and that wasn't exactly an influence to get married. But he knew that if he were to get married, it would be Polly. It was always Polly, for the past four years.

So he thought something along the lines of 'fuck it' and began to head to the Columbia offices.

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As he made his way down the hall to Polly's office, he greeted a few people, answered questions about his record and other music-related things but the whole time he was nearly giddy with anticipation, having thought about the idea of proposing to her on the whole twenty minute walk to the building. He treated his thought of proposing like the most special secret, and no one he spoke to knew- and that made it even better.

Finally, he reached her office, stepping in. Polly was on the phone, eyebrows furrowed and hand nervously toying with her earrings, but when she glanced up and met his eyes with hers, her expression softened. He was the only person she really wanted to be around currently.

Jeff assumed his regular position in the office chair across from her, waiting for the phone call to be over. As he waited he grabbed the notepad and pen that was sat on her desk and began to doodle mindlessly.

After what felt like ages to Jeff, Polly sighed and put the phone down, smiling to him tiredly.

"What's going on?" He asked, surprising himself with his self control- being that he hadn't shouted from down the hall that he, Jeff Buckley, was going to marry Polly Maureen.

Polly shook her head, "I have to go all the way to Brentwood for an hour show of this shitty band." She grimaced as she spoke.

Jeff's face fell, just a little bit. She was not in a good mood, though not in a terrible one either. "I'll come."

"You sure you want to?" He stood and she looked up at him, head resting on her hand.

"'Course I want to." He shrugged. "For now let's go somewhere. Take an early lunch, alright?" He started to walk to the door, beckoning for her to join him.

Polly followed, pulling on her coat as they walked side by side to the elevator. The more she was around Jeff, the more her mood softened and her smile returned, her night of listening to the 'shitty' band didn't seem so bad now.

Jeff led them both to Cornelia street cafe, the little bell that sounded when he held the door open for Polly reminded her of working there years prior.

They ordered their lunch, along with a cappuccino for Jeff. Polly remembered that's what he would always get when he visited her at work early in their relationship, and that small fact was comforting proof that some things never change- even when everything and everyone had gone through a series of changes since that slate-grey skied February morning four years ago.

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