always. [riarkle one shots]

Outcomes

welcome back to the angst :)

this was requested on tumblr

Words: 611

Rating K+: kinda angsty

In which he's too late.

Farkle Minkus was not an impulsive person. He did not storm down Fifth Avenue much less yell at cab drivers. No. He most definitely did not yell at the maître d' of a very respectable restaurant. Much less push past him and into the crowded dining room. He planned out every minuscule detail, pondering long and hard on what the outcome would be. 

He scans the room, searching for her. He spots her in a dark corner, which he would have probably chosen too, schmoozing with some random guy. She's dressed to the nine's. Her hair straightened, her, and his, favorite purple dress with the sleeve that hung just so off her milky shoulder. He watches the guy pour her a glass of wine. His straight out of a magazine smile says nice, but his eyes scream predator. He whispers something that has Riley throwing back her head and laughing uproariously. Her cheeks are pink and she looks like she's having the time of her life. She's wiping away a tear when her hand freezes, her eyes widening in surprise. He knows she's seen him.

An eternity passes in which a silent conversation is had.

Everything he ever said to her, every memory they ever had. The confession that she had made. The argument they'd had immediately after. The radio silence he'd put her through. He messed up, pushed her away and even though she doesn't want to see him he has to try. It's only taken him three months.

They stare at each other a heartbeat longer before he walks over to her table hands shoved into pockets. Her face steels with every step he takes towards her. He stops just short of her table.

"Farkle," She puts down a trembling glass of wine, "what are you doing here?"

Head bent down over the menu her date doesn't even look up.

"I've missed you." Riley's face doesn't change, she just tilts her head. "I mean I miss you." Cursing, he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. The whole taxi ride here he'd rehearsed what he'd wanted to say but everything was gone. So he settles with telling the truth. "I love you. I know it's taken me forever and a half to say it back, but I love you, Riley Matthews."

Closing her eyes she sucks in a breath. "I can't do this again." His heart falls, shattering all over the pretty tile of the best restaurant in New York City. When she opens them they're cold and unaffected. He's supposed to be the actor, not her. "You need to go."

"Riley." He raises his voice, the restaurant is suddenly an explosion of movement.

"You need to go." Riley repeats her voice solemn, her expression grave.

"Riley!" Two waiters grab at him.

"Sir, you need to go. Sir. SIR!" Farkle jerks coming face to face with an annoyed police officer.

"Yes?" He asks still feeling disoriented, the memory still haunting him.

"You're loitering." He points at the restaurant then extends a hand at the sidewalk. "I'm going to need you to keep walking."

"Right," Farkle unsticks his face from the glass. "I'm sorry. I'll leave now."

He looks back into the restaurant aware that the officer is watching him. Riley's there. The scene is different. This time, it's her and with a guy whose smile reminds him of the ones she used to give him. Happy, dopey, and helplessly in love. She smiles back. They lean in. Farkle turns away. Coward, his heart screams at him.

He ignores it. He's pondered long and hard coming to the same to conclusion each and every time. He's not impulsive, spontaneous or lovable.

He's a closed off adult still trapped in the mentality of an insecure teenager who couldn't let go of three little words.

The outcome? A lifetime of loneliness. A lifetime of happiness.

Only one of those applies to him.