One Shots #VariaSquad

Of Old Memories and New Beginnings

It's 11:58 p.m.; considering she promised her sister she would be up at 6 for their morning workout, she should be asleep. But sleep is evading her.

The reason?

The date that is flashing up at her mockingly from the digital clock on her bedside table, telling her that there's less than two minutes remaining till the eighth anniversary of the most important day in her life.

It's not entirely abnormal for her to stay up late on the 18th of October. In fact, not once in the past seven years has she actually gone to sleep on the 18th itself, always staying up long enough to see the date change.

But this year, she doesn't think she's got much of a reason to be staying up; the phone call she usually gets isn't coming this year, she's well aware of that. Yet some part of her can't help but hope that it will, can't help but believe that, after nearly a decade, their little tradition means enough to him that he won't dismiss it.

As the seconds tick by though, the hope dwindles. As she has multiple times that day, she readies herself for disappointment, telling herself that too much has changed between them for their tradition to hold. Try as she might though, she can't manage to silence the voice in the back of her head telling her not to give up on him, that he might just surprise her.

The most annoying part is that, not only can she not get the voice to shut up, she actually believes it. Because, no matter what, he's never let her down. It doesn't matter if they're fighting, doesn't matter if they haven't spoken in weeks, if she needs him, he's there for her. And, right now, she needs him. Because it'll be the 19thof October in less than a minute and she doesn't want to have to start off their day without him, isn't sure that she's physically capable of it.

Which is why, as the seconds tick past, midnight drawing closer, she finds herself reaching for her phone, unlocking it in a hurry and dialling his number.

There's thirty seconds left of the day when the phone starts to ring.

Twenty seconds left and she's really starting to give up hope, no longer able to believe.

Ten seconds and, as much as she hates to admit it, she starts to feel tears build behind her eyes because if he's not picked up yet, he probably won't and that's a reality she just doesn't want to face.

Five seconds and she pulls the phone from her ear, about to hang up, not wanting to hear the call go to voicemail.

And then, right as the clock strikes midnight, the ringing stops and her heart does too for a second when she sees the words 'call connected' on the screen instead of 'call forwarded.'

A shaky breath escapes her as she puts the phone back to her ear, relief filling her whole body as she hears his voice – relief so strong that the words he says don't register in her brain and she has to ask him to repeat himself.

He chuckles before he speaks again and she can all but see the expression on his face. 'I said, open your door,' he tells her.

'I'm not gonna open it to find a clown waiting for me, am I?' she questions as she throws back the covers and swings her legs over the edge of the mattress.

'Oh my God Al, that was one time!' he exclaims with a laugh.

'It was three in the morning, I opened my door and the clown from It is stood outside. Complete with the creepy as hell smile. I have been scarred for life Dhawan.'

'Okay, okay, fair point. I promise, no clowns this time.'

'There'd better not be. Or the next time you open your door, you'll find a spider the size of your head,' she mutters, walking down the stairs and through the sitting room to the front door.