Only the sound of the foundations of the abandoned theater groaned with each passing gust of wind; the moth-ridden curtains that once adorned the stage now strewn about in dirtied pieces of what it once was. Overgrowth started to take over the majority of the structure, moss lined the bases of large columns. The sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the rotting ceiling, casting the decrepit building in a warm, ethereal glow—as if an otherworldly being had come to grace the Earth.
And sat atop the rotting wood of the stage were two figures. Their feet swung back and forth as they basked in the silence, their pinkies intertwined as their hands rested upon the floor of the dais.
“I think I’m gonna miss hanging out in this dump, Charlie,” said Jane in a lightly teasing manner, her deep-toned voice bouncing off of the peeling walls and cracked columns—big brown eyes flitted to the suspicious-looking mound on the left side of the stage. “I’m gonna miss Monsieur Booker over there too.”
The blonde chuckled heartily, nodding her head intently before poking fun at the brunette. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna miss the bats too?”
A gasp escaped Jane, her hand on her chest in a mock-offended gesture as she responded genuinely to Charlie, “Oh! The horror of parting with them! I’m definitely going to miss all my Batmans.”
“I swear you’re such a sentimental person, little mouse.”
“I can’t help it, especially since we’ve theoretically claimed this place for…?”
“6 years, 2 months, and…,” Charlie trailed off, checking her watch before letting out a satisfied hum, “4 hours and 32 minutes.”
The brunette looked incredulously at the blonde beside her before bursting into a fit of laughter—her hand holding onto the older woman’s arm as she continued to laugh, “A-And you call me a sap?”
“Oh hush, little mouse,” she scoffed, nudging the younger one off her arm before leaning in conspiratorially. “You know I have a soft spot for our not-so-little escapades.”
“Of course you do,” Jane mused with a small yet proud smile before her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “But in all seriousness, I really will miss being here. With you.”
A moment passed, silence befalling the pair. There was an air of uncertainty that hung in the air. Jane’s gaze lingered on Charlie. As if willing her to look right back at her. Well-manicured hands reached out for rough palms, bringing them close to her chest—allowing the blonde to feel every beat of her heart, every ticking moment of dread that dwelled inside.
“I’ll miss it too,” admitted Charlie, her words coming out in a deep sigh. “I’ll miss you the most.”
“You know what’s the best part of all of this?”
“And what is that?”
“When you leave town, all I have to do is come here and maybe for a moment,” Jane started, her big brown eyes still steady on the blonde’s face and committing every feature to memory. The way the older woman’s nose wrinkled when her smile was big and wide, the high arch of her brow whenever she would say something scandalous, and most importantly, the tender look in her green eyes whenever she looked at the younger woman—no matter how she felt for the younger one at the moment, it always defaulted to such love and care. “You’ll be mine again.”
“Always the optimist, little mouse.” The blonde said as she stood up from the stage, offering her hand to the brunette. “And I adore that about you.”
A smile tugged at Jane’s lips as she took the offered help, relishing how their hands felt together—intertwined like the moss that covered the base of the creaking columns, of moths creating nests within the piled-up curtains to the right of the stage. Wordlessly, they walk down to the run-down exit of the old structure—arms linked around the other, the same way they had discovered the overgrown theater years before.
The sky had then grown dark—an endless sea of stars amongst the galaxy that peeked through if they squint hard enough to look for it. A heavy weight lingered in the younger’s chest. Hope still etched onto her features as she asked Charlie the question she already knew the answer to.
“I’ll see you again, right?”
Only the wind answered for the blonde—creating a subtle rift between them as if to force them away from the other, to will the pair apart. She couldn’t answer Jane’s question—the ache in her bones wouldn’t let her.
“Tomorrow?”
“Next week?”
Green eyes stared into big brown ones, and an unsaid apology was shared in the way her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly at how hopeful the brunette was. Her lips trembled in the promise of tears. It was resolute, and the two women knew this would be the last time they would be whole.
“Maybe in a different life?”
A pause, a heartbeat, another fleeting second in the ever-moving passage of time. The world would not stop. Time would leave behind everything ever built by fragile hands and yearning glances—allowing nature to take back what is rightfully hers just like their beloved theater.
The world does not wait for anybody, yet there is love blossoming right amidst shaky hands—unwilling to turn around and leave for fear that their memory would soon fade to nothing but a hazy sight of the endless.
“Yeah.”
