The Heartbroken - S01 E237

Story 2 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E237

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 237

The chill in the air made it pretty obvious why there

were only two cars along the length of the parking

lot at the beach. I walked to the sand dunes, trying to

keep myself from frantically looking around in case I

might miss him.

The sketchpad was filled with different kinds of pencil

sketches. There was a portrait of me, captured in a

smile. There was sketch of a garden; a drawing of

Squidward having fun while Spongebob looked at

something that looked suspiciously like an iPhone,

looking longingly at Squidward. There were more—

the others I could barely even make out from all the

vague lines—but at the very end, a note written in his

careless scrawl.

Meet me at the beach?

Hail decided to screw the cookies—“I’ll take them

from here,” Hail assured me—because this was

definitely an emergency.

I was glad she let me go because try as I might, I

could never stop myself from hopping into my car

to head to the beach.

Despite the fact that no one other than him could

have possibly given me the sketchpad, a part of me

still seemed to doubt the possibility of his return; of

seeing him again, so when I saw his car parked to

my right, I suddenly felt the reality of the situation.

He was back.

He was f-----g back.

Holy shit.

Almost as if they were propelled by the thrill of

seeing him again, my legs started to move faster. I

looked around the area, scanning the area for signs

of him. I could feel each beat of my heart against my

ribcage as I continued to look around for his familiar

figure somewhere in the distance.

It had been two long years since he left. In time, I

learned not to feel the aching sadness of his absence,

but now that he was back, it felt as if I was

transported back to those first few weeks after he

boarded that flight and flew out of this town and my

life.

I still wasn’t sure why, exactly, we’d acted like there

was an unspoken rule between us to not talk to each

other when he left. We didn’t exchange e-mails or

have calls or anything. While sometimes, I would

find myself typing an e-mail for him in the dead of

the night, I’d never really send it to him. It was like

we both agreed that it would be easier for the two of

us to adjust to our new lives if we stopped

communicating altogether.

So when I found him standing just a few yards

away from where my feet had brought me, I

couldn’t help but take a sudden breath as a wave of

tingly sensations spread out from my chest to the

very tips of my hair.

He was looking out into the ocean so I could see

nothing but his back, but I knew it was him.

It’s been two years.

He was back.

I was about to see him.

My knees were trembling so much I had to worry

about my legs buckling underneath me. My pace had

slowed, somehow unconsciously, as each step I had

to take grew shakier and shakier as I drew closer to

where he was standing.

He must have heard me approaching over the roar

of the wind. Before I could even say a word, he

turned on his heel.

Our eyes met.

My breathing hitched as I found myself looking into

his electric blue eyes.

I was lost in them, lost in the way I’d missed seeing

them, lost in the thoughts I had of missing him. I

studied him closely, noting how his hair had

changed into a (slightly) neater version of his usual

haircut and how the way he stood made him seem

like he had matured, somewhat, but he still seemed

to carry the same childlike behavior he had two

years ago.