Jily oneshots

the road not taken looks real good now

by downn-in-flames

He parks his car at the back of the church lot, right where it borders the high school. His headlights are still on and the engine is idling, but he's tucked underneath a massive pine tree that blocks any of the streetlight glow from hitting this particular spot. Once the car's off, it'll be practically invisible to anyone who drives by.

That's probably for the best.

He shouldn't be here.

No, really, he definitely shouldn't be here, and he doesn't know why he sent that text message in the first place. This was a mistake. If he had any sense of self-preservation, he'd switch the car into gear again and go back to the warm four-poster bed at his parents' house that the rest of the world thinks he's in right now.

He's interrupted from his fantasy of driving right back out of this parking lot and acting like this never happened by a pair of headlights coming towards him.

She can't explain the nerves in her stomach as the train pulls up to the station. Part of it is probably that she hasn't seen him in months and the first time she's doing so is after spending half the night and the entire morning on a sleeper train and she looks like half a wreck because of it, but there's something else too. Something she can't put a finger on.

"Please collect your belongings and exit the train," the conductor's voice echoes through the train, just as Lily pulls her overnight bag off the luggage rack.

She files out of the train with all of the other passengers, blinking violently at the sudden onslaught of sunlight. She brings a hand up to shield her eyes, looking around the platform.

It's never hard to find him - the tall, energetic boy with stars in his eyes. Smiling at her like she's the greatest damn thing he's ever seen.

Her old truck comes to a stop in front of him, and she rolls her window down.

It's been a long time since he's seen her in person, and the sheer sight of her takes his breath away completely. Her hair's longer now, tied up in a braid that's draped over her left shoulder, but in every other way, she hasn't changed a bit. She's every bit as beautiful as she was when they were eighteen.

He turns his own car off and gets out.

He's thought about this moment so many times over the years - what he'd say to her the first time he saw her again. So many speeches, written out and promptly crumpled and discarded, some angry, some heartbroken, some making peace.

They all escape him now.

"Hi," is what he eventually goes with. It's all he can get out.

"Hi," she responds. Her voice is soft, and somehow it stirs something in him even after all these years apart. "You want to get in?"

As if to help him come up with an answer, a particularly violent gust of icy wind hits him. Her truck is undoubtedly infinitely warmer than standing here in the cold is.

"Sure."

James' arms are wrapped around her before she even has a chance to get any sort of greeting out. He smells like coming home, the familiar woody, boyish scent something she's come to associate with comfort and warmth over the years.

They've texted and FaceTimed constantly for the past four months, but it's not the same. It's not this, it's not the way being physically held by him feels like a perfect cocoon from the outside world.

It feels like they're back in high school again.

"I missed you," he says into her hair.

"I missed you too," she replies, her voice muffled by James' flannel shirt.