Philophobia (Jonathan Crane, O/C)

I Want To Meet You Again

"But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine. Sit talking up all night. Saying things we haven't for a while, a while yeah. We're smiling but we're close to tears. Even after all these years. We just now got the feeling that we're meeting. For the first time."

- "For The First Time" by The Script

"None of these," I scream at Jonathan from the living room, "I spent hours packing these and you never even bothered?" I sigh, putting my hands on my hips as I look at all of the boxes that are scattered throughout his apartment. "Jonathan?" I question, turning my body to look at the door, I roll my eyes.

I walk through all of the boxes, reading my awful girly half written half a cursive writing to the one labeled, "blankets" I push aside the others, grabbing the knife in my pocket and cutting it open. I take out the wool blanket that used to lay on his couch in Gotham, the same one that he bundled me in the first night I slept over his house.

I unfold it, walking down the small hallway, pushing the door open just a creak to look at him, sitting at his desk, papers all around him, mumbling words that I can't understand, his eyes firmly closed. I open the door wider, slipping my body inside and creeping up from behind him, I open it and throw it over his head, giggling and sprinting out the door.

"Cara," he calls, startled by the sudden action, quickly getting up from the chair and walking out of the bedroom.

I run behind the stack of boxes closest to the door. I look through one of the peep holes, feeling like a child hiding from her playmate. My heart pounds in my chest at the idea of having children, I have been thinking about it ever since Jonathan came back into my life. I know he said to wait until I was 27 to ask him. But what is a year early? And I know everything in Gotham is a mess, but who says we have to raise our child in Gotham?

"I'm sorry about not unpacking. I thought by not unpacking it would speed up the process of me coming back home," he sighs, looking at all of the boxes in his apartment.

"So?" I say, standing up and leaning on one of the stacks without him seeing me still. "We should just leave them?"

He turns his blue eyes to where I'm standing, and smiles.

"Where are all of your things?"

"I packed up most of my stuff in these boxes," I walk out from my little box fort to point to the boxes that carry most of my belongings in them. "If you had unpacked, you would have known I was coming to get them."

He breathes in deeply, "What am I going to do with you?"

I smirk, cocking my head to one side and walking over to where he's standing, draping my arms around his neck, "You are going to love me forever."

"We have a problem," he says, putting his arms around my waist and leaning in.

"Why's that?" I purse my lips, looking up at him, trying to hide my smile.

"I already will love you forever."

"I love you so much," I bury my head into his chest, pulling him in as close as I can.

"I know you do," he puts his head on top of mine. I purr, rubbing my head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him and onto me. I never want to let go of him.

"Food," I mumble, my thoughts going to how he used to be when I visited him after college.

"What?" He asks, breathing in a long sigh, knowing that I'm going to pull away.