//Author's note: Twice in a day?! Don't get too used to it... but I hope you like this one. It's a shorty but I have no consistency anyway :)
Mitch always loved the notion of a romance movie. More times than he'd like to admit, he had snuggled up on his bunk in college, sharing a blanket with Kirstie, watching cheesy rom-coms on her laptop (conveniently propped up on his luggage chest in the middle of the room). When the lights were out, it was practically a movie theater.
He didn't like his poems to edge towards clichés, so he liked watching these movies in order to pick up some tips on what not to write. He definitely didn't like watching Ryan Gosling or Matthew McConaughey in various states of undress. No, that wasn't it at all. And for sure, he didn't keep watching every film even after Kirstie fell asleep. No, sir.
Romantic comedies often had a happy ending, this wildly dramatic build to the part where the romantic interests would finally reunite, share a magical kiss in the rain, and be together forever. Fade to black, and all that.
Sometimes the movie would end and Mitch would stare into space, long after the screen went dark, Kirstie snoring softly on his shoulder. He would keep looking into the pitch black of his room until he started to see little sparks in his vision. He'd blink, and repeat. Sometimes he'd continue this for an hour. Sometimes he thought he'd wake Kirstie up with how loudly the gears seemed to be turning in his head, but she was always out like a light.
It's been a long time!
How have you been?
Living the dream.
He never remembered how that conversation went. He thought about it a lot during these hours-- maybe too much-- but he could never recall how it ended. The sight of Scott after all that time... he was so cheerful and bright. Mitch cursed himself for being so awkward in the moment. He swore if he had the chance to see Scott again, he wouldn't let the time go to waste.
---
Romantic comedies didn't warm his heart like they used to. The bad editing, the passé Top 40 hits, the overpaid actors... the magic dulled after a while. Mitch got his magic elsewhere now. A new EP by his favorite producer, a fresh set of Pilot pens to write with, a slim fitting jacket, a pretty young thing in a bar. When Mitch was on his book tour, he felt invincible. Every stop was a new community in which to immerse himself, a blank slate. He didn't need people to remember him when he stumbled out at 2am, he just needed them to have fun with him while he was there.
Funny how he could get high off of the thought that someone would never see him again.
---
Mitch hit the power button on his extremely old television, the screen zapping audibly and flashing before turning off. The apartment was still, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. He pressed the home button on his phone and squinted when it lit up. No texts, no missed calls.
Kirstie never really called as much since she married Jeremy, and Mitch mostly toured alone. His manager and publisher only ever called during business hours. I don't really know what I was expecting. Mitch took a deep breath and forced himself to get up off the futon. He stumbled over a pair of shoes and made his way to one corner of his apartment, where he peeled off his tight jeans and pulled his shirt over his head. He wandered, yawning, into the kitchen wearing just socks and underwear and turned on the kettle.
He settled for sitting on a stool in the kitchen while the water boiled. The microwave clock blinked bright green in his peripheral vision. 12:53am. By one in the morning he had his sleepytime vanilla tea in hand, a couple of gluten free cookies, and was tucked back under the blankets on the futon.
In the limbo between being awake and asleep, Mitch found some peace and quiet.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
It was just like the movies. All he had to do was reunite with his former flame, right?
Kissing in the rain is optional, but preferred.
---
He had thought of this before. He had been thinking about it for a long time. He just hadn't had the guts to do it.
But what the hell was stopping him now?
The following morning, Mitch began to pack.
