(Old Version) Hopelessly Heroic

three

After an hour of begging, Ava agreed to let me bake while she served customers, even though I was scheduled for the cash shift. She knew I didn't really like interacting with strangers. I was glad to be alone, but I could hear that she turned on the radio, and, in between songs, they were talking about the newest fire. I told myself I wasn't listening, but I still heard every word they said.

A newspaper manufacturing building had been burned to the ground. The owner of the company said it couldn't have been a coincidence that the fire happened while a huge story on The Flamethrower was being printed. He said the story had focused on speculations of her personal life, behind the mask. Nobody had been hurt, but the cost in damages meant he had to shut the business down. He said he wouldn't sell the story to anybody else, because he feared for their safety.

My heart was pounding. If it was the building I was thinking of, I knew exactly where it was. I passed by it sometimes on my way to work if I was running late, since it was a shortcut. Willow was closer than I thought.

I was two seconds away from bursting through the door and asking Ava everything she knew about her, and how close she was, when I heard the bell ring, alerting us to a customer. It was quiet for a minute, and then the customer and Ava started talking.

Ava, of course, started complaining about the fires and how somebody ought to put a stop to that dang villain, period. The customer cleared their throat quietly, and then mumbled something that I couldn't hear. Ava laughed.

"Yeah, if only." I heard Ava say, "The Flamethrower was a lot tamer with her around."

I got the feeling they were talking about me.

"They weren't meant to be, though. Romeo and Juliet, you know? Except, in this version, they decided their family's dumb rivalry was more important than their relationship. Sucks, I guess."

Some more quiet chatter. A laugh. The bell, again. Silence.

*

Willow moved from place to place, never sticking around for too long. Statistically, I knew we'd probably be in the same area at some point, but I hadn't thought about how much it would effect me. I was scared. Of seeing her, of not seeing her, of being tempted to find her. I still had hope deep down that if we ever met again, we'd just continue on as if we'd never separated in the first place. That she'd just kiss me and I'd invite her back to my apartment and nobody would mention the years that had passed. We'd watch a movie from my bed, tangled together under the covers, and for the first time since moving in, I wouldn't have to turn the heat on.

She'd hang her mask up next to mine, and we could finally be just two people in love. No titles telling us we couldn't be together. No people saying it was wrong. Nobody would sneer at me, tell me I shouldn't be talking to her type. We could hold hands in public. They wouldn't run a segment about us on the news. We'd be so happy.

I wanted to see her. So bad. If I could wish for one thing, it would be that her and I had met under different circumstances. That she wasn't a villain, and I wasn't a hero, and nobody else had any say in how we felt about each other. Or maybe my wish would just be that everybody stopped caring about us. Or maybe it would be that Willow was a hero. Or that she had waited for me for longer than a day before skipping town. Or that she was still waiting. Or that she ever had.

Or maybe my wish would be that she wanted to see me, too.

Sure, I wasn't a hero anymore. I wasn't constantly in the news. But if Willow wanted to find me, she could have. She knew where my mom lived. She could kidnap one of my old teammates and force them to tell her. Hell, she could just Google my name.

My point was that if Willow actually cared about me, or missed me at all, she could have found a way. But she didn't. And that said enough.