Chapter Text
you don't expect to see anyone familiar when you make the trek down to the grocery store nearest your shitty, overpriced new york apartment, and yet, there he is.
robert reynolds surveys the baking aisle with unusual precision, eyes flicking between boxes of red velvet and angel food like it’s the most critical decision he could ever make. at first you don’t recognize him; a long while has passed since that hotel room in kuala lumpur. but when you do, your entire being jolts as if lightning has struck right into your bloodstream. he looked so different now, no longer pale and gaunt, eyes free of dark circles and even darker eyeliner. his hair now streaked with the slightest hint of golden blonde. god, he glowed like the fucking sun.
you aren’t sure what twists worse in your stomach, guilt or longing, but it’s enough to make you slip your bag of flour back onto its shelf and take a few steps back. you were sure this version of bob wouldn’t recognize you: where he’d brightened over the years you’d clearly dimmed, your loud and edgy style replaced by oversized black sweats that served to swallow you whole. a thick grey scarf and chunky over-ear headphones completed your dull incognito look, and you thanked your body’s tendency to run freezing for your ability to hide. you managed to round the corner without drawing attention to yourself, only to bump into a display stand of new avengers themed cans of ravioli. you curse under your breath as the cans clatter, and in an instant robert is helping you clean up.
“are you okay, miss?” he asks in that soft, mildly uncertain tone, and you’re unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed that he doesn’t recognize you. it’s for the best, you remind yourself. nothing that happened the last time you’d seen him had been healthy, and the last thing you wanted to do was set back the progress he’d clearly made. but then you locked eyes reaching for the same can, and you could see the recognition clouding over his dark blue irises. “y/n?” that name on those lips sent your brain reeling through the month long haze that was your relationship. “it- it’s me, bob? y’know, from malaysia?” he clarifies as if he could ever be forgotten.
“uh, yeah… hi…” you manage to croak, shriveling up inside. his eyes brighten with the confirmation, as if he were seeing an old friend. as if you hadn’t betrayed him.
“been a while, huh?” there was a surprising lack of bitterness in his voice. you nod, your brain unable to compute. why didn’t he hate you? he continued to speak but the words merely buzzed against your ears, the dark blue of his eyes pulling you into the memory of when you used to sneak out to press your body to the surface of the freezing lake where you grew up, letting the chill seep into your aching bones. such a calm had evaded you since that hotel room as well, and you’d tried some less than savory methods to gain it back in your time apart. methods you were sure he’d left behind, and the last thing you wanted to do was drag him back down with you. his voice finally cut through your inner spiral. “hey, are you alright?”
"yeah, uh... just... surprised..." you stammer out, tucking that final can onto the display with such anxious force that the entire stack wobbles, threatening to start the cycle all over again. "so, h-how have you... new york, huh?"
he laughs, just as soft and earnest as in your gentlest memories. the sound makes your stomach twist again. this time, it's definitely longing. "yeah, it's... kind of a long story, but i guess i live here now? what about you?"
"just passing through... visiting an old colleague," you finally manage a non-stuttering response. just as cryptic as ever, he thinks.
"well, i'd love to catch up if you have time." you're certain he's luring you into some sort of trap. perhaps some well-deserved revenge for what you did. but you nod anyways. he smiles patiently and places a torn-off, scribbled-on corner of his shopping list in your hand, narrowly avoiding direct contact with your palm. you should probably be at least confused by his restraint, but you're grateful instead. you're not sure your legs would keep you upright if you felt him again. his phone buzzes repeatedly, bringing you once again out of your ruminating. "text me and let me know when you're free, okay? i gotta run but it was nice seeing you." you watch as he grabs the red velvet and drifts toward the registers, resisting the urge to follow. to dive back into the icy comfort of his eyes. to foolishly assume that he might've picked that flavor because he remembered it was your favorite. but instead you slip out of the back exit, items and basket abandoned. you shouldn't get any closer to him than you have to.