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Alex and Taylor had already had so many problems on their way to meet. They knew it would be worth it, but Alex was having doubts and Taylor was getting impatient!
Taylor's phone came up on Alex's cell... A call coming through again!
"Hello?"
"Hey... Almost there! Did you pass the statue?"
"Yeah!! Call me again when we see each other's cars?"
Taylor said ok and hung up. Alex was so nervous he was sweating!

Taylor had been parked for a few seconds, and saw the red jeep pull up. That had to be Alex! FINALLY. Taylor looked for a few more, to make sure it really was. Then hopped out of his car and almost ran to the jeep.
Inside, Alex didn't even see Taylor come up to the window, at first!
Taylor knocked on the door, lightly. Alex was obviously surprised at first, but quickly a small smile spread on his face.

Alex motioned for Taylor to get in on the passenger side, any nervousness giving way into excitement! It felt like they had done this a million times before, for him.
"Wow. Hi!" Taylor chirped.
"Hi again!!! We headed to the park, then?"
"Yup!"
They pulled out, with plans to come back to this spot everytime from this point on. A friendship that would last a long ten years, from the four online to the last six years where it was semi-online semi-IRL.

Then, on a day in September, it was becoming bitter cold, much earlier than usual. Alex was sitting at the park, where they had sat so many times, together. Talking, swapping gaming advice, gf stories. Watching the couples, friends, and lovers walk past them. A tear fell. But it was a joyful one. Tinged, but joyful.
If they hadn't both faced all those hurdles JUST to see each other, he wouldn't have ever gotten to know someone that completed him on such a platonic level. Maybe he would have, but not so closely.
He whispered to himself something about how thankful he was to know someone so fragile, and got in his car to go back home.
He double checked his seatbelt was clicked, though. Taylor always forgot that...

Trevor hesitated, torn between James' pale face and bloody side, and the need to stop the killer before he could strike again. James had been such an annoyance, so often in the way of this whole investigation. How often had he done just the wrong thing, said just the wrong thing, at the worst time? But the bond they had forged had solidified into a deep friendship that Trevor ... had to ignore. His duty was not just to James, but to everyone who might get hurt if he made the wrong choice.

"Go," James repeated. "Hurry!"

Trevor turned and ran for all he was worth. Each step took him further from James, but spurred by his friend's faith that he would prevail. He had to catch the fiend.

Turning a corner, he found the villain climbing a fence, slowed by the odd shape of the links. Instead of climbing the fence itself, Trevor climbed a near-by wall, using the fire escape ladder as leverage to reach the top of the fence moments after his quarry. He jumped after the murderer, landing on him as he tried to run away. Both men sprawled, but Trevor regained his feet first, plowing into the other man, and threw a punch hard enough to break the other's nose. "That's for James," Trevor snarled. Then he spun him around and cuffed him before he could react. "And this is for everyone else." He took a second set of cuffs out and cuffed a foot to the fence. "Stay," Trevor ordered, rather unnecessarily as the perpetrator was not going to be able to go anywhere.

Trevor returned the way he had come, relieved to see ambulance lights flashing ahead of him. He caught up to the ambulance just as James was being loaded into the rear on a stretcher. James looked at Trevor, but couldn't summon the strength to ask the question aloud.

Trevor answered anyway. "I got him, James. He will pay for what he has done, and he won't be killing any more."

James closed his eyes in satisfaction. Trevor turned anxious eyes to the medic climbing in behind the stretcher. She patted his shoulder with a smile, and said, "He's lost a lot of blood, but we've got him now. He's got a good chance for a full recovery."

Trevor let out a breath of relief so great he felt like he'd been unable to breathe at all until that moment, as he watched the ambulance drive away. Then he turned back to complete his duty before visiting James in the hospital. They had a lot to talk about, but there would be time for all that. Plenty of time.

One Last Time

The phone vibrated a fifth time within a minute. In the dark bedroom, Stephanie saw rays of white and green light contouring a flat chest. She brought the phone closer to her face, the wall of messages covering a drunken selfie of Cory: wild red curls wrapped around his head like a brushfire. He took her advice on having one stray curl dangle across his oily forehead. She didn't know why he remembered that, of all the things she had told him through their innumerable Skype meetings.

Steph talk to me pls.
The producer wanted a singer-songwriter.
I need this job.

I need you.

Her hand clenched tightly around the phone. As Stephanie typed out her rant, her fingers inadvertently picked up his incoming call.

“Steph, I'm-”
“You want me to write another song for you to steal?”
“I'll explain everything at the Lounge.” He replied in a hurry. She could hear him tapping on the body of his guitar, a nervous habit. “Trust me. One last time, please.”

Stephanie ended the call without a goodbye, falling back on the bed with a sigh. One last time. He had a habit of making everything the last: the last text, last drink. Last song. But this time felt different. She closed her eyes and pretended to feel tired, eventually swinging her feet off the bed and heading to her car.

...

The rustic clapboard interior of the Lounge was adorned with photographs of old performances. Stephanie followed the length of the wall, the black and white faces of musicians smiling at her in the dim light. The realization that she would never be up there settled on her like dust, quiet and unnoticed. She half expected to find Cory’s newly shaven face staring back at her.

His shameless introduction all those nights ago was stuck on repeat in her mind. This is a song I wrote. It’s called “One Last Time.” The song she spent hours on end trying to find the right words for. The song that was supposed to be her songwriting debut. The song admitting everything she felt for him.

She rounded the corner of the wall. The sound of fingers drumming against a guitar emanated from the unlit stage, followed by a distinct singsong baritone. A small spotlight illuminated a head of fiery red hair.

“I’m not one for conversation, but I can’t stop talking ‘bout you.”

Cory looked up from the fretboard and held Stephanie’s gaze for as long as he could. She didn’t stare at him for long, eventually fixing her cold gaze on his strumming hand. The line he sang was painfully familiar to her, but the words that followed weren’t.

They were his own.

“In my desperation, I’ll always find my way back to you.” The strings squeaked quietly as he slid his hand across the frets. He was smiling at her now, watching her icy stare melting with every new line. “Cause I need you. I need you.

“Yours is the only song I’ll play in my mind, repeating all the time.”

Cory remembered why he didn’t write music. Across his room, a small trash can overflowed with crumpled sheets of rejected lyrics. In front of him was a sheet of paper where he crossed out every line he had written - except hers. He was terrible with words. His hand immediately went to his phone the moment he saw Stephanie’s name.

You don’t need me.
Anyone can write a song, but not everyone can sing as good as you.

“Cause I need you. One last time. Yeah, I need you.” Cory strummed a slow, final note before giving Stephanie a sheepish smile. She stood by the stage apron, a mix of regret and astonishment written all over her face.

“You...you really did write that song.”
“Yeah. Except for the first line.” He said. “Wait a little longer before you walk out on me next time.”
“But what about the job?”
“I didn’t take it.” Cory mumbled, punctuating it with a laugh when he caught her frowning. “I don't want a job where I can't be with you.” He took a seat on the apron, shifting to make room for her. They looked down at their dangling feet, smiling as they thought of how far they’ve come. And it was only the beginning.

“C’mon, help me write the rest of it.“ Cory said finally, nudging her with his elbow. Stephanie grabbed the guitar from behind him, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the neck before handing it over.
“So you can steal it?”
“Exactly.”

At length, she rested her head against his shoulder, letting the melodic sound of his guitar stretch their minutes into lifetimes.