Imagine

A simple and beautiful love that is now and forever unattainable

He dragged himself away. He had to, it was fuck-knows o'clock in the morning and he had to be at the garage by six. He might have been able to squeeze a few hours of sleep in if he left – fuck. An hour ago. Now he might just be okay to shower, throw something down his neck and avoid his room-mate. Gods knew that boy poked his nose in anywhere it didn't belong.

"It was nice to meet you, Arya," Gendry nodded, indulging himself in a quick smile at the strange creature in front of him, before pushing himself up off the sofa.
She had spent the past few minutes telling him how much she hated most of the people at this party, so he thought it was probably a kindness to let her go. She was the only reason he had stayed so long, this girl with the piercing eyes. He could barely hear her over the music but he could feel her, her words purred into his ear, battling with Jon's terrible playlist bouncing out of the speakers. They had wrestled their way to the sofa in the corner hidden from the dancers – one of Jon's cousins had been trying to get everyone to dance earlier and Gendry had not been keen. Then a small hand had slipped into his and pulled him out of the way. Gods, it had almost hurt when she had let go.

"Wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?"

"Home?" he tried to tell her, but her stern gaze made him uncertain.

"And what is at home that has you rushing off?" she brushed her hair behind her ear and his stomach twisted with gratitude. He wanted to remember her face in full.

"Uh… my bed? I have work in the morning, so…" he trailed off, noticing how as her frown intensified her forehead filled with lines and her nose scrunched up.

"But we had plans." She was so matter-of-fact that Gendry paused as he pulled on his jacket.

"Did we?" They had only spoken for a few minutes. It had been nice and she was beautiful, but she was looking at him like he had just asked her for the ring back a week before the wedding.

"Yeah. You were going to walk me home and I was going to make us stop at the Thai place on the way and we would eat way too much Pad Thai and you'd have to stay over." She spoke with so much confidence that it rang true to him, almost like he had heard it before, this picture of potential. Maybe it had been hidden in their pleasantries, disguised by the noise of the party.

"I have work in the morning. I start super early so can't get caught up in – er – night-time activities." He blushed and found himself feeling more embarrassed by his shyness than by the thought of her in the dead of night. That thought he liked.

"I have a sofa bed. But that's not what I meant anyway, I don't sleep with guys on the first date." She dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand, uncurling her legs and shifting herself onto the arm of the sofa. Closer.

"This is a date?" his lips twitched in a smirk. She had asked him a few questions about his major and mentioned how much she hated the weather here. It was hardly foreplay.

"No, but tomorrow will be."

"And what will we do tomorrow?" he humoured her and leant in to hear her answer.

She still wasn't smiling. She stared at him like she was explaining why the sun was going to rise tomorrow. "You're going to take me dancing, and let me buy you dinner, and then you'll come home with me again and fall asleep in front of some old movie."

"What movie?" he asked, his lips moving before he could think. He could picture it. He was notorious for drifting off at the movies. It was rare he could get through an entire picture.

Her lips twitched, threatening to smile, and then she moved to stand, her feet balancing on the two sofa-cushions so she could meet his eye-line, "Something stupid that we've both seen a thousand times. Die-hard or James Bond or something." She was fiddling with the zip on her jacket, pulling it up and down and the clicking noise was distracting. Annoying even. Gendry frowned.

"James Bond isn't stupid." He muttered, reaching out unthinkingly and gripping the edges of her lapels, stilling the zip. Her hands were cold, even in this warm room.

"Bits are. We'd laugh at the car flying across the river, but also secretly wish we could drive a car that cool." She grinned – finally - and shifted forwards like she was being pulled towards him.

"Why's that a secret?"

"Because you're the strong and silent type who doesn't like to let people know that he wants more than he has. You pretend you have all you need because otherwise you're risking gaining something you could lose, something you care too much to lose."

She was so frank, so honest about things she couldn't possibly know. But the truth in her words must have been obvious because she tilted her head to match his, putting her face even closer.

"And what do I care about?" He was almost scared of how she would answer it. This prophetess, this nosey, all-seeing girl. Was he this transparent to everyone?

"Family, future, me."

"You?" he raised his eyebrows, imagining he looked surprised and not hopeful.

"Yes. You'll let me convince you to stay. We'll fill my bathtub with sweet-smelling shit that makes you cringe, but you'll like it when we curl up in it together."

"Maybe if there was enough alcohol," he joked to hide the heat rising in him. He was feeling the slow uncurling of something begin inside. The flush of want was already there, so he didn't know how to name this, but it raised its head in curiosity when he asked,

"And this is all happening tomorrow?"

Her smile was dazzling, cheeky, satisfying, "Tomorrow's just a concept. Tomorrow is the land of perfect fantasies."

She had twisted her hands into his without him realising. Her fingers were still cold, but they were soft on his callouses. He glanced down when a sharp nail dug into his palm. It was the tweak of pain he needed. The reality that could blow the mist of hope away.

"And perfect doesn't exist." He tried to draw back but she gripped him tighter, pulling his hands towards her, tucking them under her chin.

"Not today, maybe."

It was the light, surely. The spotlights in the kitchen reflecting off the dark windows dancing in her eyes, illuminating her face. She shone and he couldn't help running a thumb along her jaw.

"But tomorrow it does?"

"Can't you at least try and imagine it?" she sighed, slipping one hand free and running down his arm. He shivered as he felt it run up his side. Even through three layers of clothing she was making him quiver.

"Imagine what? You and me? A regular day when I'm stressed to high-heaven about my thesis, you without all this-" he gestured to her face, the red lips and vivid green eyeshadow, the glitter and highlight, the part façade, "- sleepy and gorgeous at three in the morning. Hidden in the quiet together. I could cook for you if you like. Nothing fancy, mind, but I'm sure you'd like that, you're impatient see, and anything that keeps us too busy is not worth doing." At some point her other hand had reached his shoulder and was pulling him closer. Closer still.

Her eyes were shining. His hands were on her face, her cheek, her neck, in her hair. He can't stop touching her.

"Kiss me." She whispered, and her whiskey of two hours ago ghosted towards him.

"I will," he breathed, his stomach twisted tightly around itself. He was desperate to kiss her. To feel her soft skin on his lips, to touch her, to have more of her. He could smell her make-up, a sort of floral paint smell. He pressed his cheek to hers and just breathed. Her hair tickled his nose, and he didn't mind.

"I'll kiss you," he said again, drawing back so he could look into her eyes. Arya, this girl, this possibility, "tomorrow."