Boxed

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Epilogue

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Part 1

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Somehow, in the back of his mind, he always knew he'd come back. Granted, it had taken him a long time to get over, no, get used to the idea that he could never have the one thing he had wished for with all his heart, but he had always known that he couldn't really stay away from the place he had once called home.

Even so, eight years was a long time. Long enough for most things to change. He realized this as he glanced around what used to be the agency's large parking lot. Instead, it was now a vast garden, complete with fountains and stone walkways. Parking had been moved underground to make way for the project, probably a product of one of the President's whims.

Things change, but ultimately remain the same. Gone were the familiar faces, but in their place he saw various people with the same expressions he himself wore not too long ago. He could read their thoughts as surely as though they had spoken them. Hope. Passion. Ambition. The faces may change, but the reasons for being there never do.

A few years ago, he had been like them, ready to bargain with the devil for a chance to achieve his dreams. He had only realized his foolishness when he'd found something far more important. And far more difficult to attain.

In the end, he got what he originally desired. A successful career. An opportunity to prove his worth. A name for himself. But only when he didn't want it all anymore.

Some wise person once said that you could never really realize how important something is until you've lost it. But then again, how can this apply to him? She had never even been his.

Eight winters have passed since he last caught sight of the familiar surroundings. Eight summers since he last saw her. He'd never once returned since that fateful day in the airport. And since then, not once had the two of them exchanged words again.

He'd chosen to stay away from anything connected to her. Tried to buffer himself from the pain. But then again, once in a while, he'd give in to his weakness and search for any news on her. Just to be sure she was doing okay.

He'd thought that after the initial furor regarding her marriage with that singer had died down, she'd go back to the work she had so loved. But he'd been wrong.

She had decided to run her in-laws' traditional inn and settle into a relatively normal life away from the spotlight. A lot of people had gone and tried to get her interested in their projects, but she turned them all down. She didn't state her reasons, just politely said no.

A part of him wished that this wasn't the case and that there was a chance that he could run into her at some social gathering, but another part of him, a larger one, was afraid of the pain it would bring.

News about her became harder to come by as the years passed. Oh, that rocker idiot was still so very famous, but he'd been tightlipped about his private life ever since their marriage announcement. He'd only ever heard the singer talk once during an interview, when he had been asked whether he had any plans of starring in a movie or drama. He had answered that he would never go into acting, because that was his wife's territory, looking very serious as he did so. He did not elaborate any further, and no amount of prodding from the hosts could elicit any sort of reaction from him.

Whether this was an agreement between the couple, or whether it was the younger man's conscious decision, he couldn't tell. If it was the latter, then surely this was an unbelievable show of maturity from the man who once ditched her because he thought she was too plain to stand beside him.

But then again, while he hadn't been able to see her, it had been virtually impossible to avoid seeing or hearing of her husband. And try as he might, he could not deny the fact that the other man had changed over the years. The cocky arrogance of youth was mostly gone, replaced by a sense of quiet groundedness. While still insufficient to be called modest, his words now carried a sense of awe and pride at what he had achieved, rather than the insincere gratitude he used to throw at his admirers before.

And his songs. While still mostly rock and upbeat, once in a while, he would come out with a melody so different from the others, whose words spoke directly from his soul. Lyrics that couldn't have been conceived merely by a creative mind. Something that evoked emotion even from the hardest of hearts. A product of musical genius and an earnest soul that seemed to desperately wish to be heard.

Which brought the handsome actor back to the reason of his return. One of his songs. Of that man. That cunning person who had stolen the one person he thought he couldn't live without.

His manager had been hesitant to tell him that the song had been chosen as part of the soundtrack for his next movie. The director had heard it while surfing online and had been enchanted by the melody. He had the song translated and was thrilled to find that it fit perfectly with how he wanted one of the flashback scenes to play out. So the director wasted no time in getting into contact with the musician and his agents to request for an English version to be sung just for the film.

The singer had but one request before he agreed to do the song. That the lead actor of the film be present when the finished song is first played for the director and producers to hear.

He'd suspected then that it was a mere attempt to rub salt on old wounds, but the rational part of him argued that if this was so, then the younger man would have done it much earlier, when the pain was still fresh.

So here he was. Just landed from a twelve-hour flight, and feeling like his heart was beating in his stomach. Whether it was from jetlag or from the undeniable dread of the impending meeting, he didn't care to know.

He hadn't realized how long he had been standing and staring outside the building until he felt a slight vibration in his jeans pocket. He fished his phone out and read the message from his manager. The paperwork's mostly done. Time to head up.

He walked through the once-familiar glass double doors amidst curious stares from passers by. He discreetly glanced at his reflection on the highly polished mirror behind the reception desk, trying to make sure that he was still incognito. He adjusted the baseball cap he was wearing to hide as much of his face and pulled the hood of his jacket lower over it. Satisfied that while most people may still pay him a cursory glance, these, and the dark glasses he was wearing, would keep anybody from recognizing who he really was, he strode over to where the President's trusted aide was waiting.

Nodding to each other in greeting, they rode the lift in silence to where the contract discussions were just wrapping up. Noting his arrival, the director stood up and started to introduce the musician to the actor, assuming that neither of them knew each other.

The President, who was there as his local agent, cut the aging director off, under the guise of being overly excited to hear the finished product. Successfully distracted, the director clapped his hands in agreement and turned towards the singer who motioned to his manager with a lazy wave of his hand. Moments later, the soft mournful melody of guitar strings being slowly strummed filled the room.

The actor had to admit that what few bars he'd heard was enough to convince everyone, including himself, that it was a perfect fit for the planned scene. He glanced towards the director and made a single almost imperceptible nod to signal his approval and made ready to tune out the rest of the song. He did not need to listen to the rest of the lyrics that described a love that wasn't destined to be realized.

Until he heard the second voice that joined the singer's. The voice was slightly deeper than he remembered, but it still held the familiar lilt that haunted him for eight long years.

Not bothering to hide his surprise, he quickly turned his head to lock gazes with the musician across the table. The younger man stared straight back, as if daring him to say something, anything, about what he'd just heard.

The handsome actor was the first to break eye contact, mumbling a muted apology to all present before hurriedly standing up, the sound of the legs of his chair scraping against the polished floor contrasting sharply with the beautiful melody still playing within the confines of the room.

Love means not having to speak the words. And not ever needing to hear them.

Her words rang loudly in his ears as he exited, her melodious voice singing him out.

He felt like he was drowning. It was too much. Just too much.

He stood outside the heavy doors, uncertain of where to go. But he knew he could not stay in that place, where even now he could hear the faint but undeniable strains of the music he was trying to escape from. So he willed himself, one foot in front of the other. Anywhere was better than there.

Before he knew it, his aimless wandering brought him in front of a nondescript door, which in the not-so-distant past used to be plastered with a shocking neon pink sign. It seems that even though he tried so hard to deny it, he still subconsciously sought her out.

He turned the knob slowly, hoping vainly that he would be greeted with her warm smile, but knowing the pain of wishing for the impossible.

He hadn't counted on the fact that the fates seem to really have it in for the two of them.

First of a two-part epilogue.