Hey everybody...
You know I really should get to working on my other WWRY stories, but I've been working on this by hand for a long time (since I was banned from the computer for about 2 months), and really wanted to get it out of my system. Sooo...here it is...
Oh, and just in case you didn't know, I do NOT own We Will Rock You, no matter how much I wish I did. Maybe then, I'd own Erica. And that would be flipping fabulous.
"Scaramouche!"
For a second, I thought I'd heard wrong, but then, there it was again, a second time, "Scaramouche!"
No, I'd definitely heard right. It couldn't be for me though. Nobody called me by that name anymore. As a matter of fact, it had been two years since anybody had called me that. No, it couldn't possibly be me they were calling. All the same, I turned around, just in case, half-hoping I was wrong.
I scanned the crowd around me, and my eyes grew huge as I focused in on the figure running towards me, "Oh Jaysus."
"Oh…hi…wow…well…it's been a while, hasn't it, Scaramouche?" sputtered the one, the only, Galileo Figaro. Magnifico, of course.
"Yeah, it has," I said quietly.
We just stared at each other in silence for a bit. What could you say to someone you hadn't seen in years? Someone you'd left, not knowing how they really felt about you? Someone you'd never even said good-bye to?
"Well, this is awkward," I put my hands on my hips.
"I guess you're right," he smiled sheepishly.
I smiled back, and then added, "You haven't changed a bit, you know." It was true. He was still the same Galileo I'd known: almost too-innocent, deep brown eyes, lop-sided, shy smile, muscled arms, shaggy hair, and a worn leather jacket.
"True, but you have," he replied, "A lot." That was true too. The purple hair he'd known and loved was gone, in favor of shoulder-length, gingery waves – my "real" hair. I didn't wear a third of the make-up I once had, only a touch of mascara and lip-gloss now. The loose white shirt, with the top buttons undone and the sleeves pushed up, and the jeans I was wearing that day were a far cry from the array of crazy Bohemian costumes I'd loved to indulge in.
"How'd you recognize me then?" I asked.
"Easy," he answered, "Your walk, and the way you talk."
"The way I talk?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I realized when you were asking somebody the time," he grinned mischievously, "It's that same way of talking like you own the world."
Before I could answer him, someone bumped into me, sending me flying into his arms.
"Stupid kids," he muttered grumpily, as he walked past, "Blocking streets and causing traffic."
I looked up at Galileo, still holding me up, "Who pissed in his Cornflakes this morning?" We both laughed. For just a second, it seemed like everything was okay again, and that things were the way they once were. Just for a second though, because then I remembered how things had become, and I backed away from him briskly.
"Do you want to go somewhere else to talk?" he offered, "So we don't 'cause traffic' anymore?"
"I'd like to, but I have somewhere I have to be in an hour," I replied.
"Oh," he looked disappointed, then perked up a little as he said, "Well, what about meeting up another time? Friday afternoon maybe?"
"Sure, we could go to…" but I stopped myself in mid-sentence. I was about to say the Heartbreak Hotel, but we couldn't go there. Too many unresolved issues…too many familiar faces…too many painful memories. I didn't want to go there ever again.
Galileo could still read me like an open book, because he picked up right where I left off, "Your place. So I could see where you're at right now."
"Of course," I smiled gratefully.
"Well," he swallowed, "Nice running into you, Scaramouche."
"You too, Galileo," I nodded.
He lifted his arms tentatively, as though to give me a hug. When I didn't respond, he lowered them, looking crest-fallen. He walked off looking thoroughly disappointed. In all honesty though, what else could he have expected from me?