A Prompt Romance

Title: Waiting In Line

Prompt: Write about a person who has waited in a line too long.

Summary: He's grown tired of waiting, so he's going to do something about it.

Rating: K

Waiting in Line

He's been waiting for three years.

Well, that's not quite right. If you want to be pedantic about it then actually, it's been two years, eleven months and twenty five days. (He draws the line at counting the hours and minutes.) However he likes to round up when he recalls how long he's known her because it sounds more dramatic that way.

So it's been three years. Three years of loving her with an intensity that makes his stomach hurt if he thinks about it too much; three years of wanting to kiss her and hold her hand and smell her hair. It's three years of waiting for her to acknowledge that they're on the same planet, let alone in the same bus queue.

He doesn't know why he hasn't plucked up the courage to speak to her during the last thirty six months. It should have been simple enough. He could have asked her for the time or talked about the weather. He might even have dared to stand a little closer and offer her shelter under his umbrella. But he didn't; he couldn't. And by waiting for the perfect moment he's allowed every possibly-perfect moment to pass him by.

Now he's had enough; he's not prepared to wait any longer. Whether it's meaningful, memorable or not today is going to be the day. When she joins the queue behind him, just as she has every weekday morning for the last one hundred and fifty six weeks - because she doesn't seem to take holidays and he's terrified of going on vacation in case he misses his chance - he'll talk to her.

He doesn't quite know what he's going to say yet (and he's angry with himself over that because he should be prepared by now) but he's going to do it. He'll ask her out and she'll say yes and every morning for the rest of their lives will be spent standing together. He won't have to wait any longer.

Except that's not what happens.

That's not what happens because when she joins the bus queue, she's not alone. This morning the man who has patiently waited in line after her for seven hundred and seventy nine days is not standing behind her. Today – the first day of the rest of his life - that man is waiting next to her. He's next to her and she's smiling at him and he's holding her hand.

And then he realises.

He's waited too long.