Three months.

92 days.

That's how long John went without seeing her. The first month had passed in what was a blur of cities, and people. It'd been hell trying to live through the aftermath of their messy goodbye while pretending everything was okay. But he'd been through harder things, so many of them in fact. He fell asleep at night with the thought that Evie had been a part of his life for only thirty months.

The lyrics he wrote that first month cursed her name while simultaneously longing for her return. If she did return, John would take her back in a heartbeat. After the first month, John felt fine. He didn't think about her everyday, and instead only thought of her whenever he felt broken inside. Thinking about Evie made a lot of other buried memories arise, which promoted him to question how Evie had put up with him.

Evie was the glue that helped him put the broken pieces of himself back together.

(Too late he came to realize this.)

Work helped. Work gave him something to lose his mind over other than Evie. In the next few months, he really was fine. He didn't think of her at all. That is, until he saw her.

She was standing in front of an art piece. Instead of looking at the art, he stared at her. Was it really her? It wasn't the first time he thought he'd seen Evie and it was someone else. Her long brown hair was shorter, cut at the neck. But the clothes...the black dress in the middle of June, the flats and hat was something Evie would wear.

Evie despised heels. She said there was a reason why the word heels rhymed so much with hell.

John wished he could take a picture of her and send it to Paul, have him conform she was really there. He blinked. Once. Twice. The woman in front of him was still there. He took a deep breath and strode up to her. If his mind was lying to him, then he could get away by apologizing and offering an autograph.

Under the poorly lit illuminated studio, he tapped her shoulder. She turned around. John felt himself sigh. She gasped softly, a laugh escaping her lips. For a moment she seemed to forget they were broken up, and seemed she would touch him. Her hands extended out, but they stopped mid-way.

"John," she said, her smile not wavering. "It's nice to see you."

"Evie, what are you doing here?" He asked. In London, he wanted to say. What are you doing in London when you live in America? They were supposed to have an ocean separating them. But here she was, perfect as ever, standing in front of him.

"My junior trip. I just finished my junior year a few days ago," Evie told him. Ah, yes. Her third year of university. The trip, he remembered. Evie was spending three weeks in Europe, one of them in England.

"How was it?"

"My junior year?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"It was good, a lot more work than the year before. For spring break mom and I dug into our savings to go to Cancun. We also stayed with some of dad's relatives for a weekend."

"Did Flor have fun?"

"For loved it so much. We went to Cabo, it's this ancient Mayan city and I swear to you, John, she's going to be a historian. She filled a notebook with notes," she looked at the painting she was standing in front of. John turned to look at it too.

"Did she? That's adorable," John said. And he smiled. He could picture Flor's short hair getting frizzy in Mexico and Flor not being bothered by it. He could see her there, standing in the ancient ruins of a civilization, her eyes twinkling, her mind generating questions faster than she could find answers. "I miss her."

"She won't stop asking about you either."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you miss me?" John asked. Evie held her hands together, fiddling her thumbs. She didn't look up to him. He'd been fine, yesterday. But now? Now that Evie was here in front of him, now that he could smell her familiar perfume, now that he was so close to touching her...he wanted her. He wanted her back. It didn't matter how much he had cursed her name, or that Evie had broken his heart.

He wanted her.

"Does it matter?" She asked. "I broke your heart."

"I'm fine, really."

"Oh good, I'm usually really great after a break up too," he scoffed. Evie looked at the gallery's exit. "I was really so worried about you."

"Are you being sarcastic?" He questioned. He raised his voice a little, a few people turned around to look at him. Evie said nothing. She started to walk away, and without hesitating, he followed. He followed her out of the gallery, and into the dimly lit streets.

He immediately wanted to go back to the gallery, it was sticky and humid.

"I wasn't. But thanks so much for reminding me about your various issues," Evie said.

"Stop with the bleedin' anger issues, will you? I'm fine!"

She let out a humorless laugh. "Uh-huh, no anger issues at all."

"Goodness, Evie. Stop trying to fix things," he let out a sigh. "Stop trying to fix me. I'm fine."

"Oh, yeah, you're perfect."

"Why are you so horrible? I wanted to have a nice conversation with you and now I'm being yelled at?" He realized a moment later, he was the one yelling. Evie had barely raised her voice. He wished he could go back a second and correct his words.

"Yeah, I'm yelling so much at poor John."

He rolled his eyes. His anger bubbled away and quickly dispersed into laughter. "Stop being sarcastic."

"Stop being a child," she said. Evie tried to keep a serious face, but suddenly she stared to laugh too.

"I've always been a child."

She laughed so much, John figured it was worth standing outside in the humid night. Evie looked away from him, her laugh turning into a smile. For a moment she appeared to remember something, her smile fading. Evie cleared her throat, her hand dropped by her side. She finally met his eyes.

"I was going to apologize, you know," she told him. Oh yes. She was about to apologize for breaking up with him! "I know you don't remember New Years. That's not my fault, but I should have waited. I should have flown to break up with you in person. I shouldn't have done it the way I did."

Oh.

"It's fine, luv."

"No, it was almost three years. I should have done it face to face. But part of me was scared," she said. Scared he would do something to her? He held in a breath. Goodness, was Evie afraid of him? She saw the question in his expression. "No, I was scared you'd change my mind."

"Would I have?" He asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. "Perhaps."

Her eyes twinkled, and he could see the answer was yes.

x

They went back to the studio and had a few glasses of champagne the studio was serving. Tipsy, they spoke about the art, and about the past. There was no question John's mind that despite the couple of months, he wanted Evie in his future. They want back to his place. He did everything to Evie he'd been picturing for the last couple of months.

She was his for that night.

Come morning however, he was gone. John reached out at the other end of the bed, eager to feel Evie again. His eyes were closed, but they opened when he felt the bed empty.

x

He wasn't sure where Evie was going to be the next couple of weeks, not the exact details anyway. And he'd committed the mistake of going back to his place, instead of going to the hotel she was staying in. He did his best trying to find her while she was still in London, but he came up empty.

When Evie's trip in Europe was finished, at least to the best of John's knowledge, he called her back home. He called her every single day for a week straight. It wasn't until the second week, the tenth day when he was able to reach her.

He lost his temper. He told Evie he hated her. He realized it was true, what she had said about the distance. When they were together, it was easy for him to apologize and make her laugh, it was easy for misunderstandings to go away. But apart—apart, they simply hung up the telephone and ignored each others existence.

Reaching Evie wouldn't be easy, he knew as much.

But he knew he had to try.

[ a/n: after this incident, shall we call it that, and the call, John sends the first letter!! ]