Do you believe in true love?
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  Ace always stays a little after the work hours. He enjoys the silence that surrounds him. And, the later he stays, the less traffic there is. So he prefers heading out last. The rest of the group leaves him, Robin being the last one to see him off.
She gives him a small smile and waves before entering the elevator. He watches the doors close, before he stands up and gathers his things. If he's in charge of training tomorrow, he should at least complete the document he was assigned to today. So he sends the document to himself to access it at home via his laptop. Because he knows for a fact that he'll struggle sleeping tonight.
After he's finished, he logs out of the system, stretching his arms before standing up. He grabs his car keys and heads towards the elevator. But, he takes the fire escape stairs situated right next to it instead. Walking down the stairs clears his head, even if his department is located on the fifth floor.
He reaches the bottom floor in about five minutes, and while he was walking in the dim lit stairwell, he had time to make a schedule for the rest of the night. As soon as he gets home, he's going to make dinner, then grab his laptop and work on the document. If he finishes it before he feels tired, he decided that he'd work on an outline for the training class.
His plan gets pushed from his mind as his eyes land on his car. There's nothing big on it, just a small strip of white paper flapping in the wind against his windshield wiper. It can't be a ticket, after all parking is free and there aren't any rules about how one should park. The worst flashes in his mind, someone hit his car, so he goes around and checks for marks.
There aren't any, so he goes over and picks the note up. It's folded and there's something sprawled onto the front. It's too dark to make it out, so he goes into his car and turns on the overhead lights. The words now readable, actually it's only one single word. Inspiration.
He furrows his brows before he shoves the note in his pocket, getting ready to pull away. He turns off the lights overhead and puts the keys in the ignition. He makes sure he puts on his seatbelt before pulling away. Once he gets back to the apartment, he's completely forgotten about the note.
He has other pressing things on his mind, like, what he's actually going to cook. An hour after he makes it through his door, he finally finishes cooking dinner. It's not bad, but it's still not worth mentioning. Instead of washing the dishes like he always does, he grabs his computer and plops himself onto the couch.
The document pulls up nice and quickly to the spot he left off when he was at work. He's so in the zone, that he doesn't realize time fly by. It's not until eleven when he hears noise upstairs that he looses focus. Heavy footsteps and voices of some kind of conflict. It takes everything in him to not go upstairs and make sure everything is okay, but he made a promise.
So he gets off the couch and walks towards his room. He grabs a pair of earbuds and comes back into the living room to plug them in. He pulls up some kind of song and shoves the device into his ears. He tries to focus on the document, and he does for a while, just to drown out the noise and concern.
The voices didn't sound angry, just loud. He didn't hear anything shatter again, so he doesn't need to worry about her wellbeing. But he does. What would the mysterious caller tell him? What would Robin do? Knowing her, she'd march right up there and set Ryker in his place. But Ace doesn't have that kind of confidence.
He lets out a frustrated sigh, ripping the earbuds out of his ears. The sounds from upstairs are completely gone. He closes his eyes, events from the past flashing by so fast that he can barely comprehend what was happening. But he went through it, so he knew. With the very little glimpses he caught, he knew what he was reliving. He was in hell.
Everything that he went through: the insults, the blame, the hurt, the pain, the love, the dream, the depression, the suffocation, the hospital, the days spent staring out a window, the days where he wished it was him instead, the sacrifices that were made for him, the different way everyone treated him... the way they still treat him.
He slams his pc shut and places it on the coffee table. If she were still here, what would she do? Would she tell him she loved him? Or would she call him weak and pitiful. Karissa. He misses her. Her family hates him now.
  He hates himself. Isn't that enough punishment? His friends hate her. They blame her for the way he is now. They say that she broke him. That he's damaged now, and she's the reason. But... she's dead because of him. He misses her. Her hair, her voice, her lips, the way her hand always warmed his.
  He can't remember much about her the day she died... and every time he tries to... all he remembers is how cold her hand felt in his. He lets out a sigh, standing up and going towards his freezer. He's sure he has ice cream. And he needs something sweet to purge these thoughts from his mind. He pulls open the freezer and the first thing he spots is Karissa's favorite flavor. He slams it shut and back away. Why does he still have it?
  He leaves the kitchen area and sits back on the couch. He picks his computer up and logs back into it, continuing his work. He's almost done, and he needs to ignore these thoughts. He can't fall asleep with her on his mind. He knows this. But he doesn't want to admit it. She's becoming poison. An addiction. She always was.
  He was head over heels for her, but she didn't feel the same way. That's why... that's why... she cheated. That's why she didn't want to marry him. She didn't want more time. She didn't need it. She already made up her mind. She had met him, to break up with him. And he had met with her that weekend... to propose.
  As much as he didn't want to admit it... yes. She did break him. Because of her, he has all these thoughts. Thoughts about... death and pain. Because of her... he doesn't feel worthy. He feels as if no one can ever love him. True love? What's that? A fantasy? Just a charade? It's only something that exists in fairy tales. So then, is it so wrong for him to hope that he was on a fairy tale?
  As he finishes up the document, he remembers the note and pulls it out of his pocket. The penmanship is remarkable in the light, and the pen they wrote in is (f/c). He unfolds the paper, the words on it causing him to smile slightly. Like a small click as a piece of something is returned back to where it belonged.

"Love yourself. Enough to take the actions required for your happiness. Enough to cut yourself loose from the drama-filled past. Enough to set a high standard for relationships. Enough to feed your mind and body in a healthy manner. Enough to forgive yourself. Enough to move on."
  -Steve Maraboli.

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