chapter one
Five years past, and the redhead hadn't seen the blonde since.
Of course, it was to be expected; what with the overwhelming addiction and the unexplainable actions she'd pulled in the past. Damn, if it had just been a dream, maybe then she'd beable to recover. But, she couldn't. Of course.
And her heart was breaking in the process.
Then, there was the whole thing about her ex - lover's leaving that she had almost gotten her family killed. And I mean the scooby - gang; not parents.
If only she could take it back. . . but then again, she knew she couldn't.
Maybe that's why she lived on the outskirts of town, in a miserable little apartment twenty minutes outside of San Diego as she worked full - time at the nearest art store to earn some extra money for her living supplies.
And she hadn't gotten that job just out of spite, oh no, but she worked hard to get it, and to keep it so she could pay rent, and visit Buffy and the gang when she could, and rebuild her life as best she could from scratch. God, it hurt.
She didn't expect anything from anyone either, and was even more shocked when she had learned that Tara had visited her a couple days ago, to check in.
She had been there, and the whole time Willow had been at the laundorama, doing clothes. It kept getting worse and worse. . until today.
. . .
She had arrived on time, the usual twelve noon to five pm shift she had always done, and was filling someone's order when she had come next in line.
Of course, she'd been nervous, scared - stiff even, as her green orbs landed on those of her exes blue. It was torture just staring at her.
Then, however, was the whole forcing - of - mouth - to - speak trick she'd had to reteach herself whenever something went down, and she was in either shock or denial or a mixture of both. So, she said then in somewhat staggered tones - '' What um, can I get ya?'' And of course, assumed a little smile. You know, that same little smile to save face with customers.
Except, she wasn't the usual customer. She was Tara; owner of her everything.
She had spoken calmly, as Willow had expected, and together they started towards the back where all the canvases and brushes were held.
It was agony being so near and knowing nothing would happen.
But of course, this was Tara, afterall. She knew what she was doing.
And so, the redhead watched as the blonde bent, examining the
brushes and textures, determining which would bring her a masterpiece.
But Willow knew different; she didn't need supplies to be a masterpiece,
for she already was. And so, the silence continued.
'' Feel this, '' she'd asked then, and the redhead was utterly confused.
'' Tell me if you could paint a masterpiece with it, '' she whispered,
and Willow obliged; running slender digits over the felt - tip, examining the texture and feel of the coarse hairs under her fingertips. She'd imagine so.
'' It's a good brush, Tara, y-you'd um, do great works with it, ''
she explained, praying the answer would suffice the blonde's current need.
The last thing she wanted was an angered blonde. Although, nothing could ever make Tara explode like that, except for herself. And not usually, yet.
The blonde had nodded then, exposing her slender neck as she brushed those oh - so - familiar golden tresses back from her porcelain features, and bent to examine the canvases. The redhead, assuming Tara wouldn't need her help,
started off towards the front of the store to wait on the other customers.
Until a hand in her grasp had stopped her; instead pulling her closer despite what she'd thought otherwise. It was Tara, the same old Tara she knew and loved from way back when, staring at her with a look of absolute longing.
'' Come back to me, '' she spoke, in a pure tone of whisper that the redhead's ears strained to pick up the effortlessly clear words. This was Tara. Her Tara.
'' I. . I. . '' Willow had tried to respond, but the blonde was too quick for her.
When she hadn't noticed, the blonde had pulled her back into the excluded aisle of rubber - bands, candycorns, and gummy-worms, and ducked her head.
Oh god, how she wished this wasn't a dream. It was all too real ; yet not.
She had to investigate. And digits applied pressure to the porcelain skin infront of her, trailing and brushing; memorizing and loving. This was Tara.
Emerald orbs sought out the sapphire ones, her angel, and her face was now that of a confused woman lost in the midst of the world. All she once knew,
was illogical ; illusionable ; inescapable. And she was pitiful to survive.
God, how she needed reviving just then.
'' . . Willow. . ''
chapter two
She'd heard her name being called, and was awakened, to her surprise, thanks to that of the Slayer. How the Hell had she had gotten to Sunnydale so early?
'' Wills, you ok? '' The Slayer asked then, brow furrowing as she noticed the redhead's obvious confusion and surprised emotion at being woken. This wasn't right.
Willow nodded, unable to get her mouth to work, and rose from the couch to her old room up the stairs and down the hall. It was there, she'd found Tara. Asleep.
'' H-how did she um, w-when did Tara get here?'' She asked in stammered speech.
okay, wasn't expecting them to meet up so quickly, but hey you're the writer 
Can't wait to see where you go with this 
short & sweet. I like that. 
But, umm, does it have a name? Cuz, i'm guessing it should be called "More than Chocolate".
