Don't own a thing.
"Waiting On A Train"
Every Now And Then I See A Little Bit Of What I Wasted
And The Sorry Doesn't Always, Always Disappear
Buffy sighed, then swallowed hard. Her hands moved the items in the way to the side until she found what she was looking for.
She picked up the large box and walked over to her bed, setting it down then crawling up there beside it. Buffy removed the lid, put it to the side then grabbed a few items out to look at.
She'd never been this girl. This keep a keepsake memory box, let alone one over a boy, but here it was. There were icket stubs inside, gifts given, two tee shirts she'd stolen. There were small notes, invitations. There were photos. Memories.
Her fingertips danced over some pictures from a large pile, looking at how happy they seemed, remembering that day.
But If I Pack My Bags, Forget Where I Came From
She wondered what would happen if she got up right now, jumped on the first flight out of here, show up on his doorstep.
Buffy knew through the line of people they knew to who they both knew that he had moved on recently. That only killed her more.
But yet, she wondered... what if...
I've Been Waiting On A Train That'll Never Show
Hiding From The Feeling Of Beliving In Someone
Buffy wondered what it would be like again to just jump head first into this, into him, into anything. To be open, take a chance.
To be with him, to be with Angel. Truly.
I Was Good At Walking Away And Never Looking Behind Me
I Was Good At Being The One You Would Expect To Lose'
Buffy closed her eyes, feeling the tears spill out from them and down her face, a few drops hitting her thumb. Inside, her head cursed her, asking why she couldn't have just done this, said that.
But If We Give It Our Best
And Life Is A Dance Floor
And You Don't Take Nothing With You
Tell Me What Were Saving Up For All This Time
If You Don't Mind
An hour and a half later, Buffy was rushing through her house, packing bags. She knew she'd never forgive herself id she didn't at least try. Just this once.