#“why did she say no ? I thought I asked nicely this time”

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 3/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

I'll spare you from everything, if you would still have me, I'll be waiting all my life

General Warnings: pining and longing and fluff galore!!! I think maybe sexual references but who remembers atp. angst (slut shaming, mentions of past relationships and I can't think of a better way to say daddy issues we've all been there)

A/N: we did it, Joe!!!! desktop tumblr really didn't want this to happen!!! I can't believe I finished this!! thank you guys so much for reading, and liking, and messaging me and reblogging and all the commentary, and all the love!!! I appreciate it so much!!

if there is a crossover of readers of on your side and readers of this fic (first of all ily) there is a little oys easter egg in here!! did I think through the logistics of this being set in the same universe? no. did I have fun anyway? yes. I fell in love with writing Luke in that fic so it was only right for me to add it in here!!

Happy New Year to everyone, thank you for reading my work!! 2024 was the year I finally plucked up the courage to write all my random thoughts down and the fact that it spiralled into this blows my mind a bit, but I'm grateful to be here!!

You can distinctly remember the first time you had properly taken notice of Luke Hughes, and it wasn’t back in the restaurant at the club like he probably thinks.

It had been early November, in your freshman year.

Ellie had finally convinced you to join her at one of the games at Yost, and you were bundled up in a coat two sizes too big, the only thing you had remotely close to team colours, and the only thing likely to keep you warm enough to tolerate a whole game and warm-ups.

You were watching the boys skate around, and he had caught your eye in an instant. 

“Who’s that one?” You had asked, pointing down to where number 43 was reaching out awkwardly to sweep up pucks with his stick. You could see the soft brown curls peaking out the back of his helmet from all the way in the stands, and his height made it unmistakable to realise that you recognised him.

He had come up to you at a Halloween party the week before, and if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by the fact that your only-just-ex boyfriend at the time was in the same room, his tongue down another girl’s throat, you might have been endeared by the boy in the dog costume. 

Friendly smile, boyishly handsome features and warm eyes that under any other circumstances might have made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him - you vaguely remembered the gift basket, and you knew he was in a couple of your classes, but you had never really spared him more than a fleeting glance before that party. 

As soon as he had noticed your teary eyes upon approach, his demeanour had changed in an instant, and where anyone else might have backed off, might have been uncomfortable or deterred, done a u-turn and given up on his mission to approach, his expression had softened - worried and caring in a way that made your throat go dry, and you had to dash off to the nearest bathroom to splash your tears away.

“That’s Luke,” Ellie had told you, “Luke Hughes, Jack’s brother.”

“Oh,” You had pouted, disappointed. Jack had made it painfully obvious that he wasn’t your biggest fan the first time you had met him, and if you’re honest, you were hardly a great admirer of his, either. 

Ellie had noticed your expression, had nudged you with her elbow until you took your eyes off of the figure on the ice, and had narrowed her eyes right at you. “Why?”

“He’s in a couple of my classes, is all,” you shrugged, eyes travelling back and finding him in an instant.

“Luke’s cool. You’d eat him alive, though, probably get bored within a week.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him like that,” you frowned, watching him skate around the ice with the grace and enthusiasm of a clumsy puppy dog. Cute. “Just curious.”

“He’s waaaay too nice for you,” she scoffed, and you had tried to swallow down the pang of offence you had felt, knowing she had very little of your past to compare him to. The two of you had only been roommates for a couple of months at that point, and she had only ever seen you interested in your ex. “He’s also kind of a like a little brother to me. Dorky and annoying, but I’m very protective of him.”

You had bit your tongue at how patronising that had sounded, knowing Ellie was one of the youngest people of your freshman class - a July baby - and Luke might even have been older than her. 

“Like I said, just curious.”

You had noticed Luke a lot more after that, though.

A quiet, recurring presence.

A seat behind you in business comms, a figure against the wall in the corner of the room at different parties, on posters that lined the walls and the perimeter of Yost Arena, in articles you edited for extra credit in the Michigan Daily. 

You had even made small efforts to get him to talk to you - never being the type to make the first move, yourself - started talking to his friends, some of the guys on the hockey team, had made sure his name was on the list for your sorority parties, you’d even dropped your pen once in class, and he’d just handed it back over with a soft smile, never uttering a word.

You wouldn’t call it a crush, but it was somewhere around the borderline of that - especially looking back after the summer you shared with him.

And you think, in retrospect, that if he’d have ever made a move, would have spoken to you even just once after the incident at the Halloween party, you probably would have developed one.

You hate to admit it, now, but he had been right all those weeks ago in the restaurant. 

He’s kind of inevitable like that.

By the time he disappeared in your sophomore year that little spark of something had mostly fizzled out, but it didn’t entirely stop you unintentionally keeping tabs. Stats that cropped up on the sports channels, articles in the paper, posts on your instagram feed.

And you don’t know what you would call it, the way he kind of stuck with you, but when you’d seen him in that booth in the beginning of summer - when he’d spoken to you in full sentences, had met your eye and held contact in a way that sucked you in like a vacuum - you kind of felt that spark reignite.

The boy you almost, kind of, could have known, once upon a time, finally making the effort to get to know you.

And Luke Hughes is persistent. You have a detached admiration for just how much. He pushes, and he presses, and he perseveres until all your resolve is gone - resolve you’ve spent years mastering, with quick wit and snark protecting your heart from anyone who dares to take aim for it.

But that detachment is waining. 

Especially as you lay on your front on your childhood bed, the NHL awards playing on the TV in your room back at your mom’s house, and you try to busy your hands with the crotchet kit you had picked up from the mall before you came home for a couple of days. 

Your admiration is blooming and blossoming in the depths of your stomach into something intricate and uncontrollable. 

And it has nothing to do with his name, his career, the award he is nominated for.

It’s just him. 

Larger than life on your TV screen, but it still doesn’t capture him in his entirety, and you think for the first time that you miss him. You miss movies in his bed, you miss watching him from the passenger seat of his BMW, the sun shining from the window beside him, illuminating his profile until you burn from the glare. You miss his stupid jokes and his teasing smiles, and you miss the warmth in your cheeks when he looks your way.   

And it’s only been like 2 days.

You miss Luke Hughes.

You kind of think you missed him before he even left.

You might have even missed him before you knew him, but that would be crazy, right?

Maybe he makes you crazy.

Maybe you need this week to recuperate, to attempt to build those walls back up before they’re damaged beyond repair. 

Luke hadn’t given much thought to missing you before he and his brothers left for Vegas. He’d been so caught up, internally, about his and Quinn’s nominations, that he had thought it would continue to distract him the whole time they had been out there, but boy was he wrong.

All he remembers about his trip is thinking of you, and when the boys got back, and you had been visiting your mom for the weekend, all he could do was think of you more.

He thought of you when they sat at the table for dinner, and your place across from his was empty. He thought of you when he watched movies alone, thought of texting you some sort of commentary as he worked his way through the list of rom-coms you had given him, but you hadn’t texted him yet, so he gave up quickly on that idea.

He thought of you in bed, thought of the last time the two of you had been in there, together, and if he’s honest, he thinks of that almost all the time. Of messy kisses, wandering hands, and connection so deep he doesn’t think it will ever fizzle out. 

And when he finally sees you again, he thinks he might have to get Quinn to source some sort of defibrillator for the house, because he swears his heart stops beating.

You poke your head into his bedroom, a shy smile on your face, and your bag is still on your shoulder, which means he had been your first stop, before you’d even gone to drop your things in yours and Ellie’s room. 

He sees you in the reflection of his mirror, and turns immediately, clumsy fingers releasing the tie he’s been struggling to get right for a couple minutes, and steps toward you before he can even begin to tell himself not to seem so eager.

“You’re back!” He grins, and when your face lights up in return, he can hardly find it in himself to care anymore how down bad he comes across.

“Yeah,” you breathe, stepping into the room, discarding your bag by the door and shuffling toward him. “You didn’t have get all dolled up for my return.”

You reach to take both sides of the tie into your hands, and he feels himself go warm all over at the mere proximity of you after so long apart. 

“It’s my cousin’s wedding,” he tells you as you start to knot the tie, knuckles brushing slightly across his chest until he’s holding his breath, lungs expanding so that he feels your touch a little more. “They’re having their reception at the club, later, you should come down.”

“You’re asking me to your cousin’s wedding?”

“Not like that,” he chuckles nervously as he looks down at you, eyes focused on the task at hand. “Just, haven’t seen you in a week, wouldn’t want to leave you here alone, it could be fun.”

Not to mention the fact he’s been watching the door for the past two days while he’s been home, waiting for you to get back and hoping it would be before the event, and he could figure out some way to ask you.

“You can’t just invite a random person to your cousin’s wedding reception, Luke.”

“She said I could!” He reasons, frowning when you raise a brow at him. “Not a random person, she said I could bring a friend.” He grasps gently at your hands as they straighten the fabric, halting your movements. “We’re friends, right?”

“If you say so.”

That wasn’t a no, he thinks, courage building within him in such a way that he starts to buzz with it. That would definitely have been a flat out no, before.

“You’d be doing me a favour.” He bargains, still holding your hands against his chest. “Quinn and Jack are bringing Josh and Turcs, I’d be like a fifth wheel,”

“So what you’re telling me is that you have no other friends?”

“Sure, if that’s what tugs at your heartstrings.” He has plenty of friends he could ask. Eddy, Duker, Luca - they’re all in town. None of them would look as pretty in a dress as you would, though. He wants to say there’s no chance of any of them kissing him after a few cocktails, but that would probably be a lie. “C’mon, they’re not gonna be checking IDs at the bar,” he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to convince you, “The free bar.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,”

“What about that blue dress you wore to the formal last year?”

He remembers his throat going dry at just a picture - frosty baby blue silk against glowing skin, hair falling past your shoulders, the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in every photo.

And that is where misplaced courage gets him, he thinks. Letting slip that he has been creeping on your Instagram like some deranged stalker, because where else would he have seen you in that dress? He’d been in Jersey, by then. Scrolling down his timeline and swiping at every photo dump in what he didn’t even realise at the time was an obvious attempt to catch a glimpse of you.

Idiot.

“That was Ellie’s dress. I think she gave it to the Goodwill or something.” You frown, barely even picking up on his slip - unaware to the point that his heart rate can level back out to normalcy.

“You’ve got time to go shopping, you could get another,” he shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “Here, take my card.”

“Gee, thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” you push at his hand when he attempts to give it to you.

“I’m not adopting you. I’m more like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”

“Are you implying I’m a prostitute?”

“No,” he scoffs, only because, unintentionally, he totally was, and now he can’t get the picture out of his head - you in thigh high boots, legs for days stood out of the blue skirt, and the white top with the cutouts, soft summer skin he’s been missing the touch of peaking through - and he starts to wonder if that would be too much too soon to ask of you; to dress up for him like that. Maybe for halloween, if the two of you have progressed past whatever this is, by then. Keep dreaming, Hughes, he can already hear you saying. “More like a sugar baby.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

“You don’t have to buy me things for me to like you.” You pout, and his own lips curl up at your defensiveness - so eager to prove yourself to him over something he isn’t even actually pressing. 

“Because you like me already?” He can’t help himself, a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to push, push, push at your buttons until you practically malfunction - craving you in whatever disoriented state it was that he had seen you in last, pliant and willing and crumbling so nicely for him to scoop up and piece back together. “Because you missed me?”

He shouldn’t want that - want to have to hold you in place, that is, not really - but he does. He wants to be the one that gets you like that. The only one. 

“What time’s the reception?”

That should also have been a flat out no.

Interesting.

You give in so easily, then, to the point where Luke gets giddy, letting you know when and where he wants you - always and anywhere, if he’s honest - and you roll your eyes as you agree, but you stay right in front of him long after you’ve finished with his tie, and he’s so tempted to kiss you that he’s buzzing with excitement. 

He sneaks a kiss to the corner of your mouth - quick enough that you don’t push him away, or make any sort of comment about it, and darts down the stairs at Quinn’s calls for him, leaving you to figure out whatever it is you need to do to be ready for later.

And he thanks his lucky stars that later comes before he has the chance to really dwell on it. His day passes in a blur, the ceremony over in a flash, family photos taken before he even realises he doesn’t need to force a cheesy smile, and only brief moments spared over the course of the early afternoon to think about the things he’s lacking.

As he sits in the church between his brothers, he realises that he wants to be sitting with an arm slung around you and a hand in your lap - your fingers swirling absentminded shapes into his palm as the two of you watch the ceremony side by side. Wants to look down at you staring up the aisle in bewilderment, a soft flush to your cheeks, a dopey grin on your face and a far-off look in your eyes. Wants to mutter stupid jokes in your ear and watch you twist your lips to bite back a giveaway smile. 

As he rides over to the club in the back of Quinn’s car, sandwiched between Alex and Josh with his brothers up front, he thinks he’d kill to have you in his lap - as illegal as that may be, but it’s only 5 minutes, and he’d make sure you were safe with an arm curled around your waist.

And when he’s waiting in the reception hall at the club, the late afternoon ticking into early evening, hearing speeches about falling in love and finding your person, he wants you in the seat beside him. Wants to rest his arm on the back of your chair, play with loose strands of your hair or stroke soft fingertips against your warm skin, and press gentle kisses into your temple.

It’s alarming how quick these thoughts consume him - his college years spent pining, his summer spent basking in whatever attention you choose to give him - and he can’t help but let himself be carried away with the hope of it all, that maybe he is wearing you down enough to give in to such thoughts.

Especially when he sees you walking in, and he swears the world has started moving in slow motion like a scene fresh out of one of those rom-coms you keep trying to subject him to.

His legs stretch without any instruction from his brain, pushing himself up onto his feet until he can make his way over and meet you halfway.

Your eyes light up and your hand lifts in a nervous wave as you start heading straight for him, the action causing the thin spaghetti strap of your dress to fall down your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he breathes out, in what feels like relief, mouth breaking out into a dreamy grin until you’re right in front of him.

“Sorry I’m a little late, it took me forever to find a dress, and then my hair wouldn’t go right, and then the Uber took every back road known to man despite me literally telling him,” Luke reaches to readjust the fallen strap as you talk, fingers trailing ever so slightly against the soft skin of your shoulder, “That I knew a quicker way, and then we ended up at those lights over on Palmer for like 10 minutes, I think I was in that car so long I’m all crinkly.”

His eyes drop slowly down your figure, the silky fabric clinging to your curves in all the right spots, the soft yellow a perfect match to the tie around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” he reassures you with ease, cheeks flushing ever so slightly when your eyes meet his - but he’s used to that, by now, the way his head goes hot when you look at him. “I was gonna get a drink, do you want one?”

He extends his hand out to you in invitation before you even nod in response, and when your fingers slide between his, the heat that is swirling around his head and face starts to spread down, past his neck, into his chest, settling there as the two of you make your way over to the bar. 

This last week without you has been hell.

Sat in his hotel room in Vegas, checking his phone for any sort of update - a text, an instagram post, a story - and wondering if that night before he had left had been playing on your mind the same way it had on his. 

Soft, slow kisses pressed into reciprocated lips, hands memorising every inch of each other’s bodies, desperate but intentional movements into one another. It was hardly his first time, but God, had it felt like it. It was definitely the first time he had ever felt anything that deep for another person - felt so connected, so attached.

And, despite the lingering insecurity that he thinks he might always feel when it comes to you, he knew you felt the same.

You had told him in the simplest terms - you wanted him - but you had shown him so much more. Eyes stuck on his as he moved against you, foreheads pressed together, lips seeking his at every given opportunity, nails scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders when he had taken the lead and flipped the two of you over. 

Gasps and moans, pleading and pining, begging and singing for him as you came undone for the first, second and third time. 

He doesn’t know how you can possibly even try to carry on pretending you don’t feel even an ounce of the infatuation he does.

Not when you look at him the way you do, eyes sparkling and wanting. Not when he had spent the past week pressing his fingertips into the bruises you had kissed again into the lowest part his stomach like that had become your spot, hoping he could aggravate them enough to linger until you could make some more. 

Not when, even though the two of you have been stood at the bar now for a good few minutes, you haven’t made any efforts to take your fingers from where his are playing with them between the two of you.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” he hums as the two of you wait for your drinks.

“You talk so much, Hughes, you’re gonna have to remind me which question that was.” 

“Did you miss me?” His head tilts with curiosity as he watches the hesitation cross your features, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with your lips pressed together to keep them from spluttering out the truth. “I missed you.” He admits, in the hopes that expressing his candour might elicit the same in you.

“I’m surprised you found the time, you looked very occupied on your brothers’ stories.” Bingo.

“You been keeping tabs on me?” The smirk that accompanies the question is instinctual, and he manages to catch the slight shift in your demeanour before you can retreat, closing his fingers around your hand before you can pull it away. 

“No,” you scoff, and when you pull insistently for him to release your hand, the strap of your dress falls loose down your arm again, Luke’s eyes following before he fixes it for you once more. “Just stumbled across some pictures, I guess,”

“Yeah, you just tripped and fell into stalking me?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same, I saw those little 3 dots come up so often I was starting to think you were typing up the entirety of War and Peace.”

Which means you’d been lingering in your message thread with him, too. Gotcha.

“You know, the world won’t end if you just admit you missed me.”

“Fine.” It slips out before you know what you’re saying, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights as you realise you’ve already given in. “I missed you.”

He smiles, but doesn’t press, and it’s a smile that lingers as the two of you just look at each other, his eyes drifting down to watch your lips twist and press together, biting back whatever insult or chirp you’re just dying to throw his way to cover up. He waits for it to come, but loves that it doesn’t, and loves even more that you’re holding onto the moment as much as he is. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Luke asks a while later, once the two of you have gulped down a couple of drinks, have sat with the others for a little, and he’s watched you watch the dance floor with a yearning gaze.

Your eyes meet his after he poses the question, a confidence in his demeanour that has you crumbling immediately.

You nod, allowing him to guide you over to where a few other couples are swaying on the dance floor, and you let him guide you into his arms, one hand in his and the other resting on his shoulder. 

It should be awkward, you think, remembering back on all the times you’ve tried this before. School dances and proms, clumsily shuffling and trying to avoid being stomped on by your partner’s feet - but the two of you move with ease, and you’d like to think it’s because his body knows yours by now.

“This is so weird,” you mutter, eyes cast down to watch his feet move in his fancy Oxford shoes, a soft flush to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” He asks, nerves heightening as he stiffens like he’s waiting for you to let him go - to step away and cut this short like it doesn’t make you feel the same way. 

“Slow dancing is for old folk like war veterans and millennials.” Your lips twist as your eyes meet his, and his lips turn up into a slow smile, a deep, melodic chuckle following closely behind.

“If you’d rather bump’n'grind on me, I get it,” he smirks.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scoff back, twitching to shake the hair from your shoulder, assuming that’s what is causing the shivers currently shooting down your spine, and not the large, possessive hand resting in the dip of your waist. 

“Y’know, I’ve realised something about you lately,” he starts, voice low as he leans in, angling into your exposed neck and stopping his lips within mere inches of your ear, “You have a tell.”

“A tell?” You turn, brow raised as your gaze meets his, faces close enough that you can feel the soft pants of his breath on your skin.

“For when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be,” he hums, his eyes fluttering a little as they drop to watch your mouth, the swipe of your tongue wetting your lower lip. “You call me an idiot,” his hand on your waist squeezes ever so slightly, your back arching a little into his touch, “Or stupid,” he uses his other hand, the one clutching at yours, to pull you closer, “Or dumb, or a dork.”

You can feel your heart thudding at the call-out, beating in time to the music, in time to the way your bodies sway together, creating it’s own rhythm for the two of you to dance to. 

“Maybe you’re just a stupid, dumb, dorky idiot.” You squeak out, immediately hating the way the words taste in your mouth, your face souring and eyes narrowing in deliberation. There’s no way that was at all convincing, and the smirk that tugs up his lips is all you need to know he sees right through you.

“Maybe,” he humours you, anyway. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

“A smug dorky idiot.” You correct yourself, cutting out stupid and dumb, the sharpness of those words cutting at your tongue like a knife. 

The pointlessness of such discussion almost waters down the exhilaration you feel at being this close to him, in public, nonetheless, where literally anyone else could call you out on your growing tolerance of Luke, could connect the dots regarding all the time the two of you have been spending together and wave the evidence of your growing affection like a chequered flag for all to see.

This definitely feels like you’re crossing the finish line.

And, of course, it’s Jack who does the honours, primed all night to find some way to get between you and Luke upon your arrival, stumbling up to the two of you at the end of the song you’re swaying to and laying a heavy palm on your shoulder.

“Isn’t this cosy?” 

“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke scowls before you get the chance, a pointed glare directed towards his brother, the palming grip at your waist growing faint as you try to wedge a little distance between the two of you, fighting a losing battle with your instinct to run and hide. 

“I need to talk to your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his-,”

“She’s not my-,”

The two of you speak simultaneously, and despite the fact that you were saying the exact same thing, him saying it kind of dampens your mood, putting a good couple of steps between you and Luke with your arms crossing over your chest as you look toward his brother. 

“Whatever. Can I borrow her for a couple minutes?”

“I’m not property, Jack, you can ask me directly.”

“Please can we talk? Alone?”

“Let’s go outside,” you huff, storming off before he has the chance to say anything else and making it all the way outside before he speaks again. 

“Sorry for interrupting, you and Luke looked kind of cute-,”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I said you were messing him around, and that you were toxic.” 

You frown at him, watching as he diverts his gaze to the ground, nervously shuffling on his feet and fingers fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt. 

“I’m sorry for all the things I said and did at that party, I didn’t mean them, I was just drunk and upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You chew nervously on the inside of your cheeks as he talks, arms wrapped around yourself to shield from the brisk night air, and you watch as Jack starts to unravel before your very eyes.

For as long as you’ve known Ellie, for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as anything less than cool, calm and collected - it’s kind of the main thing that grinds your gears about him if your honest, the fact that he never seems real. Like he’s putting on some sort of persona to seem like he has all his shit together, when you know he doesn’t.

“I really like Ellie, you know,” he sighs, and you scoff, because of course you know that. “And I was blaming you for putting this wedge between us when it’s really me that’s been fucking up.” You know that, too. “I’ve been thinking about her this past week, and I really wanna pull myself together and finally do something about it. Stop being such an idiot.”

You bite your tongue from questioning the reality of that. He’ll always be an idiot, you think, but that’s best left unspoken. It’s not even personal to him, that’s just part of being a man.

“She likes you too,” You tell him instead, despite the fact that it goes against all sorts of girl code to do so. You’re doing them both a favour, and the universe should really just let you off, you feel. “I don’t know why either of you have wasted so much time when you’ve both felt the same way all along.”

“You really think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I do,” you shrug, “And it doesn’t need to be done on some romantic boat trip or some crazy elaborate scheme, you should just ask her when she gets back next week. Like as soon as she comes through the door, it will save us all a headache.”

“You sound like Luke.”

“Yeah, well, he’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”

“I don’t need to hear what the two of you get up to when you’re alone, that’s my little brother.”

You reach over and shove at his arm, and for the first time ever, when your eyes meet his, neither of them are narrowed. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too, and it feels a little like a weight has been lifted from your chest, fresh air filling your lungs.

“Let’s go back inside, Luke’s probably thinking we’ve killed each other.”

“I’m just gonna take a second, it’s kinda stuffy in there.”

Jack nods, before making his way back to the reception, and you make your way over to the fountain, heels working through the gravel until you take a seat on the side. 

It’s a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps, and before you see the fancy oxfords come into your view, eyes roaming up the long, lean body of the boy who has your brain running marathons.   

When your eyes meet, his gaze is warm, and it feels like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking into the depths of your mind, holding a big cheesy sign as he waits at the finish line for your thoughts to come to an end.

He sits wordlessly beside you, his knees knocking against yours, and waits for you to speak - although the silence doesn’t feel awkward, or forced. He waits, patiently and understandingly, and you feel like he’s giving you the time to figure out what you want to say. 

It feels monumental, this moment, like you’re teetering on the edge of something real and honest for the first time in a while.

“The other week, when we,” your voice feels heavy, thick at the back of your throat, “You know,”

“I was strictly advised to forget about it, so no, I don’t know,” he teases, and you’re kind of thankful that he’s trying to ease the tension you’re building for yourself. “But if you wanna jog my memory.” You shove lightly at his shoulder. “I’m kidding. What about it?”

“I’ve never really done that before?”

“What, snuck a guy up to his room in the middle of a house party and rocked his world?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You scoff, smiling to yourself, despite the weight of all that you’re about to admit to him. “I’ve only ever slept with one other guy, and he wasn’t very nice about it after, so I just,” you frown, “Don’t really do it.”

“You don’t-,” he frowns too, you can see it from your peripheral, eyes till on the hands fidgeting in your lap, “But I thought-,” You look over and meet his eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. “What?”

“The first guy, Jamie,” you start, twisting to face him, knees knocking once more. “We started talking in the summer before my freshman year, got to know each other ‘cause he lived one town over from me and he’d come into work all the time, and then when I started college he was a sophomore, and he was the first guy to ever take, like, a serious interest in me. And we had a lot in common, he was on the soccer team, we grew up in the same area, we got on really well, it was the first time I ever really felt connected to anyone like that. But I’d never done anything before, so I wanted to take things slow,”

Jamie Reeves. Captain of the University of Michigan Soccer Team until he tore his ACL at the end of his last year, ruining all dreams of playing in the MLS, like it was entirely achievable for a player of his caliber anyway. You had been infatuated by him, though. The kind of infatuation that a younger you might have doodled little hearts around his name in all your notebooks.

And then he turned out to be a complete leech.

“Please don’t tell me he rushed you into it.” Luke straightens his posture, reaching to place his hand over yours in your lap, the touch immediately comforting, and his concern even more so.

“No. Not exactly.” You sigh, hating how dramatic you feel about the whole thing. “We went on dates, and things were going really well, so I figured I trusted him enough to be my first, then after we had sex he just went really off. He wouldn’t take me out anymore, wasn’t putting any effort in. And then people started asking me all these questions about him, and what we did, and I realised he was going around telling everyone all the details, like I was just some conquest he could tick off to the boys on the team.” You remember how ashamed you had felt, eyes on you in every corridor, whispers about you in every class. You couldn’t leave your dorm without someone muttering some obscene comment about you, and you just felt awful. “Every time one of them saw me they’d make all these dumb comments, and I just felt dirty all the time, like I’d done something wrong. Then I went to a party at Pike, the one at Halloween,” The party that Luke had approached you for the first time since you met, and you had stormed off in tears - not due to him at all, but due to the fact you had just seen Jamie sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat, mere days after you had seen him last. “And he was all over one of the girls on the field hockey team, didn’t even look my way again after that, not that I really wanted him to.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t stop people saying I have, though. I tried dating a couple times, but it always ended up the same way, rumours being spread about me sleeping around and being easy. And it’s so dumb, ‘cause it’s like I trusted one guy, and somehow it keeps backfiring on me.” You pay no mind, for the first time in a long time, to the crack in your voice as you say it, no longer afraid of showing any hint of vulnerability. Not to Luke. You need to get this out - get it out of the way, once and for all, so you can move past it. Move on, even, with someone you hope won’t treat you the same.

“Does that mean you trusted me?” 

You try not to think too hard about all the times the two of you have shared any level of intimacy - the physical touch mostly initiated by you, and it’s hardly ever on a whim. You think a lot about Luke, if you’re honest. About how he’s honest, and he sticks by his word when he promises not to tell anyone anything. How he always tries to make you laugh or smile, even if it’s something stupid. He isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with you, isn’t afraid to give you power, to let you take the lead. And even though sometimes he jokes otherwise, the times you hang out, he has no ulterior motives. He likes talking to you, likes watching movies with you, likes meeting your eye in a crowded room and giving you one of those smiles that have started to make your heart stutter with something unidentifiable.

“I guess so.” Your shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, your words anything, but. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it since and I can’t explain why it happened but I feel like you and me are-,” 

Connected? Compatible?

You know what he would say you are. You don’t know if you’re there, yet.There are so many things the two of you have become over the past few weeks, so many things you’ve wanted to be for longer than you even realised, so many things you’re afraid to say.

“I feel like out of everyone, you’d have no reason to lie to me. Or about me.”

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t know all that stuff,” he frowns, and it seems like his mind only just makes sense of all the times you threatened him after the fact, making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone that the two of you kissed, or hung out alone in an intimate space and maybe potentially enjoyed yourselves. He had thought you were ashamed of it - but all this time, you’ve been protective. Of yourself, of the trust you were building in him. “Why don’t you tell people, that those guys are all lying?”

“No one would believe me,” you shrug, eyes cast down to where his hand still rests on yours, and his touch prevents you from picking nervously at the skin around your nails.

“I do,” He assures you, “And I promise the next time I hear anyone say any of that stuff about you, I’ll beat their face in.”

“Yeah, you’d drop gloves for me?”

“Look at you with your hockey talk.” He coos, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, where you had barely noticed a tear trailing down until he wipes it away with his thumb, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I would. We’re partners, remember? I’ve got your back.” He extends his pinkie out to you, and you curl yours around it until he’s tugging it toward him, leaning down to press his lips to your knuckle, his kiss like a promise as his green eyes meet yours. 

It doesn’t gross you out, this time. If you’re honest with yourself, it hadn’t the first time he did it, either. It was cute, in an entirely dorky and childish and almost nostalgic way.

And you’re compelled to do the same, leaning and touching your pouted lips to his pinky, eyes fluttering closed as you kiss his skin, the rush of blood to your head somehow louder than the steady stream of the fountain beside you. 

“Listen,” he starts, lowering his hand but keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting them between you both on the stone. “If whatever this is that we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or brings all that stuff back, I can back off a little.”

Something akin to disappointment floods through your system, your heart rate picking up in a panicked staccato, but you try to stay cool - still, for whatever reason, holding your cards close to your chest. 

“I can make sure my brothers don’t make any more stupid comments about us, they’re doing it to annoy me, not you. And I can,” he takes a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours as if to gauge your desires before he has to reluctantly pander to them. “I can stop, too.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do to shake away the tears threatening to flood your lash line at just the thought of him giving up on you. 

It’s the lump in your throat that blocks the words coming out to tell him as much, and your lips twist in discomfort as you take in the way he’s looking at you - gaze filled with dwindling patience and waining resilience. There’s only so far you can continue to push him, you can see that now, and if you’d have told the version of yourself that first sat down with him all those weeks ago - the version of yourself that refuted any chance of ever warming up to him, that saw him as nothing more than an annoyance, a disturbance to your tips for the day - that the thought of him stopping whatever you have would make you feel like this?

That cold-hearted bitch would have laughed in your face. 

“Hey, lovebirds!” There’s a shout from across the courtyard, and Quinn  appears in the distance with hands cupped around his mouth. The intrusion has you retracting your hand, and you can see the way Luke reacts in your peripheral, a resigned nod given instinctually before he looks over to his brother. “I’m driving home if you two want a ride!”

Luke doesn’t look back at you before pushing himself up, but he offers a hand to help you stand, and the two of you walk in silence to meet Quinn by the exit.

The car ride back to the house is silent, too, save for the soft hum of the radio that filters through the car. Josh sits up front with Quinn, head lulling against the window as he falls asleep worryingly quick, and you’re squished in the middle between Luke and Alex, Jack having stayed back with their parents. It’s hard not to press your legs against Luke’s - his are so gangly and long that they take up more than their fair share of room, and it’s much less awkward despite the circumstances to be touching him than touching Turcs. You feel a lot less tense when you’re touching, anyway. 

And when Quinn pulls up, Luke still helps you out of the car - ever the gentleman, even in the face of apparent rejection.

Quinn and Alex work at lugging an overly inebriated Josh up to his room, leaving Luke to guide you through the house, and the silence starts to become unbearable as he whispers a quick and quiet goodnight, leaving you at the door to yours and Ellie’s room as he makes his way down the hall.

“Hey, Luke,” you call out in a whisper toward him as he retreats, his tall frame turning, a gleam of what you interpret as hope flashing across his green eyes.

“Yeah?” He hums back, voice low as not to disturb anyone else, gaze meeting yours, locking in place with an almost audible click.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

You’re worried for a second you’ll have to expand, that maybe his slightly intoxicated memory doesn’t stretch as far back as to remember the conversation the two of you had had out by the fountain. 

Elaborating on it would be embarrassing to say the least - because what, exactly, are you supposed to say?

I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.

I don’t want you to stop kissing me when no one else is around.

I don’t want you to stop being the only person I can talk to.

I don’t want you to stop bulldozing into my very secure and sturdy walls, thank you very much. They’re starting to tumble down in what could be a very calamitous fashion.

Worried you might have to expose a little more of yourself than you had originally anticipated, you chew at the corner of your lip, waiting.

But then he smiles - in that easy way that makes your bones feel like jelly, your knees weakening to the point that you lean against the still-closed door of your room. In the way that has that loudmouth voice you’re trying too often to suppress within you screaming, God, he’s so cute!

“I know,” he smirks, the bastard, liquid courage running deep through his veins, “Inevitable, remember?”

You scoff, almost instinctively rolling your eyes despite the endeared warmth that floods your belly. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” he says again, “You coming?”

And all you can do is nod, biting back a fully-fledged smile before you’re rushing over and slotting yourself under his outstretched arm.

You definitely enjoy him more than you should.

Living with boys for the first time in your life has taught you a lot over the weeks you’ve been staying at the lake house.

The first is that they’re weirdly messy - in ways that shouldn’t bother you, but they do. It isn’t clothes left around, or dirty plates - but it’s hand soap crusted around the spout by the faucet, shoes kicked off and discarded at random points throughout the house, and they, for some bizarre reason, never put the lid back right on anything.

The second is that they’re loud - and that should have been anticipated. Guys are notoriously obnoxious. But it isn’t just their voices that carry. It’s footsteps up the stairs, stomping in the dead of the night when one of them needs a drink. It’s chewing their food, or slurping their coffee, or scraping the feet of their chairs against the floor when they’re sat at the dining table. It’s tapping their hands on their knees in haphazard rhythm whenever there might be an ounce of peace that they, without a doubt, misunderstand for awkward silence. 

And the third is that they probably couldn’t organise a fire in a match factory. And that goes for a lot of things - the kitchen cupboards, their laundry loads, and, most importantly, one of the many parties they love to throw.

It wouldn’t bother you so much - they usually work out in the end - but this time, it’s Ellie’s birthday, and the way they leave everything until the last minute is about to give you an aneurysm or something. 

There’s no food, no drinks, no cake, no decorations, and the party is tonight.

And Jack, who’s grand idea it had been to throw her a party in the first place, seems to have kidnapped her - disappearing and leaving you to try and figure out what’s going on.

Cole is the one who finds you in the kitchen, spiralling out, frantically trying to put together some kind of list so that one of the guys can go to the store and pick up the bare minimum to throw a party together - and he manages to calm you down - gathers the rest of the guys and helps come up with a plan, sharing out different categories. Quinn and Josh are down to get drinks, Cole and Alex are down to get food, and you and Luke are down for decorations. 

And then within the next five minutes, you’re back up in your room, transferring things from one of your bags into a tote, so you can carry more stuff back to the car without having to bring back a load of plastic, and Luke is sat on your bed, leaning back onto his hands as he watches you, green eyes still tickling your skin with their tangible watch. 

“I know we’re on a time crunch, but could we make another pit-stop at the mall? I still need to find a present for this baby shower.”

“Oh, actually, I made you something.”

“You made me something?” You can feel him watching you as you dig through the bag you’d brought back with you from being home.

“Yeah, I was bored, when you guys were gone, I forgot to give it to you when you got back, got kinda distracted by the whole wedding thing,” you tell him, reaching blindly to try and find the little figure. “I went by that art supply store and picked up one of those kits,” You finally find it, pulling out the little crotchet animal that may or may not have been your fourth attempt. The first had a stubby neck, the second had uneven legs, and you don’t think the third one’s face was anywhere near appropriate to be gifting to a child. This one isn’t perfect, but you’d honestly reached your limit with it. “Don’t make it a thing, it was like therapy while I was back home to be honest.”

“Oh that’s adorable.” He pouts, accepting it from you and immediately turning it back, bobbing it’s head as if to greet you. “Why a giraffe?”

“Long neck,” you smile, reaching out to pat it. “Reminded me of you.”

“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, but the laughter feels real enough. “She’ll love it.”

“She?” It slips out by instinct before you can check yourself, eyes widening as his meet yours again, his lips twitching in the corners. “Thought you said it was for your captain,”

“It is.” He smirks, “Men can’t carry babies last time I checked.” 

You nod, because of course men can’t carry babies. Of course the shower is for the mother of the baby - who you vaguely remember Jack and Luke talking about - someone who works with them back in Jersey. Someone they’re both close to, clearly, if Luke’s stressing this much about a gift.

“Wait, are you jealous?”

“No.” You scoff, frowning purposefully, lips turning down in forced denial.

“You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You want to take this back now, huh?” He holds the giraffe in a way that it bends, adorably, like he’s trying to taunt you with it, and it’s wonky eyes do little to distract from the charm he gives it.

“Nope.” You shrug, “You can give it to whatever girl you want, doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Of course not,” he stands, stepping toward you slowly, “You couldn’t care less what I do away from this house, right?”

“Right.” You gulp, looking into soft green eyes, your legs starting to wobble at the knees, strength and integrity waining as the seconds pass. You really don’t know why you’re still keeping this game up. Ever since that night of the wedding, you’ve been sneaking off into Luke’s room as soon as Ellie falls asleep. You fall asleep by his side, and he wakes you when he gets up early, so you can sneak back without Ellie realising you’ve even gone.

You’ve kissed him every day, sometimes tender, sometimes torrid - over the centre console of his car when he drops you off at work, in his bed before you drift off to sleep, in the kitchen when you sneak off under the ruse of refilling your drink. He can tell the difference between the flavours of lip balms you wear, comments on it like he has a little ranking system filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. You both whisper your secrets in the dark of the night, and you had promised him that you would try to open yourself up more to him.

“I thought we were past this,” he hums, stepping closer, voice low in a way that buzzes through your bones. “Thought we were being honest with each other, now.”

“Honest?” You ask, voice weak, neck craning now to look up at him, eyes boring into your own as he advances on you. 

His hand reaches to cup your jaw, to tilt your head just that bit further, and presses his lips straight to yours instead of elaborating any further.  

He’s tentative, at first. Gentle, even. Fingertips ghosting along the side of your neck, pulling you closer, less with any physical force and more so with pure magnetic attraction, your skin humming - buzzing, even, to be touched by him in any which way. 

Your chin tilts as your mouths slot together in a soft, slow kiss, and when his lips touch yours, everything else fits perfectly into place. The fingers of his left hand press firmly into the flesh of your hip, now, using a slight force to manoeuvre you how it suits him - as close as he can physically get you - and those on his right reach around enough to slightly curve towards the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure so that your chin angles upward to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing a pleading invitation into your bottom lip.

An invitation you immediately grant him, your hands finding their place on his body with ease, one flat against the warm expanse of his chest and the other matching his, soft fingertips grazing the skin of his neck until they tangle in the slight overgrowth of curls at the nape.

Everything feels so fluid, so effortless, and yet, so new - like this is the first time you have kissed, an eruption of fresh feelings bursting through you. There’s still a familiarity that lingers - one of ease, where it’s like your bodies have each other mapped out, already. You know every cell of him and he of you, and it’s evident in the way the moment escalates.

Your bodies naturally gravitate towards the nearest surface, his fingers reaching out behind your hip to soften the blow of him pushing you into the dresser, your back arching, feet moving in sync as not to tangle and trip, or stumble and break the kiss.

But there’s nothing else clumsy about it.

He lifts you with ease, the cold surface only a slight shock to the system, and it brings you to the perfect height where he can seamlessly move his kisses from your lips, past your jaw, down your neck and into the crevice of your collarbones, leaving a trail of the sticky residue of your lip balm. 

Strong hands cup your thighs, parting your legs until he can stand between them, and your fingers bury themselves into his curls, pushing into him however you can. 

When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, his lips part from the hot skin of your clavicle, and his head tilts slightly until his darkened green eyes meet yours.

“Please,” you breathe out before he can even ask, beyond caring for whatever particles of pride you’ve been desperately trying to cling to when you watch his lips curve slowly into the most panty-dropping smirk you think you’ve ever seen.

“Please what?”

Your lips part as if by instinct, a biting remark fizzling out on the tip of your tongue as your mind works for some kind of comeback, for some semblance of resistance to whatever this version of him is, but there’s nothing. Just a frantic plea for him to do anything to you. Whatever he wants.

Your hips shuffle forward as if led by a mind of their own, trying to force his hand up, only for him to follow the movement of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you find yourself pouting, spikes of heat flashing through you at the way you can see the thoughts crossing his mind, of all the ways in which he can torture you - putty in the palm of what you thought were safe hands.

“Tell me you were jealous,” he prompts, leaning forward to press a teasing kiss to your lips, “Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.”

Don’t let him get cocky, a voice prevails in the back of your mind, despite the accuracy of his words. Tell him he’d have to have an ounce of game for you to be remotely worried, tell him the only thing that makes your skin crawl is his incessant need to mouth off all the time. Tell him, tell him, tell him!

“I was jealous,” you breathe out instead, chasing the victorious smirk that stretches across his lips in the hopes you can kiss it away.

Jealous of a girl you’ve never met, in a relationship with another man, pregnant with his child, not remotely interested in Luke.

A girl who gets to see him all the time, who knows him probably in ways you might never, who he cares enough about to want to gift her something meaningful. Who he casually texts and smiles at his phone as he’s doing so, who he and Jack talk affectionately about in ways they’ll never talk about you.

You’ve officially lost it. 

“And if you don’t touch me in the next 3 seconds,” you carry on, scrambling to claw back one single iota of your dignity, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders, “I won’t let you touch me again.”

Luke laughs. Practically snorts at you, eyes crinkling in the corners in pure amusement. Your dignity is long gone.

“1,” you start, your voice shakier than you’d ever like it to be, and his hands move to either side of your hips, clutching at the edge of the dresser.

“2,” you didn’t think you could sound worse than before, definitely longer than a second ago, but you’re quickly proven wrong as you watch him leverage that grip to push himself upright, creating a distance between the two of you that drains all the heat from your body.

“3.” he finishes, taking a step back and watching you with unadulterated hunger in his eyes, daring you to follow through with your threat - and the smug idiot knows you won’t.

He knows it’s coming, even anticipates the way in which you pounce on him, arms ready to catch you when you throw yourself down onto the ground in front of him, landing with a quick thud that jolts you straight into him. Hands at either side of his face pull him down, and he does half of the work in bending his back so it isn’t as clumsy. 

You tangle yourself up in him, legs twisting between each other until you’re stumbling toward the bed, and it’s as soon as you get your fingers back into his hair, as soon as his hands are pushing your top up, grazing at the warm skin of your back, that you hear a call of your name.

You falter back from him just as the door swings open, managing to create a reasonable amount of distance as Ellie swaggers in, voice still raised as she asks, “Have you seen my-,” It’s Luke that she sees first, eyes zeroing in on his flushed face with pin-point accuracy, her brows furrowing as she takes him in, heaving chest and messy hair and all. “Lip gloss?”

Lip gloss? Is she joking? 

“You came all the way back up here for lip gloss?” You ask, still slightly breathless and brain fogged, and feeling very much like you’ve just put all your chips on the table and watched them get swept away in seconds. 

You watch as Ellie’s eyes dart to Luke’s mouth, watch him grow conscious of the balmy coating smeared across his lips, and you feel your heart stop in it’s place, your chest squeezing in anticipation of a thump thump thump that doesn’t come.

“No,” she mutters, diverting her attention back to you with a sobering shake of her head. “Balm,” she corrects, “The kind with SPF, I think I’m burning, I didn’t realise me and Jack were gonna be gone all morning.”

“Uhm, yeah,” you breathe, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears in the hopes it helps cool your head down, some. “I have some in my bag.”

Your tote is on the dresser you had just been placed on yourself, and you use the opportunity to dig through it to will the burning sensation in your ears away, levelling out your breathing as you root around for a tube of lip balm you know is in there somewhere.

“Could you check for my car keys, too? I was thinking we could drop by the mall for lunch. Catch up” She adds, with a forced wiggle of her brows, clearly what she had actually come up here for, and you fish those out too, throwing them across to her. “Quinn’s looking for you before you go, Luke, something about a list.”

“I should go check what he wants,” Luke mumbles, putting another few steps of distance between you before he offers an awkward wave, and departs the room with heavy feet that you hear stomp all the way down the hall, the last thing you see of him being a skinny, lopsided crochet giraffe poking out of his back pocket.

Apparently Jack’s plans of keeping some element of surprise for the party had gone out of the window as soon as he had got her alone - and you’re kind of grateful for the fact.

Keeping secrets from Ellie is stressful - you of all people would know, you’ve somehow managed to keep a pretty big one from her all summer - and she usually has a way of figuring things out on her own.

You probably would have folded to her - just the two of you out together, sipping smoothies in the food court at the mall - if he hadn’t already filled her in one the plans for the night. 

It makes up a little for his lack of effort, earlier - especially now that your hands are clear of it. You don’t know how much you trust the guys to put something together while you and Ellie are looking for an outfit for her, but you have no choice but to leave them to it. Jack had reassured you he had everything under control, and despite the absurdity of that statement, it’s nice for that panic you had been feeling earlier to have been flushed away.

“I think tonight’s the night,” Ellie sighs dreamily, elbow resting on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “We had this really deep conversation while we were out walking, and he pretty much told me he has feelings for me, he was really nervous, it was kind of cute.”

“I’ll take your word for the cute thing,” you chuckle, sipping at your smoothie and smiling at how happy she looks. It’s nice to hear, her having hope about the situation for once, instead of dread or fear. 

“He said you two spoke at his cousin’s wedding,”

“It was nothing,” you shrug, “He didn’t need any interference from me to realise he likes you, El, he just needed a nudge.”

“I can hardly call you out on interfering,” her lips twist, nervously, “I’ve kind of been doing the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with Cole so much all summer?”

“Cole?” You frown, leaning back into your chair, “You’ve lost me.”

When you’d last spoken to Ellie about Cole, she had told you they just got along, and there was nothing more to it - and you had no reason to believe otherwise. When you and Luke had been in the midst of your own interference, and you had been playing third wheel to their hangouts, they had been getting along. Almost like siblings. Cole never flashed her those flirty winks or toothy grins that he gave everyone else. 

“He’s into you.” She says, finger swiping in the ring left behind from her smoothie cup on the table, “And I was kind of giving him advice on how to approach you. I figured you wouldn’t mind, ‘cause he’s like your normal type, and you seemed like you liked him-,”

“I’m sorry, you think I like Cole?” 

You’re taken aback. You don’t remember giving any sort of indication you were ever into Cole Caufield.

Maybe you could have been, before this summer - would have probably fallen victim to his cheeky smiles or his teasing banter. He’s probably closer to your usual type, if you even have one. Confident, with a presence that sort of demands attention. But you realise, now, your attention should be earned - in more than just a flash of cute teeth and boyish features.

In dumb jokes told just to bring you out of a bad mood, and a car with the AC dialled up waiting for you after a shift on a hot day. In hands that offer you help before you ever have to ask, and eyes that see so far beyond what version of yourself you try to put out there.

You could have liked Cole, in another world, or another life, if another boy wasn’t around. 

“I did until I walked in on you kissing Luke, earlier.”

You blink slowly at her, mouth agape as she stares blankly back. 

What the fuck?

“I wasn’t kissing Luke,” you scoff, denial making your face twist in funny ways that you can even feel look deranged. “We were talking.”

“Into each other’s open mouths?” She snickers, “Unless he’s been digging around in our stuff when we’re not around, I can’t think of any other reason he’d have left the room with Summer Fridays Vanilla Beige smeared all over his lips.”

“It was Brown Sugar, actually.” You correct her, guiltily, hoping the words you mutter next through pouted lips don’t quite make it to her ears. “He says it’s sweeter.”

“Oh my God.” She guffaws, mouth agape and eyes wide in realisation. “How long has this been going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you deny, although you can feel heat creeping up your neck, already. “We just get along-,”

“We get along, and you don’t welcome me home with an open mouth.”

“Ellie-,”

“Listen, he’s not just some guy that you can mess around with, he’s way deeper into you than you probably realise, and-,”

“I like him, okay?” you blurt out, voice just loud enough to be heard over her rambling but not enough to carry anywhere else, and the silence that follows is almost deafening - prolonged in a way that you can’t even remember if you said anything, or not.

But the way Ellie is looking at you tells you enough.

Why is everyone so caught up on you breaking his heart?

As if you aren’t putting the entirety of yours on the line.

“Luke?” She asks, like the two of you haven’t just been talking about him. “You like Luke Hughes?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning onto your elbows and pressing the palms of your hands to your face, eyes scrunching tight to try clear up some mind space to make sense of what it is you’re admitting to.

It makes sense already, to you. Verbalising it is the problem.

He’s charming, he’s funny, he makes you laugh, most times unintentionally but that doesn’t make your feelings dwindle in the slightest. 

He’s weirdly passionate about that one horse movie and won’t shut up trying to get you to watch it with him, but it’s endearing in a way that you want to kiss him to shut him up. Or maybe even watch it, God forbid.

He literally never stops eating, but it’s like his body is in tune to yours now, and he always makes double if he feels like you might be hungry so you don’t ever have to ask, which is weirdly sweet.

When you lay beside him in the middle of the night, you don’t feel pressured to do anything other than talk.

And when you do, he listens to you - retains information and checks up in a way that makes you feel seen, makes you feel a way you haven’t in a really long time. He doesn’t talk over you, or dismiss your feelings, or try to change the topic when things go a little too deep or get a little heavy. He shares the load, asks questions that make you think and process things in a new way, and he isn’t patronising when he does so. He doesn’t say things that sound like they’re straight out of a Psych 101 textbook like your feelings are valid or what makes you think that?

And he compares your wildly different worlds in a way that doesn’t feel like a competition. His troubles aren’t worse than yours, his life isn’t harder.

You’re equals.

You’ve never felt like anyone’s equal, not even Ellie.

It’s like with all the other parts of your life that make you hurt, make you feel small and insignificant - they fade away when you’re with Luke.

His corner of your world is bright - despite the seemingly inexhaustible snark-meter constantly ticking between you two - it’s easy, doesn’t weigh down on you or make your chest feel tight, not in that way, at least.

You’ve been introduced to a whole new influx of feelings in your chest by Luke.

You can give in to the ugly side of yourself that wants to bite at him until there’s nothing left, to push whenever he gets a little too close, and you don’t have to worry that you’ll scare him off or push too far, ‘cause he’ll just pull you with him and bite back - only, it doesn’t hurt like when anyone else does it. Somehow, you think he savours the parts that other people might spit out - chews and swallows and rubs at his belly in satisfaction like you’re the best meal he’s ever had. 

Despite all the other things that have shattered your heart, Luke Hughes makes it feel whole, again.

And it should make you feel sick - lovey-dovey stuff like that usually does, your walls shooting straight up at the first sign of affection from anybody, metaphorical sneakers on and carrying your legs as far and as fast as they can run - but this doesn’t.

You don’t want to run from Luke, not really.

“I thought you said he was dorky and annoying.”

You’re pretty sure she had been the one to say that, at some point, but you don’t remember arguing the fact, so you don’t bring it up.

“He is.” You pout. He’s also apparently inevitable. “He kinda crept up on me, I guess.”

Ellie is quiet for a minute as she watches you, eyes narrowing as she takes you in - shoulders slumped, lips pouted, defeated.

“Why not just tell him, then? Why hide it?” She asks, leaning onto the table too until your faces are level when you peak up at her, “You know he likes you back, right? He’s got the biggest crush on you, it’s borderline problematic.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really understand why he likes me.”

“Does it matter?”

It does. You don’t want to keep running, but you can’t really help it. There’s something ingrained deep within you that is trying to shelter yourself from all the ways in which succumbing to these feelings will inevitably hurt you.

“Luke’s way smarter than me, and he’s way more successful, he’s kind and he’s generous, he comes from a great family, has this great house, we have literally nothing in common, and he doesn’t see that now because he just thinks he’s attracted to me, and he likes that I don’t just fold to him because he’s some superstar, but the second that’s gone,” you sigh, trying to swallow down the hurt in your voice, blink away the onslaught of tears, “He’ll just get bored of me like everybody else does, and then he’ll be gone. And I’ll just be some girl he broke up with and left behind, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Ellie frowns, a strained mutter of your name called as her hand falls to yours in an attempt to comfort you. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, babe.”

“No, I know.”

It’s all you’ve ever known.

Men who start off treating you like some prized possession - cherishing you, making you feel valued and loved - and the second the shine wears off, the second something even newer, even brighter, even sparklier, crosses their path, they’re gone.

And you’re left behind wondering what it is about you that keeps driving them to leave.

It happened with your dad, with his new wife and their perfect kids - the boys he always wanted, who he never had to force himself to like. The dream family he abandoned you to pursue. It happened with Jamie, with all the girls he saw after you, with the way he never even looked your way again, even after all the secrets you shared, and the promises he made. With all those other boys who never saw you as anything more than a fabricated story to spread for a few brownie points with their buddies in the locker room.

It will happen again.

These feelings you have for Luke - the comfort he gives, the contentment, the ease in conversation, the warmth he bathes you in until your skin prunes and he seeps in through the cracks - they’re better kept to yourself. It’s easier that way, to keep this whole heart under lock and key, not giving anyone a chance to break parts off and keep it for themselves.

It’s almost perfect the way it is.

Safe, even from the clutches of the boy who pieced it back together, brick by laborious brick.

“There isn’t long left of the summer, anyway,” you go for a nonchalant shrug, but your shoulders feel heavy, and it turns out more like an arduous huff. “I doubt he’s shy of female attention back in Jersey, he’ll forget I ever existed before he even knows it.”

“You should talk to him,” Ellie suggests, “At least let him know where you stand, even if it’s to tell him things can’t go further.” 

The thought of it is too daunting. Looking into those gleaming green eyes and laying your heart on the line.

You can pretend all you want to Ellie, to yourself, even, that you wouldn’t want more, but you don’t think you could keep up the show with him.

“He deserves at least that.”

And damn it, she’s right.

Maybe he even deserves a proper chance.

Luke never thought he’d regret kissing you for any reason, but he’s wishing he had practiced some restraint up in your room, earlier.

If he hadn’t advanced on you, had let you pack your bag and got you out of the house before Ellie and Jack got back, he could have followed through on his plan of action for the day.

A plan he’d been hyping himself up for, all week - getting you on your own, talking things out, maybe even asking you out. Properly. Not just dinner at the mall, but a real date. Planned, perfected. A fancy dinner, or a trip to the movies. A picnic blanket laid out somewhere with a nice view, and an abundance of your favourite snacks. 

He wants to kiss you without having to hide it, anymore.

He wants to walk with you tucked under his arm. Wants to have you in his lap when there’s too many people over at the house, and the group are struggling for space on the couches in the den. 

He also sort of wants peace of mind, but what’s that compared to not having to sneak around, anymore. 

He’d made his mind up in the morning, waking up beside you at 5am, rousing you from your sleep with soft mutterings of your name, and lips pressed to your cheek until he could feel you smile. 

“Hi,” your voice had been croaky, and your movements slow, shuffling against him as your skin became illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun slipping through the gap in the curtains. Your legs had been tangled with his under the sheets, and you did little to untangle them, and he was tempted to lock his so that you couldn’t. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, lips still moving against your skin, nipping at your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and your fingers rose until they clutched at the back of his hair, curls wrapping around them as you held him in place. 

“What time is it?”

“Around five,” his own hands landed on your waist, slipping under the hem of your tank, and trying to savour the warmth of your skin, your body hot from being against his all night. “Figured you’d need to be a little earlier today with it being Ellie’s birthday and all.”

“Thank you,” you used your soft grip on his curls to tug, until his face left the crook of your neck, and you blinked softly, smiled sweetly, and he felt his heart beat at twice the normal speed. You leant up and kiss him, straight on the lips, and he smiled against you just as you pulled away. 

He felt cold all over as soon as you detached yourself, and he rolled onto his side to watch as you stood, arms raised to stretch and lifting the bottom of your tank top to rise up your belly.

He felt robbed. Like he deserved longer with you, and it had been as you crawled back over your side of his bed, and had kissed him once more before leaving, that he had decided he needed to do something about it.

His original plan had been to steal you away at some point in the night, everyone else too distracted by the party to notice or care, but being teamed up with you to go get decorations seemed like it would work too.

Until Jack came back and fucked his plans up.

Jack said that he would go get the food with Turcs, that he had already paid for a cake, and he had to show his ID when he picked it up. He said Ellie shouldn’t have to do anything, and that you would be the best person for her to do nothing with, which left Luke picking up decorations with Cole.

It wasn’t that he minded Cole’s company, but Cole isn’t you.

He probably could have tucked Cole under his arm as they walked side by side through target and picked up a bunch of of banners and streamers, given the logistics of their height difference, but it wouldn’t have been as cute.

He has managed to get a lot of unexpected information though. And of course, his only thought is that he can’t wait to share it with you. 

Cole tells Luke how he and Ellie have only been hanging out all summer to make Jack jealous.

He bites his tongue to refrain from telling him that sort of trick doesn’t work on his brother, but Cole seems too pleased with himself for Luke to rain on his parade, and he finds it kind of funny that everyone’s been working to get the two of them to wake up to their feelings, not just you and him.

Cole might have even ended up putting more effort into it than you and Luke did, acting as a go-between for Jack and Ellie, and raising the stakes for both of them to make a move.

“And what do you get out of any of that?” Luke chuckles as he works at taking the banners out of their plastic wrapping, Cole taking the plastic and putting it straight into the trash.

The smile drops as soon as Cole says your name, though, and Luke’s hands stop in place. “Ellie’s been giving me insider info. I’m primed and ready to make a move.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Luke frowns, “You like her? Since when?”

He tries not to let the panic stirring in his chest reflect on his features, but it’s hard. 

Cole and Ellie had been hanging out for a long time, now. He can’t have been into you that whole time, right? Not without saying anything to anyone else - Cole is kind of mouthy, like that. Word would have got back around to Luke if Cole’s liked you for months. 

“Since I met her. She’s a really cool girl, really funny.” Cole scoffs, hand reaching out for more trash. “And she’s, like, one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Of course Luke knows. He’s seen the most beautiful sides to you - soaked head to toe from a garden hose, eyes crinkled from laughter, or the aftermath, curled up on a couch with just-dry hair and heart opening up to him for the very first time. In an orange baseball cap and a Mets jersey, twirling as you exit one of the fitting rooms you had found in the mall, a big cute grin on your face as you allow yourself to dorky with Luke, and only with Luke. Sat out on the fountain at the club, skin bathed in the glistening moonlight and your heart thumping in the palm of his tender hands. Laid beside him in the early hours of the morning, soft snores falling from between your lips and hair splayed out against his pillow.

But he can’t exactly say that to Cole - who has apparently been working to pursue you this entire time without Luke ever catching on.

“Ellie says I’m her type, so I don’t know why I’m stressing about asking her out-,”

“Out like on a date? Like you want to date her?”

Luke knows he sounds like an idiot without Cole giving him the weirded-out look he gives, but he’s starting to lose out to the dread that is flooding the pit of his stomach. He stumbles to follow Cole out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they had set up a step ladder before to hang the decorations.

“You really think I’d be trying so hard if I didn’t?” Cole scoffs, “Catch up, Luke, I’m trying to end my summer with a girlfriend-,”

“She’s hardly girlfriend material.”

The words taste sour in the mouth that moves before his brain has time to think - sour enough that he has to try not to grimace, wishing he could suck them back in and swallow them back down like they never came out. 

“What do you mean?” Cole asks, his features dropping into a frown. “I thought you two were getting along.”

“We are,” he agrees, despite it seeming like an understatement, but words are starting to pour out before he can filter them, and he can already feel himself getting carried away. “And she’s a nice enough person, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it would work out with her like that.”

“You think she’d be hard work?”

He knows you are. But he likes you that way. He doesn’t want anyone else to worm their way into your good graces like he has. 

“Yeah,” he huffs, “She’s always out, and always flirting with guys at the club, you’ve seen it.” He knows he’s pulled that out of his ass, but what else is he supposed to say?

“I think she’s just fishing for tips, Lukey,” Cole chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks flush with humiliation at the pet name. He feels small, like he’s just something that Caufield can steam roll straight over without much protest. “Can’t blame her, some of those guys have deep pockets.”

“I’ve just heard stuff, you know.”

“Like what?”

Jesus Christ, Cole, he thinks, wishing he’d just take his word for it and get over you, already. As if it would ever be that easy. He doesn’t particularly enjoy saying these things out loud - using the words you had so carefully confided in him against you - but there’s a panicked desperation creeping up within him, becoming possible to ignore, and it’s cancelling out all other rational thoughts in his brain. 

The second you find out Cole Caufield is interested, you’ll no longer have any need for Luke.

Luke, who your every conversation with starts or ends with some sort of bickering argument, who annoys you to no end, who riles you up like it’s what he was put on this very Earth to do.

Cole is charming, he’s always had an ease when it comes to talking to girls that Luke never quite found in himself, and he’ll win you over in no time - and that’s if you aren’t interested, already.

But Luke is building up to that.

He’s been building up to it all summer.

Even before then, without entirely knowing it. 

The two of you have something, even if you refuse to admit it. You wouldn’t have kissed him all those times, otherwise, wouldn’t have come to his bed in the middle of the storm those weeks ago, and almost every night since he came back from Vegas, wouldn’t have slept with him before he left, wouldn’t have begged him to give in to you - not if you weren’t interested in him.

You’ve shared parts of yourself he knows no one’s ever seen, and he can’t let that be for nothing. 

But now the rug is being pulled out from under him, and all he can do to cling on to the edges with an idiotic possessiveness that curls his upper lip and brings his heart to a screeching stop. 

“Like how she’s with a different guy every week at Michigan. Apparently she gets around.”

“Oh,” Cole frowns, and Luke watches as his face turns, his own fists clenching at the urge to take it all back, to defend her and call Cole out on his immediate shift despite it being his own fault. 

He’s made his bed, now. He has to lie in it.

“Ellie didn’t mention all that stuff.”

“She’s hardly gonna call her friend easy.” Luke scoffs, and he thinks the way the words are spat out of his mouth is some sort of reflection of the way his lips don’t want to say them. Like they’re disgusted that his brain would even conceptualise them enough to be spoken. “Especially when you were doing her a favour with the whole Jack thing.”

“I don’t know man, I think you’ve got the wrong idea of her.”

Luke rolls his eyes as Cole makes his way back toward the step ladder, banner in hand, jaw tensing as he scrambles to think of something to stop this.

“She’s not the kind of girl you date,” he manages to call out, despite the tremor in his voice, every fibre of his being fighting the words from being spoken. “And there’s like a month left before we all leave for camp, so if you were to start anything, it would just be for the summer, anyway.”

“Jack and Ellie have started something with just a month left.”

“That’s not the same thing, they’ve been into each other for years, they text and call all the time, nothing’s really changing for them except for a label, you really think you’re gonna keep that up after just a couple months of knowing her?”

He reaches out for the other end of the banner and holds it as Cole positions his side, lip tugged between his teeth and a frown on his face as he mulls Luke’s words over. 

“You’ll be in Montreal, and she’ll be here, and you’ll be focusing on hockey, and training, and you won’t have time to keep up something serious with a girl you barely know.”

He tries not to think about how it’s the same distance to Jersey - an almost 2 hour flight - and how he’d be doing the exact same thing, swept up into the season before he knows it and potentially doing nothing but letting you down. 

“And you know what she’s like, she’d find something to argue about with a monk, for God’s sake,” he scoffs, brows furrowed so hard he can feel the tension in his forehead, “All you’d get from her is an earache. She’s not worth it.”

Cole turns to narrow his eyes at Luke, but something else over the top of his head catches his attention, instead, and the surprised muttering of your name turns Luke’s blood to ice.

Frozen in place, eyes wide, heart thudding in his ears, he waits with bated breath for something to happen - for Cole to break into a shit-eating grin, and tell him he’s just fucking around. For the ground to swallow him up. For anyone - literally anybody else - to respond.

But your voice carries straight over to him. Travels through his ears, ricochets around the cavern of his skull, shoots down his spine and makes his legs go numb.

“We uhm,” your tone is shaky, and Luke, for the first time, maybe, ever, hates the way you sound. “We were just checking if you needed a hand with the decorations.”

He turns slowly, and it’s Ellie’s eyes he meets first. Pointed, narrowed, betrayed, even, she glares at him like he’s just kicked a wounded animal right in front of her. 

“You can’t decorate your own party,” Cole laughs from behind Luke, as Luke’s attention drifts slowly your way. 

His eyes meet yours, and he can see the watery glaze over them from across the room. Can see your throat working to gulp down your hurt as your lips twist.

Ellie says something in response, and he vaguely hears Cole speak too, but all that he can focus on is the blood rushing around his head, a whooshing and whirring that makes him feel like his ears are about to pop, or his brain is about to explode. His lips part to speak, to say something, anything, to explain what you had clearly overheard, but your gaze drops to the floor, and he sees your walls build back up right before his eyes, brick by brick, cementing themselves back in place.

He’s such an idiot.

He’s such a monumental asshole.

The last time he had seen tears in your eyes had been sat by the fountain at the club - he had wiped them away, and had promised you he had your back, and you had just caught him having anything but with Cole. And all that after you had told him why you had ever been hesitant to let anyone in the first place.

He doesn’t think he’s ever messed up like this.

He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, and you step back, still not able to look him in the eye again, before turning on your heel and making your way upstairs.

Luke hears the stomp of your feet as you go, watches Ellie go after you, wishing it could be him, and stands, motionless, until he feels a firm pat on his back.

“Don’t worry, man,” Cole says, “She’s cool, she’ll be over it after a couple of drinks.”

Luke doesn’t even think he says anything coherent when he responds, a grunt or a grumble - it can’t have been words, because he can’t even form them in his brain. 

“I’m gonna ask her out tonight, anyway,” Cole chuckles, “So what you said won’t even mean anything.”

Great.

He’s just fucked things up with one of the greatest people in his life, the girl of his dreams, and it doesn’t even mean anything.

Not the kind of girl you date. 

Not worth it.

All that from the boy who supposedly had your back not that long ago. The first guy in a long time, maybe even ever, to make you feel secure, and safe, and like you could trust someone again.

Luke thinks you’re an earache. 

He thinks you’re argumentative, and only worthy of a brief, summer fling - that keeping up anything with you when he goes home would be a waste of the time and energy he should be dedicating to hockey.

And he’s probably right, you think.

It’s only what you’ve been telling yourself in the back of your mind all summer. Self-deprecating thoughts about how he’s far too good for you, and you’re only interesting when he can’t have you, and he’ll get tired of you before you can even realise he’s already drifted off.

Ellie had told you all the way back in your freshman year that the two of you weren’t a good fit. Jack had been telling Luke the same all summer. And you had only just managed to convince yourself otherwise on the drive back to the lake house from the mall.

You can hardly blame him for being two steps ahead.

You think that’s why you can’t bring yourself to cry - the sting of tears prickling persistently but never pushing through, eyes watering so much you can’t even put on mascara without the fear of it trickling down your face and ruining the rest of your makeup.

You’d tried crying, before. Had ran up to your room and had sat on the other side of your bed, hidden from the door and knees pressed to your chest. Your breath had stuttered, and your lips had trembled, but the tears wouldn’t fall, try as you might to have made them.

And when Ellie had found you, had sat beside you with an arm stretched over your shoulders, you had tried, then, too.

And it would be your luck that as soon as you press the inky substance into your lashes that they would finally fall, so you’ve been sat trying to wish them away for the past ten minutes - the tube clutched in a death grip in your hands as you sit at the makeshift vanity you and Ellie had set up all those weeks ago when you had moved in, taking deep breaths and willing the hurt to go away.

It’s where Luke finds you after knocking with no response - you barely remember hearing it - shuffling wordlessly into the room and perching himself down behind you on the edge of the bed.

You see him in the mirror, your eyes darting away before his can meet them in the reflection, and you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the blow.

“I didn’t mean any of what you heard.”

You breathe out a humourless chuckle, bitterness settling into the pit of your stomach and your lips trembling with resistance. 

“I mean it, I don’t think those things about you, I promise, I-,”

“It doesn’t even matter,” you cut him off with a roll your eyes, pushing the mascara tube toward the mirror and figuring you’re just gonna go without. 

“I was panicking, and it just came out like word vomit, and I feel really sick about it, and really stupid, and I wish I could take it all back-,”

“I said it doesn’t matter.” You meet his eyes this time, trying not to fall for just how distraught he looks behind you in the mirror. 

“Of course it matters,” he frowns, and you look away as soon as he pushes himself up, knowing he’s coming for you. “I need you to know that I would never have said those things-,”

“You said them, Luke,” you scoff, “What do you mean you would never have said them, you literally did.”

“I know-,”

“It doesn’t matter-,”

“Can you stop saying that!” He frowns, appearing at the side of you, hands gripping your shoulders to get you to face him. “I’m trying to explain this to you, I’m trying to fix things, and you’re-,”

“What, giving you an earache?”

All those weeks ago, the backs of your legs sticking to the bench in the booth in the restaurant, leaning over the table and sparring back and forth with him, you had convinced yourself that he liked it.

That the glint in his eye was indication of as much, the twitch at the corner of his lips, the way he would bite back without a second to think about it, and had matched your every effort to get one over on him. 

You had thought the two of you had something real. Something you had never found with anyone else. Quick wit, and similar senses of humour, shared boundaries, a mutual level of respect. 

You had thought his persistence had been something that would stick.

And clearly, you thought wrong.

He whispers out an utterance of your name that hurts like fingers wrapped around your throat - clenching and squeezing until you go hot in the head.

“I keep saying it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t, Luke. You were right, we wouldn’t have been able to keep this up past the summer, anyway.”

Luke’s brows furrow your way, eyes darting between yours as his lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You’re going back to Jersey soon, I’m going back to school, it was fun while it lasted but things have run their course.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“We both do.” You shrug, wearing your feigned indifference like armour, just like you know so well to do. “You don’t say the things you said on a whim, Luke, some part of you has to believe that they’re true.”

“I don’t-,”

“I’m giving you a chance to cut things off with no hard feelings-,”

“No hard feelings?” His disbelief cuts through you a little, the hurt in his eyes and the scrunch of his features, too, but if you give in, now, you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt. 

You had barely just built up the courage to give your heart to him, in whatever shape he had scrunched and squeezed it into before, and he had already managed to bruise it. Giving in will only result in it breaking. 

“I have feelings. I have feelings for you. And I know you have feelings for me, too, you can’t pretend you don’t-,”

“It doesn’t-,”

“It matters.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this - so sure, so serious, so raw - and when he takes a hold of your face, hands cupping your jaw, tender but firm, and forces you to look at him, you see the same in his features. “Cole is into you. And he said he was gonna ask you out, and I panicked trying to convince him not to. I should have had faith that you would have turned him down. And I should have been honest, and I should have told him that I’m into you. More than into you, I think I-,”

“I wouldn’t have turned him down.”

You lie with such ease that it makes your heart ache more than the truth, but it’s the only thing you can do to protect it.

If you let Luke carry on, you’ll let him back in.

You can’t let him back in.

Not with the tears that now well his eyes, or the way his face drops like you’ve just struck him in the gut - pained and powerless.

“What?”

Your hands shake in your lap so much you have to clench them shut, knuckles turning white as Luke’s touch slips from your skin. 

“If he asked me out, I would have said yes.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, blinking repeatedly before he tears his gaze away from yours, and you feel like you can see his walls building - a sight that should flood you with relief, but doesn’t.

“So, what, everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve done, all the things we’ve said, you’re just gonna throw it all away like none of it matters?”

You can hear the hurt - can feel it even, clawing at your skin as if it’s trying to find a way to dig past the barriers you’ve put in place. 

But you have to do this.

“I guess not.”

Luke was always going to hurt you. Was going to burrow himself through whatever cracks you left bare to him, weasel his way into your heart and tear it from the inside out. And maybe you were always going to do the same to him.

“Alright then,” he mutters, robotic and distant, with his eyes stuck on the floor. 

He stands from where he had been crouched beside you, backing away before turning completely, and he walks away in long strides, the door to your bedroom closing with a soft click behind him. 

The tear that falls when he’s gone does so slowly. You feel it trail all the way down your cheek from the corner of your eye, until it drops, almost audibly, from your jaw and onto your lap. 

And then the rest follow, uncontrollable and unrelenting.

Inevitable, just like he had said.

A/N: so...... please don't hate me I wrote the ending first lmao!! I imagine this will cause riots in the streets tbh but please let me know what you think hahahah this whole story has become my baby!! she's problematic but she's mine!!!!

[alisonsfics]

guest lecturer - part two

pairing: tyler owens x student!reader

summary: when tyler owens shows up in our meteorology class to give a guest lecture, you are left just as speechless as all the other girls. but, tyler is just as awestruck by you.

word count: 3.8k

part 1

Ever since accepting the internship with Tyler, you’d been an anxious mess.

You were overthinking everything. Why did he want you specifically? Did that mean he was actually into you? Or was it just because you were smart and capable?

You spent many sleepless nights wondering how he felt about you. You had no idea if he was actually attracted to you or if you were just a one time, spur of the moment decision.

A few days after you told Dr. Hannigan that you’d accept the internship, you got a text from Tyler. He’d somehow gotten your number from Dr. Hannigan.

He didn’t even have to mention his name for you to know it was him.

Unknown number: “They say spring break can get pretty crazy ;)”

You: “Tyler?!?”

Unknown number: “You already know me so well, gorgeous”

That was the last time you’d talked to him.

You didn’t want to embarrass yourself. So, while it would have been clear to anyone else that he was into you, you found yourself doubting it.

Somehow, you convinced yourself it was just flirty banter. So, you didn’t attempt to reciprocate it.

Normally, you had no problem knowing a guy was into you. Something about Tyler made you feel like an oblivious schoolgirl. You were mortified by even the possibility of humiliating yourself in front of him.

But you allowed yourself a pinch of optimism, and you packed your cutest bras in case that was where the week took you. You also picked out an outfit that was the perfect mix of cute and revealing to wear on the plane, since it would be the first time Tyler had seen you in a month.

When the plane landed, you could feel your nerves coursing through you. You anxiously tapped your fingers against your thigh. Normally, you were a pretty patient person, but not when you knew Tyler Owens was waiting for you on the other side of the airport.

You stared up at the seatbelt sign, hoping you could psychically make it turn off. Instead, the light seemed to mock you.

All you could think about was Tyler. You were excited to see his reaction to seeing you again. The possibilities seemed endless, which excited you.

You smoothed out your jeans and your tight tank top. It felt a little more western than your usual style, but you figured it would be appropriate for Oklahoma. As an added bonus, you hoped Tyler would like it.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the beep of the seatbelt sign turning off. You practically leapt up from your seat. You snatched your suitcase and managed to be one of the first people off the plane.

You were practically running through the airport. You didn’t know what was in store for this week, but you were eager for it to begin.

Your eyes scanned around the pickup area. You saw dozens of people waiting to pick up their family members. You searched for that all too familiar set of green eyes.

Over the chatter of dozens of conversations, you heard someone call out your name.

Your eyes snapped to where the noise came from. Instead of finding a certain cowboy meeting your gaze, you saw a woman.

Her dirty blonde hair was thrown up into a ponytail. Your confusion was written all over your face, so she smiled at you and waved you over.

“Hi, I’m Kate. I work with Tyler. He asked me to come pick you up.” She said, shaking your hand.

“Ohhh okay. Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, failing to hide the disappointment in your voice.

You felt like such an idiot.

You had really been convinced Tyler was going to pick you up. The small amount of hope you’d been holding onto left your body. You felt like you had misread this entire situation.

You should’ve known it was stupid to assume Tyler invited you to continue whatever happened in your professor’s office. This wasn’t personal. This was purely academic, and you were just the best candidate for the internship.

If he’d been into you, he would’ve been at the airport.

You felt mortified.

“Oh god, you were expecting Tyler, weren’t you? I’m so sorry.” Kate quickly apologized, picking up on your disappointment. You shook your head. “No, you don’t have to apologize. I was just being stupid.” You said, trying to hide your embarrassment.

All you wanted to do was hop on a plane and go back home.

Kate probably thought you were so pathetic. You just hoped she didn’t mention any of this to Tyler.

“No, it wasn’t stupid. Tyler really wants to work with you. He hasn’t shut up about your midterm paper in weeks. He said you’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met. Something came up today. That’s the only reason he’s not here to pick you up himself, I promise.” Kate told you.

You appreciated the sentiment, but you were pretty sure she was just trying to save your feelings.

The ride to their base camp was long. You and Kate talked about your studies and some of the experiments she was working on. But you were still overthinking everything.

She pulled the truck into the parking lot of a motel alongside a big camp of other trucks. You noticed a bar and a diner across the street from the motel.

You both got out of the truck, and you grabbed your suitcase from the back. “Here you go. I think you’re in room 261.” Kate said, handing you a key.

“Hey, Kate! You’re back.” You heard someone exclaim. You glanced over your shoulder and saw two guys walking towards you. Kate waved at the two men and gave them both hugs.

“You must be Y/N. I’m Javi, and this is Boone. Tyler’s told us a lot about you.” The one man greeted you. Before you could respond, Boone stood a step closer to you. “He didn’t mention how pretty you are.” Boone said, slowly shaking your hand.

Javi quickly pulled Boone backwards. “Why don’t you go get settled in your room? We were all planning on going to the bar tonight? I can come get you later.” Kate suggested, guiding you towards the motel.

As you walked away, you saw Javi elbow Boone in the side. “Come on, man, you remember what Tyler said, she’s off limits.” You heard him whisper.

You felt your stomach do a flip as you processed what he said. Tyler banning his friends from flirting with you had to mean something.

After you found your room, you flopped backwards onto the bed. Thoughts of Tyler swirled around your head. You wondered where he was and when you would see him.

As if on cue, you heard a loud truck outside with the radio blaring.

You walked over to the window and peeked out the curtains. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the big red truck pulling into the parking lot.

Tyler climbed out of the truck, running a hand through his perfectly messy hair. You felt a shudder run through you as he placed his cowboy hat on his head.

Tyler wasn’t your usual type, but there was something about him.

You wanted to run out and talk to him, but he’d know you’d been watching him, and you didn’t want him to think you were desperate.

You couldn’t help but admire his biceps as he lifted some equipment out of the bed of his truck. You watched him for longer than you cared to admit.

You remembered Kate said you were all going to the bar later tonight. You started to dig through your suitcase to pick out an outfit.

You grabbed a high-waisted pair of jean shorts that made your ass look great. You paired them with the black cowboy boots you brought, along with a lacy black tank top.

You also weren’t ashamed to admit you had a sexy red lace bra and panty set on underneath. You jumped when you heard a knock at your door. You quickly put on a cute flannel and grabbed your phone.

You opened the door and saw Kate. “You ready to go?” She asked you. You eagerly nodded and closed the door behind you.

You noticed yourself constantly looking around and over your shoulder for Tyler. Kate noticed too, but didn’t mention it.

You both immediately spotted Boone and Javi at the bar. They quickly waved you over. “Come on, ladies. We’re doing shots.” Javi said.

Before you could question it, they handed you and Kate both a shot. The four of you clinked your glasses together and downed the shot. You winced and clenched your fist as you swallowed.

“Oh, fuck. Was that tequila? Can’t have too many of those or I’ll get fucked up.” You said, earning a chuckle from Kate.

“Now, that I’d like to see.” You heard a deep voice say from behind you.

You spun around to see who was talking to you. You didn’t really need to look. You already recognized the cologne.

Then, you saw those green eyes staring back at you. You could feel your eyes go wide, and your heart start to beat faster. “Oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath.

Tyler was the only one that heard it. The smirk on his face was all the confirmation you needed that he’d heard you.

“So, how’s the smartest girl I know?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. You quickly nodded your head, as an incoherent string of words left your mouth. “Yeah, no— uh huh. I’ve be— been good.” You mumbled.

He pulled you in for a quick hug. “I’m still makin’ you nervous, gorgeous?” He whispered in your ear as he hugged you. Goosebumps spread down your arms.

You both were completely aware of the way Boone, Javi, and Kate were all staring at the two of you. It didn’t take a genius to see the tension between you and Tyler.

Tyler licked his lips as he looked you up and down. He wanted to take in every inch of you. The way your shorts hugged your hips. Your shiny lipgloss, more specifically how bad he wanted to see it messily smeared across your lips.

The one thought he kept coming back to was how much better you’d look in his hat.

“I’m glad you were able to come.” He said, smiling down at you. You hadn’t remembered how tall he was. “Yeah, I’ll bet you’re glad.” Javi muttered under his breath with a smirk.

“C’mon, let’s go talk.” He said, gesturing towards the other side of the bar. His hand landed on the small of your back as he led you across the room.

With his large hand pressed against your back, you couldn’t help recall how effortlessly he’d picked you up and set you on the desk. You pushed away the thought and the warm feeling in your stomach that accompanied it.

“I meant it before. I’m really excited to work with you. We have some exciting tests and stuff that I think you’ll enjoy.” Tyler said, twirling you around so you faced him.

“I’m really grateful for the opportunity.” You said, smiling up at him. You were wracking your brain for anything else you could say, but your mind had gone blank.

“You’re saying it like I’m doing you a favor. You earned this. Dr. Hannigan sent me a bunch of your work. You’re fucking brilliant.” Tyler told you.

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. Before Tyler could say anything else, he froze, and his eyes locked on yours. He reached his hand towards you and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, waiting for his next move.

He softly interlaced his fingers with yours and pulled you towards the dance floor. He pulled you backwards into his chest until you both were pressed up against each other. His hot breath ran down your neck, giving you chills.

He confidently stretched his hand across your stomach. He was marking you as his in front of anyone. Every guy in the bar knew not to mess with you if you were with Tyler.

With a rare burst of courage, you grinded your hips back against him. He groaned in your ear. “Oh, fuck, gorgeous,” he mumbled. His voice came out deeper and huskier than you’d ever heard it.

He moved your hair out of the way and started kissing behind your ear. You felt a cocky smirk grow on your face. You knew exactly whose room you were ending up in tonight.

A soft whimper escaped your lips, making Tyler hips rut into you. “You know, I saw you watching me from your room earlier? It took all my self control to not go up to your room.” He whispered in your ear.

The room erupted into gasps, causing you both to separate. Your eyes drifted to the front door where Javi had just tripped over a barstool and fell face first.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me. He’s fucking wasted. I have to bring him back to his room. I will be right back. I promise.” Tyler said, running over to Javi’s side.

You found a stool at the bar to sit at while Tyler was gone. Then, Boone appeared at your side. He reeked of booze, and you could tell he was almost as drunk as Javi. “Hey, Boone. You doing okay?” You asked, gesturing towards the seat next to you.

He plopped himself down and nodded. “I saw you and Tyler getting friendly.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Your embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. The last thing you wanted was Tyler’s friends thinking you slept with Tyler to get the internship.

“Oh, you saw that?” You asked, nervously. He just chuckled and nodded.

“Don’t worry. He told us all about you and your little spicy time at office hours.” Boone whispered. You felt like your heart skipped a beat. You had full confidence Boone only mentioned it because he was hammered, but that meant Tyler had told him.

Your anxiety and overthinking went into overdrive.

Everything started to click into place for you.

You were his trophy. The hot, young college girl for him to brag about to his friends. He didn’t care about your work or teaching you. He just wanted to get in your pants and show you off to his friends.

“Oh, I’m gonna be sick.” You mumbled, heading for the front door. You felt unbelievably naive. Of course a guy like Tyler would act like this.

You walked across the parking lot, towards your motel room.

“Hey! Wait up, where you goin’?” You heard Tyler call after you.

You ignored him and kept walking, speeding up your pace. “Leave me alone.” You yelled at him over your shoulder when he started to follow you.

You kept walking, ignoring Tyler’s voice. You heard his footsteps speed up as he ran to catch up with you.

He jumped in front of you and put his hands up to stop you. “What’s wrong?” He asked you, confused.

“Why did you invite me here?” You asked him point blank. His expression only became more confused. “What do you mean? I already told you.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Tyler searched your eyes for any idea of why you were so upset. “You told Boone…” you said, softly.

“Told Boone what?” Tyler asked, gently cupping your face. You sighed and pushed his hands off of you. “You told him that we almost hooked up. You didn’t want me here because you think I’m smart. You just wanted to have a hookup with a college girl that you could brag to your friends about.” You said, storming off towards your room.

Tyler could only watch in shock as you walked away.

As soon as you got to your room, you fell onto your bed with your head in your hands. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face Tyler tomorrow morning. You laid there for what felt like hours trying to decide what to do. You debated packing your bags several times.

You were taken out of your thoughts when there was a knock at the door.

You walked over to the door and opened it a crack. You saw a sympathetic Tyler.

“Please, let me explain before you slam the door in my face.” He begged you.

You stepped out of your room and closed the door behind you. “What do you want?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“I promise that our almost-hookup and my attraction to you has nothing to do with why I wanted you to do the internship. I really think you are brilliant. I’m sorry that I told Boone and Javi about us. I only did it because they’re my friends. I didn’t think about it from your perspective and realize they’re people that you’re going to work with professionally. I’m really sorry.” He said, genuinely.

You pursed your lips, thinking about whether you’d accept his apology. Something in his eyes made you want to trust him. “Thank you for that. I’m sorry too. I think I got anxious and started to overthink everything. I've never done anything like this.” You said, honestly.

You could see the relief on Tyler’s face. “C’mere,” he said, leaning in giving a short kiss.

“You know what? I have some baseline readings I need to get before tomorrow. You want to go on a little trip?” He suggested. As soon as you nodded, he swooped you up bridal style and carried you to his truck.

He helped you into the truck before jumping into the drivers seat. You both drove in silence until Tyler got where he wanted to go.

You both got out and walked to the back of the truck. You helped Tyler take some measurements in a peaceful silence. Every few minutes, Tyler would do something goofy to get you to giggle.

After you’d finished the measurements, he lifted you up into the bed of the truck, where he’d set up a blanket. You patted the seat next to you, so Tyler would join you.

“You want to know the best real-world tip I can give you for storms?” He asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You looked over at him, waiting for his answer.

“Gotta listen to the wind and be able to know what’s happening just by listening. Here, I’ll show you.” He told you, opening his toolbox. He grabbed a small towel and carefully tied it over your eyes. “Listen, over to the left. You can hear the pressure shifting.” He whispered softly to you.

“The winds picking up over there.” You said, pointing over to the right side.

“Yep, that’s right, gorgeous. You’re a quick learner. It took me forever to recognize stuff like that.” He told you.

The wind quieted down, and the air felt peaceful. The only noise you could hear was Tyler’s soft breathing. You felt his large palm rest on top of your thigh. “What’re you doing?” You asked, softly.

There was a change in the air.

You felt Tyler’s lips on yours.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he kissed you. You quickly kissed him back. His other hand found your hip and laid you down. A groan escaped his lips as you ran your hands down his back.

Tyler eagerly tugged your flannel off your arms and threw it to the side. You pulled off your blindfold, and then saw Tyler unbuttoning his shirt. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you admired him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He groaned, as you ran your fingers over his now bare chest. Your hands landed on his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He kicked off his jeans and laid back down on top of you.

“Been dreaming of this for a month,” he told you, leaving sloppy kisses down your chest. He tugged your shirt over your head.

His movements stopped when he caught a glimpse of the dark red lace of your bra. “Wait til you find out it’s a set.” You teased him. Tyler shuddered at the thought.

His grabbed at the belt loops of your shorts and quickly pulled them off your legs. “Eager, cowboy?” You teased. He could feel his pants begin to tighten as he looked down at you. “I’m never gonna forget this.” He mumbled, before burying his face in your neck and sucking on the soft skin.

“You been thinking about finishing what we started? You been lying in bed thinking about that day like I have?” He mumbled against your skin. His hands slid down your sides, stopping on your thighs.

He ran his fingers over the outside of your panties. You let out a soft moan, bucking your hips up against his hand. “Need you,” you begged.

Tyler slid your panties to the side. He ran his finger through your folds, collecting your wetness.

“You’re gonna feel so good, baby,” he almost moaned. You tugged down his boxers enough for his cock to spring out.

“Come on, Tyler, fuck me. I don’t think I can wait much longer.” You begged him.

“Oh, fuck, gorgeous. You’re so needy. I can’t say no to you.” He groaned, grabbing your hips. He lined himself up and pushed into your folds.

You shut your eyes, whimpering as he pushed into you. “I’m ready. I need you to move, please.” You mumbled.

Tyler quickened his pace and started thrusting into you. He roughly grabbed your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your eyes rolled back as he reached even deeper. “Oh, fuck,” he grunted.

You wrapped his hair around your fingers. You screamed out his name, bucking your hips up into his thrusts. “Go ahead, gorgeous. No one can hear you. You can be as loud as you want.” He said, speeding up his thrusts.

You guided one of his hands between your legs. He smirked against the kiss as he started rubbing tight circles against your clit. A high-pitch moan escaped your lips.

“I’m almost there, baby.” He moaned against your lips. You nodded your head. “Me too, oh, fuck,” you moaned.

Your fingers scratched down his back. You felt a tightness in your stomach. “Gotta go faster,” he mumbled, thrusting his whole body into you.

Your back arched against the blanket. Tyler's thrusts faltered. “Oh, shit,” he grunted as he came inside you.

Your stomach jumped as you hit your peak. “Oh, fuck fuck fuck,” you called out, as you came with him.

Tyler slowed his pace and then collapsed beside you. “That was even better than I imagined.” He said, kissing your shoulder. You nodded, still catching your breath.

“I think I’m officially a spring break fan.” You agreed.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @alipap3 @djs8891 @love2write2626 @khaleesibeach @ateliersss @xbox5angelx @kneelforloki @ipromiseidk @ilovefictionalcharacters26 @lovelyleanie @avengersgirllorianna @nerdgirljen @ellesmythe @harrysgothicbitch @mikoxvelez @emma8895eb @new-author3 @child-of-of-the-sunshine @gpowelllovingfreak @angelsgalore @fallout-girl219 @wolvestitches @xoxabs88xox @velyssaraptor @amanda08319 @marvelcasey05 @okayandwhat25 @pinkdazzle @blueeyedseb @mackevanstanfan80

[strwberri-milk]

a fic where MC gets a promotion and so she prepares a nice candle light or whatever romantic dinner to tell Zayne about her promotion. On the other side, a nurse from the Hospital already told Zayne about mc's promotion and now Zayne thinks mc doesn't find him important, he just starts having sad upset negetive thoughts and even gets angry at her...but when he gets home he finds the romantic dinner setup and MC waiting in a beautiful dress.....angst to fluffy maybe slightly suggestive too

Ty<3

just a heads up i dont really write fics unless i come up w the premise myself! so heres jsut the standard hc format i use! also kinda messy of that nurse ngl but why you going around talking to his coworkers like that [eyes] /lh also i dont acc see him getting angry so ive messed w this a little bit to fit how i see him!

Zayne doesn't react when the nurse gives him the news. He doesn't want to come off as angry or anything but he also is aware that you have a positive relationship with the people he works it from the sheer amount of times you come to visit him.

He does start checking his phone a little more frequently, waiting to see if you'll text him anything that gives him a hint about what that nurse was mentioning. He knows you were gunning for one at work but had no idea what was happening as you'd been silent about it as of late. He did want to ask about but was trying to wait for the perfect moment, not sure when that would be. He tries not to let the notion that you forgot to tell him something that important bother him too much and is...generally successful as long as he's busy with work.

The drive home has him trying to figure out how to broach the topic, so distracted he almost breezes right past you in the kitchen. You stare at him, confused by the focused look on his face until he meets your gaze, raising a brow at your attire and the dinner you have set up. You immediately tell him the great news, any sour emotions he might have felt dissipating.

In bed after celebrating, Zayne finally asks why you told his colleagues before telling him. It takes you a second to register what he's talking about. You finally put the pieces together, telling him that you didn't mean to - you were just waiting for him one evening and were so excited so when you recognised the nurse you couldn't help but spill the beans. You'd thought you'd sworn them to secrecy but clearly not, making a mental note to be more careful next time to avoid any future misunderstandings. Zayne's just happy to have cleared it up, knowing all along it wasn't intentional but glad to hear you say it anyway.

[rosemariiaa]

02 sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇs, ғɪʀsᴛ ᴄʀᴜsʜᴇs

𐙚—pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚—rosie’s note:i have nothing to say but enjoy this long and sad ass flashback and yeah..pls don’t humor me! live reacts are very much wanted and needed!! also wanted to say tysmmm for 700+ followers, i love evb soo much and ty for being here! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—links: rosie’s bookshelf, series masterlist , prologue

𐙚—themes: au (time travel), angst, fluff (if you squint), hurt/comfort, mentions of depression

𐙚—taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @makethemhoesmad @imaginespazzi @sierrale8ne @bueckersbitch @xxloveralways14 @kmoneymartini @lupinqs @pboogerswbb @pbaz7 @guesswhoitsn @patri-ots87 @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful @pazzilover101

enjoy!!!

Storrs, Connecticut 2021

It started a few weeks after Azzi and Paige made their “agreement”. That’s what Azzi called it in her head—a way to convince herself it was something mutual, something they both wanted. In reality, it was her idea. She was the one who said, “We can’t keep doing this,” and Paige had gone along with it, like she always did.

Azzi thought it would be better this way, safer. If they stayed just friends, they couldn’t hurt each other. But watching Paige move on, watching her live out this version of their lives that Azzi thought she wanted—God, it was killing her.

The first time Paige mentioned Leana, Azzi didn’t think much of it. Paige always had a way of making friends quickly, effortlessly. But then Leana started showing up, a lot. At the end of practice. At team dinners. At their apartment.

Paige introduced her to the team a few days after their conversation, her arm slung around Leana’s shoulders like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the same way she used to hold Azzi. And Leana? She was perfect. Nice. Pretty. Confident in a way that made Azzi’s stomach churn with jealousy? No, Azzi never really got jealous when Paige would be with other girls. Especially because they would only last a day or a few hours, but Leana would not stop showing up.

So, it was definitely not jealousy. Hatred.

Azzi hated her. She hated how she laughed at Paige’s jokes, how she touched Paige’s arm all the time like it was it was gonna grow legs and run away if she didn’t, how Paige seemed to shine a little brighter whenever Leana was around.

She hated how much she wanted Leana to be awful. Selfish. Mean. Anything that would give Paige a reason to leave her, to come back to Azzi. So Azzi could hold her and comfort her, the way she always used to. But that wasn’t going to happen. Leana wasn’t a bad person, and Paige didn’t need Azzi anymore.

Fuck. What did I do?

Azzi tried to convince herself she was fine. That she didn’t care. That this was what she wanted. Right?

But then, tonight, she saw them in the dining hall. Paige was leaning against the table, laughing at something Leana had said, her head tilted back, blonde waves brushing her back. She looked happy. Free.

And then Paige’s hand went to the small of Leana’s back.

Azzi froze.

Her breath caught in her chest, her heart pounding in her ears. That was her spot. Paige used to do that to her all the time—those small, familiar touches that felt like secrets only they shared. And now Paige was doing it to someone else.

She would never do that to Azzi again.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick. She thought her heart had already broken, but somehow, it found a new way to break.

Because even though Azzi was the one who asked for this—even though she was the one who insisted they be just friends—watching Paige with someone else made her realize just how wrong she’d been.

She turned away before they could see her, her fists clenched at her sides as she hurried out of the dining hall. Her vision blurred, hot tears slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them.

This was what she wanted.

This was what she’d asked for.

So why did it feel like this?

Azzi wiped at her face, angry at herself for crying. She couldn’t help but think about the agreement again, how it all started.

She could still see Paige’s expression that night, the way her brows furrowed, her lips pulling into a small frown as she listened to Azzi stumble through her words.

few weeks earlier..

Paige sat down beside her, resting her elbows on her knees. “We need to talk.”

Azzi’s shoulders tensed, but she closed her laptop and turned to face Paige. “About what?”

“About why you’ve been avoiding me,” Paige said bluntly.

Azzi’s lips parted, but she hesitated. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Az,” Paige said softly, giving her a pointed look.

Azzi sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I just… I needed space. To figure things out.”

“Figure what out?” Paige asked, her voice steady but laced with concern.

Azzi stared at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Paige, I can’t keep doing this. We said we’d be friends, and then I end up in your room, in your bed… It’s confusing.”

Paige leaned closer, her brows furrowed. “You just wanted to sleep and it’s not confusing to me. I know how I feel about you, Az.”

Azzi shook her head quickly, cutting her off. “That’s the problem. I don’t think I know how to stop letting this happen. And I don’t trust myself not to hurt you or get hurt again.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her voice dropping. “So, what? You’re scared, so you’re just gonna shut me out? We’ve been through too much for that.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” Azzi said, her voice rising slightly. “I’m trying to protect us. You and me. If we keep crossing these lines, it’s only gonna end the same way it did before.”

Paige exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re making this harder than it has to be. I get it, Az. I do. But I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I don’t want more.”

Azzi’s eyes softened, but she looked away. “And what happens when it gets messy again, Paige? What happens when we mess this up? I can’t lose you completely.”

Paige’s voice was quiet but firm. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

Azzi didn’t respond, her silence weighing heavy in the room.

Paige hesitated before speaking again. “So, what does this mean? Do I still get my goodnight kiss, or is that part of the deal over too?”

Azzi’s eyes shot to Paige, her cheeks flushing. “Paige…”

“What?” Paige said, trying to keep her tone light despite the tension. “I’m just asking.”

Azzi sighed, her lips curving into a reluctant smile. “Yes, you still get your goodnight kiss. But just… don’t make it a thing, okay?”

Paige grinned. “No promises.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered as she stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Hold up,” Paige said, standing too. She leaned down slightly, her voice soft. “Goodnight, Az.”

Azzi hesitated, then stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to both of Paige’s cheeks. “Goodnight, Paige.”

As she walked away, Paige watched her go, her heart heavy but hopeful. This wasn’t what she wanted, not entirely. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

present day

Azzi knew she was fucked the moment she made the decision. She knew she was fucked when Paige agreed. She knew she was fucked when she realized Paige could talk to, kiss, and hold any girl she wanted now.

Because they were just friends.

And Azzi was completely, utterly fucked.

—

The past weeks have been hell. It was like she was going through the stages of “grief” or whatever. That’s how Azzi thought of it, at least. How else could she explain the sinking pit in her chest every time Paige and Leana walked into a room together? Or the way her throat tightened when she saw Paige’s hand on Leana’s ass or her arm thrown over Leana’s shoulder, her smile too wide, her laugh too loud? Seems fake to me. She thought.

The team noticed it, of course. How could they not?

Azzi’s energy had shifted. She was way quieter, more withdrawn during practice. When Leana was around, her answers became clipped, her eyes glued to the floor like she couldn’t bear to look at anyone. It didn’t help that Leana fit in so well. The team adored her.

KK had asked her once, “Az, you good?” when they were running laps.

“I’m fine,” she’d lied, her voice sharp enough to end the conversation. But KK’s look lingered, filled with concern Azzi refused to acknowledge.

She wasn’t fine. Not even close.

First stage: Denial

Azzi told herself this was temporary. It had to be.

Paige didn’t really like Leana, not like that. It was just something new, something casual to pass the time. Paige didn’t do relationships, not seriously, and this one wouldn’t last either.

Azzi clung to that thought like a lifeline.

But then Paige started bringing Leana to team dinners. She started showing up with her at practice, standing too close, laughing too hard. And when Azzi saw them together, her chest tightened like someone was physically squeezing the air out of her lungs.

One night, she sat on the couch in Caroline’s apartment, her hands gripping a throw pillow as if she could crush the ache out of her chest.

“I keep telling myself it’s nothing,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “That she’ll get bored and come back. But what if she doesn’t, Carol? What if—” Her voice cracked, and the words wouldn’t come.

Caroline pulled her into a hug, her voice soft and steady. “I’m sorry, Az. I know this sucks. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Azzi didn’t reply. Because what was she supposed to say? That she didn’t know how to stop?

Second stage: Anger

The denial didn’t last. It couldn’t—not when Paige started bringing Leana to their apartment.

Azzi walked in one day after practice to find Leana sitting on the couch, Paige sprawled next to her, both of them laughing at something on Leana’s phone. Paige looked up, her face lighting up when she saw Azzi.

“Oh hey, Az. You hungry? We’re ordering sushi.”

We. Azzi hated the word.

She dropped her bag by the door, her jaw tight as she muttered, “I’m good,” before disappearing into her room.

That night, she slammed her bedroom door harder than necessary, her chest heaving with an anger she couldn’t contain.

Paige was supposed to be hers. She didn’t care how selfish it sounded—she didn’t want to share Paige with anyone else. Especially not Leana.

Third stage: Bargaining

Azzi started picking apart every moment she’d shared with Paige, searching for something she could’ve done differently.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so stubborn about staying “just friends.” Maybe if she’d let herself fall the way she wanted to—completely, unapologetically. Maybe Paige would’ve stayed.

She confided in Caroline again one night, her voice barely above a whisper as she lay curled up on the couch.

“What if I just tell her?” she asked, her hands twisting the hem of her hoodie. “What if I tell her I messed up, that I want her back?”

Caroline gave her a look that was equal parts sympathy and concern. “Az, you’re the one who pushed her away. Do you think telling her now is going to change anything? She’s with Leana.”

Azzi’s stomach sank at the words, but she couldn’t let go of the thought. What if Paige still loved her? What if there was a chance, no matter how small?

When Caroline finally left, Azzi retreated to her bedroom, unable to escape the weight of her emotions. Her eyes landed on the photo frame on her nightstand—the picture of her and Paige after their U16 gold medal win. Paige’s smile in the photo was the kind that made Azzi’s chest ache, bright and unguarded, as if she’d never known heartbreak.

It had become a nightly ritual, one that Azzi couldn’t bring herself to stop. She picked up the frame, her fingers trembling as she brushed over the glass. “I’m sorry, P,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

She pressed her lips to the corner of Paige’s smile in the photo, just like she used to do before bed. It was their tradition—their goodnight kiss. Only now, it was one-sided. A ghost of a memory that haunted her.

“Goodnight,” she murmured, her lips still resting against the glass. “Sweet dreams, P.”

Azzi set the frame back down and collapsed onto her bed, clutching the pillow to her chest. Maybe if I hadn’t been scared. Maybe if I just told her now…

Her mind raced with impossible scenarios, rewinding and replaying their history, searching for the moment she could fix, the word she could take back, the step she could retrace.

But in the end, she was left clutching nothing but a pillow and a memory, her tears soaking into the fabric.

Fourth stage: Depression

The hope didn’t last.

It was gone the night Azzi walked into the gym to find Paige and Leana standing by the bleachers. Paige’s hand was on Leana’s waist, positioning her towards the basket, Azzi felt her heart crack open all over again.

She barely made it through practice, her movements sluggish, her mind a blur. By the time she got home, she was shaking, tears streaming down her face as she stumbled into her bedroom.

Caroline found her an hour later, curled up on the floor, her chest heaving with silent sobs.

“I can’t do this,” Azzi whispered, her voice broken. “I can’t—she’s everywhere, Care. And I can’t—” She gasped for air, her words dissolving into another sob.

Caroline sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Az, you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here, okay? Whatever you need.”

Azzi nodded, but the ache in her chest didn’t fade.

She thought about their first kiss. On the dock, at the lake house of Azzi’s grandparents, the way Paige’s lips had been so soft, so sure.

Would Paige still think about it?

Would she remember the way they’d laughed afterward, giddy and breathless, as if the world had suddenly cracked open and spilled all its light into their lives?

Azzi closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Will I still cross your mind in a year, Paige? she wondered, her heart aching. Will you miss us, even for a second?

Because Azzi did. She missed Paige every day, every second of every day. She missed the way they fit together, like two halves of a whole, and the way Paige used to make her feel seen, like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

I miss you, she thought, her chest heaving with the weight of it. I miss us.

But Paige was with Leana now, and Azzi was just a ghost in her life—a shadow of what they used to be.

And no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Paige had already moved on.

Stage 5: Acceptance? No. The lack of Acceptance

No matter how hard she tried, Azzi couldn’t let go.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Paige used to look at her, like she was the only person in the room. She couldn’t stop replaying their last kiss in her mind—the warmth of Paige’s lips, the way she’d whispered, “Just friends,” like it was a promise they could keep.

But they couldn’t.

And Azzi couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t accept that Paige was gone, that she’d moved on, that the life they’d imagined together was slipping further out of reach with every passing day.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything that might ease the crushing weight on her chest. But all she could do was sit in her room, staring at the wall, as the realization settled in:

She wasn’t grieving Paige. She was grieving herself—the part of her that had believed in them, the part of her that had loved Paige so fiercely it burned.

And now, all she had left were the ashes.

—

Paige didn’t like Leana.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She liked her well enough to talk to her, to hang out with her when the apartment felt too quiet, too empty, too suffocating without Azzi. But when it came to everything else—when it came to the little things—Paige didn’t like her at all.

She didn’t like that Leana couldn’t cook. It wasn’t like Azzi was an all-star chef or anything—Azzi could barely cook either—but it was different. It was Azzi. At least Azzi could make scrambled eggs. And those nasty green smoothies she used to force Paige to drink after workouts? Yeah, Paige hated them, but she never really hated them because they were from Azzi.

Leana couldn’t even make toast without burning it.

Paige didn’t like how Leana was so touchy-feely all the time. It was suffocating. She hated how Leana’s hands always found her waist or her shoulders, how her arms would wrap around Paige’s neck, clinging like a vine. Paige was supposed to be the clingy one. She was the one who used to jump into Azzi’s arms after practice, planting kisses all over her face or pulling her into hugs just because she felt like it.

And Azzi? She didn’t need to be all over Paige all the time. Sometimes, Azzi would just sit next to her, quiet and comfortable, letting Paige know she was there without saying a word. Paige loved that. She loved being in Azzi’s presence. It was Azzi, after all. Who wouldn’t want to just exist beside her?

But with Leana? God, sometimes Paige wanted to yell, “Can you just get the fuck away from me already?”

Leana’s hair? Always slick, stick-straight, and perfect. Paige hated it. She missed Azzi’s hair—how she’d wear it in curls or braids, switching it up depending on her mood. Paige loved running her hands through Azzi’s curls, loved how soft they felt and how they smelled like flowers.

Leana always smelled like strawberries. Safe to say Paige never had an appetite for them anymore.

She didn’t like the way Leana chewed her food, loud and careless, or the way she slurped her drinks like she grew up with no one teaching her manners. Azzi chewed her food so pretty—if chewing could even be called pretty—with that bright, wide smile she always had when Paige surprised her with ice cream sundaes every Friday night.

Leana always wanted to eat out, and not even at good places. She was obsessed with Jimmy John’s. Paige was too, but only when she went with Azzi every other week after games. Paige couldn’t stand it. She missed how Azzi would insist they eat at home, complaining about how Paige didn’t eat healthy enough.

And God, Paige hated the way Leana fucked. She hated the way her tongue moved on her breasts, her stomach, and just her body. The way her small, slender fingers never hit the right spot, the way her kisses felt too wet, too desperate, too wrong. Leana always tasted like candy, but Paige didn���t even like that anymore. She liked when Azzi tasted like candy.

Because it was Azzi.

Leana was all wrong—her touch, her smell, her laugh, her everything. Paige didn’t like anything about her, not really. And the more she tried to forget Azzi with Leana, the more it became painfully clear.

She didn’t want Leana. She never did.

She wanted Azzi.

But Azzi didn’t want her, not like that. Not anymore. And Paige couldn’t admit it out loud, but she knew the truth.

She was in a tangled mess she doesn’t think she can cut herself out of.

The worst part was Paige only really showed Leana affection when other people were around—when the team was watching, or worse, when Paige knew Azzi was somewhere nearby. It was all for show. A charade. She wanted to convince everyone, herself included, that she was fine. That she didn’t think about Azzi day and night. That she didn’t spend every waking moment wishing things were different.

She faked a laugh at Leana’s terrible jokes, forcing herself to look interested, to act like she wasn’t distracted by the mere thought of Azzi. But she was. She always was.

Every time Leana touched her, Paige’s mind wandered to Azzi’s touch instead. Every time Leana spoke, Paige thought about Azzi’s voice, the way it softened whenever she called Paige’s name. Every time Leana kissed her, Paige found herself comparing it to Azzi’s kisses—how they tasted sweeter, felt deeper, left her breathless in ways Leana never could.

It didn’t matter how much Paige pretended. She wasn’t fooling anyone. Certainly not Azzi. Certainly not herself.

She was a fucked fool.

Present day (au)

The night was colder than Paige expected. The sharp winter air bit at her cheeks as she adjusted the duffel bag slung over her shoulder, glancing over at Azzi walking beside her. Her girlfriend’s hands were stuffed deep into her coat pockets, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

“You really aren’t gonna tell me where we’re going?” Azzi asked, her voice soft but laced with amusement.

Paige smirked, shaking her head. “Nope. You gotta trust me, princess.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, though the nickname softened her expression. “Last time you said that, we ended up at that hole-in-the-wall pizza spot where you made me eat that ‘experimental’ pineapple jalapeño pizza.”

Paige held her hand to her chest, feigning offense. “Okay, first of all, that pizza was fire, and you know it.”

Azzi gave her a side-eye, her lips twitching upward despite herself. “It made me throw up on your shoes but okay! Just hurry it’s cold.”

Paige rolled her eyes and grinned, nodding toward the gym as it came into view. Its towering doors stood shut, the building silent under the faint glow of campus lights.

Azzi frowned, glancing between Paige and the gym. “Uh, you do know the gym is closed, right?”

Paige pulled a key from her pocket, holding it up with a mischievous grin. “Not for me, it’s not. Perks of being a super senior and coach’s favorite.”

Azzi followed her inside, the smell of the gym familiar but the sight in front of her unexpected. The center court lights glowed softly, illuminating a small setup Paige had prepared: a picnic blanket, a thermos of hot cocoa, a container of chocolate-covered strawberries, and a jar of Nutella sitting neatly on top.

Azzi’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wait—is that Nutella and strawberries? Wow Paige, you really thought this through.”

Paige shrugged, trying to play it cool but clearly pleased with herself. “You’re the one who put me onto it. Said they’re ‘life-changing’ or whatever. Figured I’d return the favor.”

Azzi laughed, kneeling down on the blanket and picking up the jar of Nutella. “I didn’t just say they’re life-changing. I said they’re essential. There’s a difference.”

Paige chuckled, setting her duffel bag near the bleachers before grabbing a basketball. “Yeah, yeah. Now let’s see if you still got that jumper.”

For the next hour, they played like they were kids again—shooting around, teasing each other, laughing until their stomachs hurt. Paige couldn’t help but steal glances at Azzi, marveling at how at ease she looked, her usual focus replaced with unfiltered joy.

When they finally settled back on the blanket, Azzi leaned into Paige’s side, her head resting on her shoulder. She dipped a strawberry into the Nutella and popped it into her mouth, sighing contentedly.

“This is perfect,” Azzi said softly.

Paige smiled, her fingers tracing small circles on Azzi’s thigh. “Yeah. I figured we could use something like this. It’s been…a lot lately.”

Azzi tilted her head to look up at Paige, her brow creasing slightly. “What do you mean? You’ve been killing it this year, P.”

Paige hesitated, her fingers stilling. “Yeah, but…it’s weird, you know? Knowing this is my last year here. I’m really gonna miss this place.”

Azzi’s smile faltered, and she sat up a little straighter. “You don’t have to think about that yet, though.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking. “What about you? You’ve been quiet about what you’re gonna do. Are you staying another year or declaring?”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard. “I—” She stopped, her gaze dropping to the blanket. “I haven’t decided yet.”“I don’t know. It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to rush it. But…sometimes I think staying wouldn’t be so bad.”

Paige reached out, gently turning Azzi’s face toward her. “Hey,” she said softly. “We’ll figure it out, no matter what. You staying or going doesn’t change us, Az.”

Azzi’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes shining with uncertainty. “It’s just…a lot to think about.”

Paige’s expression softened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to Azzi’s temple. “I get it. Take your time. You don’t have to decide tonight.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the gym’s stillness wrapping around them like a blanket. Finally, Paige broke the quiet, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

“So,” she said, glancing down at Azzi. “Am I still get my goodnight kiss tonight, or what?”

Azzi laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous, you ask this everytime” she teased, but her cheeks flushed pink.

Paige tilted her head, her grin widening. “That’s not a no.”

Azzi sighed dramatically, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to Paige’s lips. When she pulled back, Paige was grinning like she’d won a championship.

“See?” Paige said, leaning back against the blanket. “This is why I’m gonna miss UConn. Nobody does goodnight kisses like you.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “You’re lucky you’re cute, because you’re so corny.”

Paige chuckled, pulling Azzi closer. For the first time in a while, she let herself just be present—with Azzi, with this moment, with this version of her senior year.

—

The gym was almost empty now, the faint echo of their laughter still hanging in the air. Paige knelt beside her duffel bag, tossing in her shoes and a few loose pieces of tape she’d peeled off her wrists. Azzi was a few feet away, waiting patiently for paige to finish.

The night had been everything Paige hoped for—light, easy, and full of the kind of love that made her forget, even for a moment, about everything weighing her down.

Azzi turned to Paige, her brown eyes sparkling even under the harsh fluorescent lights. “You okay?” she asked, tilting her head.

Paige zipped up her bag and stood, throwing it over her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said with a small smile.

Azzi didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she nodded toward the doors. “Come on, let’s get home, KK is blowing up my phone.”

They walked side by side, their footsteps echoing off the walls as they made their way to the exit. Paige glanced over at Azzi, watching the way her ponytail swayed with each step, the way she hummed softly under her breath. She was so beautiful, so effortlessly radiant, and Paige felt her chest tighten at the thought of everything she was keeping from her.

As they stepped outside, the cold air hit them immediately, their breath visible in the chilly night. Paige unlocked the car with a press of a button, and Azzi walked ahead, tossing her bag into the backseat before climbing in. Paige lingered for a moment, staring up at the stars as if they might hold the answers she was looking for.

“Paige?” Azzi called softly from inside the car.

Paige snapped out of her thoughts and climbed in, shutting the door behind her. The heater kicked on as she started the engine, and for a moment, they just sat there, the quiet hum of the car filling the space between them.

Paige had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on her thigh. Azzi sat in the passenger seat, her head turned slightly toward Paige as if she was studying her. The hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio filled the space between them, but Paige’s thoughts were so loud they might as well have been screaming.

She’d done her best to stay in the moment tonight—to soak in Azzi’s laugh, her smile, the way her nose scrunched whenever Paige teased her. But as they neared campus, the weight in Paige’s chest grew heavier.

It wasn’t just about what she’d gotten a second chance at; it was what she’d lost the first time around.

Azzi broke the silence first. “Hey, you wanna just crash in my room tonight?” Her voice was soft, almost hypnotizing.

Paige glanced at her briefly before returning her eyes to the road. “Yeah,” she said, her voice just as quiet. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Azzi smiled, reaching out to give Paige’s arm a squeeze before settling back into her seat.

For the rest of the drive, Paige’s thoughts spiraled.

What if she could fix things?

The question had been haunting her since the moment she woke up in this second chance of a life. She could do so much—change so much—but every action had consequences. Good ones, bad ones. Ones she couldn’t even begin to predict.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

And then there was the truth. The one thing she knew she could never fix, never change. The one thing that had already shattered Azzi once before.

Paige swallowed hard, her jaw clenching. She couldn’t think about that now. Not tonight. She needed to focus on the present—on Azzi, on the way her voice softened whenever she said Paige’s name, on the way her fingers always found Paige’s whenever they were walking side by side. Just focus on Azzi, just focus on pretending.

But was she really pretending? No. No, she wasn’t.

Paige knew she loved Azzi. Everyone did. She loved her so much it felt like it was tearing her apart from the inside out. She loved her enough to want to protect her, even if it meant keeping this secret. She loved her enough to die for her.

But loving her didn’t make what she was doing any less wrong.

By the time they reached Azzi’s dorm, Paige felt like she could barely breathe. Azzi didn’t seem to notice; she was already climbing out of the car, waiting for Paige to grab her things before leading the way inside.

When they reached Azzi’s room, Paige hesitated in the doorway, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Azzi turned to her, frowning slightly.

“You good?” she asked.

Paige forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

Azzi’s frown deepened, but she didn’t press. Instead, she grabbed Paige’s hand and pulled her inside.

They moved through their usual routine with ease—Azzi handing Paige a pair of sweats, Paige tossing her hoodie onto the back of a chair, both of them brushing their teeth side by side in the small bathroom. But as they finally settled into Azzi’s bed, the silence between them felt heavier than before.

Paige lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling while Azzi curled up beside her, her head resting on Paige’s shoulder.

“You’ve been quiet,” Azzi murmured, her voice barely audible in the darkness.

Paige exhaled slowly, her fingers brushing through Azzi’s hair. “Just…thinking.”

“About what?”

Paige hesitated. She could feel the words bubbling up in her throat, threatening to spill out. But she couldn’t say them. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Everything,” she said instead.

Azzi shifted, propping herself up on one elbow to look at Paige. “Hey,” she said softly, her fingers brushing against Paige’s cheek. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

Paige closed her eyes, the weight in her chest almost unbearable. “I know,” she whispered.

Azzi’s thumb traced slow circles on Paige’s cheek. “You’re scaring me, P. What’s going on?”

Paige opened her eyes, her gaze locking with Azzi’s. And for a moment, she thought about telling her—about laying it all out there, no matter the consequences. But the thought of the look on Azzi’s face, the hurt in her eyes, stopped her cold.

“I’m just…I’m scared too,” Paige admitted, her voice trembling.

Azzi frowned, leaning closer. “Scared of what?”

Paige swallowed hard, her fingers tightening in Azzi’s hair. “Of losing this. Of messing it all up again.”

Azzi’s expression softened, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Paige’s forehead. “You’re not gonna lose me, Paige. Not now, not ever.”

Paige closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered. Oh, hope, hope was a beautiful thing.

Azzi pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around Paige as if she could hold her together. Paige buried her face in Azzi’s neck, her heart pounding in her chest.

She wanted to believe her. God, she wanted to believe her.

But deep down, she knew that as long as she kept this secret, the clock was ticking.

And she was terrified of what would happen when it finally ran out.

——

𐙚— rosie’s note: so how do we feel? do we love rosie ?? 😊

[lavenderprose]

Also, on a hornier note, please tell me more about the Mary Shelly thing? 😉

Assuming you're asking about the Emmrook version of events floating around my head and not the actual story about Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave (This is a story I heard a long time ago and might be an urban legend/exaggeration of history. God I hope it's not it's the gothest thing I've ever heard. Either way, cannot be assed to check) Here's how it goes:

After a few nice garden picnics with Emmrich, during which Rook always takes a moment to pay her respects to Emmrich's parents--because she's a Mourn Watcher through and through, and when your in-laws aren't alive to have Family Sundays with, you make due by putting flowers on their grave and politely NOT bonking their son within eyesight of their headstones--the subject of Rook's origin story comes up. Maybe organically, maybe Emmrich's curious about her last name but he's been too polite up til now. Maybe the curiosity has been burning a visible fucking hole in his chest and Rook finally sighs and braces herself and says, "Go ahead and ask," and Emmrich, despite himself, launches into Twenty Questions Mode.

Either way.

"I know almost nothing about myself," is what Rook tells him, and she's made her peace with it long ago, but the sight of his sad eyes makes the old, stale heartache attempt to rise in her again. "No, don't do that. Don't pity me. I don't really care who I started life out as. What matters is who I am now."

"Rook," he says, and it's a statement. He's so intuitive that way. Yes, she's Rook, and that's who she chooses to be every day when she wakes up in the morning. If she tires of it, she'll tell him and they'll go from there. They've probably had this conversation before. Then he says, "I'm curious, dearest--"

"I'm shocked," she teases, and he tuts.

"Curious about the name," Emmrich sighs, and shifts into something she likes to call lecture mode, though it looks a bit ridiculous when he's sitting there on his own boot heels, hands folded in his lap like an eager and precocious boy. "The name Ingellvar is classic Navarran, of noble origin, though the family line has been extinct for over a century. Foundlings aren't uncommon in the Necropolis, and the naming conventions are rather specific. I was wondering--"

"Do you want to see it?" she asks, and leans herself onto his lap. He, as always, simpers to find himself full of her. "I know where it is. Been there a few times over the years. I'll show you the grave where they found me."

"I would quite like that," says Emmrich, so she takes him there.

The upper levels of the Necropolis are sometimes oppulent and sometimes just as dusty and ominous as their lower counterparts. They tend not to shift around as much, but there's no guarantee that anything in the Necropolis will stay in one place forever. Rook keeps track of this particular row of Sarcophagi, for obvious reasons. Several of the most important Nevarrans of the Blessed Age are interred here. Accordingly, it is beautiful and well-lit. The stones under their feet are neatly cobbled and the air is floral.

"They found me there," Rook says, pointing to a particular grave. A low, flat sarcophagus. The epitaph, huge and vaguely glowing even all these years after the initial enchantment:

HERE IS LAID TO REST WILHEM INGELLVAR COUNT OF RUNDEL. GREAT-GRANDSON OF KING BERTRAND PENTAGHAST. HUSBAND AND FATHER. HIS BONES WILL SERVE AS HE DID IN LIFE AS HIS SPIRIT WALKS BY THE MAKER'S SIDE.

It continues in that vein all down the sarcophagus, Nevarran patriotism and Andraste. Rook could recite it all from memory.

"Why this grave, I wonder," Emmrich mumbles.

"No idea," Rook says, which is true, and then, "Haven't really thought about it," which is the biggest, fattest lie she's ever told him.

Emmrich knows it too, because he looks at her and raises his eyebrow.

"Anyway." She slides herself onto the surface of the sarcophagus, which is polished to an almost reflective sheen. "Here's where they found me. Screaming, crying, wah-wah-feed-me." She falls onto her back, legs curled up towards her chest in a mockery of an infant. She wiggles her feet and her eyebrows in his direction. "I was smaller then."

"Evidently," Emmrich says, dryly, and sits down on the end of the sarcophagus. He glances around and, almost to himself, muses, "This chamber is quite busy, comparatively. It's popular for tourists, and close enough to the surface to be part of the Mortalitasi's regular rounds. Whomever put you here must have intended for you to be found."

"Whatever," Rook sighs, and drapes her legs over his lap. "I screamed and screamed until they found me. And the rest is history." She toes off one of her boots. "I have a fun story to tell you."

Emmrich visibly chooses not to address the flippancy with which she thinks of her own origin. Someday, maybe in a few years, she'll wake up in the middle of the night. She'll stumble like one of the dead into another bedroom in their top-level Necropolis townhouse and cling their newborn son to her body. When Emmrich finds her after waking to a cold bed, she'll look at him and with a voice like her own throat is haunted say, "Did she hate me enough to get rid of me? Or love me enough to let me go?" And he'll know she's talking about her own mother. And they'll start looking.

Here, on this day, she isn't yet a mother unless you count fire-slinging skeleton sons. Here, on this day, she plants her socked heel against Emmrich's crotch and curls her toes and says, "Once upon a time, there was a woman, and she was in love with a very beautiful and spooky man, and one time that very beautiful and spooky man fucked her in a sarcophagus and now she can't look at one without--"

"Darling," Emmrich gasps, and wraps his hand around her ankle and very decidedly does not move it. He'd put bangles there, and a chain that disappears into her sock and connects one of the bangles to a thin band that lives underneath the knuckle of her largest toe, and when he did so he looked at her with dark eyes and then did something with his mouth that she still thinks about at least once a day. "This isn't...very respectful of the noble dead."

God, she loves him.

"You've fucked me worse places. Besides, this guy," Rook slaps the surface of the sarcophagus, "was a huge monarchist asshole who's probably been spinning in his grave for the past thirty years because of the little elf girl running around with his last name tacked onto her. Maybe one of these days he'll stop spinning because I'll have a different last name." She's only a little amused that that's what makes Emmrich's cock jump against the sole of her foot.

"Dearest," he says, still consciously sitting still for what her foot is doing, "This really is a very highly trafficked area."

"Good," she says, low and slow.

"Oh," he sighs, and he sounds almost annoyed, like ink has dripped onto his favorite shirt, but he's moving to kneel between her thighs now, pressing her back into the relative concealment of the large flower bushes flanking the sarcophagus. A bit of privacy, such as it is.

"Whatever shall I do with you?" Emmrich asks, even as he shoves clothing aside. He takes off his coat and pillows her head with it, then pulls his shirttails out as some weird attempt at modesty, and she laughs until she feels him inside her.

"You'll figure something out," she tells him.

Emmrich Volkarin, the latest in a long line of esteemed Mortalitasi to be presented with a strange foundling discovered on a long-deceased noble's grave, smiles and makes love to her.

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Coalescence part 2/3

Part One

Summary:

She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter. The question rises once again, unbidden. What are we? AKA: She works with Viktor for seven years, she is in love with him for five of them.

Contains: she/her pronouns, supremely slow burn, sharing a bed, canon typical illness stuff.

Word Count: 12,181

Read on AO3

The next year feels a lot slower than the last few had, without the relentless push from the council to get the Hexgates finished, work stagnates as the three of them try to figure out what to make next. A few months in she gets sick of sitting on the other side of the room and goes through the arduous process of rearranging the furniture. She has to move Jayce’s desk first and then the blackboard and then she finally has enough room to squeeze herself in, the fact that the only available spot is next to Viktor’s desk is only serendipitous, at least that’s what she tells herself. Jayce seems pretty excited about the change when he comes in, that maybe the rearrangement might be enough to finally get all their synapses firing. 

Viktor, by comparison, sits quietly next to her and doesn't even acknowledge the change for the first few hours, just scoffs when she asks to borrow his ink for her pen, “If you’ve only moved your desk next to mine for access to my stationary then I’ll be very upset.” despite his words, he slides it over to her desk, “You’re lucky I’m so accommodating.” 

She wants to say something about how his stationary is the last thing on her mind, but instead, she just laughs and replies, “Very lucky, thank you.”

A few weeks after her impromptu rearrangement, she comes into the lab to find a new desk sitting where hers once was and more surprisingly, a person sitting at the desk. Shocked, she lurks in the doorway while trying to figure out what to say, only for the visitor to notice her and immediately jump up from her chair and rush over to greet her. 

“Hi! I’m Sky! It’s so great to meet you!” She says, grabbing one of her hands between two of her own, “I’m the new lab assistant! Viktor hired me!” She blinks for a moment, trying to find a way to reply that doesn't make her seem utterly repellant, “I thought I was the lab assistant…” is what came out, and it wasn't the energy she had been aiming for. 

Sky laughs, “You’re funny. It’s nice to know you three have a sense of humour.” she finally releases her hand before readjusting her glasses, “If you ever need anything, I’ll either be here or in the botany lab down the hall. I’m going to study as much as I can while I have the chance, but I’ll always be nearby.”

When Viktor eventually arrives and sits at his desk, she scoots her chair a little closer to his and whispers, “Why’d you hire another assistant?” “Sky’s an old friend and we’re going to need the help-” he pauses a moment and then spins his chair to face her, “Why did you say another assistant?” “Because I’m your assistant.” Viktor lets out a disbelieving laugh, “ You haven’t been our assistant in a very long time.”

Her heart thrums nervously in her chest, and all she can let out is a weak little, “...huh?”

“You’re a partner.” Viktor clarifies as he rests his hand on her forearm, “A friend .” a beat, his thumb lightly rubbing against her bare skin, “and you always made terrible coffee, it was time to let you off the hook”

She laughs and playfully slaps his hand away.

It’s only a month after that when Jayce has the idea that changes the trajectory of their research for the foreseeable future. They had all been sitting at their desks, doing barely any work. It was still just under a year before the next progress day and without an active request from the council, there wasn’t all that much pressure for them to create something. She had been entertaining herself with a paper ball that she was tossing up into the air, Jayce was flicking paperclips into an empty crate on the other side of the room, and even Viktor had been absently spinning around in his chair for the past hour, which was definitely out of the ordinary for him. 

“Maybe we need a change of scenery?” Jayce suggests, hanging his head low when he finishes his last box of paperclips. 

She scoffs, tossing the paper ball in the air once again, “It’s not like we can take the research outside with us.”

“Even if we could, it would be far too dangerous to take any of the crystals out of the lab.” Viktor supplies, completing another rotation on his chair, “They are too volatile.”

Jayce sighs, “I didn’t literally mean moving the lab equipment outside, guys. I just thought we could take a walk and-” 

When the paper ball finishes its most recent arc into the air, she doesn’t bother catching it again, instead pointing a finger in Jayce’s direction, “That’s your idea face! You have an idea!”

Viktor freezes mid-spin, quickly rotating himself to face Jayce whose eyebrows are drawn tight. After another moment just sitting there and staring straight forward, Jayce leaps up from his chair and starts frantically pacing back and forth. 

“Oh yes!” Viktor says enthusiastically, turning to look at her over his shoulder, “He definitely has an idea.”

Jayce laughs breathlessly and then stalls in the middle of the room, erupting into a passionate and wildly gesticulated speech about finally being able to bring Hextech to the people instead of just serving the whims of the council, about working on smaller devices that could be mass-produced and (importantly) would have a far shorter development time than something as large scale as the Hexgates. As he spoke, she couldn’t resist shifting her gaze to Viktor, leaning forward on her desk to get a better angle on his face and nearly melting at the impassioned warmth in his eyes, the delectably sweet tug of his lips. 

“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” Viktor begins, trying not to seem as exhilarated as he clearly is, “We need to figure out a way to stabilise the crystals, then we can focus on utility.” “God, I’ve missed this,” She says with a warm smile dancing around her mouth, “When can we start?”

***

It’s full steam ahead in the lab for the next few months, literally, to some degree. Before fully joining the Hextech team she had spent a brief portion of time studying glass-blowing and shaping and while she was only half joking when she suggested that they should try tempering the crystals, it ended up being the first step to the final solution. While a collision with physical objects causes a volatile reaction in the crystals, standing about twenty feet back in the Talis family forge, they learned that heat did not cause the same problem. Tempering Hextech crystals turned out to be a much more exhaustive process than tempering glass though, and every step of the way they were worried about causing some sort of disaster in the forge. 

Sky became an invaluable resource and her contagious energy meant that she also very quickly became a friend. While she wasn’t able to commit her full time to the lab because she had her own studies to worry about, she was always around to help copy down notes when everyone else had full hands or to provide encouragement whenever it started to feel like the next hurdle was impossible. Viktor was also right, Sky made a much better coffee than she ever could. 

“Damn.” She mutters, sipping gingerly on the very hot coffee, “How do you stop it from tasting so watery?” Sky laughed, expertly working the coffee machine in the small tearoom in the sciences wing of the academy, “I worked at a coffee shop in the undercity for a few years, all muscle memory.” she explained, popping a lid on Jayce’s coffee and then scooping one spoonful of sugar into the final vacant cup. 

“Viktor takes two sugars.” She says quickly, probably too quickly. 

Sky gives her an odd look, and then chuckles, “I was about to add another one, but thanks for the help.” She suddenly finds her own reflection in the cup of coffee very interesting.

While the work on finding a way to stabilise the crystals took almost all of their time, it was impossible to stop herself from peering in Viktor’s direction whenever she had a spare moment. He had lied about the leg brace just being for the gala, he didn't wear it every day and on the days that he did he claimed to have plans to take a walk out in the city when they wrapped up in the lab, but she usually caught him walking straight back to his dorm as always. She and Jayce would often share a worried look on days that he showed up wearing it but both could sense he didn't want any attention being drawn to it. There were other changes too, smaller ones, that might have gone unnoticed by anyone from outside the lab. His breath quickened and the hours he used to spend working out calculations and formulas on the blackboard were now spent at his desk instead, his angles sharpened and his face slowly began to lose its softness. 

“Just tired.” He responds, whenever she asks how he is feeling. 

Her eyebrows pinch, an insidious fear taking up residence behind her ribs, “You're tired a lot.” 

He sighs, and she is standing close enough that he can rest his head on the swell of her hip, “I am”

She wraps her arm around his shoulders to hold him against her, aching with the weight of a familiar question.

While he moves slower, he doesn't stop moving. When she and Jayce try to untangle just how to temper the crystals, Viktor sits on a chair nearby taking furious notes and offering suggestions. He sits at his desk with Sky as the two of them start sketching potential designs for smaller-scale Hextech projects. Viktor is, of course, there on the day that they manage to create their first successful gemstone. The crystals temper a lot stronger than glass does and were (so far as they could tell) completely resistant to shattering. The final test happens back in the forge where this process all began, with her and Viktor waiting impatiently on the other side of a wrought iron metal door with only a small glass window to watch through as Jayce bravely performs the final test of the gemstone’s durability. 

Jayce waves at them both, though they can barely see his face under the full set of protective armour he is wearing just in case they were off with their calculations. Despite all the preliminary testing and Viktor’s absolute belief in the gemstone’s structural integrity, she still nervously chews on her thumbnail as she watches Jayce set it down on the anvil. Though she doesn’t express her nervousness, Viktor still notices, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Jayce will be fine.” He says confidently, “We’re ready.” She lets out a shaky sigh, the orange firelight from inside the forge washes gently across Viktor’s face at sets his eyes ablaze. His posture is more lopsided than it used to be, his left shoulder kicked up where he is putting almost all of his standing weight on his cane. Her feelings are discombobulating, a dizzying mixture of fear and denial with an overlarge dash of something aching and desperate that she is still too afraid to give a name despite so many years of feeling it.

“Knowing you think so makes me feel a lot better.” She replies, turning her gaze back to the tiny window, “I envy your optimism.” 

“I wouldn’t call it optimism .” He says, wrapping an arm around her shaking shoulders and resting his cheek on the top of her head, “Determination, maybe?” 

She softens against him, his touch is familiar by now and while it no longer sends her awash with nerves to feel it, a warmth still settles in her stomach that she is unable to do away with. Her arm slides around his waist and clutches him tight, breath high in her chest as she watches Jayce take a few cautious steps towards the gemstone, clutching an oversised smithing hammer in his hands. Just as he raises it in the air, she’s so panicked that she can’t bear to watch and spins to bury her face in Viktor’s chest. She swears she hears his breath catch, and while he stumbles a little to adjust for the new weight, it only takes him a moment to regain his footing. From behind her closed eyes, she hears the echoing boom of the hammer making impact and then a ringing silence where an explosion would have been, if there was going to be one. 

Viktor lets out a breathless, overjoyed laugh, his hand rubbing enthusiastic circles between her shoulder blades, “We’re going to be able to do some real good now.” He says, “I can feel it.”

The leadup to the next progress day is a stressful one, a great deal of their time was spent tempering enough gemstones for testing purposes and the process was hard enough to replicate that they didn't feel comfortable letting anyone other than her or Jayce near the forge. Even Viktor found it a bit intimidating in there and preferred to sit back while the two of them worked. So while she was spending months and months writing detailed instructions for the tempering methods in preparation for the day that smallscale Hextech devices went public, for now, it was still safer to handle that part themselves. Once they finally have enough gemstones for the prototyping stage, they leave the forge behind for the far more familiar walls of the lab. She continues working to transcribe all the notes they have on the process of refining Hextech gemstones, while Viktor, Jayce and occasionally Sky toss ideas back and forth. 

It takes a lot of late nights glowering at the blackboard and throwing out hundreds of ideas before Viktor finally has the idea to find a way to improve working conditions for miners in the fissures. She can tell that it’s a personal mission for him, the way he talks about what conditions were like when he was still living in the Undercity and she, Jayce and Sky all agree with the idea wholeheartedly. They have far less time before progress day than they would like, but after narrowing the scope of Viktor’s idea to a maximum of two projects for now, it feels doable. Viktor has a bit of his pep back, which also helps to soothe her worries. While he isn't moving around as much as she remembers, his enthusiasm surrounding their new project can be heard in every word, seen in every exaggerated gesticulation. 

One day she is completely lost watching him with wrapt attention as he and Jayce discuss what kind of metal would best be suited for the final version of the devices. Utterly absorbed in each and every minute movement of his lovely hands, in the bright vibrancy of his eyes. 

“He was like this as a kid too,” Sky says, snapping her out of her stupor. 

“What, sorry?”

Sky laughs and inclines her head in his direction, “Viktor. We grew up in the same neighbourhood if you could call it that. He was always tinkering with something instead of playing with the other kids.” She shrugs a shoulder, “He always inspired me, still does, maybe even more so.” 

“Yeah.” She replies wistfully, watching as Viktor excitedly gestures to an equation on the blackboard, causing Jayce to pick up the chalk and start making edits, “He’s certainly inspiring.”

***

With only two months left before progress day, the prototypes still aren’t in any sort of state to show the public even though they are almost complete. Especially since the gauntlet keeps insisting that it wants to remain clenched in a fist no matter how hard they try to convince it otherwise. It’s that terrible part of development, where all the brainstorming and assembly is completed and all that’s left is struggling to figure out the last remaining kinks. Despite not being able to make much progress, the four of them are in the lab from sunrise to sunset almost every day. Sky often wears the gauntlet for hours straight as they all take turns trying to diagnose the issue and Jayce almost loses a finger to the Hexclaw when he gets a little impatient in getting it out of the way and forgets to disengage the gemstone. 

She’s tired. They all are. Sky at some point admits that she can’t keep up these hours when she has her own studies to work on and returns to only dropping by when they need help, but the main Hextech team persists, pulling allnighters and sometimes even falling asleep on the floor of the lab in a big pile. At the very least they endure the stress together. With the initial excitement of development over and the growing sleep deprivation, Viktor starts looking worse again. His already pale skin turns papery ashen and the bags under his eyes are purple like a permanent bruise. One day he shows up with a crutch instead of his cane. He doesn’t even try to create an excuse for it, just sits at his desk and starts working before either she or Jayce can ask questions. That’s when they quickly make the decision to insist that all three of them stop spending so much time in the lab, enforcing a cut-off time where, regardless of progress made, the three of them would all head back to their dorms for the evening. While he seems a little irritated by the idea at first, Viktor does agree. None of them are getting any good work done and a proper sleep schedule might be just the thing to change that.

It’s not a perfect system though. Some nights she sneaks work home with her and knows that Viktor is doing the same, but at the very least he’s more likely to fall asleep in his bed that way. Other nights she is still so anxious about their upcoming deadline that she can’t force herself to sleep, even as the time ticks through until the AM. 

One such night, she dashes her way back to the lab well past 2:00 am. She had been planning to tire herself out by reading the book she had rented from the academy library, but she had left it on her desk in her rush to get home that evening. It’s cold when the sun goes down, so she wraps her arms around herself to avoid the chill as she finally draws closer to the lab. The academy can be a little spooky at night, especially alone. It looks a lot different without the usual warm lighting, and the sound of her feet echoes off the tiles and the whole way down the hall. When the door comes into view, she doubles her pace in the hopes of being back in her bed as soon as possible. 

She wipes her eyes and lets out a yawn as she unlocks the door, only to freeze at the entrance of the lab when the cool blue light of a Hextech gemstone still shines brightly from Viktor’s desk. It’s concerning, because they're usually very careful to lock them away when no one is inside. That's when she notices Viktor slumped on the desk, head resting atop his folded arms, he's still, he's so still that it makes an ice-cold panic start rushing through her veins. She calls his name out, walking towards him, and then again when he doesn't answer, hurrying her pace to reach him as soon as she can, her breath coming hard and fast and desperate as she reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder. 

At her touch, he startles immediately, inhaling a shocked and wheezy breath. 

“Thank god.” She exhales, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in the join between his neck and shoulder. He's still only half awake, one of his large hands coming to rest on her forearm.

“I fell asleep.” He whispers 

“Yeah.” She replies quietly, trying to calm the adrenaline still racing through her, “You did.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He clarifies slowly, trying to take stock of where he is, “And I came back here thinking that maybe I could solve our problems with the gauntlets before tomorrow morning.” He lets out a breathless laugh and runs a shaky hand through his hair, “My exhaustion must have caught up with me, I apologise.” She doesn’t move, her arms still clutch tightly around him when she lets out a shaky little breath against the skin of his neck. He was just tired, overworked just like her and Jayce. It’s not the first time he’s fallen asleep at his desk, not the first time any of them have. Her heart slowly calms at the feeling of him between her arms, the slow brush of his hand against her bare forearm. She almost wants to laugh, what had she even been thinking? That he had- 

No . There’s no point in even thinking it. He’s fine, she was worrying for nothing. 

“C’mon.” She says, unwrapping her arms from around his shoulders and smiling down at him, “You need to get to bed” He smiles weakly, and she watches with pain in her chest as he puts all of his weight on his crutch to pull himself up from the chair, “Don’t you need to get to bed too?” he asks, giving her just a glimpse of that mischievous smile she loves so much.

“I'll walk you back first.” She replies, heart in her throat, “Your room is closer anyway.”

Viktor looks at her curiously for a moment, and then replies, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

It isn't, they both know it, but the lie is comfortable and the fact that Viktor is willing to go along with it sends a dizzying rush down to her fingertips. They walk in comfortable silence, it reminds her of their first walk together on the way to the music wing, though a lot slower. His crutch makes more of a thunk than the click that his cane used to, but the sound is still good at helping her keep pace with him. The last thing she wants is for him to think that he’s slowing her down. He isn’t, he couldn't, a longer walk is akin to a gift for her, there's so little time for them to meet outside the lab these days that even this minuscule moment is enough for a syrupy warmth to spread through her veins. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Viktor asks when they reach his door. His voice is thick and his tone uncertain, she catches the way his free hand clenches nervously at his side. 

She nods, “Just for a second. It’ll be nice to warm up.” His smile is warm and his eyes shine like amber, “Yes.” He begins, quickly unlocking his door and stepping to the side to let her in first,  “It is cold, isn't it?” It isn’t, but the lie is comfortable. 

“Freezing.” She replies, smiling up at him and walking through the doorway.

This is hardly the first time she’s visited his dorm, though it’s usually during the day to pick something up or drop something off, once or twice to deliver lunch when she suspected that he forgot to eat and on one notable occasion, for a cup of coffee while she struggled through translating his notes into something comprehensible for the council. It looks much the same as she remembers it, very cluttered but still neat. He has stacks of books and piles of notes all over the room and a corkboard with so many overlapping sketches, notes and blueprints that its impossible to see the cork underneath. The floor is clear, though, all his frantic scientific mess is left across desks or bookshelves, a hard divide been his work life and home life. 

Viktor shuts the door behind himself and starts making his way across the space to where she can only assume his bedroom is. He looks at her over his shoulder and says, “You’ll have to give me a minute. Make yourself at home, I won’t be long.” “Oh, okay. No worries.” She replies, wondering what he has to do back there. He might just want to change into something more comfortable for the evening, which is completely reasonable, even if it makes her cheeks warm to think about. Now that she’s actually standing alone in the middle of his sitting room does she finally remember that she’s wearing her pyjamas. They aren’t at all scandalous, thankfully, but she does feel underdressed. After a moment, she sits tentatively on his couch, trying to find the perfect balance between comfortable but not too comfortable for when he comes back out. She drums her fingers against her thigh, trying to ignore just how much it smells like Viktor in here when she hears him call her name. 

She leaps up from the couch, “Yes? Are you okay?” There’s a moment of silence, and then he replies, “I’m fine, I just-” he’s muffled on the other side of the door, but she hears what sounds like a foreign expletive, “I’d appreciate your help, if you’re willing.”

She would be willing to do anything for him, so she walks towards the closed door and then says, “I am.” she swallows nervously, “Can I come in?” “Please.” He replies quietly. 

Her heart races as she opens the door, this part of his dorm she has never seen before. He has a few plants that seem to be in various stages of deceased, a completely full bookshelf, a large wooden dresser and a second, smaller desk that is covered in just as many notes as the one out in the sitting room. His crutch leans against the wall and the man himself sits on the edge of his bed, looking like he’d prefer if she didn't even notice him. “How can I help?” She asks. He looks up at her and then sighs, “The clasps at my ankle.” he says, inclining his head towards his brace, “I’m stiff today I-” “It’s okay.” She replies, already lowering to her knees, “I can do it, don’t even worry about it.” It’s clear that he is still worrying about it, even with her insistence not to. The muscles in his jaw are tight and he turns to face the wall, unwilling to meet her eyes. She doesn’t take any offence, she can tell this is humiliating for him, even though she feels nothing but adoration as her fingers meet the metal clasp at the base of his brace. Luckily the mechanism is intuitive and she doesn’t need any help in undoing it, though her trembling hands make it harder. She is not unaware of the suggestive nature of her positioning, on her knees, between his thighs, but she manages to push past the cloyingly thick implication because more than anything she just wants to help him. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly, when his ankle is loose, “I can reach the rest myself if you’d like to return to the couch for now.” Despite his tired expression, he looks very pretty above her like this, his hair is tousled and hanging slightly in his eyes and the dim lighting in the room catches on all his sharp edges in the perfect way. She sucks a shaky breath in through her nose and then suggests, “I might as well do the rest.” her smile is shaky with nerves, and her voice wavers when she adds, “It just makes sense. I’m already down here after all.” The room feels quieter without the sound of Viktor’s wheezing breath, that’s the only way she realises he’s holding it, “I, ah-” he clears his throat, “Yes. I suppose it only makes sense.” Her next smile is stronger, and more confident as she begins to undo the rest of the clasps and buckles. Viktor has to help her with a few of them, the one at his knee is particularly tricky and he’s insistent that she ask if his leg needs to be moved instead of manoeuvring it herself. Not that he needed to tell her, she would never dare do anything that could hurt him. She has to sit up on her knees to undo the final buckle at his thigh, and he rests a hand on the top of her head as she does so. The feeling of his hand has another smile jumping its way across her face and she quietly asks him to straighten his leg a little so she can slide the brace off completely. 

“All done.” She whispers when it hits the floor. 

He looks down at her for a moment, his gaze so soft that she feels herself beginning to melt in it, “Thank you.” “Do you, um, need help with anything else?”

The muscles in his jaw tighten again and he goes back to staring at the wall, “Well, yes, but-” he shakes his head, “I can do it myself, you’ve done plenty.” “No. I want to help.” She replies, “Please, let me.” Viktor sighs, “I have a back brace too, I can undo it myself, but it takes some effort.” Though there was no real way for her to have known until now, a painful churning begins in her stomach at the thought of her never noticing, not paying enough attention. She pushes the fury with herself down, something to deal with later and instead gives Viktor what she hopes is a comforting smile, “You might have to guide me through it, is that okay?” He looks relieved, as if he was half expecting her to get cold feet, “That would be fine. Thank you.” He adjusts himself on the bed so he’s facing away from her and slowly starts undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

She sucks in a nervous breath and watches as the fabric slides down his shoulders. There’s a mole on the back of his neck that she wants to kiss so badly she can barely stand it. It’s alarming how much his shoulder blades arch against the papery confines of his skin, the way his posture slopes up to the left, the result of an overcorrection for his limp. She swallows thickly at the sight of his brace, layers of overlapping leather and metal splints that seem directly affixed to his spine. 

Viktor takes a deep breath, she sees his shoulders move, “There are clasps on either side of my spine.” He says, voice quivering. One of his hands reaches behind himself in an attempt to point out one of the clasps for her, “It’s very tight, it will be easier if you start at the top and bottom and then work your way to the middle.” “Alright.” She whispers, trying to conceal the incessant way her heart patters behind her ribs, “Let me know if do something wrong, okay?”

He nods but otherwise doesn’t say anything. It takes her a moment to figure out how the clasp undoes at first, it’s quite a complex piece of machinery and she’s shocked to find that her first assertion was entirely correct. The central portion of the brace is affixed to his spine with a series of bolts the whole way down. Her hands shake as she moves to the same clasp on the opposite side, “How, um, how long have you had this?” she asks weakly. 

“A few years.” She clenches her teeth. How did she never notice? “Just to correct my posture.” He clarifies, sensing her tensing up behind him, “It doesn’t hurt.” 

“But you didn’t tell me.” 

He shrugs a shoulder, “You didn’t need to know.” “I would have liked to.” “Yes, well you know now,” he replies tersely and she immediately regrets pushing the matter. 

He stays silent as she works her way through the rest of the clasps. There’s a window on the wall opposite the bed and the curtains are open just enough for a beam of moonlight to reach in and wrap around the bony protrusion of his shoulder, all the way down the length of his back. She feels lost, caught and tangled up in the sharp angles of him. Her hands continue slowly undoing the brace, but her mind is tumbling and grasping for him before he slips through her fingers. The back of his neck is very pretty, the bumps of his spine that aren't covered by the splints are delicate and heartbreakingly sharp and his breathing is quiet and even for the moment, though she has grown used to hearing it like a chesty wheeze. When she finally undoes the last two clasps in the centre of the brace, he lets out a sigh of relief and when she presses a palm beside his spine, she can feel his heartbeat. Without speaking, he slips his arm through the strap that wraps up and around his left shoulder and her heart aches at the red welts left behind where the brace was pulled tight against his skin, the one on his shoulder is particularly deep and she finds herself leaning in to press a kiss to it before she can even think. Viktor sucks in a breath at the feeling of her lips against him but otherwise makes no acknowledgement of it happening.

“Would you like me to go?” She asks quietly, “You’ll probably just want to sleep now.” He looks at her over his shoulder, eyes wide and vulnerable, “No.” he says quickly, “No- it’s, it’s dark. You shouldn’t walk back alone.” A smile tugs at her lips, “It is dangerous in the hallways of the academy at night, isn't it?”

It isn’t, but the lie is comfortable. 

“It is.” He replies and his smile is a soft, heart-melting curl. After a lapse of almost excruciating silence, he shuffles himself to the side of the bed and stands shakily, resting most of his weight on a dresser in front of him, “Could you turn around a moment?” He asks

It clicks that the dresser must be where he keeps his clothes, “Oh! Yep!” He chuckles, “You can get in the bed if you’d like, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She does as he suggests, facing the wall away from him and crawling in under the covers. It feels strange, the academy bedsheets are exactly the same as the ones in her own room, yet it’s impossible to shake the significance of them being distinctly not hers, “You know I won’t let you do that, right?” she says quietly. 

A drawer opens behind her, and there’s some rustling of fabric, “I’ve slept places far worse than my couch, you even caught me doing so this evening.”

She sighs and pulls the sheets up to her chin, clutching desperately at the fabric, “C’mon, Viktor.” she almost pleads, “It’s just me, I don’t bite.” He scoffs behind her and the bed sinks when he sits on the edge of it. There’s more rustling and she can only assume it's easier for him to change in and out of his trousers when seated, “That isn’t what I'm concerned about.” “Then what are you concerned about?” Viktor goes completely still, she can only hear the sounds of his breathing and she struggles to keep her own breath even as she worries that she may have overstepped. The moment hangs in the air like a pendulum above her and her fingers dig tightly into the blankets. 

“Alright, you win,” Viktor says, and the weight is lifted. He shifts a little, and she feels the blankets lift on his side of the bed as he climbs in. Then she hears a click, and the only light source in the room goes out. 

What are we? She wonders, body stiff and uncomfortable as she lies in the darkness. She’s so close to the edge of the bed that her bent knee hangs off it, too afraid of accidentally touching him because of just how much she wants to. It’s been years of aching and wishing and she’s starting to get the sense that she’s running out of time, that if she doesn't find the right words for what they are, he will be gone before she can express them. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and tries to push the thoughts away, once again forcing herself to believe that Viktor is fine and to ignore all evidence to the contrary. 

Then, she feels Viktor shift on the other side of the mattress and he whispers, “It’s cold tonight, isn't it?” Her heart stops in her chest and she tentatively rolls over to find he’s already facing her. He looks pretty, the light of the moon is eclipsed by the back of his head, leaving him backlit in a soft white light, “Freezing.” she replies, remembering their lie from earlier in the evening. 

“There must be something we can do about that.” he breathes, shuffling in just a little closer. 

She feels like she is about to burst into tears or laughter or something equally immense as she ignores all pretence and all comfortable lies, instead moving straight towards him and wrapping her arms around his chest, tucking her head under his chin. One of his arms slowly slides around her waist to tug her closer against him and his good leg tucks in between both of hers. Something that feels suspiciously like a kiss presses to the top of her head, and as she listens to the gradual calming of his rapid heartbeat she wonders again, what are we?

___

Progress day doesn't go as planned for a lot of reasons. Sitting at the side of the stage, she and Viktor clutch hands the same way they always do. Though maybe a little tighter than normal as they watch Jayce give his first progress day address. She lets out a shocked gasp when Jayce goes off script, deciding not to unveil their newest projects even though the three of them spent so many sleepless nights working on them, even though they drove themselves to exhaustion trying to reach this deadline. Viktor is especially angry about it, seething almost, but everything is thrown into disarray by the attack from the Undercity before they even have a chance to talk it over.

Jayce is their spokesperson, as always, when the three of them are forced to address the council about the theft of one of their gemstones as if it was somehow their fault. They didn’t even have the decency to scrounge up a third chair for her, so she just stands awkwardly beside Viktor and nervously clutches his shoulder. It sometimes feels like the council would forget that she and Viktor even existed if Jayce didn’t keep reminding them. An argument breaks out among the councillors as Jayce begins suggesting a full suspension of Hextech production until the gemstone is located. Viktor also tenses under her hand at the suggestion and while she can understand his reservations, it’s hard for her to disagree with Jayce on this point at least. The last thing they need is someone doing something illegal with their technology, it would be a terrible look, and who knows how many people could get hurt. 

Then, things change so quickly that she can barely keep track. Councilor Medarda levies an attractive offer and before she can even wrap her head around what is taking place, the council issues a vote and suddenly it has eight members. Viktor’s hand shakes when it reaches up to grab her own where it rests on his shoulder, “This won't end well.” he mutters She swallows, filled with an anxious dread that doesn't leave her for the next three days, “Yeah.” She replies, “I have an awful feeling.”

When the two of them return to the lab, the room is filled with a thick and uncomfortable silence. Viktor sits at his desk and clutches his head in his hands, she on the other hand, can’t even bring herself to sit down, instead standing at the only open window in the room and resting her shaking hands on the windowsill. Her stomach twists itself into knots that will take hours to undo, any exhilaration from the the morning is completely gone, only replaced with a churning anxiety. Neither of them speaks until two hours later when Sky drops by, completely unaware of everything that transpired. Viktor explains it to her, his voice weak and exhausted. Sky is a smart girl, she can tell when there isn’t much she can do to help, she promises to let them know if she hears anything about Jayce’s whereabouts, but otherwise says she’ll be in her lab down the hall if they need her. 

With Sky gone, the room once again turns to heavy silence. She swallows and the feeling is thick in her throat, “He must still be with the council.” she says. 

“Yes.” Viktor replies, “He must.”

***

Jayce doesn’t come back that evening. While she’s certain that there is a lot that he needs to learn and probably some sort of extensive paperwork, when she looks over and sees the anxious curl of Viktor’s spine she wishes that Jayce would just tell the council to get fucked and come back to the lab where he belongs. Neither she nor Viktor manage to get any work done, neither of their prototypes are up for production and while there are improvements to be made, Heimerdinger’s insistence that the modifications would take a decade at minimum makes any attempt at progress feel utterly futile. 

Viktor does occasionally pull his pen out and make a few notes, but then he curses under his breath and lets the pen go after just a few minutes. Once she notices the sun has well set through their window and the moon is hanging high in the sky, she lets out a sigh. 

“We’re not going to get anything done, Viktor.” She says quietly, watching as he runs a desperate hand through his hair, “Do you want to get some sleep? Jayce will probably be back in the morning, then we can at least work out what we’re going to do from here.”

“I still don’t understand why he didn’t show the prototypes.” Viktor mutters, “Nothing today has made any sense.” “Yeah.” She replies, “It hasn't.” After a moment, Viktor sighs and grips tightly to his crutch to pull himself up from the chair, “Let’s just go.” he says, and then quieter, as if he doesn’t want her to hear it, “I’m tired.” They don’t talk at all on the walk over to his dorm, both exhausted emotionally and physically. Viktor is struggling to walk more now, she always finds him falling behind even though she is trying her best to keep in step with him, he must notice, even though she purposely doesn’t draw attention to it and she can only imagine how that makes him feel. He stands back as she unlocks the front door and she fondly remembers the morning when she found the spare key lying on his dresser when she woke up. He hadn’t told her that he was getting a copy made, he’d just left it for her when he headed to the lab for the day. It makes sense though, she spends more nights asleep in his bed than she does her own these days, trapped in a tangle of bony limbs that isn't necessarily comfortable but it is profoundly comforting . 

“Do you want tea?” She asks as she steps in through the doorway, holding the door open for him as he follows her inside. 

“No, thank you.” He says, moving to the bedroom and sitting down on the bed, “Help yourself, though.” She follows him into the bedroom, sitting down on the floor and going through the familiar routine of undoing his brace, “You know I was just being polite, I hate tea.” He laughs weakly, leaning back on his elbows as she moves to undo the clasps at his knee, “Don’t worry, it was very polite, thank you.” Her hands are quick now, familiar with each fastening the whole way up his leg, it only takes her a few seconds to have it undone. when she finishes She rests her head on his left thigh, peering up at him. Viktor sighs softly, brushing her hair away from her face. This isn’t a thing that friends do, she recognises, unable to resist leaning into his touch, but it is what they do. The fabric of his slacks is a little scratchy against her cheek and her legs are starting to go numb where they are curled under her, but the moment is so intimate and delicate that she can’t bear letting it shatter. 

“If Jayce isn’t in the lab tomorrow morning, I’ll see if I can find him in the council room,” Viktor says quietly, rubbing gentle circles over her temple with his thumb. 

“I can go instead, " she suggests, “if you want to get some work done in the lab.” “No.” He replies sternly, “I-” he sighs, hanging his head, “I need to talk to him.” “He’ll listen.”

Viktor lets his hand drop from her head, his face awash in painful uncertainty.

She raises herself up on her knees and reaches out to cup his cheek in her hand, “It’s Jayce.” She whispers, confidence proved only a mimicry by the way her voice shakes. Her thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone and her voice is more sincere when she adds, “He always listens.”

***

Whatever conversation Viktor and Jayce have doesn’t seem to help all that much. Jayce does seem apologetic at the very least, but for the next few days, Viktor is decidedly prickly. He sets himself up at one of their workstations and starts wordlessly assembling a new project that neither she nor Jayce has heard anything about until now. While he works, she mostly just sits at her own desk and goes back to trying to fix the issues with the hexclaw with the hopes of getting it to a more finished state before the next investor meeting in a few months. Something has changed in Viktor, she notices. A more pointed determination, something almost dangerously single-minded. He works on his new project all hours of the day and it’s harder than ever for her to pull him away for meals, or to convince him to leave the lab with her in the evenings. 

His cough is getting worse too, worse enough that it’s impossible for her to pretend that everything is fine, no matter how much he tries to convince her that it is just a cold or just allergies or just- 

She catches him once or twice, wiping the blood from his mouth on the back of his hand and she wants to scream or cry or do any number of things to force him to stop acting like everything is still fine. Jayce has noticed too, but he’s so busy with council business now that he only drops into the lab for a few hours a day. 

“I don’t know what to do.” He says, leaning against the wall just outside the lab. 

She leans there with him, not wanting to have this conversation in the same room as Viktor, “Me either.” “He is sleeping, right?” She nods, “Not as much as I’d like, but I'm getting him to bed every night.” “That’s good.” Jayce replies, hanging his head, “I should be in there with the two of you but-” he sighs, “Everyone’s still worried about the attack and that missing gemstone, until that’s sorted I don’t know how much time I’ll be able to spend in the lab.” “I know.” She replies, because she does know, even if the facts make her angry, they are still just the facts. She wrings her hands together and turns to face Jayce, his brows are pulled tight and he’s chewing hard on his bottom lip. 

“Hey, Jayce?” He turns his head to look at her, exhaustion visible under his eyes, “Yeah?” “Do you-” her breath escapes her in a hiccuping sob, “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Sure he will.” Jayce says, though his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “If anyone can get himself out of a bind, it’s gonna be Viktor, you know?”

***

She visits her father for dinner the night after. They have a long standing arrangement where she stops by within a week of progress day to debrief him. For the first time though, she spends the whole time just itching to get back to the academy, nervously checking the clock with each passing hour and barely managing to eat any of her dinner. 

Her father laughs, “I know I’m not a proper chef or anything, but my food can’t be that bad, can it?” “No, it’s good, I’m sorry.” She says quietly, pushing her food around the plate with her fork, “Still just discombobulated after-” she waves her hand around vaguely, “You know.” “The attack?” He asks softly. 

“Yeah, the attack.” she lies

“Your friends are alright, aren’t they? The Talis boy and uh-” “Viktor.” She supplies. Suddenly even less interested in eating her dinner. 

The new project Viktor is working on consumes him. He’s started calling it the Hexcore and says that he aims to find out whether or not Hextech can learn , if like she discovered so many years ago, they were missing a fundamental and human component. While all of their current creations resonated at a G4, who’s to say that there aren't other effects that could be unlocked by teaching it how to resonate at another, or by giving it an unlimited combination of runes to cast with? He sits at the workstation for hours, constantly manipulating and twisting the rune matrix around. At all moments the room is filled with the rapid click of plates realigning or the humming of the gemstone within them. The only break comes when he takes a moment to update blueprints or write down new notes. She still managed to get him to bed the past few nights, though it only becomes more difficult each time. With Sky’s help, she’s able to keep him eating, even if it’s little more than a sandwich or one bite of an apple. 

She did tell Viktor that she was going to be out tonight and that she’d likely see him in bed. Sky will be staying late at the academy because she has an assignment due tomorrow morning and she promised to keep an eye on him as best she could. Jayce has a meeting with councillor Medarda (though he called her Mel ) and will try and find time to stop by the lab on his way back just in case. It doesn't matter though, there’s a terrible, awful feeling sitting in the pit of her stomach that she can’t do away with. 

“I should get to meet those boys someday, you know?” Her father says, snapping her back to the present, “I know you’re probably embarrassed about our little house on the fringes, but it cleans up nice!” She laughs weakly, remembering that Jayce and Viktor technically already visited years ago, “Sorry, Dad. We’re all really busy right now, and Viktor-” she bites her lower lip to stop the words from coming out, “He’s tired, we’re all tired.”

“Well, maybe I’ll stop by your lab sometime.” He replies, leaning back in his chair with a warm smile on his face, “You can do experiments on me, I’m tough.”

That gets a proper laugh out of her and she’s grateful for it, “I think we’d all like that.” she says, “You could meet our assistant Sky, too. She does work with plants, which is probably a little more up your alley than our stuff.”

“Speaking of plants, did you see the hydrangea on the doorstep? She’s looking a lot better, isn’t she?”

“Doesn’t look one foot in the grave anymore, at least.” She says and then lets out a sigh, “Look, I’m sorry I still haven't been able to get you a seat in the main hall for progress day. Mrs Talis said you could both share a seat next year if they deny my request again.” Her father barks a laugh, “Good sense of humor, that woman. I like her.” he crosses his arms and a frown pulls his grey eyebrows together, “House Talis isn’t even that large, I don’t understand why she gets a seat every year and I don’t.” She shrugs a shoulder, “They’re still a house, Dad.” He huffs, “You’d think having a daughter who helped build that big whosawhatsit in the sky would count for something.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” She replies with a halfhearted smile. 

“When are you going to get your face on one of those mugs?” He grumbles, “I keep telling my clients that my brilliant daughter is doing all this amazing stuff and none of them ever believe me, but if i had a mug- ” Another laugh bubbles up and out of her, she shakes her head, “Hey, Viktor doesnt have a mug either. We just don’t have the faces for it.” She lies, Viktor has a face that should be carved out of marble, “Plus we’re not exactly socialites, I don’t know what Id do if people started recognising me when I went out for lunch.” Her father leans forward, taking one of her hands in two of his own, “You deserve some recognition though, pumpkin.” he waves his hand, “I guess that Viktor guy does too, but I don’t care about him.” Somewhere amidst her laughter it starts feeling like crying, she sniffles and quickly wipes her eyes, “Be nice to Viktor, he isn’t here to defend himself.” “Maybe i’d care about him more if i got to meet him.” “Okay, okay.” She says with a watery smile, “I’ll see how we’re doing next month, maybe we can find time for you to visit the lab. You just won’t be able to touch anything, alright?” He lifts his hands up in the air, “Fully hands off, no worries, kiddo.”

***

It’s well past midnight when she finally leaves. Despite the sense of urgency burrowing into the marrow of her bones, her father still makes great company and it was difficult to leave him, but as she finally makes her way back to the academy dorms the urgency has begun an evolution into terror. Viktor’s dorm is eerily silent when she opens the door, even when he’s sleeping she can usually hear the rasp of his breath. Her heart beats so wildly in her chest that she can feel it down to her fingers as she rounds the corner and finds no crutch leaning against the wall of his bedroom and not a single disturbance in the perfectly made sheets. 

The bad feeling rises in her like bile. Desperation gnaws as she drops her handbag, grabs her keys and kicks off her shoes before sprinting from the dorms all the way to the lab on the other side of the building. Her breath is ragged in her chest and her heart is racing in a panic that only increases in metre as she runs. The tiles are cold under her bare feet and she is aware that anyone still awake must hear her barreling down the halls, but she couldn't care about anything less. When she finally turns the corner to their hallway, it feels like it stretches and stretches, mocking her as she tries to get to the door, faster faster . Her breath comes out in an aching sob when she finally makes it, hoping and praying to be proved wrong as the door unlocks. 

But the feeling had been right. 

Viktor’s Hexcore still pulses on the workstation, pitch shifting from G4 to A4 like it’s laughing at her, spinning quietly as she crosses the room. Watching. Her heart stops completely when she sees him slumped on the floor, there’s a disconnect between her brain and her legs, she can’t make them move, she just stares and inhales gulp after gulp of air that never seems to satisfy. Her feet shuffle slowly, like she isn’t quite awake, like it might all just be a dream. She drops to her knees and reaches out for him.

“Viktor?” she tries, shaking him by the shoulder, and then again, panicked, “ Viktor?”

He doesn't stir. She inhales a breath through her nose, biting back tears, “Okay. Okay. ” she whispers to herself, trying to calm her breathing despite the aching sobs that still lurk in the back of her throat. When the sounds of her own breath are finally quiet enough, she lowers her head to his chest, pressing her ear to his sternum. A heartbeat. Barely there. Her own heart starts racing again and tears of relief start rushing down her cheeks. He’s still alive, but she has to keep him that way. While he certainly can’t weigh all that much he’s still a lot taller than her and completely unconscious so there is no way she can carry him. 

“Okay.” She says, more to Viktor than to herself, “I’m going to get Jayce.” she hiccups another sob and presses a hand to his cheek, nodding to herself, “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The academy has a capsule pipeline system to send information between wings. She knows (thanks to Jayce’s complaining about it) that there is also a system that connects directly to each individual counciller room. Most folk can’t get a letter through to them directly, but Jayce left her and Viktor with a couple of special capsules that get immediate access without needing to go through verification first. Just in case. Her handwriting is very messy as she scrawls out two letters, barely a sentence on each. She also writes another one for the hospital, but she knows they’re further away than Jayce is. Her shaky hand smudges the ink and the paper must be covered in tears, it’s hard to see what she’s doing with only the ominous light of the Hexcore for illumination, but she never even considers turning a light on. 

Clutching the capsules she avoids taking another look at Viktor, because she might not be able to leave the room if she does, and runs down to the station that sends and receives capsules for the science department. She sends the one for the hospital first because they have a direct line she doesnt need to input an address for. Then she inputs the address for Jayce’s room, sends the capsule and collapses to her knees beside the machine. It’s loud, when a capsule arrives, at least that’s what Jayce says, loud enough to wake him up. She sits on her knees for what must only be five minutes, but even that feels like an hour. There’s a thunk when a capsule arrives in the tube and she opens it with a panicked vigor. 

It’s the hospital, they’re on their way, but it’s going to be an hour. 

She presses her forehead to the cool wall, gritting her teeth. Jayce should have heard it, she has another capsule just in case he didn’t, but he should have, unless he isn’t in his room. Her eyes snap open and she rises up on her knees, hand shaking as she inputs the address for Councillor Medarda’s room instead and sends the second capsule. 

Sitting there on the floor, clutching her knees up to her chest. She can’t stop thinking about Viktor, how she wishes she could do something instead of just sitting here and waiting. She buries her head in her knees and lets out a wail, not even bothering to keep quiet should someone overhear. If she hadn’t gone out tonight, if she just told her father that she needed to postpone, she could have stopped this. It’s all her fault. Just as she feels a scream building in her chest, there’s another thunk . 

This capsule is from Councillor Medarda’s room. The letter inside is Jayce’s handwriting. 

Coming now. 

___

What are we? She wonders, sitting for the fifth hour beside Viktor’s bed in the hospital. She holds his hand tight, tracing the bumps of his knuckles with her thumb and just waiting . It’s been long enough that the orange light of the morning sun is pouring into the room, trying its best to bring some colour to the sterile white hospital room. She’s so tired after an evening spent crying and screaming and running back and forth that her head leans uncomfortably against the unforgiving wall behind her because she can’t manage to hold it up anymore. Jayce is tired too, but he still has enough energy to argue with the doctors, apparently. She can hear them from across the hall.   

It only took him ten minutes to show up after his letter arrived. She was slumped against the wall of the lab with Viktor’s head in her lap when he came scrambling into the room. She’d cried so much that she could barely even move, completely weak with emotional and physical exhaustion and when Jayce finally came in through the door all she could do was start crying all over again. Jayce tried his best to stay calm, though his breath was heaving after running all the way over and his eyes were watery and panicked. She remembers the way he forced a smile. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He’d said, the wavering in his voice betraying his cool exterior, “We’ll get him to the hospital, c’mon.”

He’d pressed his forehead to hers for just a moment and then lifted Viktor from her lap and into his arms. She barely managed to tell him that the hospital already knew they were coming, all her words came in juts and stutters between hiccuping sobs. Jayce tried to convince her to stay behind, but even with her exhausted body and shaking limbs, it was impossible for him to change her mind. The rest of the night is a blur, lots of sprinting, arguing, crying and waiting, so much fucking waiting . 

She sits up straight when Jayce slams the door open. He has his hand clasped over the lower half of his face and his eyes are wild. She just watches as he crosses the room and all but collapses in the chair beside her. She sniffles and tries to smile, “Didn’t change anything, did it?” Jayce buries his face in his hands and she tentatively wraps the arm that isn’t areadly occupied by Viktor’s hand around his shoulder. He isn’t quite crying, but it sounds like he could start at any moment, “No.” he says gravely, “The results for the second round of tests were the same as the first.” a humourless laugh escapes him, “and they said there’s no point doing a third.” She bites her lower lip to hold back a sob, “You didn’t need to yell at them.” She says quietly, “It’s not their fault.” “I know.” Jayce says, his voice breaking, “I just-” he doesnt finish, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes and sucking a desperate breath in through his teeth “Yeah.” she replies, resting her head on his shoulder, “Me too.”

***

Jayce forces her to go home after four more hours. Promising to stay at the hospital until Viktor wakes up. She tries to argue, but unlike her, Jayce had managed a few hours of sleep the night before while she was running completely on empty. For a moment she considers going back to Viktor’s dorm instead of her own and curling up on his empty bed, but logic settles in when she realises Jayce will need to know where to find her if something happens. So she sleeps alone in her own bed and spends the whole time wishing she was somewhere else. 

Even when laying in the bed and clutching her knees to her chest she can still hear the rush of her heartbeat in her ears. Her chest hurts from so many hours of painful sobbing and her eyes sting whenever she blinks them open. Her dreams are restless and disquieting. Unfamiliar images flash behind her eyelids that make little to no sense, Viktor is in all of them, Jayce is there often, Sky too. The only sound she hears is the ominous humming laugh of the Hexcore, as if it has sequestered itself inside her grey matter. The dreams start and end in rapid fire. Nothing good ever happens. 

She doesn’t have any sense of what the time is when a knock at her door has her waking with a panicked gasp. Sun streams in through her open window, so it must still be at least the late afternoon, but other than that she has no idea. She stumbles to her door, still dressed in her nice blouse and skirt from the evening before but terribly rumpled for all her tossing and turning. It takes a moment for her to unlock the door, her hands don’t seem to want to obey her anymore. 

“He’s awake.” Jayce says in a rush, when the door swings open. 

Her heart jumps back into gear, all aching lethargy suddenly replaced with a jittering anxiety, “We have to go back now!” she says, moving to push past him.

“Wait!” He exclaims, grabbing her by the shoulders before she can start running, “I- I wish i could, but Mel doesn’t even know where I am and-” “Oh.” She says quietly, Jayce looks just as tired as she feels. The Councillor Medarda situation notwithstanding, he needs to rest, she can tell. She lifts up onto her toes and pulls him into a hug, breathing shakily, “It’s okay, I understand.” she buries her face in his shoulder, “Did you at least get to talk to him?”

Jayce returns the hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tight, “Yeah, for just under an hour. I know you wanted to see him straight away but,” he laughs a little, “He wanted me to let you sleep.” Her eyes start beading with tears again, at the thought of him asking Jayce to make sure she gets some rest as if he wasn’t the one who almost died the night before. Sucking in a shaky breath, she releases Jayce and gives him a tired smile, “I’ll see you later then, I guess.” 

He nods, “Let me know if you’ll need me. I’ll be in my room all night.”

“Will do.” She replies, stepping past Jayce and closing her door behind her, “We will talk about you and Councillor Medarda later, though. I want details.” Jayce laughs and they both head their separate ways. 

***

Viktor is at least sitting upright when she finally makes it back to his hospital room. His breath is an aching, painful wheeze and despite being open, his eyes seem glassy and inattentive. They do dart to her face when she enters and something like the first inclination of a smile tugs at the very corners of his mouth. She wants to start crying again, to hold him tight and never let go. She doesn't. Instead, she lurks in the doorway, wringing her hands together.

“I hear you saved me.” He says quietly, his accent and the rasp of his voice makes the words difficult to discern. 

She swallows thickly, “I tried to.” Viktor sighs, then. Turning away from her to face the window. The sun's light makes his skin seem less ashen, but the hollows of his cheeks look even deeper, “I take it you were here with Jayce for my diagnosis, then.” “I-” she starts, voice catching on the word, “I’m sorry.”

He laughs bitterly, “Don’t do that to me, don’t apologise.” 

She doesn’t know what to do but apologise. So instead she keeps her mouth shut and forces herself to return to the chair she had been sitting in for all those hours. Wordlessly, she shuffles the chair forward so she can rest her head on the edge of the mattress, peering up at him. She grabs his hand again, holding it tight the same way she had been when he was asleep. 

“I wouldn’t judge you wrongly.” He says quietly, his other hand moving to cup the back of her head, “If you decided to put a stop to-” he closes his eyes and then says the last word like a secret, “-this.” There’s no specification, no clarification. But she knows, she knows what this is, she’s known it for years. This is the only thing she’s ever wanted, this has taken up residence behind her ribs and any removal would have to be surgical. They’d have to rip this from her, out of her and even then she would kick and scream the entire time. This is what they are. 

“I don’t want to.” She breathes.

“Milackú” he whispers achingly. A word she has never heard before, but instantly recognises it as being for her, “I’m dying .”

It hurts to hear him say it, more than when the doctors did. 

“You’ll figure something out.” She says, “I know you will and if- well if you don’t, I-” she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to force back her tears, “I’m still not going anywhere okay? Neither is Jayce, or Sky. Okay? ” she somehow manages to let out a weak little laugh, “and my father wants to meet you, so you have to stick around for a little while.”

Viktor laughs, though it's more of a rasp, “You talked about me?” he asks quietly.

“Always do.” She replies.

It looks like Viktor wants to say something and it looks that way for quite some time. He lets out a shaky breath instead and just keeps looking down at her, whatever words had been dancing on the edge of his tongue are long gone. Usually, she would be curious as to what they were, but at this moment she's just glad to have him, even in silence. It's hard to remember the precise moment when even looking at Viktor became an exercise in restraint, if it was the day they first held hands in the council room, or even before that. She always wants to reach out, to touch, for her skin and his to coalesce into something evangelical.

After some time, she attempts to readjust her head, frowning when she can't manage to find a position that doesn't put a crick in her neck.

“That cannot be comfortable,” Viktor says quietly, rubbing light circles on the back of her head. 

“It isn’t, my neck hurts,” she answers truthfully. He huffs in faux irritation and shuffles himself to the far side of the bed, “Just get in.” he says, “Before you hurt yourself.”

The hospital bed is a lot smaller than the one in his dorm and while the sheets are starchy and uncomfortable, they do smell like him, so she is more than happy to climb in. The single bed leaves them pressed together from collarbone down to knee and the only comfortable place for her head ends up being his chest. He doesn't seem to mind, his arm curls around her and holds her even tighter against him. She wraps an arm around his middle and buries her face in his hospital gown to hide the new tears beading in her eyes. 

“I love this.” She whispers, a close enough approximation, but its utterance feels less dangerous than the truth. 

Viktor kisses the crown of her head, and he breathes, “So do I.”

He falls asleep first, probably less than an hour after she joins him in the bed. First the first time in a long while his breath sounds steady, though it’s probably because he’s still on oxygen. The rhythmic sound of his heart beneath her ear has her biting her lip to keep herself from sobbing, remembering how quiet it had been all those hours ago. How much it hurt to think he had died, how much it hurts still to know that he will . 

She stays awake as the sun begins to set outside the window, once again painting the hospital walls in hues of orange, watching the shafts of light slowly shift with time. This is what they are. It’s not something that can so easily be named, it’s a feeling, a sob building up behind her ribs, his arm around her and the aching dread of something terrible on the horizon. She feels inseparable from him, a very real sense that if he were to die, she would be soon to follow. It takes another hour for her to fall asleep, hand clutched tight to the bedsheets at Viktor’s waist, leg tucked over the top of his own. She isn’t going anywhere, the universe itself couldn’t make her. 

[courtneedsleep]

Lovesick Puppy | FirstKiss!Satoru x Reader

Summary: Satoru never thought about kissing before, but now he can't stop thinking about how your lips would feel against his. Word count: ~2.1k

Art credit: @courtneedsleep [ me ;) ]

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Suguru asks his best friend expectantly.

“Even if I haven’t yet, I’d still be the greatest—“

“So you haven’t,” Suguru cuts him off and waves his hand dismissively. “Well that’s good. Shoko said she hasn’t either. Yet. Aren't you curious about what it's like?"

Well, Satoru had assumed he could just "take" you whenever he wanted, for lack of better words or timing. Technically he could get away with kissing whoever he wanted (Geto included) with the privilege of those blessed genetics. Satoru had not conscientiously thought about kissing you, already acting like you were his and he was yours.

Until now.

Satoru's fingers presses against his lips wondering if yours were softer than his. What if when he kissed you, his lips were chapped which you thought were repulsive? Pshh, no, that's ridiculous- his perfect lips were never chapped? His leg bounces up and down nervously. For the first time, Satoru was floundering.

. . .

Suguru had ingrained the idea of kissing you into Satoru's brain. Something inside him was rewired, and he could not seem to control it. Perhaps he didn't want to control it. Satoru sure didn't mind the way you had permeated all of his senses when he was daydreaming about you.

The sunlight kissed his skin, but it wasn’t the type of kiss that Satoru was craving for. He blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes. In his peripheral field, he freezes at the sight of your resting form slumped over the school desk. He should check what time it is, not run his fingers through the mess of your hair spilled across the surface.

Wait. What was he doing? Why did his hands move automatically to brush irresistible, silky locks of yours?

After all, weren’t you just his classmate? His pretty and smart classmate. His classmate who’s the only one who plays along with his teasing and returns those big goofy smiles back.

Yeah, just a classmate that he wanted to kiss senseless.

Satoru couldn’t help himself. Not when you looked so ethereal, so perfect like this. Not when your oh-so-kissable lips were just slightly parted just for him. Not when he was leaning closer and closer, just for one sample of a taste, his lips hovering right over yours and-

T H W A C K

“Had a nice nap, huh? You fool, you think you’re allowed to sleep in my class?”

Fingers drumming the weapon of choice (a textbook), Yaga throws Satoru a sharp glare that breached past both of their shades. Next to him, Suguru has a coy, not-so-innocent smile on his face.

“What were you dreaming about that made you drop your infinity, Satoru?”

Even without being present, you somehow managed to break through his defenses. Satoru’s barrier was no longer effective when you unknowingly decided to invade his mind and soul. If you were going to be a problem, Satoru is going to have to fix it.

. . .

“You should’ve seen me! I hollow purpled the shit out of that curse! It kinda looked like Suguru but more hair and wrinkly, even though they’re not that much different.”

Satoru follows you around on your campus stroll like a golden retriever with a helicopter of a tail that just won’t calm down.

“Of course, you always win,” you reply with a sweet smile that he could just drink up for days.

“That’s it??” A big pout creases his mouth. “Nothing about how strong or cool I am? Or handsome?”

Your sweet smile is immediately wiped off and replaced with a deadpan expression. “You don’t need my approval, Satoru. You already know that you’re strong.”

“Yeah, but what about cool and handsome? I know it, you know it, why can’t you just say it out loud?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“My bestest friend?”

“That’s Geto.”

“Just once.”

“That’s enough.”

Satoru wanted to whine and pout, but that would be terribly uncool of him in front of you. At this point, he was almost ready to beg but he had an even better idea.

“That’s fine if you don’t want to show me your affection with words. There are other ways too, you know.” His hand grasps your wrist so you can finally turn around and look at him to give him the attention he deserves. Satoru raises your hand up and ducks his head just underneath. He hums and relishes the weight of your hand against his face. “You should be more nice. You’re the only who’s actually gentle and kind with me.”

Oh. Did he just…

…

“You’re… impossible… and cute, I guess,” you concede not as begrudgingly as you intended to be.

“Cool, not cute,” he corrects. Satoru takes initiative, moving your hand back and forth so he can feel the friction against his scalp until you finally get the hint and pat his head for him.

He’s. Too. Cute.

“This is so uncool, Satoru,” you chide.

“I told you to praise me instead.”

“No.”

“I wanted a reward.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Do you want edamame-flavored mochi?”

“No.”

“???”

“I want a kiss.”

Shit, he didn’t mean that- the words just flew out his mouth without much thought. Your hand stops moving against his fluffy hair. Satoru’s heart bashes against his rib cage. Shit, shit, shit-

You suck in a sharp breath. “Satoru, don’t be a greedy shit. Let’s go get mochi.”

. . .

Satoru is a greedy shit.

He sits on your kitchen barstool watching you microwave popcorn, elbows propped up on the counter. The pout on his face was a thousand times more pronounced with the way his cheeks were smushed together against each palm of his hands.

"Jesus, I didn't know you wanted popcorn that badly." You shake your head oblivious of Satoru's heart yearning for something more than just playful elbowing and banter. No, he didn't want popcorn; he wanted you. The only acceptable way he wants that buttery treat is if you were the one feeding it to him with your lips, mouth to mouth-

Salty and sweet explodes on his tongue as a handful of popcorn is shoved into his mouth.

"Happy now? That should get you all fixed up. You're so out of it lately."

Body moving without thinking, his mouth latches onto your fingers before you get the chance to pull them away. He laps at them like a starved dog. His mouth is so wet and warm… and wet… the hot slick coating his tongue is all you could think about. Goodness, how much was he salivating earlier, and was this all really just from popcorn?

He cleans the butter off your fingers watching the entire time the way your pupils dilated.

“Mm, tastes so good…” His tongue swirls around your index finger for one last good measure. Even after pulling back, a string of saliva connects your fingertip with his tongue. “Even better like this. Can I have another one?”

“I… need to wash my hands.”

You hurry off to the bathroom gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles were turning white.

Breathe, you try talking yourself out of this haze of lust. But as soon as you close your eyes, Satoru’s lips puckering around your fingers immediately runs its course back into your mind. The temperatures, the textures, the need are vividly hardwired into your brain. Fuck, what if it was your own tongue instead of just your fingers? Your mouth waters at the thought.

Freezing cold snaps you out of your thoughts. The icy water runs for a while until you’re sure enough you can face Satoru again without crumbling in front of him.

Knock knock knock.

Or not.

“What are you doing? I know you’re not shitting.”

“How do you know that?”

“The faucet is running, and you said you’d be right back, not back in forever.”

You open the door and are met with an impatient Satoru. Not him having separation anxiety, whining and chasing his little tail around waiting for you. How the hell is this the same man who acts so independently and wildly and so sure of himself? He could do whatever he wanted, but everytime, he chooses to put himself in a frenzy all over you.

The two of you walk back to the couch for a movie night. But when you check the bowl of popcorn, it’s already empty? What the fuck?

“Satoru?” you ask already knowing what he’s gonna say.

“Yes, princess?”

“I want popcorn.”

“Mm, is that so?”

Someone wipe that smug-ass grin off his face. “There’s no more popcorn. I wanted popcorn.”

“You have popcorn right here, baby. Tastes exactly the same.” Satoru winks and taps his bottom lip. What a tease.

“I meant actual popcorn. Something I can actually chew on.” You walk up to Satoru, plopping the bowl of popcorn crumbs onto his lap. “Go refill it.”

“Who says you can’t chew on this? I don’t mind you being rough.”

Your nails dig into your palms, anything to distract the tumbleweeds in your stomach.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart. You haven’t kissed anyone before?” Oh, of course, he already knows the answer. He just can’t help but tease you even more.

“Yes, actually,” you retort snidely. Satoru’s jaw drops prepared to accuse you for being a bit fat liar.

“Li- mmph…” But before he gets the chance to reply, you shut him up for good.

‘Rough around the edges’ was an understatement. It wasn’t smooth at all, your lips smashing against his, the inner part of your upper lip folding upwards and the bottom gnashing against his teeth. But neither of you couldn’t care less, whether it was an attempt to get a taste of that popcorn, silence that spewing mouth of his, or perhaps a mix of both. No, you shouldn’t lie to yourself. You’ve been aching to feel those plush lips of his against yours from the start.

Satoru groans. Fuck, right now he didn’t want your teeth, he wanted your lips. He pulls back just a centimeter away before realigning the two of yous’ lips properly and diving in for a proper taste. One he could savor and relish. The way you mold perfectly against him so deliciously shoots Satoru straight to heaven and back.

Your hunched form hovering over his wavered. Hands flying up to stabilize yourself, you grip his shoulders so tightly that your nails were sure to leave red marks on them. Satoru knocks the bowl off his lap, and the crumbs spill everywhere onto the floor and in between the crevices of the couch. How annoying it would be to clean up later. But it was completely worth it to pull you down and have you tucked into his lap, your thighs clenching each side of his own. He’s completely and utterly enveloped by your presence, something which he could bask forever in.

Wooziness begins to cloud your mind. A reminder that you need oxygen because you’re human. But Satoru clearly isn’t. The moment you try to pull back for a breath of air, he’s immediately chasing after you for more, more, more. His hands fly up to the back of your head and neck, lips clinging onto yours in heated desperation.

You can’t help but give in to this lovesick puppy. He’s licking, sucking, and nipping feverishly like a dog scarfing down his dinner and licking the bowl clean.

“More,” he whines and tries to kiss you again when you detach your lips with a loud pop. You turn your head away and block his lips with your hands before he devours you again. When he pries your hand off his needy mouth, you stand up and scurry away from him because you know he’ll never stop.

Satoru pouts at the loss of contact. “You didn’t like it?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that.” An evil grin takes place of that bratty pout. “…I j-just need a break. Please.”

Satoru eyes you up and down carefully. The sight of your disheveled hair and the flush that spread from your cheeks down towards what’s visible of your chest did unspeakable things to him.

“Oh, that’s good to hear. Your break’s over, princess.”

“What? Wait, hold on, just a minute-“

You backpedal a few steps back thinking Satoru would follow after you. But he doesn’t, just sitting there with his legs all manspread out waiting for you to take your rightful place on his lap.

“Cursed technique lapse: Blue.”

And in a blink of an eye, you crash face-first onto his lips for round two.

[tiramisuucakeee]

STRANGER ★

( reader x park sunghoon )

IN WHICH: park sunghoon feels like he’s drifting away from his girlfriend, but after one night, she’s a stranger again, or perhaps she has always been. even if they were relatively close, they were still very far.

read more !

silence enveloped the dark hot room, as thoughts were more than enough noise. park sunghoon laid next to you, above your blue bed cover, a hand resting under his head, as he turned to look at you.

his eyes felt like they were burning, but they weren’t warm enough to break through the barrier you had set up. in all honestly, you didn’t know why he still tried in the relationship, why was he still here?

“y/n…” he started, but you were quicker to turn him down.

you rolled over in your bed, in nothing but a shirt and underwear, your hair still managing to look neat, as if you had just gotten home. “i’m going to take a shower,” you let him know, as you opened your closet, taking out a small strapless dress and a pair of heels.

“you’re going out?” sunghoon furrowed his brows, sitting up, leaning on his two arms.

“yeah, i told you before. just because you’re here doesn’t mean i’m going to cancel my plans,” you laughed incredulously, glancing at your bed-side table, where a clock sat at, reading the time. “you should go.”

sunghoon then spoke again, stopping you from escaping to the bathroom, “can’t you just stay a few minutes with me?” he asked, more like begged. it’s all he had been doing lately, feeling as if you were escaping from his grasp.

“you wanted to come over sunghoon, if you want to stay here for the night or something… go ahead. i’m probably going to sleep somewhere else or get back in the morning,” you threw him a smile, and before he could say anything, you disappeared into the bathroom.

the shower head started running with water, as your dirty clothes dropped to the ground, that only made sunghoon wonder when had this all started, not your relationship, but your un-relationship, if you could call it that.

you were so loving at the start, so kind and accepting, in his opinion, everything was perfect. so what happened that made you pull away from him. was it something he did? something he said? he couldn’t recall any evil done from his part.

it al brought him back to the day you met him.

sunghoon entered the rooftop at school, away from his lousy friends, wanting to eat lunch in peace, not having a feral niki attacking him, or hearing heeseung and jake fighting over basketball.

as soon as the door closed behind him, he immediately regretted it. the rooftop was occupied by you, staring at the sky.

“sorry… for interrupting, i’ll leave,” sunghoon immediately spoke.

you didn’t even turn to look at him, as if he was nothing but a random passerby. but you opened your mouth before he could leave, “why do you always run away from me?”

in all truthness, sunghoon was in love, and he didn’t know why. you weren’t his type. you weren’t quiet, reserved, or dressed very nicely. but there was something about you, like you were someone important.

he noticed himself starting to fall in love when his friends asked who he looked for in the halls. he noticed he started to fall when he was interested in what types of treats and movies you liked.

everyday, it was like you were there. he saw you on the patio, when he looked out his window in class, outside the gym, near your locker, exiting your homeroom. you were always there, he saw you.

but you never once saw him as someone. you did notice a guy running away nervously everytime you were near, or making the impossible to not bump into you. and you knew more than anyone what it was about, still, his reaction was weird.

“come sit,” you said. you weren’t any kind of monster, not yet. so why did someone that liked you, ran away from you. never has someone had the guts to refuse you, if he did, he had to have a pretty good reason to.

“okay,” he muttered, slowly walking over, sitting down next to you. for the rest of the hour, not a single word was spoken.

he didn’t feel the need to say something, because you letting him sit there, was all the validation he needed, it was everything he craved for. but you, only kept him there because there was not a reason not to, he wasn’t lousy, he didn’t bother you, and he didn’t try anything weird.

and so, it was like a silent agreement that you two were always together. sunghoon would follow you around like a puppy, his bag slung over one shoulder, and a hand in his pocket. while you went about your day, not even speaking a word to him.

then when he asked you out, you accepted. maybe out of boredom and because your mother accepted him first or maybe because you could have felt something, there was still that tiny bit of chance that you did like him.

“ah, you’re still here, i thought you’d leave,” you came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, noticing he was sitting in the same position you left him, like a dog waiting for him owner. “sunghoon, you are allowed to leave, you know?” you raised a brow, and when you didn’t get a reply, you sighed, starting to change into your clothes.

sunghoon’s dark eyes followed your moves through the dimly lit room. even now, after years of ‘being together’, he was starting to realize that he knew all of you, but you didn’t know a bit of him. it was like he was always around for you, never the other way around. but what if he said something about it? would you finally get rid of him like he heard you’ve been wanting to?

“what do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. sunghoon didn’t give a damn if you wanted him out. he was going to fight for whatever relationship you have, because after all, he still loves you.

“uh, whatever i guess..” you muttered, putting on the heels, “okay, i’m done,” you stood up, clapping your hands, and turned to him. “so you’re staying after all right? can you receive an online order i got? it’s getting here tomorrow morning,” you asked, receiving a nod.

“okay then,” you confirmed he would do as said, and grabbed all your belongings, walking out of your room. right. when was the last time you ever said ‘love you’ or ‘goodbye’ to him. if something were to happen to him, would you feel bad? would you then start to appreciate him?

the silence hung in the air like a thick fog, heavy and suffocating. sunghoon watched you leave without a second thought, as if he was nothing more than a background detail in the story of your life. the door clicked shut behind you with finality, and he exhaled, his chest tightening with a pain that had become too familiar.

he hated how the love he gave you, the constant attention, the patience, it all seemed so invisible to you. why was he so loved by everyone else except you? you didn’t care to know what he liked, dislike, what sunghoon did in his free time and so. it was like he was just your shadow.

“will you ever see me?” he murmured, his voice barely audible in the empty space. the words fell into the void, unanswered.

the phone rang, a harsh, intrusive sound in the middle of the night. sunghoon’s body jerked awake, disoriented, his heartbeat already racing as his eyes flicked to the clock. 4:03 AM. his hand shot out instinctively to grab the phone, the screen flashing your name, and for a split second, his mind was filled with nothing but relief.

maybe you realized that you’d actually want to be with him. it was something he wished for, though it was weird. you never called him. maybe you needed something, or maybe you just got confused and dialed the wrong number. still, it warmed his heart that you could have drink called him.

but when he answered, it wasn’t you. it was another voice. he was used to you hanging around other men and going out with them, but this voice would never do something like that.

“sunghoon, it’s jungwon, y-you need to get here now!” jungwon’s voice was ragged, barely holding itself together. "you need to come to the hospital. she’s going into surgery.” he informed. it was likely that jungwon was dropping off something for his father, who was a surgeon, and suddenly came upon this.

his pulse stuttered in his throat, the words not quite registering at first. his mind spun with confusion, scrambling to latch onto something solid. "what? what do you mean? what happened?" sunghoon’s voice cracked as he pushed himself up in bed, his body stiff with panic, every fiber of his being already alert, bracing for something.

it should have been wrong for him to care about you, cause you never once did for him. if sunghoon were to disappear tomorrow, you’d probably notice when someone asked. but he couldn’t bear to have you away, not like this, not so sudden.

jungwon’s voice faltered again, like he was struggling to find the right words, or maybe even the strength to say them, he was always empathetic with his friends. "she was in a car crash. it’s bad, sunghoon. really bad. the others… they didn’t make it. she’s the only one… but she’s unconscious, and-"

a sick, metallic taste rose in sunghoon's mouth. his heart felt like it was stopping, like time itself had frozen in that one endless second.

"is she…?" sunghoon’s voice broke again, barely more than a whisper, like he was afraid to even speak the possibility aloud. the fear gnawed at him, crawled up his spine, twisted his stomach into knots.

"she was alive when they got here, but then she passed out. i don’t know how long it’ll be… or what’s going to happen." jungwon’s voice cracked, as though he too were barely holding it together. "you need to come, sunghoon. now. she might not even wake up."

the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

not even wake up.

sunghoon’s mind went blank. his hand trembled as he clutched the phone, his grip tightening until his knuckles ached. his chest felt like it was being squeezed by invisible hands, the pressure unbearable. the thought of you, lying motionless in a sterile hospital bed, surrounded by machines that would keep you alive but never truly bring you back, it was too much to comprehend.

"i’m coming," sunghoon’s voice was steady, but it felt like a lie. he was scared. his body was moving before he even realized, stumbling out of bed, legs shaking as he forced himself to stand. his mind was reeling, spinning in circles as the details swirled around him. car crash. surgery. you. you.

as he rushed out of the apartment, the cool night air did nothing to calm the raging storm inside him. his heart was racing, but it wasn’t just fear that gripped him. it was an unbearable sense of guilt.

in that moment of desperation, he finally understood why he cared so much. sunghoon had always watched you from afar, you never had anyone apart from yourself. never a true friend. everyone was a passerby in your life, and perhaps he was one too, but he had been determined not to be. he wanted you to have something real, someone who you trusted, someone you could rely on.

how many times had he put his own feelings aside, his own love, only to be treated like an afterthought? hadn’t he given you everything? he had waited. he had waited for you to need him, to come to him, to want him in a way that was real. but all that time, all that patience, did it matter now? was it too late for him to matter?

the hospital felt like a nightmare. everything about it was wrong, bright fluorescent lights that felt too harsh, cold hallways that smelled of antiseptic and despair. sunghoon's feet carried him through the corridors almost mechanically, his mind still reeling from the call.

you’re alive. you are in surgery but alive. every step felt heavier than the last.

he found jungwon near the entrance, his face pale in despair, eyes hollowed with exhaustion and grief. he didn’t speak at first. he didn’t need to. the unspoken words hung between them like a thick, suffocating fog. jungwon was somehow similar to sunghoon, although he didn’t want to force you to be his friend, he thought you deserved someone who was close to you. but not in that way. he didn’t approve how you basically stomped on sunghoon’s heart for free.

"she’s in there," jungwon finally said, voice quiet, strained. "my father came out some minutes ago, they… they’re doing everything they can. but sunghoon… her chances aren’t good."

his eyes flicked to the door leading to the intensive care unit, and sunghoon felt a sickening twist in his stomach. he stepped forward, but then, for a fleeting moment, doubt clouded his mind.

he couldn’t afford to let it consume him. he had spent too long waiting, waiting for you to finally see him, to love him, to understand. he had given you everything. everything.

but now, as he stood in front of that door, staring at the sterile room beyond, he couldn’t help but wonder, would it matter?

sunghoon hadn’t left your side. he couldn’t, even as the hours bled into days, even as the doctors had whispered about the “long road ahead” and the uncertainty of your condition. every beep of the machine was a reminder that you were still here, but not the same. not you. it was a shell, waiting for your consciousness to come back.

and then, one morning, after days of waiting, after nights of restless pacing, you woke up.

sunghoon sat in the sterile hospital room, his body aching from the hours he had spent perched on the edge of your bed, his eyes never leaving your still form. the steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, a constant reminder that you were alive. but in some ways, you had already slipped away. he held your hand, his thumb brushing over your cold skin as if he could transfer the warmth of his love into you through touch. but it never worked.

the harsh hospital lights felt like they were closing in on him, their cold glare a sharp contrast to the soft warmth that had settled between him and you over the years. your eyes fluttered open, blinking as though you were still trapped in the fog of sleep. at first, he thought it was just another moment of consciousness, another brief flicker of awareness before you slipped back into the darkness.

but then you looked at him.

then, you had blinked slowly, confused, your eyes drifting across the room. your gaze never settled on him with warmth. not with affection. you didn’t even seem to notice the familiar face sitting by your side, the hands that had held you for so long, through all the arguments, the rejections, the coldness that you had never apologized for.

your eyes remained dull, vacant, as if you were waking from some distant dream, only to realize you had no idea where you were, or who was standing at your side.

"hey, it’s me," sunghoon had whispered, his voice breaking, trembling. he had felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest, his hands shaking as he reached for yours, desperate to make you feel loved. "i’ve been here… i’ve always been here for you. the whole time.”

but when you looked at him, it was like you were looking at a stranger. your face was blank, your eyes empty. and then, just when his chest tightened with the growing weight of fear, you asked a question that shattered him entirely.

“where’s my mom?” you said, your voice soft, distant.

his heart stopped. the world around him blurred.

your mother. sunghoon’s throat went dry. his pulse sped up, panic seizing him. he could feel the world start to crumble around him, the pain swallowing him whole.

"where is she?" you asked again, your voice more insistent, the emptiness in your tone turning to something else now, something deeper. "are you a doctor? i want to see her. why isn’t she here? she has to know i’m okay, i don’t want her to worry." you spoke, urging him, not even asking why you were in a hospital bed.

it had been years. years since she died, right before your graduation. years since you stood in front of the casket, holding his hand, eyes brimming with tears. he had been there for you when your world had fallen apart, when the grief had swallowed you whole, even if you’d known him for such a small amount of time. that had been the only instance he had seen you let your emotions out around him. the only time he had seen you actually care for someone. and now, she was gone, for the second time.

sunghoon’s stomach dropped as he realized it.

you didn’t remember her death. you didn’t remember how hard you had cried that day, how the world had felt like it had fallen apart when you stood alone. now you were asking where she was as if she were just gone for the day. as if your whole heart hadn’t crumbled the day you lost her.

and the worst part? you were asking the question, but you weren’t asking him, the one person who had been there for you, to help you understand. you were asking him like he was a stranger, a figure in the background.

his heart squeezed painfully as his breath hitched in his throat. “y/n…” his voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue, his eyes welling with tears. "she’s gone. your mom… she’s been gone for so long. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, but she’s… she’s never coming back."

at that, something in you seemed to break.

something raw. your lips trembled as your gaze dropped, and your hands began to shake slightly. it was the second time he had seen any sign of emotion from you. your expression hardened for a moment, then softened, and before sunghoon could react, the first tear slipped from your eye.

he watched, in stunned silence, as the single drop fell, and then another followed, and another. and then, your body trembled, your chest heaving as a deep, broken sob escaped you. the sound broke him, cracked through the shell of numbness that had been surrounding you, and in an instant, you were crying, completely unraveling in front of him.

you didn’t remember the pain you’d gone through when she left you. but the truth of it, the horror of knowing your mother was gone, hit you with a brutal force now.

sunghoon stood frozen, his heart breaking in his chest as he watched you collapse into grief, your body shaking violently with sobs. the sight of it tore through him. the rawness of your sorrow was more real than anything.

you were grieving her all over again. you were grieving her, but this time, you were alone. even if you hadn’t cared about him, he was still there. now, he was a complete nobody to you.

sunghoon’s hand hovered, trembling, over your shoulder, desperate to offer some kind of comfort, some reassurance. but he hadn’t expected what happened next.

as his fingers brushed against your skin, you flinched violently, pulling away from him as though his touch burned. your body jerked in a sharp, panicked movement, your breath quickening as if he had just committed some unspeakable betrayal.

"don't fucking touch me!" you screamed, your voice raw, frantic, full of a sudden, terrifying rage that sunghoon wasn’t prepared for. "what did you do to her? what did you do to my mommy?!" you looked like a little kid, lost in a store, full of despair, alone, abandoned.

the words cut through the room like a blade, the accusation hanging in the air like a toxic cloud. sunghoon recoiled instinctively, the weight of your words crashing over him, leaving him stunned, speechless. he could barely process the intensity of your pain, the sheer volume of the fury radiating from you.

you were trembling, your eyes wide with fear, with anger, tears streaming down your face as you turned away from him, trying to scramble back in the bed, as though the very sight of him made your skin crawl.

"tell me what you did!" your voice cracked, jagged with despair and confusion. "what did you do to her? why did you, why did you let her go?!”

it was as though a switch had flipped inside you, a madness born from your trauma, your loss. you had lost your memories, but you were still trapped in the suffocating grief of a daughter who couldn't comprehend the finality of death. the very foundation of your identity was crumbling. and now, in this panic-stricken haze, sunghoon became the focal point of all your rage, all your hurt.

"why isn’t she here?" you clawed at the sheets, your hands shaking with the intensity of your breakdown. "where is she? i need her! now! what did you do?!”

your voice echoed in the sterile room, the frantic energy in your words tearing at the walls, until the room felt too small for the fury you unleashed. you were looking at him now, not with any recognition, but with venom, as if he had been the one to tear your world apart.

sunghoon stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest. it was a punch he hadn’t expected. the weight of your accusations landing on him with suffocating force. he opened his mouth to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. how could he explain that you didn’t even remember your mother’s death? how could he make you understand that he wasn’t the one who had taken her from you?

his eyes welled up with fresh tears, but he bit his lip to hold them back, shaking his head desperately. "y/n, please. i didn’t do anything. i’m not, i never hurt her," he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his own sorrow. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to calm you, how to help you make sense of the pain that was consuming you.

but the words didn’t reach you. you weren’t listening anymore. the madness in your eyes was too much, too overwhelming, and your voice only grew louder, more frantic.

"you’re lying! you’re lying to me!" you screamed, pulling at your hair, your face contorted in anguish. "you’re trying to cover it up! you’re lying! you’re lying!"

the madness in your eyes was suffocating, and sunghoon felt helpless, absolutely powerless to do anything but watch as you spiraled, consumed by grief and fear. you don’t remember her, but you remember the pain. you remember the loss. and now you’re looking for someone to blame.

the room felt smaller, air thinner, suffocating. he wanted to reach for you again, to hold you, to tell you that he hadn’t done anything to hurt you or your mother, but you were too lost, too far gone in the grip of your overwhelming grief. he took a step forward, but before he could get any closer, the door to the room flew open.

several doctors rushed in, their voices immediately cutting through the madness.

"we need to sedate her," one of them said urgently, his face a mask of professional concern. it was jungwon’s father. "she’s going into a severe emotional breakdown. we need to calm her down now before she hurts herself."

"no!" you screamed, your voice cracking with pure terror as the doctors tried to gently restrain you, to keep you from thrashing about. "don’t touch me! don’t touch me! just being my mommy please! i need her! what’s happening?!" you begged, being ignored constantly.

the doctors moved quickly, efficiently, as they administered an injection to calm you down. you screamed for a moment longer, your body still writhing beneath their hold, but the sedative began to take effect almost immediately. your breathing slowed, your cries turned into soft sobs, and the frantic movements of your body slowed to a near-stillness.

sunghoon stood in the corner of the room, numb, his entire body frozen as he watched the scene unfold. his hands shook violently at his sides, his chest tight with a crushing weight of despair. you were no longer the girl he had once known. you were a stranger, lost in a storm of confusion and grief, and there was nothing he could do to bring you back.

the doctor turned to him then, their expression sympathetic, but firm. "she’s experiencing severe memory loss due to the trauma of the accident. we’ll need to run more tests, but she’s clearly in distress. she’s reliving her grief, and it’s manifesting in these violent outbursts. her mind is trying to make sense of what’s happened, but she can’t understand it. she’s lost."

sunghoon’s knees buckled, and he sank into the nearest chair, his head falling into his hands as fresh tears poured down his face.

you didn’t remember him. you didn’t remember your mother. if you didn’t remember both. there was no one else in your life. you were completely alone.

you were lost.

you were slipping away from him, piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. because you would have never let him. he didn’t care if he was important enough to be remembered, that didn’t matter anymore.

the room had gone eerily silent, the only sounds the soft beeping of machines and the faint rustling of the doctors movements. sunghoon could barely breathe through the suffocating weight of the situation. he had always known that losing you would break him, but he hadn’t realized how completely it would shatter him until now.

his eyes were fixed on you, still lying in the bed, sedated now, but your face was a mask of innocence, frozen in that moment of pure loss. you looked so young, so fragile.

the doctors were still in the room, their voices quiet but filled with a clinical understanding that sunghoon could barely grasp.

“she’s in an acute state of dissociative amnesia,” doctor yang explained, looking at the chart in his hands, speaking to sunghoon but also to the team around them. “it’s not uncommon with traumatic injuries like the ones she sustained in the accident. but we’re also seeing something else.”

sunghoon’s gaze flickered to the familiar doctor, confused and lost in a fog of grief. his throat was tight, his mind struggling to make sense of what was happening. “what else?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice broken.

“the trauma to her brain has caused a significant regression,” the doctor continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to cushion the blow. “she’s reverted back to her mental state from when she was in her senior year possibly. she’s essentially lost a part of herself. emotionally and cognitively, she’s been pulled back to that time. before all of this. before everything that’s happened in the last few years.”

sunghoon felt his chest tighten at the words. senior year? back to senior year? the words felt like a cruel joke, a twisting knife in the very heart of his memory.

“how is that even possible?” he asked weakly, his voice trembling. “how could she… forget everything? how could she forget me?… scratch that, she doesn’t even remember her mother.”

doctor yang gave a slow nod, clearly understanding the pain in sunghoon’s voice. "it’s common in cases of severe trauma," he explained. "in some cases, the mind protects itself by essentially 'erasing' the time that feels too painful. for her, that means the death of her mother, and perhaps… everything that came after. it’s as if she’s rewound the clock, mentally returning to that phase in her life. the person she was when she was 17."

sunghoon couldn’t move. he couldn’t think. his world had just collapsed in on itself.

“her emotional development since that time is disconnected,” the doctor continued gently. “she’s essentially stuck in that version of herself. the girl she was before all the trauma, before the grief of losing her mother, before all the years you two have spent together. she may not even remember who you are, or if she does, it might be as some vague figure from her past, someone she used to know.”

the words felt like they were smothering sunghoon. his heart pounded in his chest as the doctor’s voice seemed to echo in his head. the girl she was when she was 17.

that girl, the one who had barely spoken to him beyond pleasantries, the one who had brushed him off time and time again, the one who didn’t seem to see him for the years he spent loving her. that girl who knew he would walked behind her every day.

a sudden coldness washed over him. there was a difference between you at this age, and you in high school. back when you were 17, you were an emotional wreck, everyone’s feelings were a game to you. and even if you still had some of those traits now, no amount of mean comments would take away the years he had been by your side.

“is there any chance she’ll come back?” sunghoon’s voice cracked with the question. the word ‘come back’ felt like the ultimate lie on his lips. come back from what? as if you were totally different to him.

the doctor looked at him with sad, tired eyes. "it’s difficult to say. memory loss from trauma like this is unpredictable. she may remember parts of her past, pieces of her life, or she may not. but it's important to understand that right now... she’s not the person she was. she’s stuck in a moment of her life that’s far behind, and all the years since then. your relationship, her grief, everything. are inaccessible to her. it’s like waking up from a dream and finding that nothing has changed, that you’re still in the same place you were before."

sunghoon’s stomach twisted painfully as the words settled in, cold and harsh. you didn’t remember anything. from the years that had passed. your mother’s death. your shared time together. your love, his love for you.

and now, you were a ghost from the past, frozen at the moment when everything had seemed relatively simpler, when your heart hadn’t yet been broken by life, when the world had yet to show you how much pain it could cause. the girl you had once been, so egoistic, so unknowing. and yet, somehow, so much more alive than the hollow shell of yourself that lay before him now.

sunghoon let his head fall into his hands, his whole body shaking with silent sobs. how did we get here? why is this happening? he had fought for you for so long. he had been there when no one else was. he had endured your coldness, your indifference, always telling himself that one day, you would realize.

but now, standing in this sterile room, staring at the broken version of you who couldn’t even remember her own mother, he wondered if he was even real to you anymore.

you were lost to him. and in so many ways, he had lost you long before the crash. but this was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt. you had always been distant, but now, you were gone entirely, unable to see him as the one who had loved you, as the one who had held you when you cried, as the one who had always been there.

"you don’t remember me," sunghoon whispered to himself, as if speaking the words would somehow make them less true. "you don’t remember anything. you’re just... gone."

the doctor’s words seemed to fade into the background as sunghoon stood there, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion so deep it almost consumed him. you had finally slipped away, and there was nothing left of the person he had loved so desperately.

and for the first time, he realized that even if you woke up, even if you remembered, even if you somehow found your way back to him. it wouldn’t change the fact that you never once felt love for him.

the sun was gentle, casting soft golden rays through the canopy of a massive tree. its branches reached wide, stretching into the sky as if welcoming the warmth of the spring day. the ground was dotted with delicate flowers, the air crisp with the scent of new life, the kind of serenity that only spring could offer. you were sitting underneath that tree, the soft breeze playing with the hem of your dress, your fingers grazing the grass beneath you. everything felt still, yet alive. an ethereal peace wrapped around you like a gentle hug.

your heart felt light, unburdened by the heaviness of the world, untouched by time. you had forgotten where you were or what had come before, but you felt a warmth that seemed to seep into your very bones. for a moment, everything made sense.

then, a rustling came from the tall, golden plants that stretched in a field before you. your breath caught in your throat.

the air shifted, the breeze growing stronger as you stood, your eyes scanning the distance. through the swaying plants, a figure emerged, small and bounding toward you. it was a dog, running full speed, its fur glistening like gold in the sunlight. a wave of joy crashed over you as you recognized him.

tudor.

your childhood dog, the one who had followed you everywhere when you were young, with his golden locks, warm eyes, and boundless love. he had always known how to make you feel safe, even when the world seemed too big, too overwhelming.

tudor reached you in a blur of motion. his paws landed gently on your chest as he jumped into your arms, licking your face with affection, as if greeting you after years of absence. tears welled in your eyes as you hugged him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. it had been so long, you had forgotten how his presence could make you feel so loved, so at home. though you had felt something similar to that love.

and then, another figure appeared.

a woman walked slowly toward you, her steps measured, graceful, as if the earth itself was cradling her. she had the same complexion as you, the same soft glow to her skin, but she was older, more radiant, as though she had lived many lives in her time. her eyes, those eyes, locked with yours, full of love, of understanding. she was so much like you, yet so different.

it was like looking into a mirror, yet seeing someone far more complete than you could ever feel. she was so full of life, so warm, so alive.

“mom?” the word slipped from your lips like a prayer, and she smiled, soft, peaceful, as though she had been waiting for this moment.

“mom!” you stepped toward her, your heart thundering, tears pooling in your eyes. it wasn’t just the joy of seeing her again, but the relief, the sense of home that flooded through you. you couldn’t stop yourself. you dropped to your knees and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her chest. she held you tight, her arms wrapping around you like the most familiar embrace. it was as though all the years of longing, of missing her, had vanished in that instant. you had finally come home.

you felt something delicate in her hands, and she gently placed a white rose in your hair. you giggled, the sound light and free, as though the burden of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. everything was perfect here, warmth, love, family.

but then, more figures appeared, joining the two of you. your father, grandparents, aunts, uncles. all there, gathered around you, their faces full of warmth, their eyes full of love. they surrounded you, welcoming you into something new, so full of love, full of peace, full of home.

you closed your eyes, the sense of belonging overwhelming you. this was where you were meant to be. this was the place you had always been searching for.

everything grew still. the warmth faded, replaced by the coldness of reality.

“you’re still so close, but yet so far…”

sunghoon was kneeling at a grave. his hands trembled as he placed a bouquet of white roses down on the ground, his eyes red from crying, his body heavy with grief. he didn’t understand why life had been so cruel to him. he had loved you, loved you with everything he had. but it had never been enough.

you hadn’t loved him. you had forgotten him, lost yourself to time and trauma. and then, when things seemed to be getting better, complications had taken you away from him, too soon, too violently. sunghoon stared at the gravestone, his fingers brushing the cold stone.

but then, he realized something, the weight of it crashing over him. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t bitter. he was simply thankful.

you had found peace. you had found your mother again, found your way back to the ones who truly loved you. that was all that mattered. you were free of the pain. you could finally rest.

because after all this time, he will always love you more than you could yourself. that was his goal, and he was happy that he did his best to show you love.

and then, there was you. you were looking down at him. from wherever you were, you could see his grief, feel the weight of it in your chest. but more than that, you could feel the love. the love you had always felt for him, that you had always known was there. you loved him so much. more than you had ever known. he was enough for you, more than it.

but you had pushed him away. because you couldn’t bear to see him suffer as you had. you didn’t want him to be dragged down the path of destruction, not like you had. you didn’t want him to drown in the pain of loving someone who couldn’t show any emotion beyond anger back, who had been broken beyond repair.

you had to let him go. even if it tore you apart, you had to let him go. for his sake. because you did love him.

perhaps, one day, you would reunite. and when that time came, he wouldn’t be a stranger to you anymore. you would remember everything. the love, the pain, the mistakes, and the healing. and when that day came, you would hold him again, this time knowing how deeply you had always loved him.

and so, with a quiet sigh, you let yourself rest, knowing that he would be okay. because, somewhere in your heart, you knew that love would find its way back to you, whenever the time was right.

MASTERLIST.

BTW: um. so yeah….

[rintarosluvr]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊

Sylus x Reader

Topics: angst (sorta), flashback on how Y/n and sylus met, they are 14/15, basically teenagers being teenagers, she doesn't like sylus (let me cook!), sylus comforting Y/n

Note: happy new year! hope y'all enjoy this chap as well!!

Word count: 5k

Chap.1

Chap.2

A loud crash shook you awake, the sound rattling the stillness of the early morning

The faint glow of dawn seeped through the thin curtains of your bedroom, painting the walls in muted shades of blue and gold

The soft rustling of the ocean breeze carried through the slightly ajar window but it wasn’t enough to drown out the commotion outside

The door to your room creaked open as Leanne peeked her head inside, her hair messy from sleeping

“Y/n…” she called, her voice filled with worry

“I know, I know” you grumble, rubbing your eyes as you sit up, the wooden floor creaked slightly beneath her as she stepped inside

“I thought your old neighbors moved out?” she asks, glancing toward the window as if trying to see what had disturbed the quiet morning

“They did. The house has been empty for a while” you mumble, tossing your blanket aside and standing up

“Then why did I see people moving in?” she asks, her confusion evident

“What?!” you exclaim, rushing past her and heading for the stairs

Leanne follows as you storm through the cozy living room, where Vanessa and Kaori are already waiting by the open door

The salty tang of the ocean air hit you immediately, the sound of waves crashing faintly in the distance

“She’s finally up” Vanessa mutters, leaning against the doorframe

“About time” Kaori sighs, stepping aside as you push the screen door open and head outside.

The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the sleepy coastal neighborhood

The old house next door loomed next door, it’s once faded blue paint now looking refreshed

“Did you call any of my parents?” you ask as you stride toward the house, your bare feet brushing against the dew covered grass

“They didn’t pick up” Vanessa replies

“Great” you mutter, pushing open the rusty gate that separated the two properties. It creaked loudly, drawing a wince from you

You make your way up the short pathway, bordered by overgrown shrubs and press the doorbell. The faint sounds drifted from inside the house, quickly silenced by the chime of the bell

A moment later, the door swung open, revealing a boy about your age. He leaned against the frame, his expression casual, his white hair slightly disheveled as though he’d just woken up

“Can I help you?” he asks, his raised eyebrow matching his amused tone

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the easy confidence in his posture “This house isn’t supposed to have anyone in it. So, if you would kindly leave…”

He smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned further against the frame “My parents just rented this house. So that makes us neighbors” he says

You narrow your eyes, skeptical “And where are they?”

“Out with your parents” he replies without missing a beat “They told me they had a daughter my age living next door”

That sounded exactly like something your mom would say... You sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly “I guess you’re in the clear Just try to keep it down, yeah?”

“I’ll try my best” he nods as he watches you.

You roll your eyes and step back

“What’s your name” he asks, tilting his head in curiosity

“Y/n” you reply curtly

“Nice to meet you, Y/n I’m Sylus”

You nod, turning on your heel to head back toward your house. Your friends fall into step beside you, their curious glances making you bristle

“He’s staring at you” Leanne whispers, a teasing grin tugging at her lips

“I have a boyfriend” you mutter, your tone clipped as you focus on the gravel crunching under your feet

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting your neighbor is good looking” Kaori shrugs, her tone light as the sun glinted off the ocean waves in the distance.

“Whatever” you mumble

[Three Days Later]

“Okay, kiddos, everyone take a seat!” your teacher says as you make your way to your usual spot at the back of the classroom

The chatter among your classmates gradually fades and the bustling energy settles into a calm quiet

“We have a new student joining us today, Please give a warm welcome to Sylus, who officially transferred yesterday''

Your attention shifts to the new arrival. Sylus stands tall, exuding a composed confidence. His eyes sweep over the room, taking in the curious faces

When his gaze lands on you, he nods slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips, You narrow your eyes, returning the look with mild annoyance

From the desk in front of you, your boyfriend leans back slightly, his tone low “You know him?”

“Found out like two days ago, that he’s my neighbor” you explain with a sigh “Thought he was one of those kids sneaking into abandoned houses or something”

“And he knows you’ve got a boyfriend, right?” he presses, his expression serious

“Probably not” you admit, leaning back in your seat “Didn’t talk to him for that long”

He nods, clearly mulling it over before turning his focus back to the front of the classroom

“What was that about?” Vanessa whispers, her eyes darting between you and your boyfriend

“Don’t know, it’s weird” you shrug, brushing off whatever that was

“Sylus, you can take a seat next to Eydis” the teacher says, motioning to the empty chair near the window, Sylus strides to the seat with an air of ease, his smirk lingering as he passes your desk

As he sits, he casts another glance your way and you fight the urge to roll your eyes

During the break, you and your friends sat near the soccer field, the ocean stretching out in the distance

The sun glinted off the waves and a gentle breeze carried through the air, Your friends gathered around the picnic table, chatting and picking at their snacks.

Leanne broke the momentary silence, her voice playful like she was interviewing you “So, what do you think about your boyfriend being jealous of Sylus after just three classes?”

“It’s annoying” you mumble, unwrapping the vending machine snack in your hands and taking a bite

“I bet” Kaori chimes in, leaning back on the bench and shaking her head

“You should’ve seen his face when Sylus called my name after the teacher asked who he wanted to partner up with for class” you sigh

Vanessa raises an eyebrow “Maybe he’s jealous of Sylus’s looks?”

“Well, I’m his girlfriend” you say firmly “He doesn’t have anything to worry about”

“True” Vanessa nods, popping a chip into her mouth as the conversation shifts to other things, but the unease about your boyfriend’s jealousy lingers in the back of your mind

Above the distant sound of the waves, the faint cheers from the soccer field and the chatter of other students fill the air, grounding you in the moment as your friends laugh and joke around

“Wassup!” a familiar voice cuts through your thoughts. You turn your head, spotting Kazuo strolling over with his usual relaxed demeanor “What’s with your boyfriend acting all competitive toward the new guy?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans casually against the table

“I honestly don’t know and I don’t want to know” you grumble, rubbing your temple “Everything is pissing me off at this moment”

“Might have to do with Sylus talking to him before class” Eydis says, suddenly appearing and sliding into the bench between Kaori and Leanne, helping himself to their snacks

“What?” you ask, genuinely caught off guard

“He didn’t tell you?” Eydis looks surprised “Well, I asked Sylus about it, and he said, ‘Your girlfriend is very pretty’ which is bold, I can’t lie”

You groan dropping your head onto Vanessa’s shoulder “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope” Eydis says, shaking his head as he munches on a stolen chips

“So he asked for your name a few days ago and stalked your social media. I respect the effort” Kazuo nods

“I don’t” you snap

“Well, we’re on the field” Eydis says, standing up with Kazuo “See you later”

As they head off, Vanessa nudges you “Are you going to talk to Sylus?” “No” you shake your head firmly “Who knows what he’s up to”

“Seems like he’s into you” Kaori says with a shrug “Like, a lot”

“Love at first sight” Leanne teases, a mischievous grin spreading across her face “How romantic”

You toss a piece of candy at her, earning a laugh “I’m joking!” she says throwing her hands up defensively

The ocean breeze swirls around you but instead of calming you, it only reminds you of the whirlwind Sylus seems to have brought into your life

“See you guys tomorrow!” you wave at your friends from across the train station

“We’ll be calling later!” Kaori reminds you as their train pulls up

“Sure!” You chuckle, popping your earbuds in, getting ready to start your music, but before you can, someone sits down next to you on the bench

You look up “Why are you sitting here?” you ask, glancing around at the mostly empty station

“Because I want to” Sylus says with a nonchalant shrug

You frown “Did you really go up to him and tell him his girlfriend is pretty?” you ask, unable to hold back your curiosity

“Yeah” he says, shrugging again like it’s no big deal

“Why?” “Wanted to tell him the truth,” he says casually, as it’s the most normal thing in the world

You narrow your eyes at him “Well, he’s jealous thanks to you”

“Then he doesn’t deserve you” Sylus says, his gaze locking with yours

You blink caught off guard by his bluntness “Just shut up”

He chuckles softly, clearly entertained by your reaction “If he breaks up with you, it’s his loss, really”

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous at what just came out of his mouth. It’s as if your one year relationship doesn’t hold any weight in his eyes

“If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let you go for anything” he says, his tone sincere, with no trace of his usual smirk. He looks like he means every word

You don’t respond. Instead, you plug your other earbud in and start your music, hoping to drown him out

[Saturday]

“Do I really have to go?” you sigh, trailing after your mom as she moves around the living room searching for her bag

“Yes” she says without looking up “I already told Mrs. Qin we’d be coming over”

“What about my plans?” you protest, hoping for an out

“You don’t have any plans. If you did, you would’ve told me days ago,” she replies

“I don’t like him” you grumble, slumping against the wall

“Has he done anything to you?” your mom asks, already knowing you’re talking about Sylus

“Yeah, sabotaging my relationship” you mutter under your breath

“Oh, Y/n” she sighs shaking her head “He only told your boyfriend you were pretty. There’s nothing wrong with that”

“So if some woman came up to you and told you Dad was handsome, you’d be fine with it?” you challenge, crossing your arms and watching her reaction

“It’s good to know my husband is handsome” she shrugs

You groan and throw yourself face first onto the couch cushion, muffling a frustrated scream into the fabric

“Are you done?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as you peek up at her “If so, go get dressed. You’ve got fifteen minutes”

You huff dramatically but drag yourself upstairs, as you trudge up the stairs, you pull out your phone and tap into your group chat

The phone rings a few times before Leanne picks up, her face filling the screen as she spins lazily in her chair

“What’s up?” she asks, tilting her head in curiosity

“I need a way out” you groan dramatically, flopping onto your bed with your phone hovering over your face

“Out of what?” Kaori’s voice cuts in as her face pops up in the corner of the screen

“My mom is dragging me to Mrs. Qin’s house” you explain, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “And guess who’s gonna be there”

“Sylus” Vanessa guesses, her screen lighting up as she joins the call

“Ding, ding, ding” you deadpan “I swear, my mom is on his side at this point. She even defended him for calling me pretty to my boyfriend”

“Damn, Sylus got your mom wrapped around his finger too?” Leanne laughs, spinning again in her chair

“Not helping” you grumble, glaring at her through the screen

“So what’s the plan?” Kaori leans closer to her camera, her expression serious like she’s ready to strategize

“There is no plan” you sigh, flipping onto your back “She’s giving me fifteen minutes to get dressed, and I don’t have a single excuse not to go”

“Just fake being sick” Vanessa suggests with a casual shrug

“Tried that last time” you reply, groaning again “You know it won’t work twice”

“Well, you could always just… survive it” Kaori says, throwing her hands up as if it’s the most obvious solution

“Not the advice I was looking for” you mutter, shooting her a halfhearted glare

“You’ll be fine” Leanne says reassuringly

“Text us updates!” Kaori adds “We need the gossip”

“You guys are useless” you laugh despite yourself “Well, I gotta go” you add as your mom’s voice rings out from downstairs, calling your name

With a resigned sigh, you end the call and drag yourself toward your closet, already dreading the evening ahead

“On my way back from practice, I bought flowers for you both” Sylus says, handing your mom a bouquet with an easy smile

“Oh, how sweet” your mom says, bringing the flowers to her nose for a sniff “These are lovely”

Sylus then hands you a smaller bouquet. You narrow your eyes at him, your lips pressed into a thin line as his mother watches the interaction with interest

“Thank you, Sylus” you say with a strained, fake smile “How nice of you”

“You’re welcome” he nods, his tone surprisingly polite

You glance down at the bouquet in your hands, your irritation slowly fading when you notice they’re your favorite flowers

“Seems like stalking paid off” you mutter under your breath, making sure only he could hear you

“It did” he chuckles softly, clearly amused by your reaction

You roll your eyes and grip the bouquet tighter, silently praying for the ground to swallow you whole. God, why this?

“Your boyfriend has yet to do this” she whispers, her tone sly as she gestures to the bouquet

Yeah, that’s it. If the universe doesn’t end you right now, you’ll simply die, The last thing you want is your mother comparing Sylus to your boyfriend

Soon after you all move to the table, it was beautifully set, with steaming dishes of food that smelled amazing

You sat across from Sylus, who seemed perfectly at ease, laughing and chatting with your mother and his mother

“So, Y/n” Mrs. Qin began, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “how do you like having Sylus as a neighbor?”

You forced a polite smile “It’s… fine. Quiet, most of the time”

“Most of the time?” Sylus interjected, raising an eyebrow “When have I been loud?”

You shot him a look “You’re not as quiet as you think during your practice in the garage with your boxing”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face “Ah, so you’ve been listening to my training sessions?” he teased, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the banter

You fought the urge to roll your eyes “It’s hard not to hear the punching bag rattle at all hours” you muttered, trying to sound casual “It’s like a drumbeat for the neighborhood

Your mother cleared her throat, clearly picking up on your tone. “She’s just adjusting to the change, Mrs. Qin. You know how teenagers can be”

Mrs. Qin laughed, nodding. “Of course, of course. But you two seem to get along well enough” Her gaze turned to Sylus “Have you been helping her with anything? Schoolwork, maybe?”

“Actually” Sylus said “I’ve been helping her boyfriend understand his priorities”

Your fork clattered against your plate as you dropped it, glaring at him “That’s not what happened”

“Oh?” Mrs. Qin asked, her eyebrows lifting in amusement “What did happen?”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the attention “Let’s just say I had to remind him how lucky he is”

“You mean by making him jealous?” you muttered under your breath, quickly, shoving a bite of food into your mouth to avoid further questioning

“I think it’s sweet that Sylus has taken such an interest” your mother chimed in, giving you a pointed look “He’s such a thoughtful young man”

You resisted the urge to groan, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Sylus smiled at you across the table, completely unbothered. You, on the other hand, were counting the minutes until this dinner was over

“So, do you attend any after school clubs?” Mrs. Qin asks, her gaze bright with curiosity

You nod, swallowing a bite of food “I do, the dance club”

“That’s interesting” she says with a smile “You cheer too, right?”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised “How did you know that?”

“Sylus mentioned it” she replies

You glance at Sylus, who gives you a small, knowing smirk

“Oh yeah. I do, it’s fun” you say

“I’ve seen them walk together after practice. It’s nice of him to wait for you” your mom chimes in, clearly proud

You almost choke on your food at the mention of that “Oh really?” Mrs. Qin asks, glancing between you and her son, clearly intrigued

“Yeah, it’s kind of late when she finishes” Sylus says with a shrug and you swear you can feel your blood pressure rising

“It only happened twice” you say quickly, wanting to downplay the situation

Sylus raises an eyebrow “Which is still a lot”

You give him a tight lipped smile, wishing you could find a way to shut him up

After dinner, both mothers decided to clean up, suggesting that you and Sylus hang out in his room while they took care of the dishes

You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of parents would let that happen, especially with how teens have been lately

But here you were, walking behind him to his room after he held the door open with a grin “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for you to go ahead

His room was painted in deep red, with black curtains draped across the windows, a few medals hung on the walls, along with several trophies scattered around and to your surprise, a cat lounged lazily on the bed

You crouched down to pet it, letting your fingers gently stroke its soft fur

“It’s a boy” Sylus said, leaning against the doorframe, watching you

You smiled, continuing to pet the cat “What’s his name?”

“Shadow” he replied

His cat looks up at you lazily, flicking its tail before rubbing its head against your hand

You smile, enjoying the softness of his fur “He’s cute” you admit, giving the cat a gentle scratch behind its ears

Sylus shrugs “He’s more like a cat than a pet, really. Just hangs around when he feels like it”

You stand up and glance around his room, noting the trophies and medals scattered on shelves “You’re really I to boxing, no?” you ask, gesturing toward his achievements

“Yeah” he says with a slight shrug “You could say I like competition”

You nod slowly, eyes flicking to one of the gold medals hanging on the wall “Seems like it’s working out for you”

“Some things do” he responds, his tone unexpectedly serious for a moment

You take a seat on the edge of his bed, still trying to wrap your mind around the idea of spending time in his room

It felt… different. Something about the space felt both inviting and oddly intimidating

As you sit there, Sylus steps closer but the way he’s looking at you makes you realize just how much he’s been watching you since you stepped into the room

You feel the air shift between you both, an unspoken tension hanging in the air

“So, what do you usually do in here?” you ask, trying to break the silence

He smirks, leaning against the desk “Nothing interesting. Just training, games, and… occasionally making people mad”

You raise an eyebrow at him “Sounds like you enjoy the last one”

“Guilty as charged” he replies “You should try it sometime. Might be fun”

You roll your eyes, not taking the bait “I think I’ll pass on that one”

“So how long have you been with your boyfriend?” Sylus asked his eyes watching you intently

The question caught you off guard “A year” you answer, trying to keep your tone neutral

He nodded but didn’t say anything more, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment

“What? You don’t have a girlfriend?” you question raising an eyebrow, still leaning back and absentmindedly petting Shadow

“No” he replied simply, his gaze shifting away from you for a second “If I did, it would’ve been known”

“Got it” you nodded, the air between you suddenly thick with something unspoken. You watched as he sat down in his chair, settling into the silence,

You grab your phone, relieved for something to distract you, It buzzed a few times and you unlocked it to check the notifications from the group chat

Leanne: “Y/n, spill! What’s going on with you and Sylus?”

Kaori: “I swear he’s flirting with you, just admit it!”

Vanessa: “You okay over there?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, texting back quickly “Nothing’s going on. He’s just being a pain”

You could feel Sylus’s eyes on you as you typed, but you didn’t look up. It was easier that way

[The morning after]

“He was just staring a lot, like he was observing me” you tell your friends the next day, trying to make sense of Sylus’s behavior

“Maybe he was in awe” Vanessa shrugs, a teasing grin on her face

“I don’t know” you shrug, not quite convinced “It was a bit weird when it was just the two of us”

“In an awkward or like a comfortable way?” Kaori asks

“Both, I guess” you sigh feeling the confusion from last night all over again

“And he gave you flowers, your favorite ones, that’s cute” Leanne adds, trying to lighten the mood

“I’m just trying to figure out why he always does the things he does, waiting for me and now the flowers” you mumble, your thoughts tangled

“Well, that gotta wait, your boyfriend is coming and looks mad” Vanessa says, her tone shifting as she spots him walking toward you

You turn around to see him approaching, a frown already forming on his face

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks as soon as he reaches you

“Uh yeah, sure” you nod, feeling the tension “See you guys in class” you call to your friends, who nod and watch you walk away

You follow your boyfriend down an empty hallway, feeling the weight of the moment

“Are the rumors true?” he asks as you both slow down, his voice tense

“What rumors?” you ask, genuinely confused

“You and Sylus having dinner last night?” he asks, his eyes searching your face for an answer

“Oh yeah, was forced to go by my mom” you reply, trying to keep things light but sensing the storm brewing

“And the flowers he gave you?” he presses, clearly not letting it go

“Couldn’t really throw them away” you mumble, feeling uncomfortable “Why are you questioning me right now?”

“I don’t like him” he admits, his voice low and serious

“And I do?” you mumble under your breath, trying not to sound hurt

“It seems like it” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration

“Are you kidding me right now?” you narrow your eyes at him, not knowing how to handle this

“What am I supposed to think, you’ve been spending so much time with him?”

“Not by will” you say, your voice edged with frustration

“Right” he mumbles, his eyes narrowing “Maybe we should take a break”

“What? Just because of what happened last night? Are you serious?” you ask, your annoyance creeping in “Whatever, I don’t have the time for this. Text me later or something” you say, turning on your heel and walking away

Sylus watches you enter the classroom, clearly annoyed, with a hint of concern flickering in his expression

You take your seat with a sigh, trying to shake off the tension

“What happened?” Kaori asks, noticing your mood as soon as you sit down

“He wants to break up because of what happened last night” you explain, keeping your voice low

“Because of a dinner you were forced to go to? That’s crazy” Leanne says, disbelief in her voice

“Tell me about it” you mumble

[3:42PM]

You felt like crying when you saw the text message from your now ex boyfriend after school

The words stung, he broke up with you so easily, letting his insecurities about Sylus tear everything down, for a guy who had barely been around for a week, it hurt more than you expected

“You’re fine, Y/n” you whisper to yourself, trying to steady your breath “He doesn’t deserve you”

Breaking up with you over some other guy? How weak was that? The thought gnawed at you as the frustration and disappointment built up inside

You let out a deep sigh, pausing your music, trying to compose yourself

You had ditched cheer practice, too tired to face it all, the last thing you wanted was to pretend everything was okay when it really wasn’t

You wanted nothing more than to be home, away from everyone, to just curl up and cry your eyes out, the weight of everything, the breakup, the confusion, the frustration was too much to carry right now

You just wanted to shut the world out, tune out all the noise and let the tears fall without worrying about anything or anyone

It felt like everything was falling apart and all you wanted was to escape for a while

A pair of shoes stops in front of you but you refuse to look up, already knowing who it is, of all people, he’s the last person you want to see you like this

“I’m not in the mood today” you mumble, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground

He doesn’t reply right away but instead, he sits down beside you. “He’s an idiot” he finally says

You scoff softly glancing at him.“You know this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t talked to him, right?”

Sylus doesn’t smirk or offer a cheeky comeback, For once, his face isn’t wearing its usual confident expression. Instead, there’s something softer, almost unreadable in his gaze

He looks at you for a moment longer, his eyes tracing over your glossy eyes and the way your teeth sink into your lip, an obvious attempt to hold back the tears threatening to spill

You look pitiful, like a cornered kitten, trembling but still trying to hold its ground, Vulnerable, but stubbornly defiant, yet he doesn’t smirk or wear that cocky, self assured expression you’ve come to expect

If anything, there’s something unfamiliar in his face. Concern? Sympathy? His lips press into a thin line and the sharpness in his eyes softens, just enough to make you doubt if you’re imagining it

The silence stretches, heavy and taut, until he finally speaks, his voice lower than usual, as though afraid to shatter you entirely “You look like you’re about to cry”

“And whose fault is that?” you snap, your voice cracking slightly as you glare at him

Sylus sighs, leaning back against the wall behind him, his gaze never leaving your face “Mine, I guess. But I wasn’t trying to ruin anything for you. If he can’t handle someone saying his girlfriend is pretty, maybe he wasn’t worth your time”

“That’s not the point” you mutter, looking away “It’s the fact that he got so insecure over something so small”

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out “You deserve someone who doesn’t crumble at the first sign of competition. Someone who can see how amazing you are and not let their ego get in the way”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone “Why are you even here?”

“To make sure you’re okay,” he says simply “And to remind you that his loss isn’t your fault”

You let out a shaky breath, the tears threatening to spill over “I don’t need your pep talk right now, Sylus”

“Maybe not” he shrugs “but you’ve got it anyway”

His words settle over you like a strange kind of comfort and for a moment, you let the silence between you stretch, letting yourself feel just a little less alone

“You have a fever” your father says, pulling his hand away from your forehead, his brow furrowed with concern

“Don’t worry, I can still go to school” you insist, attempting to sit up

“Not happening” he replies firmly, gently pushing you back down by your shoulders. “You’re staying home”

From downstairs, your mother’s voice calls for him, He looks back at you “Alright, if anything happens, call me, yeah?”

You nod l “Sure”

Your phone rings just as your dad leaves the room and you pick it up without much enthusiasm

“Are you running late?” Vanessa’s voice comes through the speaker

“No, got a fever” you mumble

“Wait, what?! You’re sick?” Leanne chimes in, sounding alarmed

“That’s what my dad said” you shrug, even though they can’t see you

“We’ll come by after school” Kaori says decisively

“Fine by me” you reply, too tired to argue

“We gotta go, class is starting” Vanessa says hurriedly

“Okay bye” you say, hanging up as they rush off

You toss your phone onto the bedside table, letting out a tired sigh

Sylus watches as your parents exit the house, your dad shutting the door behind him

“Y/n is sick today” your mother says, glancing at Sylus “Would you like us to drop you off at school?”

He shakes his head politely “No, thank you. I’ll be fine”

As your parents head toward the car, Sylus hears your dad speak “That’s the boy who gave you and Y/n those bouquets of flowers?”

“Yes” your mom replies with a smile “He’s very sweet”

Sylus doesn’t react but his gaze drifts up to your bedroom window, the soft pink glow from your bedside lamp spills through the curtains, faintly illuminating the room

He lingers for a moment, then turns on his heel and starts walking, his thoughts quietly preoccupied

You scroll through your laptop, looking for a movie to kill some time. Being sick is the worst, it means you’re stuck doing nothing but trying to distract yourself from how miserable you feel

A knock at your window makes you pause, your frown deepening as you push the laptop to the side, shoving the curtain away, you’re met with an unexpected sight

“Sylus?” you say, your voice muffled through the closed window. You slide it open, the warm air brushing past you

“Why aren’t you at school?” you ask, confused

“You’re sick” he replies

“How do you know?” “Your mom told me before they left” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing

You blink at him, then glance down “How’d you even get up here?”

“I climbed” he says with a shrug, as if scaling your house was completely normal “Here”

He sets a bag on the windowsill

“You went to the store?” you ask, raising an eyebrow

“You ask a lot of questions” he sighs, shaking his head as if you’re exhausting him

“Do you blame me?” you mumble, eyeing the bag

Sylus gives you a small smirk but says nothing, leaning casually against the frame like he has all the time in the world

You open the bag, checking its contents, a container of soup, a few snack, a bottle of water, and a drink

You look back up at him, ready to say something, but the sight of him stops you short

The sun behind him casts a golden glow, lighting up his features in a way that seems almost unreal, his hair catches the light and his calm expression contrasts with the casual way he leans against the frame

You feel a strange sensation stir in your stomach, not unpleasant but unfamiliar

You’re not sure if it’s the fever messing with you or something else entirely “Why’d you do this?” you ask softly, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them

He meets your eyes “Because you need someone to take care of you” he says simply

Chap.3 >

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

I adore your work it’s impeccable!!! I have a question though maybe it’s stupid but do Matt and Nick know about Chris cheating in the baby daddy Chris and sweet heart reader universe? If not what do you think they’d say?

Stop it, you’re making me blush! 😋 thank you for the ask!! I just love talking to you guys (also sorry for the late reply. Tumblr app is always acting funny for me 🫤)

Delusional. Dedicated (in case anyone hasn't read them yet)

Matt and Nick definitely know about Chris’ fuckboy tendencies. It was well known Chris was a bit selfish when it came to his own needs, mainly his sexual needs that weren’t really getting met during Sweetheart’s pregnancy. Anytime Chris would do something he regretted, whether it be just exchanging a few text messages back and forth or having sex with a random Instagram whore, Matt was always the first to know about it. It was like Matt was his built-in therapist, he could trust him with all of his secrets. It’s not that Matt supported the idea of Chris cheating here and there, if anything, he was the main one telling him he was an idiot for letting his intrusive thoughts win when he had a son on the way and his beautiful babymomma at home in his bed. Of course, Matt would feel horrible about knowing Chris’ dirty secrets which why he was always extra nice to Sweetheart. He couldn’t tell on Chris, though. It just wasn’t Matt’s place to say anything.

Nick on the other hand, had gotten very close with Sweetheart the past seven months of her pregnancy. Granted, Chris and Sweetheart were only together for a short while before she found out she was pregnant, that positive pregnancy test gave her a free pass into the Sturniolo family for life. Everyone truly loves her sweet, kind nature. With Sweetheart and Nick being so close, Chris wouldn’t dare tell Nick anything he did behind Sweetheart’s back, Matt might let it slip on accident, queuing Nick in on the secret, but never Chris. It'd basically be like telling Sweetheart to her face, Nick couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. Plus, Sweetheart had the perfect puppy dog eyes, she could get anything out of anyone if she really tried, Chris knew Nick would crack under pressure. There would be times when it was just the boys, Matt would nonchalantly bring it up Chris' infidelity, sometimes out of spite for Chris, other times out of pure accident. Nick would be flabbergasted, and even though him and Sweetheart are locked in tight, Nick would never snitch on his brother. It wasn’t his place to say anything, just like it wasn’t Matt’s.

[ffwriting]

Aot Characters - Having a crush

What I think the Aot Characters would be like when they have a crush bc why not!

cw: GN reader, slight Eremika (Mikasa), Eren and Connie being a chaotic duo (Armin), Bad self-thoughts (Levi), no y/n

wc: 2.2k

Characters: Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe

Eren Yeager - Oblivious, but jealous

Despite what I have seen for him, I do not think he would be that aware of his feelings.

He would be almost entirely oblivious, but he would get upset if he sees you hang out with someone else. If he had the opportunity to, he would watch you as you train. If he ever saw you get injured he would be very worried.

but…. he just can't see that he has a crush on you. He just thinks he feels that way because he admires you and wants to be your friend.

It would be like that the entire three years at the training camp, but the second he finds out hes a titan, he becomes so nervous about what you think about him, that the old Levi squad tells him to just tell you about his crush on you. And he would just be there like, "Huh? I don't have a crush on {name}! They are just really cool, and now they probably won't hang out with me now. They'll probably go hang out with Jean or something." He would say while mumbling

The old Levi squad would just share knowing looks with each other as they knew he had a crush on you but was just too oblivious to notice

Mikasa Ackerman - Quiet yet caring

Mikasa, as we see with Eren, is not the most vocal when talking about her feelings. She is very quiet, but she knows that she has a crush on you.

I feel like she is not one to start crushing someone based off of looks, but more of their personality. She would probably notice you during training when you either helped a friend, or got excited after doing a maneuver right. She would start off just calmly taking note of the event, but she would start to notice that she would look for you more and more. After maybe two days, she realized that she had a crush on you. What will she do now?

Speak to you about it? Confess? No.

She would make sure that you are safe. That is all she can do. She would probably be very confused because she thought she liked Eren, but now she is feeling the same way about you.

While she is figuring all of these feelings out, and kicking absolute ass, she would do everything she could do to protect you.

She would even find herself looking out for you more than she did Eren. That would be when she decided to chose which one of you to have a crush on. It would probably be after the 57th expedition, and she would realize that she cared about Eren in only a sisterly way. She likes you, and she just hopes you like her back

Armin Arlert - Nervous

Armin is definitely the type to get extremely nervous and flustered. However, I feel like he would be one of the ones to ask you out the earliest. Let me explain.

Armin would be in the 104th Cadet Corp. and all would be normal. Except on one of the first hand-to-hand combat practices he gets paired with you. He already hates the exercise, but he doesn't really know you, not to mention the fact that he really likes how you look. Not in a creepy way! Just in an 'I want to get to know more' way.

During the hand to hand combat practice you would notice after he tried to throw a couple punches, that he had no clue what he was doing. So you being you, you decided to be nice and walk him through the basics. How to throw a solid punch, how to dodge, and before you both noticed, training was over.

You then suggested eating dinner together, and while trying to go to bed that night, he realized that he really liked you. The realization alone is enough to make his face and even his ears feel hot.

After that, he couldn't hide a small blush on his face every time he talked to you, but you never pointed it out, and it made him really happy. The two of you would train together and sometimes talk to each other at lunch, and it went like that for months.

Until one day, Connie noticed and then told Eren that he suspected Armin liked you, which just led to chaos. That night in the boys' dorm the two confronted the poor boy about how much time he has been spending around you and how his cheeks are always pink when he even sees you. This, of course, flusters Armin to the point he isn't even able to form a coherent thought.

After a lot of them talking, totally not just Connie and Eren practically harassing Armin, they threaten convince him to ask you out. Which he does a week before your graduation.

(I love Armin. I think he is just a well-written character tbh :)

Jean Kirstein - Amires + Slightly Jealous

As we see in the show, he practically just admires from afar, and get jealous. Here is how I think it would go with you two.

On one of the first days of training, Jean starts to crush on Mikasa. The week after, Jean notices you. He would imediatally notice how you looked like you were made to wear a uniform because of how well you look in it. He almost immediately starts to crush on you, and the good thing for him, you aren't obsessed with Eren!

After like a month or two, he would have given up on Mikasa, and started to solely focus on you. He would start to get jealous anytime you would even look at a guy, and he would even catch himself getting jealous of girls. He would always try to brush it off, telling himself that people don't tend to like jealous guys. He can't help it though, he just wants to be the only one to make, and see, you be happy. Call it jealous or crazy, but he just couldn't help it.

I also feel like he would try to ask you out manyyyy times, but he would always chicken out after he sees you looking at him. This would happen a minimum of ten times before he was finally able to ask you out.

Connie Springer - Loud + Aware

I feel like Connie would be one of those guys who starts of just admiring you, whether that be for your kindness or skills, and then it would just develop into a crush. I feel like he would be very aware about it too.

After realizing that he got a crush on you, he would start trying to hang out with you more, whether that be in training or break time, he would always seek you out.

He would definitely be the type of guy to flirt and make jokes just to see you laugh. He would do anything just to know that you were laughing at his jokes.

I also feel like he is one of the few to actually end up asking you out.

It would be after the Battle of Trost, and your group was separated from the rest, all of you without gas. All of you would be just trying your best to fend off what Titans you could with what gas you all could spare, but you all had given up hope on making it out. Until, you see two people heading your way. It was Connie and Sasha.

Connie had been the one to notice your group from headquarters and dragged Sasha along to quickly supply you all with gas. He immediately would start working on your gas tanks with a small frown on his face. You asked "Are you okay?" and he would look up to meet your gaze and then all of a sudden bring you into a strong hug, and ask you, "Look, I know this isn't the best time, but after this would you please consider letting me be your boyfriend? After what I've seen today, I just couldn't live with myself if I never told you." You, obviously, say yes and give him a hug.

After that day he would be somehow even more happy. He had you after all.

Levi Ackerman - Tries to get rid of it

Levi, my gosh, this poor guy. With him growing up in the underground and being really detached from his emotions, he would try his hardest to get rid of any romantic feelings he ever has.

You would have joined the scouts years before him and were really good at teamwork. It wouldn't really matter if you are energetic or quiet, but Levi would notice how well you worked with others after just a couple of months of being in the Scouts.

He would start to feel weird, and he thought it was originally jealousy, but after seeing you get injured he felt a pang of sadness in his heart, and he realized that he had a crush on you.

He hated it. By that time, he had it in his mind that everyone he has ever loved, died because he cared for them. With that mindset, he quickly tried to pinpoint every unappealing feature that you had, but when that didn't work. He set out to make sure that you hated him. Why? He didn't really know, but he could deal with being hated. He couldn't however, deal with losing another person that he cared for. Especially because he had never really lost anyone he had romantic feelings for, and he didn't want to find out.

With that being said, as soon as he got a position with more authority than yours, he set out to make sure that you hated all that he made you do. He would assign you to cleaning chores every time he could. He would assign you more training and workouts than he would with others. Any opportunity he had, he would make sure to assign you something.

He was determined to make you hate him because if you hated him, then maybe it would be easier to try to stop liking you.

Hange Zoe - Excited + Talkative

Hange, our icon, is definitely aware. You would be a transfer, from either the Garrison or the MPs, and joined the Scouts out of curiosity of the Titans.

After the transfer, you would be asking the other, more experienced, members about all they knew about Titans. Soon the word got to Hange that there was someone interested in Titans and they just had to see for themselves.

Hange would scout you out and ask if you are the one curious about the Titans, "Hey! Are you {name}? The one interested in Titans?" After giving your response Hange would grab your wrist and drag you over to whatever their current workstation is, and lord help you if they currently have any titans.

They would ask what you were curious about and with your response, they start going on a tangent about whatever they can think of that would interest you. What would surprise them though, as well as start their crush on you, was that you continually asked them questions about their research. Which they happily told you about.

They talked and talked and you would ask questions until you both realized that it had gotten dark out. "Oh sorry about that, I tend to ramble a lot," Hange would try to apologize but would get cut off by your own response. "Don't! I'm the one that kept asking questions, plus I loved hearing you talk about it. How about you find me tomorrow, and we continue our conversation."

With a look of admiration on their face, Hange would nod their head and wave you off so you could go to bed. They then made a habit of coming to grab you whenever they could. The look on their face when they came to talk to you about a new discovery and you were just as excited as them was priceless.

After maybe a week after your first meeting, Hange realized that they liked you, and they would be somehow even more giddy around you and make sure that your questions were answered.

Their crush on you was very obvious to the other Scouts, and to you as well, but neither of you ended up asking. The funny thing is, both of you just came to a silent agreement that you both liked each other and started dating without ever asking the other.

You both would only realize after a couple years, and Hange would randomly blurt out on one of your late-night discussions, "Wait, I never asked you out!"

After a couple moments of silence, both of you erupted in laughter. Hange would then dramatically grab your hand and ask "Would you please go out with me, my love?"

Of course, you would say yes, and the two of you would laugh for the next couple of hours because you were just so in tune with each other that you forgot to make it official, even after multiple years.

You were just made for each other.

I hope you enjoy this! This is actually my first time writing like this so I hope it is good! Also let me know if you think any of the characters came off as ooc!

[saiintvalentiine]

the tip of my tongue is sweet (whenever I say your name)

Summary: They've been planning a sleepover date for a while, and Wifies isn't going to let a little crisis of self ruin that. She's going to make it work!

or: kenwatfies yuri that got out of hand

Notes: crossposting from ao3. a continuation of this request from december. lets not talk abt the tonal whiplash between this and three dog night. i was in a romantic mood. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. title from Girl's Talk by Chuu and Yves. divider

Word count: 3,612

Wifies parts Wato’s hair down the center, the strands long and thin and flowy. Her hair is the easiest to work with out of the three of them, so she sets to brushing and detangling each section quickly.

“—and they were so bad at it, you have no idea,” Wato is ranting, voice arching higher and higher. “They were coming up with solutions that were so stupid it was almost impressive.”

“Mm, I believe it,” Ken says, carefully dragging dark pink polish across Wato’s nails.

“I don't think I've ever seen Zam and Wemmbu act smart together,” Wifies adds.

“They were breaking shit I could not possibly fathom why they'd break!”

Ken snorts, saying, “I've got competition for number one escape room breaker.”

“It's not the same though,” Wifies butts in, starting to braid one side of Wato’s hair around her flickering green ears. “You know the rules, you know how a room works, and from there you break it. I'm not even sure they know how to read.”

“They don't!”

Wato jerks her head to the side and Wifies tuts at her, pausing to press a hand to her jaw and face her forward again.

“Don't move.”

“Sorry.”

Wato sounds like she's frowning, and Wifies can't help but press a kiss to the top of her head. She stains the spot with a bit of her dark lipstick.

“Shit.”

Ken pops up to look as Wifies tries to wipe the stain off.

“That's so cute,” she says. Her hair is frizzier than normal, which Wifies notes for later. “Wato, you have a Wifies kiss mark on your head now.”

“Bitches love me,” Wato says. Wifies gives her hair a hard tug. “Ow. Sorry. It's cute.”

“I'll wipe it off later with a makeup wipe,” Wifies says and returns to braiding.

“I thought that lipstick was supposed to be kiss proof,” Wato says. Ken fans at her nails.

“I thought so too, but I guess that was bullshit. It feels really nice on the lips though, really velvety.”

Ken pops up again, swooping forward and widening her eyes. She's wearing a bit of white eyeliner on her inner lash line to make them look even bigger, the scoundrel. Wato yelps, tail flailing and smacking Wifies's thigh.

“Let me try,” she says in her sweetest voice, tail curling behind her.

“I'm never gonna finish at this rate,” Wifies complains, but kisses Ken anyway, ignoring the way her own tail wags pleasantly. Ken comes away smug and smudged. “Get away you tomcat.”

“Your knee is on my thigh!” Wato yells.

Ken's lucky Wato's nails are wet and she can't grapple Ken to the ground. Ken sits back down on the floor with a darkened grin and starts to brush top coat onto Wato's nails. Wifies, thankfully, finishes the first braid with a snap of a scrunchie and gets to the next one.

“So, is it velvety?” Wato asks.

“It is, actually,” Ken caps the top coat and fans at Wato’s hands. “I wasn't really asking because I cared to feel it, but I'm impressed.”

“It's a good brand, but it's not kiss proof. I'll need to put setting powder on it or something.”

“Or just use an actual kiss proof one.”

“Well I already bought this one,” Wifies tugs Wato's hair again, softer this time.

“Why am I getting attacked here!”

“You did call us bitches,” Ken says as she stands up and stores the polish bottles away. Her legs are red and warm, irritated from sitting on the carpet for so long in her shorts. “I like being a bitch, but you know Wifies is sensitive to that kind of thing.”

“I'm not sensitive!”

Wifies finishes the second braid and stands up too. Her knees hurt, even though her sweatpants give her pretty good padding. Wato bounces up to her full height, turning around and awkwardly pressing her palms to Wifies's face. She's lucky Wifies has her hair tied up, or else it'd get onto her nails and ruin them regardless of how careful she's being.

“I'm sorry for calling you one of my bitches,” Wato says, laughter dancing in her eyes. “Will you forgive me?”

“No,” Wifies kisses her. “Now go dry in some corner while I do Ken's hair.”

Wato pouts, mouth now stained dark as well.

“Wifies,” she whines.

“At least doing your hair is easy,” Wifies sighs, kissing the corner of Wato's mouth again before slipping from her grasp and turning to Ken. “You, on the other hand. . .”

Ken grins. Her hair is frizzy and cut into a dozen layers, snipped by arrows and burnt by lava and caught in trap doors. Ken is fundamentally uncareful, and her hair pays the price.

Wifies has her work cut out for her. But for the sake of a good date night, she'll do it gladly.

“Sit on the end of the bed,” Wifies says. “I'm not getting back on my knees.”

Ken wiggles her eyebrows at Wifies, and Wifies rolls her eyes, grabbing a hair brush and brandishing it threateningly.

“Sit on the end of the bed.”

“Yes ma'am!”

Ken bounds over to the bed, neat sheets suffering under he scrambling as she sits on the end, back facing out. Wifies's room isn't the best place for a sleepover, mostly bare and boring, but they had already planned to come here for the night and Wifies just. . . forgot to get any new furniture. She doesn't have a vanity or anywhere comfortable to sit in her room, and the single mirror in the whole house is secluded to the bathroom. She hasn’t been in the right mind lately, but she’s determined to make their night a good one regardless.

“I’m gonna make some coffee,” Wato says, nudging Wifies's chin until they're looking at each other. “Want anything?”

“No, I'm good.”

Wato kisses her nose, their tails bumping together for a moment.

“How about you Ken?”

“Oh, coffee sounds good right now.”

Wato wanders over and kisses Ken too. Wifies pops into the bathroom, digging around her drawers until she finds an anti-frizz oil that should work with Ken's hair. When she returns to the bedroom, Wato is gone and Ken is scrolling on her phone, still obediently sitting on the end of the bed. Wifies swaps the hair brush for a comb and a fistfull of scrunchies, all of which she drops next to Ken on the bed.

“Your hair is a mess,” Wifies says curtly, digging her fingers under Ken's hair and into her scalp. Ken leans forward and purrs at the sensation, tail curling loosely with Wifies's leg. “You haven't been taking care of it have you?”

Wifies parts Ken's hair into three sections, making sure to dig her nails in around her flickering orange-green ears as she goes. Ken purrs and purrs, and Wifies snorts. Taking the oil, Wifies pumps a bit into her hand and passes the bottle to Ken.

“Hold this please.”

“Mm, yeah.”

She starts on one side, going from tip to root to try and tame the mess on Ken's head. It’s familiar work. Wifies likes doing both Ken and Wato’s hair as often as they’ll let her, and even when she’s frustrated at Ken’s carelessness, she’s never too annoyed to take care of her.

“I've been busy,” Ken says, tossing her phone to the middle of the bed and nestling the bottle into the nook of her crossed legs. “I've been trying to coordinate a whole slew of escape room videos at once because Seawatt and Sven are going on vacation soon. Not together mind you!”

Done with the first section, Wifies sticks her cupped hand over Ken's shoulder, saying, “Add oil.”

“They’re just randomly leaving at the same time,” Ken continues as she pumps oil into Wifies's hand. “And I want them to run these rooms! So I've been building and testing and tweaking, and then on top of that chasing after them like a headless chicken.”

“Are you guys talking about Ken's disaster project?” Wato asks as she comes through the door, two steaming mugs in hand. 

“Mhm.”

Wifies holds her hand out again, and again Ken pumps oil into it. The final section is the easiest, since the end is in sight. Wato sits across from Ken and hands her a mug.

“Can I drink?” Ken asks.

Wifies drags a hand from the front of her hairline back until her head is tilted all the way back and they're eye to eye.

“Yes.”

Wifies kisses her forehead, a new lipstick mark for Ken's collection, and then lets her go. There's no point in washing the oil on her hands since she's going to comb and braid Ken's hair anyway, so she waits for Ken to drink from her mug until she's satisfied. Wifies idly touches the varying tips of Ken's hair.

“What should I do with you, hm?” Wifies murmurs. “It's not gonna braid well, but that's best for sleep.”

“Braid it anyway,” Wato insists. “She's gonna sleep in it and make it messy no matter what you do, horrible sleeper that she is.”

“I'm not,” Ken whines.

“I think you kicked me in the hip last night.”

“I did not!”

Wifies parts Ken's hair into two and combs through one half slowly. She got most of the knots out while oiling it, but it doesn't hurt to make sure. Ken and Wato keep bickering, and Wifies falls into the flow of braiding all over again. The choppiness of some of Ken's hair means some parts of the braid are saggier than others, but the first braid finishes up well enough, and Wifies snaps a scrunchie around the end of it.

“Your hair's getting long,” Wifies murmurs as she moves on to the next braid. “You thinking of cutting it again?”

“Nope. You and Wato both have long hair and I wanna try it out.”

“Aww, you wanna look like us? How cute,” Wato puts her mug on the floor and crawls over to kiss Ken. “The cat wants to be a big dog now.”

“Shut up,” Ken says, cupping Wato's cheek.

“Don't move your head,” Wifies scolds. “You two are my worst clients.”

“Sorry,” Ken says, not sounding sorry at all.

Wifies shakes her head, claw clip slipping down a bit. A white strand settles over her forehead, and she blows at it uselessly.

“Here,” Wato shuffles around Ken and stumbles off the bed, getting behind Wifies. “I'll fix it, hold on.”

Wato unpins the clip and combs Wifies hair back with her fingers, hands gentle and palms warm. Wifies pauses her braiding to close her eyes and bask in the sensation. This is why she always insists on doing their hair. If it feels even a fraction as good for them as it does for her, she's happy to do it. She knows that really, she's just touch starved. Even with two girlfriends, soft touch still sends her spiraling, so unused to it and so unexpecting of it.

Wato closes the clip on the neat twist of hair she's collected, pressing a lingering kiss to the base of Wifies's neck.

“Where did you get this shirt?” Wato asks, mouth still pressed to Wifies's skin and arms coming around to hold her middle. “It looks new.”

“It is,” Wifies takes a deep breath and continues braiding. Ken loves to tease her about her reactions, but Wato is always easier about it, always trying to lull Wifies into it. “I had some extra fabric from a project so I sewed this up.”

It's short sleeved and low necked and a bit cropped, a stark contrast to her usual covered up outfits. Wato's pinky brushes against the sliver of skin between the bottom of the shirt and the top of her sweatpants. Wifies shivers and tries to not tense up. Wato doesn't move, just adjusts her chin so it's hooked over Wifies's shoulder.

“It came out nice!” Ken chimes in, trying to drink more of her coffee without moving her head.

“Thanks. I'll make you guys some next time.”

There's a selfish reason for doing their hair, too, and it's that as long as Wifies has something to focus on, she doesn't think about the spider webbing of scars on her arms that she can now see. As soon as she's snapped that final scrunchie though, they reveal themselves to her, exposed and paler than the moon.

“Let me wash all this oil off of my hands,” she mutters, slipping out of Wato's hold. “And then I'll fix my hair up.”

“Alright,” Wato says. “We'll be waiting.”

She's got oil up the wrists and down her forearms somehow, and she's very grateful for the short sleeves now. Even if she has to brush her finger across each puckered line and silvery divot, at least she's not going to have to wash it out of her favorite sweater.

“Wifies!” Ken sticks her head through the bathroom doorway as Wifies is wiping her hands dry. “What color do you wanna do your nails?”

“Maybe a nice brown,” she muses, eyeing her nails critically. “Something warm.”

Ken takes her hands and turns them side to side, eyes darting around, planning.

“How about something elegant?” Ken suggests. “A nice cream base and a brown french tip.”

“That would be very elegant.”

“You have elegant hands.”

Wifies wouldn’t really call her hands elegant. Her fingers are long but they’re a bit crooked, and her palm is rough and rife with welts from constant sword fighting. But Ken brings one of Wifies’s hands up, and without thinking Wifies cups her face and rubs her thumb across the apple of her cheek. Ken purrs, satisfied with her work.

“It’ll be pretty,” Ken insists, turning to kiss Wifies’s palm. “You’ll like it.”

“I always like what you do to me,” Wifies says, squeezing Ken’s face. Ken yelps and sputters, wriggling out of Wifies’s loose grip. “Now come here, let me wipe all that lipstick off of you.”

She finds some makeup wipes in her cabinet and gently wipes at Ken’s forehead and mouth. Ken is surprisingly obedient the whole time, even letting Wifies put some plain chapstick on her lips.

“You need to drink more water,” Wifies murmurs, resisting the urge to kiss Ken’s nose. No use in smearing more lipstick on her.

“Can I take your makeup off?” Ken asks, batting her eyelashes coyly.

“No.”

Ken pouts.

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“You can’t sleep with your makeup on!”

“I’m not gonna sleep, Ken, don’t be dumb.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Wato asks from the bedroom.

“Wifies says she's not sleeping!”

Ken drags Wifies out by the wrist. Wato's holding a different mug than the ones from before as she eyes Wifies critically. She sighs, shoulders dropping at whatever she finds.

“She won't,” Wato confirms.

“Don't side with her!”

Wifies still has the makeup wipe in hand, so she waves Wato over and awkwardly wipes away the lipstick from her face. Wato even ducks her head so Wifies can clean up the mark on her hair.

“I'm not siding with her, it's just a fact. Look at how tense she still is.”

Ken hisses something like don't say that!, and Wifies deflates. She thought she was doing a good job of being normal.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Wato says, handing over the mug and taking the makeup wipe from her hand. “You're really no good at hiding it. I made you chamomile though.”

Wifies takes the mug and breathes in the scent of chamomile tea and honey.

“There's nothing for it,” she says. “I don't even know why I tried hiding it. Sorry.”

Ken and Wato glance at each other, and Wifies ignores them for a moment to enjoy her tea. It's simple and delicious and it settles her as it goes down.

“Were you distracting me so Wato could make me tea?” Wifies asks. “Is that why you were behaving so well in the bathroom?”

“Yes,” Ken says shamelessly, tail flicking. “But I'm still doing your nails how we agreed. That wasn't a distraction.”

“Of course. Let me do my hair first.”

“Noooo, Wato, do her hair.”

“Duh. Obviously.”

“It's thick,” Wifies warns. “Plus I can do it blind and fast. It won't take long.”

“It's not about taking long.”

Wifies knows she's outnumbered, so she just sighs and nods. Ken and Wato cheer, herding her back onto the floor where she sits down with her tea held in both hands. The nail polish bin is dragged over for Ken to dig through, and Wato finds the hair brush.

“I'll be nice,” Wato says, settling behind Wifies and unclipping her hair.

“I know you will.”

Wato runs her fingers through the dense, black and white mess of Wifies's hair. Wifies can't control the way her tail wags, thumping dully on the carpet. Ken picks out her colors and Wifies holds a hand out.

Like this, being doted on from either end, Wifies feels a little bad. She knew they were coming over, and she knew she was feeling upset. She was trying to salvage the night but they noticed anyway.

“Hey.”

Wifies blinks. Ken is right in her face, taking her mug and putting it onto the floor. Wato is silent behind her, warm and still gently carding through her hair.

“What are you thinking about?” Ken asks.

“I didn’t want to worry you guys, and I did anyway.”

“Don’t think like that,” Ken scolds. “You don’t make us worry. Caring means we’re gonna worry regardless.”

“I know,” Wifies tries to smile. “I just forget sometimes. Sorry.”

Ken crawls into Wifies’s lap and sits down. Wifies wraps her arms around her, and Ken pushes her back into Wato’s chest. For a second she feels cornered, heart slowing on instinct, but Wato digs her thumbs into the base of her skull and Wifies remembers that she’s between two people who love her, as unbelievable as that sometimes is.

“What’s on your mind?” Ken asks again, staring Wifies down. “I was hoping all the distractions would help you loosen up, but nothing is working. What is it?”

Wifies struggles with her words, picking at the waistband of Ken’s shorts. It's not that she doesn't know, more that she's not sure if there's a good way of saying it.

“I don't feel like. . . myself,” she finally gets out. “I don't know why. Just that I'm not myself.”

A network of scars, a borrowed face, a hundred small things finally breaking through her defenses.

“Last week, Parrot asked me if I remembered the— this video, I don't really know because it never came out, but this video we made, and I lied through my teeth that I did, and I don't know—” she closes her eyes. “—when will this end? When will I be complete?”

Wato's hands travel beneath her jaw, pulling until Wifies opens her eyes to look up at her. Green to violet, like a thousand times before, but it always takes her breath away. Wato wears all her gentility in her eyes, all of her adoration and affection like honey from a hive, and Wifies feels her own eyes water, and she hates it, hates to cry in the face of Wato's care.

“You're you all the time,” Wato says simply. “You're always a hundred percent you. Even those gaps in your memory are you.”

“I know, I'm sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Ken says. Wato loosens her hold and nudges Wifies so that she's looking at Ken now. “You're allowed to feel whatever you want. We just want you to share it with us.”

Wifies nestles closer to Wato’s steady warmth.

“Can you,” she blinks away the sting in her eyes. “Can you take my makeup off?”

“Of course, obviously,” Ken says.

She kisses Wifies's forehead, then pauses and kisses her on the lips before rolling off her lap and scampering to the bathroom.

“It's gonna be a good night Wifies,” Wato says, nuzzling between her ears. “Let us make it a good night.”

“Okay,” Wifies says weakly. “I wanted to make it a good night too.”

“I know you did, sweetheart. You tried hard. And it’s still a good night. You didn’t ruin it.”

Wifies sniffles. She feels shallow, driven to tears by the same problem she faces every day without respite. She wants to be more used to it, but it’s no use; if she’s going to have every emotion coddled like this, she’ll never get used to any of it.

“C’mon,” Ken sits back down on Wifies’s lap with a pack of makeup wipes in hand. “Close your eyes.”

Wifies does as she’s told. Ken begins to wipe off the layers of makeup Wifies has on, Wato’s hands never far behind. And here, between them both, the final protective layer that Wifies dressed herself up in is peeled away, and she shudders at the feeling of being laid bare, of having nothing.

“There we go,” Ken says. “There’s my Wifies, all cleaned up and relaxed.”

She doesn't have nothing.

She has Wato, reliable and gentle and stuck to her back. She has Ken, thoughtful and determined and sat in her lap. And between them, even if she doesn't feel like herself, she can find herself being the person that they love anyway.

“It's still a good night,” Wifies says.

“It's always a good night when it's us,” Ken says.

“Nothing better,” Wato still has her nose pressed into Wifies's hair. Her breathing feels good, rhythmic, real. “Can I do your hair?”

“Yeah. Anything you want.”

It's still a good night. And Wifies is loved even if she isn't sure what Wifies means right now.

[bechloe-trash]

(Sorry for any grammar errors. I wrote this @2 am)

‘Boxers’

Chloe loves to help. She loves to help animals, strangers, plants; but especially her friends. She helps all the girls in the Bella household; all but Beca. Beca doesn’t ever want help from no one, not even her own father. ( except for occasional $50 every once in a while) So when the red head came up to to ask if she needed help with anything, she turns her down. Chloe felt a little down that Beca doesn’t need any help. Even if it was as small as taking out the trash from her bathroom, or gabbing an extra box tampons while she out grocery shopping.

“You know you don’t have to feel bad if you ever and I mean ever need help with anything. I’m always her to help.”Chloe says to Beca as she heading towards the door.

“ I appreciate it Chlo, But I’ve been doing things by myself with no help for years. I kinda have this all under control.” Beca says with a shrug

Chloe just gives Beca a nod that’s she understands what the brunette said.

Chloe knows she shouldn’t be in Beca’s room grabbing her laundry basket, but she couldn’t help it. ‘It’s just Laundry, I’ll just wash and dry, then fold her laundry and just set it neatly on her bed.’ Chloe thought to herself as she was leaving the attic bedroom.

“ ummmm Ginger I don’t think Beca will be too happy, with you doing her laundry. You know how she is about people helping her. One time I was trying to give her some of my Butt confidence and she lost it. Most people love when I help them and give them some of my butt confidence but not Shortstack” Fat Amy says as she goes to lay down on her bed.

Chloe just rolls her eyes and proceeded to head down stairs to do Beca’s laundry.

“ its just a friend helping by do their other friends laundry, how mad could she be” Chloe mumbled to herself as she reached the bottom of the basement stairs.

She puts Beca’s clothes into the washing machine and hit start and sets a timer on her phone to get the clothes out and transfer over to the dryer when they get done washing. After 35 mins she put the clothes into the dryer. ‘ still don’t see the problem with me helping her do her laundry’ Chloe thinks to herself as she’s gathering the laundry to take back upstair.

Chloe is sitting on Beca’s with the clothes sprawled over the bed starting to fold. She laughs and makes a mental note of just how many pairs of black skinny jeans Beca has. How many pairs of black skinny jeans does one woman need. She goes to grab the next article of clothing…. She stops dead in her tracks holding up a pair of boxers up in the air [ thank goodness Fat Amy had left, She didn’t want to embarrass Beca for finding boxers in her laundry ] Eyes wide Chloe is trying to figure out whose boxers these are. ‘ are they Jesse’s ? , no he and Beca broke up well over 9 months ago’ Chloe thinks back to herself. Beca hasn’t had any guys over, so whose boxers are these? Chloe continues to fold some more…. Another pair and another pair. Chloe starts to go through the pile and notice there’s no panties…. Does Beca Wear boxers? ‘ bet she looks hot in them’ Chloe thinks to herself as a slight blush crept to her cheeks . Chloe finished folding the clothes and sets everything neatly on the bed ready to put up.

Later that afternoon Beca returned from Classes and her shift at the campus radio station. She comes through the door and heads straight to her room. As she opens her bedroom door she notices the pile of neatly folded clothes on her bed. Color draining from her face. No one knows shes started wearing boxers. And of all people to find out, her crush. “ FUCK” She quickly heads downstairs to find Chloe.

“ Dude! You did my laundry! Why?’ Beca says with a worried tone “ I told you I didn’t want help with anything”

“ yes I did your laundry for you. You’ve been picking up extra classes this semester and thought Id be nice and help you out. One less thing for you to worry about you know’ Chloe says with a shrug never breaking eye contact “ I was trying to help, I’m sorry “

“I..I…You know what never mind” Beca says turning around with tears starting to form, running back upstairs to hide.

She made it all the way upstairs and ready to slam the door behind her, but as she turns around she’s met face to face with Chloe. She just turns away makes her way to the bed, Chloe close behind her.

“ Whats wrong Becs?” She asks placing a hand on Beca’s Shoulder. “ If I’d known you be this upset about me doing your laundry, I would’ve never done it.”

“ It’s not about the laundry its self, it’s about what’s in the laundry” Beca says with a sigh not looking up. If she makes eye contact with Chloe she’ll lose it.

“ You mean the boxers?” Chloe asks looking at Beca “ if that what you mean….. I saw them but I didn’t really think too much of them.

Beca shakes her head and puts her head into her hands,

Cautiously she asks Beca “ Are they yours? Or…. Some guys “

“Dude no, That would be Gross for me to keep some guys boxers” Beca says with a grossed expression. “ yea they’re mine.”

Chloe looks at Beca “ why are you so upset about it then? Every one has their preferences. Hell Stacie doesn’t even wear underwear.” Chloe laughs.

“I don’t know I guess being in a house full of females its kinda embarrassing…but they’re comfortable as hell dude ! “ Beca exclaimed. “ I guess it’s the fact that of all people to find out, it had to be you ”

“Oh….. is there a reason why you didn’t want me to find out? Did you think I’d judge you?” Chloe lifts Beca chin up “ look I’d never judge you…. Unless you say you hate Taylor Swift, then I’d have to judge you. Other than that Id never judge you, you’re my best friend.” Chloe says with a smile.

Beca shakes her head “ not that. I know you’d never judge, it’s just embarrassing cause I….. Ididntwantmycrushtofindoutthatiwearboxers” Beca says really fast kinda hoping Chloe didn’t hear the last part. She needed to get it off her chest.

“ You didn’t want me to find out you wear boxers because you have a crush on me?”

Chloe looks at Beca with a perplexed expression. “ Wait you have a Crush on me?”

She took Beca’s quietness as a yes

“ I bet you look hot in your boxers” Chloe says in a flirtatious tone.

“What?” Beca says looking Chloe in the eyes

“ I said I bet you look hot in boxers, I mean you have good body. Maybe one day I’ll see you in just your boxers” Chloe says winking at Beca

Beca sitting there confused

“ Becs relax, first off I don’t care you wear boxers because, second I have a crush on you too silly. I’ve been flirting with you for a bit of time now, but never made a move because I didn’t know how you felt.”

Beca lets out a breathy sigh of relief and smiles

“ Can I see ? I mean you in your boxers. I still stand on thinking you’d look hot in them”

“Yea, you can.” Beca says before getting up taking her pants off exposing the boxers.

They’re short on Beca barely reaching mid thigh. Chloe was right Beca did look hot, but she’d look hotter without her shirt on. Chloe stands up and lightly puts her hands on the bottom of Beca’s shirt. “ May I ? “ Chloe asks. Beca nods. Chloe pulls Beca’s shirt off. Chloes eyes scan over Beca’s body. Chloes taking in every detail;The way the boxers hug Beca’s hips, to the brunettes toned stomach. Chloes reaches to trace the hip tattoo Beca had got 2 months ago. She traces the tattoo with her fingertips, causing Beca to whimper. Chloe looks up to Beca. “ Fuck I was right you are hot”

“ Just shut up and kiss me already” Beca says kinda desperate. Beca didn’t have to tell Chloe twice and with that She captured Beca’s lips into hers. After they both break away from the kiss Chloe mumbled “ these boxers are definitely doing something to me.”

“ maybe should’ve switched sooner” Beca laughs

THE END :)

[sweetbillwriting]

The Blackened Branches

THREE

Description: Hayden and Eric have a long history together but also secrets, hidden under blackened branches.

Characters: AU Eric from The Crow played by Bill Skarsgård. The story is completely it's own thing.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

I dragged my fingers through his hair. The blonde buzzcut had grown out a bit, and dark roots were almost as long as the platinum lengths. His eyes were closed while the sunshine was on his face, and he smiled a little after having shared his confession. I looked down at Eric, whose head was in my lap, when I stopped playing with his hair because of the surprise.

“You did what?”

“I told your father about us.”

Eric opened his eyes and smiled brightly. We had been a couple for three months and only met in secrecy, but now he had chosen to share it with his boss, who was also my dad.

“He wondered why I hurried out of work so often, so I told him. That you're my girlfriend.”

It was so sweet hearing him call me that, but it was a totally other thing that he said it to my father.

“And what did he say?” I said with worry. Eric turned so he lay with his nose toward my belly but continued to look up at me.

“He just said I must be nice to you.”

I looked at him skeptically, and it made him laugh.

“It's true! I think he knows he can trust me. I'm not a bad guy.”

I smiled a little even if I thought about his tattoos, the smoking, and the partying. Then I also looked at the bruises on his neck. It was obvious he had tried to hide it with a high-necked hoodie, but I don't think anyone could miss the five blue fingerprints sitting like a pearl necklace around his pale neck.

“We will see if he says the same thing to me.” Eric just smiled excitedly. I knew he was happy about earning someone's approval. Adults weren't really his crowd, and parents, teachers, and even people just passing by him had negative thoughts about him, even if he was just shy and kind. They judged him for his looks but also the bruises. Just because he looked the way he did, they believed he was the abuser, but in reality, he took so many beatings from his stepfather it was a wonder he had never gotten hurt more than he had.

“Maybe you can come to dinner tonight then?” I said with a smile and continued to drag my fingers through his hair.

“Seriously?” He smiled even bigger. I thought it was probably the food he became most excited about, but I was happy anyway. Finally, my boyfriend could be a part of my normal life.

×××

On Saturdays the table was often set for five people: my parents, me, my brother Illowa, and his girlfriend. They spent the most time at our place because we lived bigger but also because our parents were more liberal than hers. That night I had gotten the assignment to set the table, but I set it for six people. I hoped my parents would be just as open to welcoming Eric, my boyfriend, as Illowa's girlfriend. I had never set the table with so much feeling. I brought flowers from the garden, took the black napkins, and matched them with the gold cutlery and the squared plates. It looked really pretty, and I hoped Eric liked it, even if I doubted sixteen-year-old boys thought about table decorations.

“What are you smiling about?” Teased my mom when she came into the dining room. I smiled to myself and looked at the table to give my mom a hint without me saying anything. She looked at the table with a smile, then she looked at me excited but also a bit nervously. I was only fourteen, but my parents always tried to be supportive.

“Oh? Is it Louise?” She asked, looking at me with teasing curiosity.

“No,” I said with a giggle and fixed my short skirt.

“Is it a boy?”

I smirked to myself, and it made my mom laugh. She leaned against a chair close to me and dragged a comforting hand over my arm.

“Tell me, honey!”

“His name is Eric… He works in Dad's store.”

My mom looked a bit confused and furrowed her brows with a smile.

“Does someone work with your father?”

“Yes. Eric.”

My mom's smile slowly fell, and she started to look worried. I didn't know how much she knew, but I started to wonder if she actually knew anything about Eric.

“Matt?” She exclaimed with her head turned to the kitchen.

“Yeah?” Answered my dad through the sounds of chopping.

“Could you come for a moment?”

My dad peeked into the dining room. He had a paisley-patterned apron over his Inka-patterned sweater. The pattern and colors clashed with each other and with his beard and messy hair, it made him look quite chaotic.

“Do you have a boy working with you in the shop?”

My dad swallowed hard and looked at my mom with worry. He acted often like he was afraid of her, and she had many opinions about his work.

“Yeah, it's like a charity thing…” He turned to me with lifted eyebrows. “But he also works so well.” He moved nervously from side to side, and I wondered if he had started to become afraid of me too.

“Hayden says she’s dating him. How old is he? Why is it a charity thing? I hope you haven't let this happen without me knowing about it!” My mom looked tensely at him, and my dad laughed nervously.

“He's sixteen, so just a baby. And he told me today!”

“He told you? How close are you to this kid?” She crossed her arms.

“I think he just wanted to be honest.”

Now my mom turned to me with a pointed gaze. I knew what she meant, and I rolled my eyes.

“I knew you would react like this!”

“I can't understand you guys! So many secrets! Tell me about him now! Should I be worried? A charity case?”

“He's not a charity case!” I said, upset, and looked at my dad, who tried to flee to the kitchen. “Tell her dad! He's amazing at music!”

My dad looked towards the kitchen and wiped his hands on the apron. Something told me it was sweat he wiped off, not the juice from the vegetables.

“He is really talented. But…” He sighed and looked at my mom, defeated. “You remember that boy a few years ago? Stealing your gold bracelet? It's him. He has a really rough—"

“You have hired a thief??” My mom raised her voice and made my dad shrink in his place.

“And letting our daughter date him?” Both my dad and I tried to protest, but my mom gave us that look, that look when we knew we wouldn't win an argument with her.

“He will not come into our house again. And you will not see him anymore; he's a criminal, and theft is just the first crime; he will do more. Trust me!”

“But mom!” I protested in frustration. I looked towards my dad, but he looked away when I watched him pleadingly.

“Your mom is probably right… He stole from us. That's not a boy you should be around,” he mumbled and looked at my mom. She nodded, pleased, and gave me a strict glare. She didn't need a reaction before she started to put away the sixth plate and glass.

×××

I cried myself to sleep that night while reading Eric's answers to my message over and over. I had lied to him and said my mom wasn't prepared with enough food for him to come. He wrote he didn't need to eat, that he could come later, but I lied again, saying my mom was tired. As always, he was sweet about it all. Writing, he can come whenever they have time. He was a much better person than my mom, but just because he had been stealing as a thirteen-year-old, she had the right on her side to judge him. It wasn't fair.

That Monday I went to the shop after school to see him. I was afraid my dad would have fired him just because of Mom, but Eric hadn't written anything about it. I knew my dad had much more empathy than my mom, and if I thought about it, I wasn't surprised he had given Eric the benefit of the doubt.

“No, like he just poured up two shots for me and congratulated me for looking so young!” Exclaimed Eric with a laugh when I came into the shop. I couldn't see either him or my father, but I heard my father laugh from the same direction I had heard Eric.

“Seriously? That's fucked up,” said my dad with a voice I couldn't really recognize. I hadn't even heard him say ‘fuck’ before, and I stayed by the door to be able to eavesdrop on them.

“Did it hurt?”

“It fucking did!” Eric laughed. “I didn't think my earlier ones had hurt that much, but this one hurt like hell, and I could, like, feel the muscles cramping.”

“No? Shit. You know, I thought about a tattoo when I was younger.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I wanted Jimi Hendrix on my upper arm.”

“That would have been sick! But portraits rarely are good. And fucking expensive. Would you like to do anything now? If your wife lets you?”

I could hear in Eric's voice that he joked with my dad, and he laughed.

“Maybe a cool lyric? On my forearm.”

“I can give you the number of the guy doing mine. After you have begged your wife for permission.”

“Fuck you! One day you will also be married and want to get laid.”

I closed the door sharply behind me. It had been interesting to hear my dad acting like he was friends with Eric, like he was younger than he was, but I really didn't want to hear about his and my mom's sex life. I needed the conversation to stop.

My dad came out between the shelves and smiled at me. He had a weird expression on his face, and I couldn't say if it was worry I had heard or if he was just pleased with having some secret man-to-man talk with a cool teenage boy.

“Eric? I think you have a customer,” said my dad teasingly but smiled friendly to me. I smiled back thankfully and turned my eyes towards the shelves my dad had walked out from. Eric approached me with a big smile and gave me a hug. He probably didn't want to kiss me in front of my dad even if my dad had confessed about his sex life to him.

“Hey, how is the tattoo?” I said with a giggle. I knew he had gotten it done yesterday night at some guy’s place. I thought he should go to a real licensed tattoo artist, but he couldn't afford it. Eric pulled up his pant leg, showing his tattoo on his calf. It was a roaring lion, but it had so much black it was hard to see what it was.

“Cool,” I said and smiled at him. He smiled back brightly, obviously so pleased with having more ink that he didn't see how poorly done it was.

“I will just gather my stuff, and then we can go,” he said and turned to the staff room that was behind the desk. I looked at my father, who smiled brightly at Eric as he gave him a fist bump when he walked by. It was quite pathetic.

Both my dad and I looked at Eric from behind, mesmerized by his charisma, but we got just as uncomfortable when Eric pulled off his hoodie. His t-shirt got stuck in it and his black-and-blue bruised back was on display. Eric rarely let me look at his body without clothes, and I knew it was because of how beaten up he was. I looked at my father, who looked away with the same amount of discomfort as we had felt mesmerized before, but I could also hear their conversation in my head. He really liked Eric, so why did he let him put up with this abuse?

“You know that his stepfather is beating him.” I looked at him seriously and spoke with a low voice so Eric wouldn't hear. My dad sighed and scratched his beard. He didn't look at me; instead, he looked at the laptop in front of him.

“You're an adult. Shouldn't you protect him? He's just sixteen!”

My dad swallowed hard and massaged his neck.

“What do you mean I should do? Beat the guy up? I've seen how he looks. He would crush me!”

“So instead you let him crush a teenager?”

My dad looked at me but shut his eyes fast. It was obvious he was ashamed for not doing anything.

“He's covered in bruises all the time! And those scars on his face, I don't think they ever will heal! You remembered how he looked! It looked like someone had dragged a cheese grater over his face!”

I still spoke with a low voice even if I was upset and my eyes had started to tear up. My dad looked at me pained and dragged two hands over his face.

“So what should I do then, honey?”

I looked towards the staff room and thought about what would be best for Eric. Beating his stepfather up wouldn't really change anything for him, maybe it’ll even make it worse. He needed to move. Not just the days he could find a couch to sleep on but all the time.

“He needs to move… He needs another home.”

My dad nodded and thought for a minute.

“You mean I should call social services? That's a serious thing to do.”

“Yeah, but his injuries are also serious. He needs to get away, Dad.”

A tear slipped down my cheek now, and my dad wiped it away with his thumb.

“You're right…” He sighed and scratched his neck. I couldn't understand why my dad dragged it out, why he hadn't done it before. Eric needed another home. “I will call them tomorrow.”

×××

I was just fourteen and had lived in the protection of my middle-class family, without any real problems. I thought society and most people wanted you well and would do everything in their power to protect kids. My naive belief was that Eric would come to a loving family, that he would get a mom and a dad and maybe siblings after we had contacted social services. I also thought they would give him that close by so we could still be together. I seemed to believe every family was open to a foster kid in their teens with PTSD from abuse and neglect. I was really naive, and that's why I didn't understand why my dad seemed so nervous the day he would tell Eric he had contacted social services. I wanted to be there when he told Eric because I thought he would be happy to finally be rescued, but my dad had forbidden me to come to the shop that day. He said he and Eric needed time alone, and I couldn't see why.

“But do you promise to say it was my idea?” I said when my dad and I ate breakfast that morning. I wanted Eric to be grateful for me, not my dad. My dad gave me an insecure look and looked down at his plate with fried eggs.

“Are you sure about that? He maybe won’t get as excited as you think.”

“Of course he will! You don't know how scared he has been of that man and how many times I've comforted him.” I sounded a bit proud even if it was awful that Eric felt like that, but I was proud, proud that I was such a big help.

My dad nodded a little and seemed to believe me. I smiled to myself because I would be Eric's hero, and he would love me forever because of it.

My dad told Eric it was me who was behind the idea. I don't know how he did it, but he kept his promise and said to Eric that I had asked him to call social services. If I had been older, I would have thought about that more closely, if that was the right thing to do. I would have read about kids getting abused, getting depressed, and even suicidal in homes for the youth. If I had been through more things in life, I would have understood that Eric wouldn't find a family to live with, that he would live in isolation with other teenage boys with the same sort of problems as himself. Eric had never handled his trauma with aggression, but others did, and he had experienced it before, during the first time he lived in a youth home when he was fourteen. There was so much I didn't know about Eric. Still, I had acted like I knew better than him about his life.

I lived in my naive belief all day that he would thank me, so when Eric stormed into our house with my dad running behind him, I looked at him with confusion and terror from the couch I was sitting on.

“Did you tell him to call social services?!” He shouted while my dad stood next to him in horror. I swallowed hard because I couldn't understand why he was so angry. He would get a new family.

“Yes?”

Eric dragged his hands through his hair and walked from side to side.

“I thought you were on my side?!” He screamed so his voice broke. His eyes swam with tears, and I stood up with the same horror as my dad seemed to be in.

“Of course I am. What do you mean?” I whined and held a tight grip around the couch backrest.

“Are you?! Because it seems like you want to fucking kill me!”

My mom came out from the kitchen and looked at all three of us with big eyes.

“What? No! I just want you to have a loving family!”

“How stupid are you? I will not get a new family! I will just be fucking locked up! What the fuck made you feel you had the right to decide over my life?!”

I swallowed hard because I still couldn't understand what he was speaking about, but I felt awful when tears streamed down Eric's cheeks.

“Eric… She only meant well…” Said my father, and Eric looked at him.

“Because that's so easy for me to think? Because that will make everything okay? I got stabbed the last time I was there! But I guess that's okay because you fucking meant well!”

“Stabbed…?” I stuttered and looked at him with big eyes. Eric gave me a cold look and wiped his tears away.

“That's what you've done. That's what I will meet. Because you believe you know better than me.” My heart beat so hard in my chest, and now I also cried because I started to realize what he was saying. There was no happy family, just an isolated house somewhere with other wounded souls that would treat him worse than his stepfather did.

“I'm calling the police,” I heard my mom say, and we all looked at her.

“Christa…” Said my dad, but she just said the same sentence again while dialing the number.

“Mom…!” I cried out while sobbing.

Eric looked at us all, then around in our nicely decorated living room.

“Do it then. I'm out of here. I need to run now. Run for my fucking life.” Eric said it bitterly and gave me a sour look.

“Eric...!” I ran after him when he walked away, and outside of our house he turned around.

“You have destroyed my fucking life! Can you leave me alone now? Or do you really think you deserve my forgiveness?”

He looked me straight in the eyes with his shiny eyes, but they were also much darker than they used to be. I stood and looked at him in shock. I held my breath to keep from sobbing loudly because I knew I didn't have the right to feel sorry for myself. I had messed up completely, and the only way for Eric to survive it all was to flee from me and the rest of it. The further away, the better.

I tried to tell myself when Eric walked away that everything would solve itself for him. I wiped away my tears even if I continued to sob, but I continued to say to myself that I hadn't destroyed his life. A few years later I would find out I hadn't destroyed his life, but I had fucked it up really good.

×××

Three years later…

It was weird how I always faked my moaning while being with a guy. None of them made much of a sound; still, I sounded like they did everything so great. No one had, not even Lucas, even if I had chosen to continue to sleep with him in a friends-with-benefits deal. He lay in front of me while I had my leg up on his hip while he worked his hips fast. And I moaned loudly, so loudly you would believe there was a camera team behind the corner, but it was just us in his room with hockey posters on the wall. He came inside of me; lucky for me, I was on the pill.

He breathed heavily and pulled away to pull on his boxers; I cleaned myself up under the cover with a napkin from the package always laying on his bedside table. That was that, three minutes of humping.

“Was it good for you?” He asked with his hands on his hips. He was twenty-one and had a great body but not as great of a face. He looked quite boring and had a silly boyish haircut.

“Sure,” I said, standing up. He unabashedly looked at my naked body, and I showed it off as so. I had never really felt I had so much to be ashamed of, and I knew boys thought I was hot. Lucas played with his lip and pondered something.

“I have a match this weekend; do you want to come?”

“No, thank you.” I answered like he had asked me if I wanted gum, but I didn't have the energy to also come up with an excuse on why i didn’t want to go, when I had already faked an orgasm for him.

“We could have a beer after?”

“I'm seventeen.”

“Right…” He scratched his chest awkwardly when he was reminded of my age.

“I can make you dinner here?”

I started to put on my clothes, and when I had the tight mesh dress I had on the night before I turned to him.

“Look, I like you, Lucas, but I'm too young for you. Don't you get that? This is nice, but no one needs to know about this. Okay?”

Lucas scratched his chest again and nodded. I knew he was usually the one breaking girls' hearts, but I wasn't that sort of girl. I walked all over guys like him and didn't care what they thought about me. Sometimes I thought about how I had become that way, why I was so uninterested in coming close to guys, and it always ended with me thinking about the boyfriend I had had for three months as a fourteen-year-old. Something that had affected me so hard that I couldn't even see other guys as something else other than a dick I could use. 

I walked home from Lucas’ even if he offered to drive me. I wished I could go to my brother's so my mom wouldn't see me in the dress from the night before, and I thought about going to Dad's, but he lived so small after the divorce that I panicked just about the thought of showering there. I needed to go home to Mom, my childhood home where her new boyfriend had moved in. Much had changed in three years, and maybe I had changed the most. I was not an innocent girl anymore, but even if I believed I were tough and sexy now, there was one thing that would throw me off, especially because I wasn't prepared for it at all. 

Eric. At first I didn't recognize him because he had stretched out and was probably 6'4 feet tall and had broad shoulders like a quarterback. His hair was black and laid around his face messily. He wore a long leather coat and scuffed black Adidas sneakers but more than that I couldn't see because the coat covered him. I stopped and stared at him where he stood outside of an apartment building with two other guys. I didn't know what I wanted to happen but me standing like that would bring some sort of attention and one of the guys saw me and probably said something to Eric because he turned towards me and looked at me with big eyes. He had a tattoo under his eye, I couldn't see what it was, and his eyes and lips were stained with black. His face had become more manly and chiselled and his lips were fuller. If I didn't know any better I would have believed he was a model, styled by some avantgarde French designer. Eric took a drag of his cigarette while he watched me. It felt like he could see my heart beating, see my pulse, just like vampires did. I hoped he did so he wanted to put his lips on me and drink my blood but he just stomped on his cigarette and gave me a final look before following the other guys in. He wasn't interested in me at all even if I felt everything between us still was so alive in me. 

× 

[prepareforspamcalls]

Get Up! I Want To Play!

(Wholesome fic since I finished my work today. So you get a Sophia fic!)

Tags: @myluckymoon @city-of-c0rpses @star-tb

"Come onnnnnn. You can get up." I puffed my cheeks out, watching Xavier sit there on the floor. He was in this own little world, stuffing a soft toy in his mouth from teething. Completely ignoring what I had to say.

I was 5 at the time, sitting on the floor with him and his Godsister, Elora. Elora was 12 at the time, and Xavier was 9 months old. We were on the floor, Elora making light conversation to me or watching Xavier be totally oblivious to his surroundings. Talk about a mellowed out baby. He was always like that before he was 2.

Unfortunately, I can't remember much of this day. It's been so long that most things became a blur to me. What I could mostly remember was being an impatient kid at the time. I was 5, what do you expect? 5 year olds aren't the best at waiting for anything, that included me.

I wanted to play with my baby brother. The only problem is that he didn't know how to walk. Only crawl, but even for crawling, he barely moved around. Once again, very mellowed out baby. Put him in one spot, and he would be content there for a while, the whole day even.

So I would normally sit or roll on the floor near him whenever I was bored. I had nothing else to do, I guess. So why not stare at a baby? Not a single thought behind those eyes.

I roll over to Elora, plopping my head on her lap. "Eloraaaaa. When do babies start walking?" I pout.

Elora looked down at me with a soft smile, a little light chuckle escaping her lips. She pets my hair, giving a sweet answer. "Well when they're around 9 months old, but they fully start walking 10 months or later."

"Well, I hope he starts walking soon, fast. I want to play with him! It's hard to play when you stay in the same spot all day." I huffed and whined. That caused Elora to chuckle more.

"Don't worry dear, I'm sure he will walk one day soon. But you must be patient." She gently sat me up in her lap, cradling my face gently. "Things will come to time when they do. Soon before you know it, he'll not be so small anymore, and he'll be sprinting as well. It takes time, but time is worth it. Try to enjoy you have the time now with him. Trust me, you'll be glad you did."

She gave me a forehead kiss. At the time, I couldn't really understand what she meant. My child mind wasn't used to a concept like that. But I'm glad she did tell me that because in that moment I did try to enjoy my time with Xavier.

Rolling off of her lap, I roll over to him, still chewing on that toy. I look at him, he looks at me with big ol eyes. It was cute.

"Hey." I said to him, attention to make conversation. Though he can't say much at this young of a age. "What you got there?" I asked, referring to the soft toy he been teething on.

There was no answer, but there was a response. He scooted a little, getting into crawling position and coming closer to me. I was a little suprised that he wanted to crawl towards me.

His little hands attempting to grab me. His little legs trying to climb onto me. I couldn't help but smile at the sight. I gently tried to bring him closer, holding him in my lap. It was nice to hold him (impossible to hold him today).

I love over at Elora, who was watching with a smile. I didn't know how else to continue a conversation with a baby, so I sat there. Just holding Xavier.

"Miss Elora." I asked more politely this time instead of whining. "Can you pass me one of the books from that basket over there, please?" I pointed over to a small basket near the fireplace. Inside was a selection of children's books. The Wizard of Oz (Elora liked that one), Cinderella (Lilli always seemed to enjoy this one), and other books inside.

"Of course, which book would you like?" She got up to pick up the basket. Bringing it over, before kneeling down again.

"Alice in Wonderland, please." That was my favorite book, even if it did have bigger words at the time that I couldn't fully understand. Totally wasn't trying to spread the Alice in Wonderland propaganda to him at all. Whaaaat? That would ge totally ridiculous!

Elora handed me the book. I gently took it and opened it to the first page with Xavier still in my lap. I started to read out loud, stumbling on a few words here and there as I read along the pages. Stopping a few times to look at the pictures.

Despite my reading skills being basic at the time, I can't remember when I didn't stop reading that night. I remember waking up in bed the next morning, but that's about it. Elora used to tell me that I read to Xavier before both him and I fell asleep midway through.

Even if I can't remember the memory well, I'm still glad it happened. Even if it's faint or hard to distinguish, it will always be a part of my memory.

[rey-jake-therapist]

If victorious why sad?