#◎ blaire florence callahan ៸៸ ★ ﹒

[ch4rryc0smos]

YOUR MOUTH IS VICIOUS AND YOU'RE PROUD OF THE SOUND YOU MAKE EVERY SECOND I'M AWAKE / EVERY SECOND I'M AROUND ! — NOW IT'S OVER | DOGPARK.

── . ✶ ❝ B L A I R E F L O R E N C E C A L L A H A N . ❞

☼ — xvii | cancer | infj | british-australian 🪐

appearance ; slightly tanned skin on exposed parts with freckles over shoulders and face, mole under the right corner of her bottom lip, forest green eyes, 5'10 [177 cm], athletic [or sleeper] build with thinner legs, barely noticeable scars over arms, thighs and back, scars over most of her body, dimples when she smiles hard. dimples on her lower back when she stretches. ombre [brown-blonde] hair, prefers her hair short [in a jellyfish cut], but isn't allowed.

beliefs ; materialistic wealth doesn't define anything but your worth in the eyes of capitalism. humans are made to express individuality, not succumb to capitalistic beliefs and submit to slave-like treatment.

⋆ ─ living isn't a linear experience, take it with grace, give it time, and maybe it'll learn to love you too. so, live. ⋆ ─ good and bad don't truly exist, the world is not black and white, it's grey, it's a canvas, and you're the artist.

personality ; gentle, intuitive, charismatic, vigilant, observant, meticulous, boisterous, collected, diligent, loving, realist, nurturing.

positive traits ; compassionate, selfless, empathetic, kind, accountable, notices other's emotions & fluctuations in behaviour[s].

negative traits ; anxious, bottles up her emotions, skeptic [has trust issues], struggles with boundaries, overworks, cares too hard, thinks she has to always be the one to rely on, can't accept her negative emotions, has unhealthy coping mechanisms.

quirks ; fidgets all the time | stutters when nervous | bounces from heel to heel when waiting in queues | gets louder and faster when talking about passions | has an oral fixation | tilts her head when she's focusing | taps her foot unconsciously when waiting for people.

likes ; nature, psychology, sociology, anthropology, freedom of speech, anarchy, deep conversations, late-night car rides, coffee, biology [many branches of it], museums, gardens, aquariums, deers, red pandas, art of living, knowledge, economics, connor murphy & evan hansen.

dislikes ; arthropods, heights, loud noises, narrow-mindedness, extreme temperatures, snobby people, arrogance, dishonesty, being under pressure, confrontation, disorganised places, normalising shitty behaviour and attributing it to mental illness.

deepest secrets ; wants to be seen for her true self, wishes her worth wasn't determined by productivity, wishes her parents would've seen her as more than a trophy daughter.

⋆ ─ she just wants actual connections, the one thing she somehow barely has. ⋆ ─ she doesn't want expectations to be placed on her, she doesn't want to be a prodigy, she wants peace, and calm, and people who actually care.

── . ✶ ❝ B A C K S T O R Y . ❞

ONE of australia's greatest kids, a prodigy made to wow the southern hemisphere, when blaire callahan moves to us, a whole world and hemisphere away, she doesn't know what to do, where to start. living in an esteemed society, high art culture surrounds her everywhere she goes. she's never truly known what friendship is because status is what determines who she is, what she is, even.

she hates how stuffy her life feels, how lonely she always feels, and how she lets her worth be decided on whether she performs well or not, what is this, a circus? she feels like the clown, that's for sure.

primary and middle school pass by as breezes, decent enough as long as she doesn't engage with anyone, ignores the one kid that goes to a nearby school and apparently threw a printer at his teacher in second grade. little blaire didn't know that mentioning that would just be the start of her meeting the murphy family.

one faithful day, she makes the mistake of mentioning this unknown kid to her ever nosy mother, and she somehow finds out it's connor murphy. some guy she'll have to meet now because his family is apparently rich! and oh, they're nice too, but it doesn't matter. and did she mention connor has a sister?

when she finally meets the family, the first time, it's awkward, zoe, connor's sister is a lively kid, she clings onto blaire the second they meet, and connor is, to say the least, out of it. he doesn't want to be there.

blaire resonates with it. and that's how they bond. the two run from the snobby dinner party, they sit outside, on the porch. they're awkward kids, don't speak, but they do know that they understand each other better than the adults ever could.

and that's how it started, few visits occasionally, until blaire moves to connor's school. it's the most public school-esque school she's ever done so much as seen. but connor is okay with it, well, as okay as he can be while hating it viscerally.

he gets bullied, blaire finds out. she hates it, she doesn't care who these people are, she doesn't like them. she spends a while defending connor, and then she meets evan. an anxious wreck, someone who doesn't want to be noticed, but of course she notices him.

so does connor, well, he notices before she does. but she's quick to follow. connor isn't big on befriending him, but she is. she wants him to feel seen, because she never has, not until him. she gives evan the best version of herself, and they form a friend group, a little trio, just them. and no one can hurt them, or can they?

── . ✶ ❝ C U R R E N T . ❞

LAST year of high school, on the path to be valedictorian, or whatever it is in american's high school, blaire callahan is looking to do what she was meant to do when she was younger, back at australia. she's friends with alana beck, a prodigy, but no one knows what these two go through. only connor and evan know blaire better than she seems to know herself.

but connor has been falling apart recently, and even if he acts "rad" and says it's just the usual, she knows. she always will, and evan does too. he's much more observant than he lets off. and blaire likes it. these two are scared for connor, they're worried, but blaire feels empathy. she's been here before, and it hurts.

it hurts bad to see him like this. it hurts so bad to see him like this, and have zoe be so angry. she's always been friends with zoe, and she doesn't like what connor has done to her, but now she's torn. and evan has to help her steer this ship away from this path, the one that'll lead them to their demise.

she's torn between two people, no, three, and three worlds that she'll have to navigate. and her parents too, and it's just so draining, so draining. she has to learn how to live, with herself, and with them, and with everything.

she hates high school, she says.

but she doesn't, she just hates how everyone she seems to care about is struggling, but she's ambitious, she will do anything to keep them afloat. and she will, no matter what, she doesn't care what happens to her, she's going to do it, for herself, for, connor, for evan.

she's been close with cynthia and heidi, connor and evan's mothers (respectively), but she doesn't know if she should tell them, maybe not yet, she thinks. the time will come.

and the universe will let her know, she believes in it. she believes in time, or does she? she hopes she does.

it doesn't matter though, she's going to figure out. this is blaire callahan the world is talking about. she's going to rock it.

── . ✶ appears in to be seen is to be loved [wip].

★ ; decided to make this post before actually putting the fic up (i haven't even finished the fic, i'm sick). i fell ill so i'm much slower, but it's okay, meet blaire everyone! another one of my girls <3 i've got some works with her in it in the plans, so!

ch4rryc0smos © 2024

[ch4rryc0smos]

⊹ to be seen is to be loved — c. murphy.

synopsis — a tiring day for blaire, and connor murphy decides to try to make it better, which he succeeds at, really well. and he sees her, more than she realises he does. that much is established.

genres — friends to lovers, friendly banter, mutual pining, requited yearning, admiring, best friends, domestic fluff, requited love, comfort, chaotic fluff.

pairing — connor murphy x friend!self insert, connor murphy x childhood friend!self insert, connor murphy x best friend!self insert.

warnings — implications of self h@rm, mentions of scars.

word count — 3.3k.

author's note — i know it's been a solid week or something since i've last posted, please bear with me, i barely have the time or motivation. after this, i intend to make an intro post for my alien stage s/i. yes, i've watched the final, i am, grieving.

masterlist.

Blaire is tapping her fingers on her thigh as she waits for Alana to return from her daily student council president duties, and what other nonsense she partakes in. It’s spring but the breeze is strong, Blaire is glad to have worn dress pants today, but her thin work-ish shirt just isn’t helping. It’s really thin. It looks nice, but the cold air is practically cocooning her and she has to breathe on her hands to feel like there’s still hope of her not freezing away. 

She watches the other students pass her by, some wave to her, some try to flirt, but she just smiles, tapping her foot on the pavement, wondering where Alana even is. Her eyes glaze over the passing figures, and she has to blink to not zone out. Until, her eyes land on the approaching figure of none other than Connor Murphy.

Local stoner, and weirdo, as known by the petty high schoolers, but also one of Blaire’s boyfriends, which still sounds weird to say, but she supposes she’ll have to learn to use it more often in real life. She doesn’t think she’s mentioned it more than like, once, to Alana. 

As he’s getting closer, a breeze slips between him and Blaire, she shivers in annoyance, pushing aside the feeling of the cold air tickling her collarbones. She grins at Connor. His black jacket is clinging onto him, and he holds his hand out, feigning a courtesy, to some extent. 

“Callahan, fancy seeing you out here,” he says, stepping closer.

Blaire smiles at him, shaking her head. “Didn’t think I’d run into you either.” She grimaces when the unrelenting wind refuses to not make a fool out of her. “I’m waiting for Alana,” she continues, as if she isn’t getting assaulted by the breeze.

“Why don’t you just ditch her?” Connor suggests.

Blaire raises an eyebrow at him, glancing at the building in front of them. “Uh—”

“Come on,” he says as he’s shrugging off his jacket. She tilts her head at him, confused, until he’s wrapping the black mass of fabric over her shoulders. He’s far too nonchalant about it. Any previous cold she might’ve been feeling has dissipated the moment his jacket touches her shoulders. It’s packed with the faint, or maybe not so faint scent of cigarettes, one that she’s sure will cling to her for at least a few days.

He’s a bit convincing, with that mischievous smile lingering on his lips and a hand asking for hers to complete his. She accepts it, does it seal her fate with him? Perhaps. She doesn’t seem to mind it, though. 

“She’ll look for me,” Blaire tries to reason, even though she doesn’t truly care, or is concerned by the idea of Alana looking for her. Beck is busy, the two just wanted to spend time together was all, but if Connor is here to take Blaire away, Alana wouldn’t mind. Not that Blaire thinks she would. 

Connor is grinning, he knows better than to believe Blaire’s bleak words. He tugs her forwards, and she stumbles along, following as he takes her past the watching crowds, they eye Connor with disgust, but Blaire is smiling up at him, a bit more grateful to have been whisked away from her school work predicament, and the home she’d have to return to eventually. Connor’s car is parked a bit further away from the school, scratches cover the length of the doors, and Blaire sighs, wondering how he’d gotten them since the last time they’d seen each other.

It’s been three days since their last car ride together. There is genuinely no way he should be able to damage the paint this badly.

“You know me,” he says, shrugging as he lets go of her hand, holding the door open for her right when Blaire’s already reaching for it. “Nuh-uh.” A declarative air surrounds the words. Blaire sighs, frowning softly. 

Accepting defeat, she slides into the passenger seat, rolling her sleeves up. Maroon scars scatter themselves over pale skin, marked with the occasional bruise, contrasting to the other two colours to form a canvas.

Of pain. 

One which Connor was well aware of. When he slides into the seat next to her, one glance at her, and he sighs softly, starting up the car. 

As soon as Blaire’s back hits the back of the seat, all the day’s exhaustion catches up to her. She closes her eyes, lets her head fall back against the headrest. Her hands start shaking, and she doesn’t know if it’s the day’s anxiety, or the way her body can’t even keep up with her anymore. Whatever it may be though, she doesn’t like it. 

On a normal day, she wouldn’t have forgotten her rings back at home (or whatever that is), she would be fidgeting with them, and no one would suspect anything, not the calculated measures to stop her hands from shaking as if she’s an old woman. But today, she doesn’t have anything she can use to hide the fact that she’s shaking, shaking. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Connor.

Even worse.

He doesn’t say anything, not for a while at least. Blaire knows that he’s noticed. His hands are still on the steering wheel until he reaches out with one. She stares at it, a bit dumbfounded.

“Think I didn’t notice you without your rings today?” he says. A smile is playing on his face. He places his hand on her lap. She tenses. “Relax. I should’ve stolen some of Zoe’s rings.”

Blaire is growing even more confused, “what for?” she asks.

“You like fidgeting with them—” he starts, “well, your ones.”

Obviously. She grins up at him, sliding her hand over his, intertwining their fingers. His hands are cold, as per the usual. But now she has something to tap and hold while he drives them off to somewhere. He could probably kidnap her and she’d be fine with it, especially with the way her consciousness has been slipping away, inch by inch, minute by minute. Connor squeezes her hand and suddenly she’s grounded, back to reality. 

“Con’...?” She mumbles his name, barely able to keep her eyes open, barely focusing on the street in front of her. It’s giving her an odd sense of deja vu, but she doesn’t care, or can’t, with the way she feels so exhausted. Connor is tapping his fingers gently against her knuckles, and she smiles, holding his hand in both of her palms, one hand’s fingers still intertwined with his. 

“Yeah, baby?” his voice is quiet as he whispers back, holding Blaire’s hand close to his. 

She smiles at the softness of his tone, how it’s almost comically quiet, like he’s trying to not disturb her as she treads on the edges of slumber. “Where ‘re we going?” she asks, not bothering to keep on looking out the window. Her head feels heavy from the exhaustion. 

Connor laughs softly, she knows that much, she can tell. It’s a gentle chuckle, much unlike his usual booming laughter that he graces her with in public. This one has always been reserved for her, and Evan. When it’s just the three of them. Or just them. “You’ll see.”

She pouts softly, getting a blurry look at him from the corner of her eye, even though she can barely keep her eyes open at all. She doesn’t question him though, instead opting to try to relax her body more, maybe sleep a bit. The car rumbles beneath her, the seat vibrating softly, probably because of the engine mounting Connor says he’ll get replaced someday, but the day never seems to come.

She’s losing the battle against sleep when the car comes to a halt, the comforting vibration of the seat stops and she’s almost inclined to sit up straight, but Connor’s hand is pressed against hers and is placed on her lap. She’s safe. He hasn’t moved an inch.

Until he has, and his hand slips out, slowly. Blaire’s eyes open, and she fumbles to sit up.

“Nothing is wrong, you’re safe, we’re safe,” he says. 

When she turns to him and her eyes focus on his face, he’s smiling softly. She glances around, the street is familiar. And then her eyes catch on the doors of a shop right outside her side of the car. A La mode greets her line of vision as a confused smile finds its way onto her lips. She tilts her head at Connor. He grins. 

“What are you up—” She can’t continue, Connor is unlocking his door and has one foot out the door. She probably knows exactly what he’s up to. She’ll get him back for it, soon. 

He turns back to her for a moment. “Just wait a minute,” he says and he steps out. Blaire watches him, and suddenly it’s much more prominent, the loss of his hand from hers. She suddenly wants it back, right this moment. She wants to hold the calloused fingers, and wants something to fidget with, whether it be his weirdly long fingers, or his fingertips roughened up by his guitar.

A few minutes, awfully quiet, punctured by her soft humming as she stares out the window, at A La mode, and when Connor’s silhouette appears at the door, she practically lights up, smiling at him as she rolls her window down. He’s holding two ice creams, one cookies & cream, and one chocolate.

He hands her the cookies & cream cone. She tentatively reaches out as he leans down, handing it to her through the car window. Their fingers brush and she laughs. A bigger smile breaks over his face. That’s when she notices his cone only has one scoop.

“What happened to yours?” she asks, frowning softly as he sits back down, next to her, in the driver’s seat. The car rumbles back to life beneath them. Connor just hums, and shrugs. “Come on, Murphy.”

“Hey,” he drags out the vowel, turning to look at her once before his eyes are back on the road. He’s never been the most bothered about road safety, why does it matter now? Probably because he doesn’t want to answer her question. But she keeps on pushing, won’t go down until he just spills. Well, he does spill. “They ran out, I got the last scoop.”

“Oh,” is all she can say. She glances at her scoops. She still hasn’t taken a single bite out of them. She smiles, holding it up to Connor’s lips, leaning a bit closer to him. He gives her a look from the corner of his eye and she just flashes him a shrug. He doesn’t even budge. She presses her cone closer. “Connor, it’s going to melt. Take. A. Bite.” 

She puts emphasis on the last three words. And still, he isn’t moving. So, she pulls back, dips down to get a taste of her ice cream since he’s denying himself the enjoyment, and that’s when he finally turns around, swiftly gets a bite. Gets a bit of the cream smudged over his nose, eliciting a laugh from his girlfriend. She leans forward, brushing her fingers over his nose, wiping it off. He turns a deep shade of scarlet, turning away. But he’s also not that bothered. 

Blaire grins, taking bites out of her ice cream absentmindedly as Connor does the same. He’s staring out at the road, and it’s lined with trees, fields are getting more abundant as they venture further to their destination. Which is at the moment, only known to Connor. 

Minutes pass in silence, the same ice cream eating cycle continues, and then Connor breaks it. “Hey, you should taste this,” he starts, holding his cone up for Blaire. She raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ve had A La mode’s chocolate ice cream quite a few times before, Con’,” she says, trying to push it back towards him. He insists. She sighs, complying. A hum of contentment leaves her when she gets a taste of the chocolate. She’s missed it. It’s been a while since she’d last been to A La mode at all. She only came here with Connor, or with Zoe. 

“Look up,” Connor whispers, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

Blaire looks up, their eyes meeting. His soft blue eyes, a bit like the oceans, when a storm brews overhead, but never quite reaches the tranquil waters below. The waves continue to splash over the other. What do her eyes look like to him? Forests? The depths of nature greeting him in the afternoon sun as it floods through the front window? He smiles, leaning closer. Blaire feels her heart stutter. One of his hands cups her face, and she’s a bit hyper aware of the fact that they’re on the road, her eyes stray to the steering wheel—Connor is holding her face firmly in place. He’s quick. His breath is a warm breeze passing over her face as he presses his lips to hers. 

She still sometimes can’t believe he’s meant to be the school freak. He makes her feel like she’s living some fever dream from the movies she used to watch as a kid. His lips are soft, a bit cold, and they taste like dark chocolate. And then he swipes his tongue over her lips, but he’s not asking her to let him past. It’s gentle, just there for a second, and then he’s pulled back. 

She’s stuck in place, face blooming into a warm shade of cherry, and she glances away, the cone of her ice cream is still loosely gripped in her hands. It’s about to tilt over. Connor’s fingers find their way around hers. The car’s not vibrating beneath them anymore. Blaire looks up, they’re sitting outside the gates to… an orchard. 

Connor holds up Blaire’s cone to her lips, or whatever remains of it. He watches as she takes the last few bites, and then using his thumb, he brushes off the crumbs, and smiles. Her heart is a mush of goo. She’s sure of it. There’s a cavity in her ribcage, and her heart has seeped through, it’s pooling her gut in the form of warmth. 

“I hate you,” she whispers, not truly meaning it. A smile blooms over her face as she looks away, out at the gates leading into the orchard. Connor’s fingers are still intertwined with hers. He lets go, only briefly. And before either of them process what their bodies are doing, they’ve stepped out of the threshold of the car and are standing next to each other. Connor’s jeep is staring back at him, with scratches, with chipped off paint, but his eyes are all for Blaire at the moment. He wraps his arms around her waist. 

“I don’t know why I’m here, but when I saw you earlier, I just…” he begins, trailing off soon after. Blaire waits patiently, her fingers intertwined with his as she feels his gently inquisitive taps while he waits for the right words to pop up into his mind. “Felt the need to bring you here.”

“We’ve been here before,” Blaire mentions.

Connor rolls his eyes at her. “Only when we were kids, dumbass.”

“Who’re you calling a dumbass, Murphy?” She tries to give him a stern one up, but he bursts into laughter. Which she isn’t immune to, sadly. She finds herself cracking, until she’s dissolved into laughter. Connor pulls her closer to his side, she grins, resting her head on his shoulder. “Since when did you go so tender?”

“Since I’ve had a pretty girlfriend and boyfriend,” he replies. Smooth. If only Evan was here to freak out too.

“What a flirt.”

He laughs. She rolls her eyes at him. She doesn’t know where he’s leading her, but she trusts him, so she lets her feet carry her towards whatever direction Connor’s heart desires. The grass beneath their feet is getting crunchier, scarcer as it spreads itself over the ground. They’re walking down a path that’s been walked many times before. And she can count the footsteps, some engraved into the dirt. Some people have left their marks here, for an eternity. And so have they.

Blaire smiles as her eyes glaze over the tiny footfalls forever engraved into the once murky ground that spreads itself unevenly beneath her and Connor. They were from the first time she ever visited the orchard. The Murphy’s managed to convince her parents to let her accompany them, per a little Connor’s wishes. 

She’s ever thankful for the day. Especially with her fingers intertwined with Connor’s, his arm wrapped around her frame as he leads her to the trunk of a tree. An old Apple tree that’s been here since the dawn of time (as long as Blaire’s seen it). 

Connor stops in front of it, turning to look at Blaire. She smiles at him, bright, even with all the exhaustion lining her under eyes. “Remember this tree?”

“Of course I do,” she says. She knows it from the first time Connor brought her here. This was their first date, together. Here. This was where he brought them when he first got his driving licence. This was where they’d escape to when they left his parents and ran for it. 

“I knew you had a connection to it.” Connor shrugs as he drops down to the ground in front of the tree. He presses his back into the trunk and smiles at Blaire, holding his hand out for her. She takes it, but he pulls her to the ground. Surprised laughter spills from her lips.

“You make it sound like a person,” she says, hitting him lightly on the chest.

“It’s always been one to you, hasn’t it?” he asks, voice suddenly a lot quieter, tone more solemn. She looks at him. Their eyes meet, he’s already looking. He’s giving her the most genuine look he has the entire week, and the wind is pushing his hair in front of his face, it must tickle. The thought makes a bigger grin break onto Blaire’s face. She hesitantly reaches out, gently brushing away his wild locks of hair. He leans closer to her hand, and soon enough, their knees are pressed together and they’re grinning at each other like idiots. She nods, finally answering his questions. 

“You’ve been tired this entire week, and don’t think I wouldn’t notice, I’ve been there before.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, albeit a bit sadly. “I wanted to make you feel better, it’s almost the weekend. My parents probably think I’m out smoking, but I thought I could…” he trails off, at a bit of a loss for words, but Blaire waits patiently. “Dedicate it to you, to, you know—Making you feel better.”

Her heart swells with happiness. She’s smiling ear to ear at him. “You’re an idiot, positive. Literally, the biggest idiot.” She leans closer, their noses brushing. “Ever.” She presses her lips to his, holding them together in a tender kiss, letting the warmth of his breath encapsulate her. 

“I hate you too, Callahan.” Connor pulls her closer. “You can rest now, we have like the whole day, anyway.”

“I know, Connor,” she sighs against his shoulder, “thanks, really. Thank you.”

“Don’t think I don’t see you, I may be high half of the time, but I’ll always be able to tell when you’re tired. When Evan’s anxiety is peaking, I can tell,” Connor mutters against the top of her head, his thumb is rubbing shapes into the flesh of her arms, and she’s relaxing into his grip.

Into the breeze that’s transitioned to warmth. The leaves rustled above them, and some lay scattered over their laps. While Blaire’s trying to fight the exhaustion weighing her eyelids down, she can still notice the way Connor’s hand messes with the leaves on his lap. She can hear him humming under his breath, some song he was trying to write for… her. She ignores all the warmth that pools at the tip of her ears and nose. 

“Thank you for seeing me,” she whispers before falling into comfortable silence.

“Anyday.” He smiles, but she doesn’t notice. “I can’t really help it, Blaire.”

ch4rryc0smos © 2024 … do not repost, alter, translate, or steal my work.

[ch4rryc0smos]

⊹ a little closer — c. murphy.

synopsis — connor sings for blaire, and she sings with him, and they can't seem to keep their hands off of each other, not that either of them minds, really. it's nice, to be loved. to them, at least, it is.

genres — friends to lovers, friendly banter, mutual pining, requited yearning, admiring, best friends, domestic fluff, requited love, comfort, chaotic fluff.

pairing — connor murphy x friend!self insert, connor murphy x childhood friend!self insert, connor murphy x best friend!self insert.

warnings — none, pure fluff here!!

word count — 1.3k.

author's note — i've got angst to write, but i wanted to finish this. if i start something new without finishing my previous thing, said previous thing NEVER gets written, so i had to, plus i wanted to anyway. i've had the idea in my head for a bit now.

masterlist.

Blaire is staring at Connor, his hands are working down his guitar, plastered with stickers she gifted him. She’s been in his room for the past few hours, and they’ve not left the comfort of it. It’s their own little world, peaceful. He’s strumming on his guitar, she’s sitting in front of him. At some point, she was sitting with her back against the foot of his bed, and he was sitting on his bed. But then the soft strumming of the guitar stopped and she looked up, and that’s what led to her being pulled onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in front of him as she smiles at his peaceful form, singing softly. 

He doesn’t even sound too nervous. Hell, he sounds beautiful.

“I’ve been drifting,” he sings, and Blaire is staring dumbfounded but smiling at her boyfriend. His voice is soft as he stares at her, maintaining eye contact. She feels a bit nervous but she can’t look away. She remembers the next lyrics, faintly. He’s mentioned this to her before, he has.

She clears her throat, suddenly much too nervous to continue staring at her boyfriend. “I’ve been dreaming,” she sings softly, her voice shaking a bit. Connor’s eyes widen softly, but it doesn’t deter him, he smiles bigger and continues for her.

In fact, Blaire can hear his tone get happier, even lighter, it’s like a lullaby in the middle of the day, a calming melody for her to lose herself in the rhythm of. She watches him with what he would describe as heart eyes, but she can’t help it. The guitar being strummed feels like home and what she’s never known, the stickers glisten under the sunlight that filters through his window, dancing on the floor and on a patch of his jeans. Her eyes are caught on it. 

“Well, today…” His voice gets just a bit quieter, like he’s expecting her to continue. She feels her face heat up, and looks down. Connor shuffles closer to her, bumping her knee with his. She looks up, smiling ever softly as she clears her throat. The corner of his lips turn up.

“Today,” she says the next word, trying to hold the tone that he used when he first sang it to her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it. It still feels like a fever dream when she remembers it. Or even tries to. Just any other day that Connor weaves past his parents and tugs her along as she flashes Cynthia and Larry smiles. It still feels wrong referring to them as anything that isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Murphy. But Connor thinks otherwise.

She still remembers clearly the first time she mentioned it to him, he put away his guitar, crawled closer to her on the bed and pulled her into his chest. 

“You’re going to be my wife one day, so get used to it,” That day, he’d said it so casually, she was rendered speechless. Just how she feels now, sitting as she finishes, and he starts strumming a bit softer, as if he’s lost in her eyes too. But she’s not the one with those oceans that drown you in comfort. She’s a wild forest, but he says she’s the nature of the orchard. And her heart swells every time she has the pleasure of recounting those words. 

His strumming halts for just a moment, but neither of them utter a word as he lifts her hand to his lips, turning his face to the side just to press a tender kiss to spot on her palm right next to her thumb.

“What felt so far away feels a little closer,” They both sing it at the same time. And Blaire thinks she might’ve started blushing but when their voices were in synchronisation. When the next instrumental rolls around, he laughs softly, and she leans forward, hesitating right when her lips are going to brush his. But he doesn’t. He kisses her. 

Her breath is stolen for the moment his lips are on hers, and when he pulls away, she’s fiddling with the hem of his sweater hanging around her shoulders. 

Connor clears his throat. “How long these…”  He trails off, but Blaire knows the exact next words, and she takes it up to continue. Her singing isn’t great, but she’ll sing for her Connor, she will. 

“Days of darkness at the bottom of a well,” She sings, hoping she doesn’t sound too bad. But Connor doesn’t show any signs of not liking it. So she sings the rest of the song for him, until just the last bit. They conclude the song together, and his hands go limp on the guitar. Blaire reaches for them instinctively, getting a feel for the callouses, anything new. Her boyfriend watches her with reverence as she gently brushes her hands up his arms. And then gently takes the guitar from him. 

He doesn’t even move, trusts her to take care of his guitar. How she knows too. When she’s finally placed the guitar on its stand, she turns around, but a warm breath fans across her face, and arms snake themselves around her waist. And she’s pulled into Connor, her chin resting against his shoulder. She turns her head to place a kiss on the side of his neck. 

“Don’t do that, Blaire,” he whispers, pressing his nose to her hair. “I don’t want to miss dinner one more time, Larry will be on my ass if I do.”

Blaire’s face heats up, and she shoves her face into Connor’s shoulder, blushing. Her hands clutch at his jacket, and then she looks up, hitting him lightly. He grins. “We won’t be missing anything.”

“So you’re saying—”

“CONNOR!” She turns around, but then the guitar’s right there so she can’t actually escape this predicament. She isn’t weak, but she just succumbs to it when Connor’s arms find her waist and she’s pulled to his side. 

He pulls her to the foot of the bed and makes her sit down. And then he sits down next to her, placing his hands on her lap. She glances at them, and then he taps her thigh. She intertwines their fingers and it’s like second nature when her fingertips are getting a feel of his knuckles for the umpteenth time. And he’s so used to it, he just smiles at her. 

“Thank you, for singing for me, Con’.” She rests her head on his shoulder, their thighs pressed into the other’s. He squeezes her hand. 

“Any day…” he whispers, “I didn’t expect you to remember those lyrics. They’re kinda dumb and all that, but—”

“No they aren’t.” She pulls away one hand just to place a finger against his lips, and he’s silenced. Just stops speaking mid sentence. Blaire laughs softly. He frowns. “Hey, I’m not laughing at you.”

“Oh, but you are,” he says, leaning into her fingertip, kissing it. Now she’s red again. 

She turns her face away but she knows well that he’s laughing. She huffs, but a smile graces her face anyway. She loves moments like these, wrapped up in Connor’s comfort, nothing fake, nothing hidden, just them. She feels closer to peace. Or whatever it might be, or mean. With him, or Evan, she thinks that’s peace. 

It has to be. She doesn’t know a feeling that’s anything like what they make her feel. But what they make her feel is everything beautiful and all the butterflies that are of positive nervousness, not fear. And she could feel it again and again if it means she gets to see them every day. 

Connor wraps his arm around her shoulder, and she relaxes in his grip. 

“You should sing more often.”

“Only for you or Evan.”

She smiles, but he doesn’t notice because her face is hidden in the crook of his neck. Maybe he feels it instead because he pulls her even closer, as close as possible. And she lets him.

ch4rryc0smos © 2024 … do not repost, alter, translate, or steal my work.

[ch4rryc0smos]

TAGS LIST .ᐟ

❝ your body could build my grave / with leather and lace! ❞

𓇼 — a list for all of my tags, i've realised i'll probably have... quite a few. so here we are. uh i'm so confused, i want to be aesthetic but it's so hard. jarring, even. take it from me. thank you for taking the time to read through this, if you have. subjected to change btw!

── .✦ PERSONAL

⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel's works ⸝⸝ ⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel's anons ⸝⸝ ⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel's asks .ᐟ ⸝⸝ ⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel's reblogs ⸝⸝ ⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel talks ⸝⸝ ⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel's self inserts ⸝⸝ ⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel's mutuals ⸝⸝ ⌗ ⤿ ✎ hazel and her edits ⸝⸝

── .✦ FICS(S)

⌗ ✦ ─ reverie .ᐟ ⌗ ⭑𓂃 saudade 𓏵

── .✦ SHIP(S)

⌗ kenji sato ༝ hazel vellichor ⋮ 🪻🥀 ⌇ ⌞ emethyst⌝ ‧₊˚ ⌇ ⌗ kenzel ⭑.ᐟ ⌗ sal fisher ༝ sage valencia ⋮ 🎸💌 ⌇ » sapphirerald ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⌇ ˖ ࣪ ‹ valsher ⁺˖ ⌗ art donaldson ༝ marion rosevelt ⋮ 🎾🖋️ ⌇ : masterpiece ⭒𓍯 ⌇ ☼ artion .ᐟֶָ ⌗ connor murphy ༝ blaire callahan ⋮ 🌑🌕 ⌇ — murllahan ‧₊˚✩彡 ⌇ ₊˚ෆ connaire ⋆ ⌗ evan hansen ༝ blaire callahan ⋮ 🖊️✉️ ⌇ blaevan ⌇ callansen ⌗ connor murphy ༝ blaire callahan ༝ evan hansen ⋮ 🍀🍁🍂 ⌇ blairevannor ⌇ murllansen ⌗ ivan ༝ ember sinclair ⋮ 🪩🎤 ⌇ ⇝ ⬪˙ ivamber ⭑ ⌇ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ sinclaivan ๑

── .✦ SELF INSERT(S)

⌗ ⁀➴ ꒰hazel eleanora-adalaide vellichor꒱ 𓂃 ⿻ ⌗ ⌕ ˗ˏˋ sage hector valencia ˎˊ˗ .𓈀 ⌗ ⬦ marion valentine rosevelt ๑ ₊ ⌗ ◎ blaire florence callahan ៸៸ ★ ﹒ ⌗ 𖥔 ↷ ember aspen sinclair ⊹ 𝄞 ⌗ ⤷ ★ sage hector valencia 󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠⭒ ᯓ★

── .✦ ORIGINAL CHARACTER(S)

⌗ ..﹙ viatrix ﹚ : the voyager 𖥔 ⌗ ⊂ s'ena lavanyah ⊃ : the uncertain ◍ ⌗ ◟navodya adlea◝ : the forced ▧ ⌗ ↺ anissa ka'rem : the banished ✶

── .✦ FICTIONAL OTHER(S)

⌗  . 𖦹˙— [ kenji sato ] ⌗ 🥂 aaron warner <3 ⌗ 🔗 simon “ghost” riley <3 ⌗ 🎸 sal fisher <3 ⌗ 🌱 alhaitham <3 ⌗ 📷 tim wright <3 ⌗ 🗡️ kamisato ayato <3 ⌗ 🪽 sunday <3 ⌗ 🎾 art donaldson <3 ⌗ 🌑 connor murphy <3 ⌗ 🖊️ evan hansen <3 ⌗ 🎤 ivan <3

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