#also ive been waiting for this moment since the first handshake this is gonna be fun | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kenmei · 4 years ago

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-ˏˋ FOREVER N THEN SOME! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader x kozume kenma

cw: pinch of angst (to fluff !!!), romance, slice of life, crying, established relationship!au, timeskip!au

synopsis: in which he’s actually more traditional than he leads on

wc: 2000+

notes from mei!

ive had this idea rattling around my skull for the longest time

sixteen and a handshake. a standard, normal handshake, but still awkward.

you remember how his hand perfectly fit with yours—how his palms were searing hot as they met with your much colder ones.

you remember him, as a second-year, as the setter for the team you cheered for from the stands. you remember his flushed cheeks when you kissed him on the cheek for a first time, watching as his brain malfunctioned as the rosy hues on his face spread to his neck and the tips of his ears.

you remember him, as the captain, worn out and exhausted at your doorstep.

you recall how he slumped onto you, making you somewhat drag him to your room. half because he really was that tired, and half for his own amusement.

you know him. you know him a bit too well and it’s both a blessing and curse.

because you wonder if he’s finally grown out of it—of this.

looking at the empty spot beside you, you think that, perhaps, he really has—the signs are staring right at you. lately, you’ve been sleeping in a cold bed, waking up to yet again another empty penthouse as you figure he’s at the office again.

(you hope he’s at the office, at least).

texts replies are always hours apart. it seems like he’s been doubling up on streams. friday’s that have always been reserved for two since forever, have only had one person attending these past few weeks.

this is sad, your chest clenches dejectedly at yet another morning where it’s only you. looking around, a part of you wishes that kenma’s actually here, that any second now, he’s going to emerge from his game room, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he scratches his tummy.

because even if you both don’t talk as much as you used to, it’s enough for you simply when he’s present. it’s enough for you when he mutters a good morning, waddling past you to go make his coffee before sitting on the couch.

it’s enough for you when he’s here.

the absolute bare minimum can make you the happiest, but you wonder if even that is too much.

twenty-four and you’re still overthinking.

“just talk to him!” your friends say, but truly it isn’t that easy. even if you’ve both promised to be better at communicating, something about this whole situation makes communication feel so much more difficult.

“you’ve been together for so long, you both still aren’t married?” if you’re being honest, it does bother you sometimes and you wonder if maybe, you should just get on one knee instead.

but you don’t. you don’t because you and kenma already both live(d) like you’re married. you both still share(d) that dynamic of being a laid-back couple who deals with problems as they come.

you don’t think about marriage with him because it already feels right. you don’t mind not getting married and honestly, you’re pretty sure kenma isn’t that kind of guy.

you’re startled by someone poking the side of your head.

your head turns to see kenma, brows slightly furrowed as he analyzes you.

you shake your head, sitting up straight on the couch. “’what’s u—wait, aren’t you supposed to be streaming right now?”

kenma nods his head, plopping into the spot next to you. “ended early. chat was being rude today.”

your head bobs in understanding as you try to find words to piece together. he must be frustrated, you know a little bit about how difficult it can get as a streamer and you also know him, that if he doesn’t want to be near you or hear you, he simply wouldn’t be.

you smile slightly, “t—”

“why are you so tense?” he questions, leaning back. his eyes study you and you feel like hiding.

“’m not.” you defend, shrinking.

“you are.” he replies, “what’s wrong?”

you hum, grabbing a throw pillow and falling onto your side, opposite from him. “class was hard today. your paparazzi found me at the grocery store—”

“that happened last week.”

you groan, because fuck, you really can’t lie to him. he’s too good at getting you to open up, no matter how hard you resist it.

“it’s stupid.” you pout, covering your face with the pillow, already feeling your wound up emotions spiraling back up to the surface.

kenma’s hand lands on your legs, situating them over his lap. he pats the side your calves, humming. “talk to me.”

“what about you?” genuinely, you feel like right now isn’t the best time to talk about this. “you were just telling me about how your chat was being rude!”

“that can wait.” he replies, patient, like he’s always been. “something’s been bothering you, no?”

yes. you think. but i don’t wanna talk to you about it ‘cuz i’m scared.

“are you tired...” fuck, you think, because once again, he’s getting you to talk. “of—of me?”

he’s always been good at this. somehow always getting you to say whatever’s clogging up your mind. he reads you like an open book and you hate it, because even after all these years, it’s still scary.

it’s daunting, because he knows so much about you. if he wanted to, he could pick you apart all too easily, knowing exactly what buttons to push to make you break and that’s scary. it’s terrifying, even.

you feel his hand, as warm as they’ve always been, slide under the bottom of your loose pajama pants, warming up your ice cold skin.

and the feeling is weird, because you feel like you’re on fire, yet his hand is still so much warmer than you.

it’s comforting. you’ve both always been touch-starved and kenma knows this, he knows this as he traces small shapes on your calves, the hem of your pants riding up a bit.

“why would i be tired of you?” he mumbles, eyes moving to see your face is still very much covered with the pillow.

you shrug, leg twitching under his feathery touch. “you’ve been distant and stuff... i dunno.”

and it feels like he’s back at square one with you. kenma feels like an idiot for not realizing sooner, cursing himself for being so caught up with work (and something else) that he’s been neglecting you.

you’ve always been a bit of a crybaby, only him and your close friends know this.

he notes that you tend to cry even when you both have the smallest fights, and it’s something he’s used to.

so to know that you’re holding everything in, it makes his chest tighten.

“i’m sorry, angel.” he says, quiet. “work’s been busy.”

yes, work is busy. even if he finds it enjoyable, it can get taxing sometimes. but he’s also been looking around for something, something that he needs perfect.

“‘s okay.” you mumble and he knows he’s fucking up even more. “i just miss you.”

he tugs on the bottom of your shirt, “c’mere.”

you shake your head and he ponders on what to do.

because even now, even though you’ve both been together for so long that existing with the other is literally needed, there are times when you both get stuck—where existing together feels more complex than it should ever be.

“please,” he pleads softly, “i miss you.”

and if you’re not gonna come to him, he’ll come to you.

so he leans down, forcing you to hold a bit of his weight as he lays atop you. he pulls the pillow away, wiping the few tears away with his thumb.

he kisses your cheek.

twenty-four, you let yourself cry because you’ve missed him so much. seeing other in the evenings or exchanging a few short words doesn’t do it for you anymore, it never will.

another kiss, but on the other cheek. i’m sorry.

another for your forehead, then one more on your nose. i love you.

your hands cling to him and he smiles, caressing your hair. his head lays in the juncture of your neck, frequently wiping your tears with his thumb.

he makes you sit up, only because he wants to hold you.

with your back to his chest, his warm hand envelopes yours. he doesn’t make you face him, because he knows that wouldn’t make you feel comfortable.

it’s only when he hears your crying subside, that he holds your chin, making you look him in the eyes.

“are we okay?” he mumbles, his lips so close to yours you can feel his breath.

it still gets to you. he still gets to you like you’re both still teenagers; your heart thumps in your ears, body burning because fuck, he’s really close to kissing your lips.

you nod, “’m sorry. didn’t wanna talk to you ‘cuz i was scared.”

his lips slot against yours and it’s gentle, your mind becomes fuzzy with a warmth only kenma can provide you. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lips chasing his.

“don’t worry about that,” he says softly, “i might’ve accidentally made it harder to approach me.”

you shake your head. “thought it was just my overthinking.” you fiddle with your fingers, “i didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it.”

“next time,” he says, “make a big deal out of it. you gotta talk to me, angel.”

you whine, feeling embarrassed because you’ve gotten this lecture from him so many times.

kenma sighs against your skin, wondering if now is the right time. it feels like a good time, but he doesn’t want to waste a special moment because of a good feeling.

“what’s wrong, ken?” you ask, tilting your head back onto his shoulder.

your eyes are red, you’re still sniffling every now and then.

he smiles, hand travelling to his pocket as he pulls out the ring, holding it in front of you. “this is why i was so busy. t—the box is in my gaming room, though, fuck—”

“is that—”

“w—wanna get married, y/n?” his whole face is red. you giggle at his shaking hand as you hold out your own (shaking) hand.

“yeah. i really wanna.”

and you’re crying again as he slips the ring on your finger. the diamonds sparkles at you and you can’t help but fawn over the ring as you sob.

“crybaby.” he mumbles, kissing your cheek. he nuzzles into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. “i love you.”

and it’s here you realize that kenma is a lot more traditional than you thought. memories flood in of him always getting you to watch the first snow with him through his window, forcing you under the kotatsu with him as he shows you a new game he started playing.

eighteen. for your two year anniversary, he took you to a place with love locks. signing one off with you before throwing the key god knows where. and you remember thinking it’s weird, because the month before that, he was telling you stuff like that is kinda phony.

nineteen. you recall him grumbling about getting into a yukata for the festival, but grumbling even more when you gave in and said you’d both attend in normal clothing, because he’s already halfway in the yukata, why would he change? (he just wanted to wear one with you).

twenty-two. his persistence to keep you awake to watch the sun rise on new years.

you realize kenma follows traditions more than you do and you chuckle.

giggling, you hold your hand out where the diamonds on your left ring finger shine happily, tilting your head to kiss him yet another time.

“i love you.”

change. you know your daily lives aren’t going to be much different, but you both like how your last name will be the same as his.

twenty-four. he proposes to you so casually that some might find it weird. but you both aren’t ones for big gestures. you know kenma loves you, it’s in the way he moves your hair out of your face as he asks you if he can still make it up to you.

and he knows you love him, when you laugh and tell him he already has—when you intertwine your fingers with his and kiss the top of his hand, kenma knows and you know, too.

forever it is.

361 notes · View notes

novacxlum · 6 years ago

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the wedding planner

in which you’re a wedding planner working on the biggest party of your career with more than a few bumps along the way

a/n: facts about this piece:

1: this isnt much like anything ive ever written and doesn’t rly sound like me AT ALL

2: its really quite long, like nearly 25 pages in word

3: this is very much based on the jennifer lopez movie bc its SO good

You squint under the bright sunlight as you rush down the bustling city streets; it’s an unusually warm day in southwest London and you can’t help but curse yourself for not checking the weather. If your arms weren’t so full, you’d shrug off your cardigan, but between your phone and purse and binder, you can’t find a spare hand.

“Listen, Izzy, tell Joelle to stop freaking out. We’ll just tour venues tomorrow, instead. Call her and make sure she’s okay, tell her I’ll call them all.”

“Do you still have the list or do you want me to send it to you again?” Your assistant and best friend’s voice echoes tinnily through the phone and you purse your lips. You can barely focus on the question, the heat beginning to become unbearable. Your shoulder is becoming sore from bumping into everyone on the crowded sidewalk.

“Um, I may have it, but can you send me an extra copy just in case?” You fit your phone between your ear and shoulder and you begin to rifle through your binder.

“Yeah, for sure. She also wants to add Heavenly Hollow onto that list. I’ve got their number right here, can I read it off to you?”

You look up from your binder to gauge the distance to your crosswalk and pull a pen from your hair, find a blank page, and say, “Yeah, but hurry.”

You listen to her speak quickly and jot down the number as fast as your fingers will move. Just as you begin to walk across the crosswalk, you stick your pen back behind your ear. “Okay, call me when you get home.”

“Will do,” you grin, saying your goodbyes and listening to her hang up.

You struggle to get your phone out from its secure place. Someone’s shoulder hits yours particularly hard and you grunt as it falls from your arms. You gasp as papers fly around you and you hastily sheathe your phone in your pocket and crouch down, fumbling with your papers. If this weren’t the most important wedding of your career, you’d have left them, but you know there are papers here that Izzy doesn’t have and you’ll be damned if you’re going to let Joelle Christiansen the same wedding treatment you give everyone else.

“Hey!” The word rings loudly in your ears. You barely hear it, still struggling to get your papers back in their spots. “Hey, ma’am!” This time you look up; not at the man yelling, presumably at you, but at the tourist bus hurtling straight toward you.

“Shit,” you whisper, clutching your binder and standing to your full height. You take a step, and before you can get anywhere, the wind is knocked from you. There are arms wrapped tightly around you, but your back slams into the cement of the sidewalk. You groan, still gripping your binder as the sounds of screeching rubber from the bus ring through the air.

“Jesus, are you okay?” A Welsh accent asks. Your eyes, which you had not realized were still closed, blink open. You let a deep breath out and look at your savior.

And, good god, was he a savior. A beautiful one at that. You clear your throat and close your eyes again, your heart still pounding. “Did I get all my papers?” You ask, and he chuckles ludicrously.

“Yeah, love, I think you did.”

“Thank Christ.” You breathe, dropping your head back. You eyes immediately snap open. “And thank you! Seriously, I owe you my life.”

He laughs softly, and as you stare up at him, you become acutely aware that you’re still trapped beneath a strong contender for the most handsome man you had ever seen. You sit up quickly and he falls to sit beside you. “Are you alright?” He asks again, and you let out a huffy breath, blowing your hair from your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” The two of you stand, you gratefully taking his hand when he offers it. “Hey, let me buy you a coffee or something. It’s the least I could do.” You plead, still holding your binder close to your chest.

“I shouldn’t,” he breathes softly, and you give him the smallest of all smiles.

“Please. It doesn’t even have to be a coffee, I just owe you.”

“Coffee would be lovely.” He admits. Your face splits into a grin and you hold out your hand.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

He accepts your handshake and the two of you begin to walk toward the cafe just around the corner. “Taron,” The name is familiar, but you suppose it isn’t an entirely uncommon name. You furrow your brows as you try to remember exactly where you’ve heard the name. “So, what exactly is in the binder? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Oh, it’s just, uh, work stuff.” You chuckle. “It’s a big client.”

“Big enough to risk your life over?” He asks teasingly, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You laugh softly. “You have no idea.” You shrug off your sweater and lay it over your arm.

“Well, hey, I hope it works out for you,” he admits, pulling open the door for you. You thank him, walking into the cafe.

The two of you order, and despite Taron’s insistence, you pay for his drink. As the two of you sit at a table, you begin to wonder how you got so lucky. Sure, you may have nearly died, but there’s a silver lining to every cloud. You laugh at all his jokes, not because you feel that you have to, but because you actually think they’re funny. It had been a long, long time since you had met someone you saw something in, and it felt as though you and Taron were operating on the same wavelength.

With a quick glance at your watch, you gasp softly and begin to grab your things. “Taron, this has been lovely, truly, but I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

“Where are you rushing to?” He asks curiously as you grab your things.

Shrugging your sweater on, you smile. “My best friend, Izzy, and I go to outdoor movies in the park every Friday. She should be getting there by now.”

“Oh, they’re playing An Affair to Remember tonight, right?” He asks, and you cock your head.

“Yeah, actually. Do you go see them?”

“I used to, a few years back. I haven’t gone in ages.” He admits. You grin, stuffing your binder in your oversized purse.

“Well, hey. If you’re looking to reminisce, you are very welcome to join us.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), I’m not going to be able to make it tonight,” Izzy says apologetically.

“Izzy, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it, okay? Next weekend.” You sigh softly, looking to Taron’s confused face.

“I’m sorry, okay? I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I love you. Bye,” you hang up with a soft sigh and look to the man standing beside you. “So, Izzy isn’t going to make it.” You quirk the corner of your mouth up.

“Oh, damn.”

“Hey, if you want to bail, that’s fine.” You assure, and he makes a playfully offended face.

“I could never.” He teases. He offers you a package of M&M’s and you hold out your hand, clutching onto the candies he pours into your hand.

The two of you listen to the music in silence, waiting for the sky to darken enough for the movie to start. As much as you adore the tradition with Izzy, you’re grateful to have what felt suspiciously like a first date. You look over to Taron and already find his gaze on your face, causing you to blush. He inspects you and you raise a brow, a silent challenge. Instead of saying anything, he shakes his head with a smile and scoots the smallest bit closer to you.

Within moments, the movie is beginning.

“That movie is terrible.” Taron criticizes, and you glare at him, nudging his ribs with your elbow.

“It’s not! It’s one of the most romantic movies of all time.” You defend, and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s such a cop-out. The ending would be so much more impactful if they never ended up together.”

The crowd begins to disperse as the moviegoers began to leave, but you and Taron remained seated on the grass. Your thighs pressed together and your hands rest on the ground behind you to hold up your weight, making you blush every time Taron’s arm brushes against your back.

“I think it’s sweet. I like happy endings.” You admit softly, your gaze resting upon the smooth skin of his face.

“There aren’t always happy endings.” He reminds you, making you roll your eyes, looking away from him.

“So cynical,” you tease, making his shoulders shake lightly as he laughs quietly. He turns to look at you, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe so.” He accepts, his eyes still trained on you. You begin to falter beneath his stare, looking into his bright eyes and allowing your own smile to take root.

The silence is nearly stifling, and you feel his hand move near yours, his fingers brushing over your own. You let out a breath, the anticipation burning in the pit of your stomach. He leans toward you, just slightly, and you subconsciously mirror his movements. He’s only inches away when you hear a voice cutting through the cool air.

“Hey! We think it’s gonna start raining, you might want to pack up.” Your head swings around and you catch sight of a security guard.

You nod and hear Taron’s thanks, mate before the two of you stand, looking to one another. The air is awkward now that you’ve been interrupted, so you laugh softly. “I should go. Thank you, for everything today.”

“It was truly my pleasure, (Y/N).” He assures, and you grin. You purse your lips, looking to him before booking a thumb over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you around?”

You see him narrow his eyes, but he nods, a sweet smirk pulling at his mouth. “Yeah, of course.”

You turn and fight the smile at the thought of him, and you want to roll your eyes for already being enamored by him, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It isn’t until you’re nearly home that you begin to berate yourself for not getting his number.

“So what, you just didn’t ask for his number?” Lewis asks, and you glare at your father’s best friend from across the table.

“No, Lewis, I didn’t.”

“Well, did you at least kiss him?” His wife asks. You purse your lips and avert your eyes to your coffee mug.

“I mean, technically--”

“Come on!” You father cries, making you shake your head.

Saturdays were your designated days to spend with your father. Saturday mornings, anyway. It was hard to get Saturdays off with work, spending most weekend afternoons and evenings with brides touring, tasting, and tailoring. It was busy, and most days physically exhausting, but it was worth it. At least, you seemed to think so.

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee, changing the subject immediately. “Anyway, we’re touring venues today, I’m hoping we can finally pick one and start setting vendors in place.”

“You work too hard,” Katherine scolds, and you smile at her.

“I’m not working too hard, I’m just dedicated.” You shake your head, looking to your father.

“Don’t get yourself too worked up over this wedding, (Y/N/N), or you may actually get hit by a bus. Literally or figuratively.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You roll your eyes playfully, laughing softly under your breath.

There’s a soft knock on the front door and you look over, your brows furrowed in curiosity as your father cries, “Come in!”

The door opens just as you begin to lecture your father. “You cannot just let random people into your house, dad. Do you want to be robbed?”

“C’mon, do you really think I’d rob him?” A familiar voice asks, and you blanch.

“(Y/N), you remember Colin.” Lewis reintroduces his son, and you watch him with wide eyes.

“Uh, yeah, of course.”

How could you possibly forget? You had grown up with him; you’d known him as long as you can remember. Lewis and Katherine’s son was, in a way, your first love. For years, you’d pined over the man. In fact, you still felt your heart race at the sight of him. Colin, however, had been several years older than you and as far as you were concerned, far out of your league.

You stand as he approaches you, reciprocating his actions as he wraps you in a tight hug. “God, you look so different! You look great.” He grips your hips and you allow him to push you away as he looks at you from a distance, gripping his elbows. “Really great.”

“You too,” You breathe, looking up at his face. He flashes a grin and you offer a bashful smile, feeling the heat rise up your neck.

“Can you two get a room?” Lewis teases, breaking you from your reverie. You clear your throat and allow your hands to fall, ignoring Colin’s chuckle from behind you as you turn to face your father. You ignore your burning cheeks, giving a convincing smile.

“Y’know, Colin is single.” Katherine admits, a knowing grin on her face and a playful twinkle in her eyes. You make eye contact with your father, who shrugs and stands to get Colin a cup.

“Thanks, mum. Really.” You hear Colin chuckle. He nudges your arm to get your attention. “We should catch up.” He offers.

Your mind immediately goes to Taron, and though you nearly blush again just at the thought of him, you begin to wonder if you’ll ever even see him again.

“Yeah, totally.” You nod, a friendly smile on your face. You can’t tell if you’re accepting because you’re being polite, or if you actually want to go, but you sigh.

He flashes you a blinding smile before walking to the kitchen to meet your father. You sit at the table, glaring at Katherine and Lewis.

“You did that on purpose.” You accuse. Katherine just shakes her head, taking a sip from her mug.

She had been the only person to know of your childhood crush on her son, and though you had sworn to her for years that it was over, she never fully believed you. You hadn’t seen Colin in about six years, and distance had done you well.

Out of sight, out of mind.

But now, Colin was very much back in your sights. As you peer into the doorway of the kitchen and see him laughing with your father, you wonder if it was in everyone’s best interest that you might pursue a relationship with him. After all, he was still extremely handsome. And kind, a generous person since the time you were young children. It was difficult for you to find fault in him, something you had tried and failed at doing whilst trying to get over him years ago.

You sigh, crossing the table to say your goodbyes to your father’s friends. Gripping your cup, you hesitantly venture to the kitchen to rinse your mug and say goodbye to your father and Colin. You peek in the doorway, catching only a second of their hushed conversation before fully stepping in. Colin catches your eye and grins. Your father twists to look at you.

“Hey, love, you leaving?” He asks, reaching out to take your mug. You hand it to him with a grateful smile and nod.

“Yeah, I’ve got to be at a venue in thirty minutes.” You sigh, hugging your father.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I have a word?” Colin asks softly. You look at your father, offering a soft smile.

“Yeah, for sure.”

You watch your father set your mug in the sink and exit the room awkwardly, a small laugh falling from your lips.

Colin watches you carefully, smiling softly as you turn your attention to him. You push yourself to sit on the counter, looking at him with curiosity in your eyes. “What’s up?” You ask, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

“Would you allow me to take you to dinner?”

You try to hide your shock, but you can’t get out many words, so you say, “What?”

He laughs, loud and warm and you can’t help but smile at the sound. “I want to take you out.” He says again. You shake your head to clear your mind and nod.

“That would be lovely, Colin.” You say. You know now you’re accepting because you want to. As much as you hate to admit it, there are still residual feelings for Colin. He grins, nodding.

“Okay, great. I hope you don’t feel that I’m too eager, but how’s tomorrow night?”

This could not have been described as anything but your childhood dream. You can’t help but break into a smile, sitting up a little taller as he approaches you. “Tomorrow night sounds wonderful.”

“You slut!” Izzy gasps, punching your arm.

You can’t help but laugh, pushing her away from you. “It isn’t that big of a deal,” You assure her. “It’s just Colin.”

“But you didn’t tell me about the other guy. What’s his name? What does he do? Did you get his number?” She pressures, walking beside you. Her voice echoes through the eerily quiet church and you want to scold her for yelling, but you can’t find it in you.

“His name was Taron, I don’t know, and no. And we didn’t even kiss, it was barely a date.” You patiently reply, flipping through the pages on your planner.

“That’s kind of a coincidence.” She mumbles, pulling your purse off your shoulder.

Your eyes remain on the papers before you as you move your arm to give her access to your bag. You don’t bother asking what she’s doing as she rifles through your belongings. “Why?” You ask, finally reaching the page you’ve been searching for. The binder was still a mess, no longer the organized, clean collection you were so proud of. Papers were wrinkled and out of sorts, the pages you had lost reprinted just to be shoved in the front pocket.

“Our groom’s name is Taron.”

You gasp and look up at her. “That’s right! I knew it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember who it was.”

“We’re finally gonna meet him today.” She reveals, and your eyebrows shoot up. She immediately begins to address the silent question in your eyes. “Well, if you weren’t so busy going to movies with handsome strangers and being asked out by literal brain surgeons--”

“Colin isn’t a brain surgeon.” You scoff, looking up at her through your lashes.

“He’s a surgeon of some sorts, who cares? Anyway, I tried to call you last night and tell you, because Joelle told me when I called to talk about the venues.” She finally finds what she’s looking for, a pack of gum spilled at the bottom of your bag.

“Well, that’s good. It’s not often we get this far in the process without meeting the groom.” You sigh, closing the binder. She hands you a stick of gum, popping her own piece into her mouth.

“Well, Jo said he’s been out of town, right? I guess he just got back a few days ago.” She shrugs, handing you your purse back. You pass her your binder to drop into her tote bag, at which she winces. “Jesus H, this thing is in bad shape.” She breathes, earning a playful glare from you.

“Don’t make me feel worse about it.” You groan. You glance at your watch, and as if on cue, the church door slams open, a breathless Joelle rushing through the door.

“Hey, ladies! Sorry, we got out late. Taron is parking the car, he’ll be here in just a second.” She finally reaches you, her breath heavy.

“Hey, Jo. You guys didn’t have to rush for us.” You say, listening to her laugh in your ear as the two of you embrace.

“Oh, it’s fine. He hates to be late, so no matter what I said, we would have been speeding here.” She giggles, turning to hug Izzy. “We can start without Taron. He’ll find us.” She suggests, and Izzy looks at you with a raised brow.

“That should be fine. Let me go get the pastor, he’ll be giving us our tour.”

You turn on your heel, letting out a breath before looking for the office. Joelle Christiansen was A-list; she was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most high-profile client you had ever had. You had been recommended through a friend of a friend, and every single time you interacted with her, you were desperate to keep her happy. On top of that, you were quite fond of her.

You knock on the door, smiling as John swings it open. “(Y/N)?” He asks, a friendly grin painted on his face.

“Hi,” you reach out a hand to shake his. “It’s so great to meet you. Sorry about the mess with scheduling.” You apologize. He waves a hand to dismiss your worries, closing the door of the office behind himself.

“Don’t worry about it, we don’t get too busy here.”

The two of you make your way back to Joelle and Izzy, the voices echoing off the high ceiling. The pastor reaches his hand out to shake theirs, greetings flying around as everyone introduces themselves. You finally allow yourself to take a breath, with the attention off you. With the pastor in charge, you finally feel at ease.

“Well, let’s start the tour,” he claps. Just as he turns around, the door flies open and all four of you turn to look at the intruder.

For a split second, you’re nearly ecstatic, a smile playing on your lips before you realize what exactly is happening. Izzy’s eyes fly to you, and you lean over.

Taron half-jogs toward all of you, your Taron. You turn to Izzy in a panic; she looks back to you, her face twisted into a silent question.

“That’s him.” You say, the beginnings of a panic attack taking root in your gut.

“Obviously that’s him.” She rolls her eyes, discreetly elbowing your side.

“No, the guy from last night. That’s him!”

“Holy shit.” She whispers, catching everyone’s attention.

“I’m sorry?” The pastor asks, his brow furrowed. Taron begins to chuckle but is cut short as soon as he sees you. He blanches as you glare at him and the sound of Izzy apologizing is quiet to you as you think of the infinite amount of things you wanted to say to him. Your anxiety is replaced with anger and you can’t help but keep your cold stare on him.

“Tar, you okay?” Joelle asks. He averts eye contact to look at his fiancee--the word nearly makes you sick--and flashes the most convincing smile you may have ever seen.

“Yeah, love, I’m fine.” He assures, reaching out to shake Izzy’s hand first. “Taron, nice to meet you.”

He’s too busy introducing himself to the pastor to hear Izzy’s, “Is it?”

He reaches for you last. With a small hesitation, he reaches for your hand. “Taron, hi. You must be (Y/N).” There’s a silent plea in his eyes and you resist the urge to scoff.

“Hi,” you greet curtly, shaking his hand for only a second before dropping it as though it’s burnt you. You spin on your heel to face pastor John. “Right, should we start?”

He begins the tour, the four of you following him nearly silently. Taron and Joelle listen intently as you and Izzy follow from a distance. She sends you a bewildered look, and you mirror her expression; how the hell did you end up here? It’s safe to say you’re in the unventured territory. Izzy was equally overwhelmed, looking between you and Taron.

John rattled on as Joelle and Taron followed, paying close attention to the information he was feeding you all. Taron sends a look back at you, a look that obviously meant something. We need to talk, he mouths before quickly turning back around. You and Izzy shared another look and turned your attention back to the tour.

“Taron, this place is beautiful.” Jo gasps. The tour is just barely over, the four of you standing in the middle of the alter.

“Yeah, it’s quite nice.” He mumbles, the deep Welsh accent echoing off the marble walls. “I just think it may be a bit cold.” He offers. She purses her lips.

“Well, should we move on to the next?” You ask, pulling your binder from Izzy’s bag.

“I think I’m going to run to the restroom, okay?” Joelle asks. You smile curtly, watching her retreat. The three of you watch her wander away, the silence stifling until she turns a corner.

“Can I speak to you?” He asks, sending a pleading look to Izzy. “Alone?”

“Hell no. I’m not leaving.” She snaps. He looks at her with a near pitiful face.

“She knows?”

“Izzy, I’m fine. Give us a minute.” You sigh, pushing her lightly away. She glares at the two of you but meanders away to sit on a pew.

“I am so sorry.” He whispers.

“What is happening? Are you stupid?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re engaged? How can you act that way with someone when you’re engaged?” You exclaim. He runs a hand over his face, pinching his bottom lip.

“I hadn’t meant to, not at first. But you’re so lovely, and I just kind of got carried away.” He sighs. A hand reaches out for you, but you pull away.

“You are a literal psychopath.” You take a deep breath before squaring your shoulders. “But this wedding is big for me, okay? So we’re going to pretend we just met, and you’re going to be a helpful groom because if you aren’t, I’ll kick your ass.” You threaten.

He looks at you in shock and opens his mouth to reply. Before he can get anything out, Joelle rushes out from the bathroom. “Okay! Are you ready?”

You turn around with a blinding smile. “Yep! Let’s head on out.”

“It’s been five dates,” Izzy reminds you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“And?”

“And it’s coming! He’s going to ask you soon.”

The two of you walk into the bakery, waving at Joelle and Taron. “No, he isn't. It isn’t that romantic, Iz. And they’re barely dates, we’ve just been catching up.” You sigh, looking over at her. She raises a brow, giving you an incredulous look.

“Then why is he coming today?” She asks, rolling her coffee cup between her hands. “That’s boyfriend shit, (Y/N).”

“He’s just dropping off my laptop.” You defend. The two of you stop a few feet from the table, you in hopes to end the conversation before you sat, and Izzy because she wasn’t ready to give this up.

“Which you left at his house! Plus, you’ve kissed. He’s got a leg up on that one guy.” She says pointedly.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m being honest. Two weeks and five dates, you’re kissing him, and leaving things at his house? This is getting serious.”

“Can we finish this later?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. She nods and walks toward the table, sitting down. You follow, greeting the couple and pulling a pen from your purse.

“Good morning, guys.” You greet, opening your binder to a blank page. “Let’s just jump right into it, yeah?”

“Someone’s feeling productive today,” Joelle notes, her laugh ringing through the air. You laugh, too. Not because you think it’s funny and definitely not because it’s true, but because you want to get as much of this done before Colin got here and you don’t want to have this conversation.

“Well…” you trail off, finally looking up to the pair. Joelle has a friendly smile painted on her face and Taron has a curious brow raised, a silent question. Your gaze lingers for only a second before you look down at your page. “What flavors were each of you thinking?” You ask, looking back up to them.

Taron’s disinterested face watches you as Joelle rattles off a list. You write them as fast as you can, nodding as she continues to speak.

“We’re going to have a lot of guests,” she begins. In your head, you cannot help but say ‘562 guests,’ a thought you had been carrying with you for weeks. 562. “So obviously we’re going to need a lot of it, but I want everyone to have something they want.” You zone out, nodding as she speaks despite the fact that you aren’t listening. Her high-pitched voice echoes through the nearly empty bakery.

“Well, we can sample all of these and you can pick three or four, we can do several cakes or a large tier cake; we can talk about that later, though, so don’t worry about it.” You stand to take the list to the man behind the counter when the bell above the door rings. You turn out of instinct and freeze. “Hey, Iz, you wanna take this up?” You ask rhetorically, offering the list and motioning to Colin.

She turns and makes eye contact before breaking into a mischievous grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey, Colin!” You greet pitchily, walking toward him. He’s nearly an hour early; he had told you he would be here at ten, but it’s barely a pinch past 9:10. “What are you doing here?” You laugh a little, trying to hide your anxiety.

“Why are you freaking out?” He sing-songs, pulling you into his side. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and you look up at him.

“I just wasn’t expecting you this early, that’s all,” you whisper in response to his teasing, thanking him as he hands you your laptop.

“The department meeting didn’t last nearly as long as I was expecting. Didn’t think it would be a big deal if I came early. Am I interrupting?”

“No! No, of course not. You’re fine.” You assure.

“(Y/N), who’s this?” Joelle asks playfully. You turn to look at her, a bashful smile on your face.

Colin reaches his hand out for a handshake, gripping Joelle’s hand tightly. “I’m Colin, (Y/N)’s boyfriend.”

Your brow furrows in confusion for only a split second. He reaches for Taron, who watches Colin carefully as they shake hands. “Um, Colin, this is Joelle and Taron.” You introduce, ignoring Izzy’s smug look as she returns to the group.

“It’s just lovely to meet you, Colin.” Joelle winks at you. You roll your eyes playfully. “Would you like to stay with us?” She invites.

You begin to wonder what you’ve done to deserve something like this. Things with Taron were still awkward, to say the least, and even just the few moments Colin has been here had been nearly unbearable. There’s an unmistakable tension in the air, but just a single glance at Jo shows you she’s none the wiser.

“I’d hate to intrude.” He says, looking to you.

After a beat, you realize it’s up to you. You jump. “Oh! Um, you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.” You say, watching him break into a grin.

“Stellar.” He exclaims, pulling up a chair. Taron raises a brow at you, but you become distracted by the comprehensive amount of cake being delivered to your table.

Cake tasting is not nearly as uncomfortable as you’d feared; Colin’s inexplicably charismatic personality had made it easy on you. In fact, you’d barely gotten in any words in between the rambunctious conversation. Taron and Collin had even built some rapport, much to your own surprise. It had been a rather lovely morning, in all honesty.

Cake is long finished and conversation seems to be nowhere near over when Colin’s pager begins to beep loudly. Around the table, faces scrunch in confusion as he pulls it out, sending you an apologetic look. “I just got called in. I’ll call you tonight, yeah?” You nod, a small grin on your face as he leans over and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “It was so great to meet you all, but I’ve got to go.”

Joelle’s hands clasped over her chest. “Colin, it was wonderful to have you. I hope to see you soon.”

“Likewise,” Taron nods from across the table. He stands parallel to Colin to shake his hand again, a kind smile gracing his face as they say their goodbyes.

You watch him exit the shop, a nearly-wistful sigh leaving you. “(Y/N)!” Jo squeals, catching your attention. “He is so cute, why didn’t you say anything?” She asks. You chuckle softly, shaking your head.

“It’s kind of new.” You excuse, beginning to pack your things.

“I have to go to a meeting but I’ll call you later, and not just about the cake,” she winks. Izzy chortles from beside you, and even you can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips.

She leaves, sharing a chaste kiss with a quiet Taron before rushing out of the shop.

You and Izzy are talking quietly about which flavors you liked best, starring the ones you thought Joelle enjoyed when Taron speaks up. “I think it’s rich that you chastised me for being in a relationship when you’ve got him.” He grumbles.

You give him a tired look. He looks back, his disinterest gone as he watches expectantly for an answer.

Instead, you say, “It seemed like you liked him.”

“Well, I did.” He’s caught off guard, of which your a little proud. “But that’s not really the point, is it?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve known Colin my whole life, and our first date was days after I met you.” Taron looks a bit embarrassed, so you sigh and backtrack. “We don’t have to fight like this, all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of exhausting.” Izzy cuts in, ignoring your glare.

“Can we just call this a truce?” You say softly, crossing around the table to stand next to him. You hold out your arms to invite him in a hug, giving him a playful smile. He diverts eye contact but grins, holding his arms out as well. You let out an exclamation and hug him tightly, ignoring Izzy’s soft ‘yay!’

“Friends?” He proposes, giving you a squeeze before pulling back.

“Friends.”

“I miss you guys!” Joelle’s voice lilted through the phone.

“We miss you too, love,” Taron says sweetly.

She’d been gone for nearly a week and it happened that she had the smallest bit of separation anxiety. Knowing the three of you were planning without her made her neurotic and phone calls were coming in nearly every hour.

“You’ll be back tonight, in no time,” Izzy assures. Joelle hummed through the phone, her discontent obvious. “What have you guys done since we talked last?” She changes the subject. The three of you can’t help but snicker under your breath.

“Honestly, we haven’t even gotten to the tailor yet.” You say, your eyes attached to the road.

“Are you serious?” She screeches. You raise your brows in surprise, the corner of your lips turning up.

“Well, Jo, you called us last not even an hour ago.” Taron reminds her. There’s a beat of silence and she giggles.

“I suppose you’re right.” She admits. ”I’ll stop calling, I guess. (Y/N), call me tonight and we can go over it all.”

You chuckle, parking your car. “Alright, I’ll talk to you then.”

The four of you say your goodbyes before she hangs up. Taron twists to look at you, his face turned down.

“Don’t look so excited,” Izzy suggests. You giggle, nudging him over the console of your car.

“It won’t be that bad. We’ll be done before you know it.” You assure him, though you weren’t so sure of that yourself. Tux fittings never were so bad for you or Izzy. In fact, you found they were the most relaxing appointments of the entire wedding for you. It was a break from the usually overbearing bride, a time for you to sit and relax. The grooms, however, never much liked them.

The three of you enter the building, immediately greeted by an older man behind the counter.

“We have a fitting for Egerton.” You inform him, turning over your shoulder to look at the ornate tuxedos on mannequins around the shop. As you check in, you turn to look at Taron, his less-than-enthused disposition clouding around him. “Taron, be a big boy.” You cajole, following the man as he leads you to a separate room.

“I don’t want to,” He glowers, causing you to glare at him.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.” You grumble.

You and Izzy fall to sit on the couch across from the mirror, watching the man fidget as he stood before you. He taps his foot impatiently as the three of you waited for his tux, inhaling sharply.

“Dude, why are you flipping out?” Izzy asks, catching his attention. He doesn’t answer.

He lets out a deep breath. You can’t help but stare at him, watching the wrinkles between his brows as he paces the room. He peers over at you and you snap your attention across the room. You’re grateful for the soft knock on the door before it opens to reveal a kind-looking man with Taron’s tux in hand. You let out a soft sigh of relief as he introduces himself.

“Taron? I’m Marcus, nice to meet you, mate.”

“Hi Marcus, pleasure.” Taron smiles. He gestures to the two of you on the couch. “Um, this is (Y/N) and Izzy.”

“Which of you is the bride?” He asks, and you chortle without thought, putting a hand to your lips when you realize how odd you must seem.

“Sorry, neither of us. We’re the wedding planners.” You introduce, ignoring Taron’s look of surprise.

“Ah, lovely. Well, Taron, if you’ll just follow me…”

The door closes behind them as they retreat to a changing room. “Holy shit, you’re a mess.” Izzy giggles.

Your head snaps to her, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Could you be more obvious? You’re all flirty and the glances are getting weird.”

“Izzy, shut up. We’re friends, it isn’t that big of a deal.” You try to convince both Izzy and yourself.

“I mean, the flirting is pretty toned down when we’re with Jo or Colin, but now there are no barriers and it’s so incredibly obvious that the two of you have feelings for one another.”

You pause, trying to process her words before you open your mouth with your rebuttal. No sooner have your lips parted is the door opening to reveal Taron and Marcus. He holds his arms out, looking to the two of you for a reaction.

“Cute!” Izzy exclaims. However, you inhale sharply, fixated on him. Maybe there was more truth to Izzy’s words than you cared to admit. As he stood before you, you felt your heart beat faster.

He crosses the room to stand before the mirror. “(Y/N)? What do you think?” He stares at himself anxiously in the mirror. You stand, watching as he turns to face you. His jacket remains unbuttoned, revealing his white dress shirt.

Your fingers are working seemingly without your permission, slipping the buttons into their designated places before he turned back to face himself in the mirror. You rest a gentle hand on his back, so light he can barely tell it’s there. “I think you look very dashing.” You admit. He breaks into a grin, looking into your eyes through the mirror. “The legs are a hair too long, but that’s a simple fix.”

“Okay, fantastic. I’ll go change then?” He says softly, eyes still locked with yours. His smile is long gone, so the two of you stand silently for a beat before you clear your throat.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

They retreat yet again, leaving you alone with your best friend. You turn to her with a grimace.

“Oh, you are so fucked.”

“Bye, Izzy. We’ll see you in a few days.” Taron says, waving at her from the rolled down window of your car.

“Bye, guys.” She calls from over her shoulder, walking into her building.

You let out a soft sigh, shifting the car into drive and relaxing into your seat as you began the route to Taron’s.

“So, how’s Colin?” He asks, fiddling with his own fingers. You glance over at him before clearing your throat.

“H-he’s good, I guess.” You shrug. You’re unusually nervous around him after the fitting, and he feels it too. He’s much less playful; the atmosphere in the car is nearly stifling.

“You guess?” He asks, twisting to face you in his seat.

“I haven’t really talked to him today.” You admit.

“What’s the deal with him, anyway? Like, this handsome, charming, doctor man? I’d like to know how this came to be.” He says honestly. He’s watching you intently, waiting for you to crack. You fear you might do just that.

You blow a raspberry jokingly, causing him to chuckle. You glance at him again, watching you and waiting for the story, so you shrug. “I’ve known Colin for my whole life. My dad is best friends with his parents. I guess Colin was my what if.”

“Your ‘what if?’” He asks curiously, cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah. You know, that one person you know you’d never be with, but you can’t get over them, so you just think about them all the time and think of all these scenarios even though you know there’s no chance.” You ramble. You look to him for confirmation. He doesn’t say anything but the look on his face is enough to tell you he understands.

“If you never thought you’d be with him and now you are, why are you going days without speaking to him?”

The question catches you off guard and you narrow your eyes. “I guess it’s just not what I thought it would be.” It’s the first time you’ve said it, and you can’t believe it was to Taron, of all people. “I mean, I’ve created this version of him in my head but it isn’t like him at all. That’s not to say he isn’t wonderful, but it’s not what I thought it would be.”

There’s a pregnant pause as you park in front of his building. You look over at him, gazing as he stares out the windshield.

“I don’t know if I can marry Joelle.” He says softly. You gape at him, reaching across to grasp his arm.

“Taron, what are you talking about?”

“I--” He takes a deep breath, groaning at the exhale. “I wouldn’t feel good about marrying a woman when I have feelings for someone else.”

He looks at you pointedly, staring into your wide eyes. You let go of his arm, turning back to face forward in your seat. It’s what your subconscious has dreamt of hearing. You’ve wanted the confirmation, wanted to know he’s jealous of Colin, wanted to know he wanted you. But you can’t accept it; you know it’s wrong, no matter how much it pains you to talk him out of it.

“You have to marry Joelle.”

“Why? Because we already reserved the venue?” He scoffs. “I love Joelle, but I have never felt like this about her.”

You turn toward him once again. “I hope you know I adore you. But I respect Joelle far too much for anything like this to happen. If I have to keep my distance, I will, but you have to go through with this. You and Joelle were meant to be.” The words sound like a lie coming out of your mouth, but he nods anyway.

“If that’s how you feel.” He says quietly. He opens his door and gets out, facing you one last time. “Have a good evening.”

Before you can answer, the door is closed, he’s walking up his steps, and your phone is ringing. You take a deep breath before answering with a fake smile. “Hey, Col. I can’t talk long, I’ve got to call Joelle in a little bit.”

Things were back cold with Taron and you, avoiding contact with one another at any given opportunity. Izzy had to become a human buffer between the two of you, much to her chagrin. With Joelle back in town tonight, you were praying for things to return to normal, or as close as you could get to it. Your phone call with Colin can’t be over soon enough. You’re feeling guilty and more conflicted than ever about your relationship; it’s the same reason you’re dreading the call with Joelle, but you’d rather get it over with than deal with her questions tomorrow.

You’re settling onto the couch with a glass of wine and a blanket when you call, ready to get it over with so you can laze and watch a movie. She picks up immediately, a sniffle audible over the line.

“Jo?”

“Hey, (Y/N),” she says, her voice thin.

“Jo, are you okay?” You ask, sitting up straighter. You hear another sniffle and your face wrinkles in concern. Your mind can’t help but turn to Taron. Had he broken up with her? Was she even home yet?

“Um, I don’t know.” She whispers honestly.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to come over?”

She laughs despite herself, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. But I’m glad you called.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m on my way home, and I realized I don’t want to go.” She says softly. “I mean, I had to pull over. I literally cannot go back, (Y/N).” She breathes. For the first time, you notice her car running softly in the background.

It’s unlike you to pry, but she said she needed to talk to someone, so you ask, “Why?” What else could you ask?

She takes a deep breath. There’s hesitation, but she starts. “I was dreading being away from Taron this week. Seriously, I was sick over it. And then I was away, and...I don’t know how to explain it. It was so relaxing. Can you believe that? My business trip was relaxing. I love Taron, but being alone was--” She collects herself. “I kept calling because I thought if I spoke to him, I would miss him again, but I didn’t.”

Your heart soars for a moment before you frown. “Jo…”

“I know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t know if I can do this.” She groans.

You lean back into the couch in silence. What are you meant to say? Break up with him? You couldn’t. Not if you tried. “Jo, are you sure you aren’t just getting cold feet?” You suggest,

“I don’t think so.”

“You two are made for each other.” This is as close as you get to begging, your voice a little softer as you try to reason with her.

She doesn’t say anything for a few moments and momentarily, you wonder if she’s hung up on you. You’re about to check when she says, “Have you noticed the way he watches you?”

You feel like you’ve been kicked in the chest. You had sworn whatever had happened between you and Taron before tonight had been buried and that the two of you were acting normally. “What?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “It’s like he’s watching over you. Like if anything came within ten feet of you, he’d lose it. He’s never looked at me that way.” She says softly.

“Maybe he’s just really passionate about the binder.” You attempt to lighten to air, successful for a moment.

She chuckles. “Maybe I am just getting cold feet.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief. “Are you going to go home?”

“Yes.” She affirms. “Thank you.”

Instead of accepting her thanks, you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

She hangs up and you lean back into your couch. A heavy sigh falls from your lips and you dial Izzy’s number.

“Hey, (Y/N/N).”

“Hey, Iz. You busy?”

“I’m already out of the door.”

“Thank god.” You breathe.

“What’s up?” You hear her keys jingle and her front door shut behind her.

“You’ll never believe this.”

Just over a week. It was just over a week until the most important wedding of your life, and you couldn’t have been more relieved.

Today was a rare day off, full of sleeping in and watching television with Colin. Izzy was meeting with Joelle and Taron this morning for some final touches, locking in details before giving them the rest of the week off. Izzy agreed that you needed the week off as well, nearly forcing you to take the following days off.

Lying in bed, you couldn’t have been more grateful to her. The TV is already on and you can hear Colin fumbling around in the kitchen, murmuring to himself. You smile softly, swinging your legs over the side of your bed and stretching with a heavy groan. Colin had been quick to find your spare key and wasn’t shy about using it; when you woke up to breakfast, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You pad to the kitchen, grinning as you hear him singing under his breath. Briefly, you wonder if Taron sings when he cooks breakfast, or if he ever cooks, but just the thought of him makes you anxious, so you shake him out of your head and enter the kitchen, catching Colin’s attention.

“Ah, you are just in time.” He praises, pulling two plates down from your cupboards.

“Am I?”

“Very much so, dear.” He dishes your plate, handing it to you with a grin. You set it on the table, grabbing glasses and filling them.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He confesses, sitting across from you at the table.

“Oh really?” You ask, beginning to eat. You watch him with a soft smile until you notice how serious he’s become. Your brow furrows and you lean toward him, setting your fork down. “Colin?”

“You know how much I care for you, right?” He asks, reaching to grip your hand softly.

“Of course. What’s going on?”

“I think we should end this,” He admits, catching you off guard.

“I’m--Colin, I don’t--” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. “Did I do something?”

He smiles sadly, shaking his head. “No, of course not.”

“Then where is this coming from?” You ask, slightly disgruntled.

“You don’t love me, (Y/N),” He says softly. He exits his chair to squat in front of you, your fingers still entwined.

“No, I do! Colin, I do.” You try to convince him, getting down to his eye level.

How could this possibly happen? You swore things with Colin were going perfectly. You thought you loved one another. You thought it was getting serious.

“Maybe you do, but you couldn’t love me like you do Taron.”

You’re taken aback by his words. First Joelle, and now Colin? Admittedly, you and Taron had gotten close and you spoke about, maybe in excess, but you were sure it seemed friendly. But as you stare into Colin’s melancholy eyes, you almost feel sick.

“I don’t love him.” You lie, shaking your head heavily.

“You do. And that’s fine; I think we both knew this was too good to be true.” He says softly, dropping your hand to cup your face, his thumb rubbing lightly under your eye.

Behind your eyes, stings and your throat feels dry as a tear falls from your eye to his thumb. “I’m sorry, Colin.”

“It’s okay, (Y/N/N).”

Your eyes close, reveling in his touch. After all, you knew this would be the last time.

“We’re not getting married.”

The words make Izzy choke on her tea, groaning when she feels it shoot up her nose.

“I’m sorry, what?” She inquires, staring across the table at the pair. She feels like a child with separated parents, but they could still pass as a couple when they look at one another with knowing smiles.

“Izzy, you and (Y/N) have been so amazing throughout this process and I genuinely consider you my good friends,” Joelle assures.

“But,” Taron’s voice cuts in and captures Izzy’s attention, “we want different things. This is very mutual, and we still love one another, but getting married is not the right move for us.”

“You guys are still getting paid, so don’t worry--”

“I’m not worried about the payment! I’m worried about you.” Izzy exclaims, looking into Joelle’s concerned eyes. “I mean, you guys seemed so happy. Where did this come from?”

Again, a knowing look is shared between the two across from her. Joelle’s smooth, small hand reaches across the table to grip Izzy’s with a soft smile akin to a mother’s.

“It’s been a long time since I was alone. I forgot how good I am at it, how much I like it. As for Taron…” she trails off, her left eye dropping into a wink. Izzy’s eyes narrow as she looks at the man, who gives her a bashful smile, his hands releasing one another and thrown up as if to say, ‘what can I tell you?’ “I think they’re much more suited for another than he and I ever have been.” She admits.

Izzy’s head is spinning, unable to wrap her mind around the information being thrown at her.

“She told you?” Izzy asks softly. “(Y/N) told you?”

“Told me what?” He inquires, the wrinkles between his brows appearing.

“That she’s in love with you.”

“She’s in love with me?” He gapes. Izzy’s mouth forms an O, a hand coming up to cover it.

“I told you!” Joelle squeals excitedly, punching Taron’s arm.

“She didn’t tell you?” Izzy groans, her hands on her cheeks.

Taron stands, a confident smile tugging at his lips. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me.” He shrugs on his jacket. He looks at Joelle with a nostalgic smile before squeezing Izzy’s shoulder and rushing through the doors.

There’s only a beat of silence before Izzy turns to Joelle and offers, “This must be terribly uncomfortable for you.”

Joelle only shakes her head, a wistful smile on her lips as she stares at the doors.

The knock on your front door is the first thing to get you off your couch. You can barely move. First Colin, then Joelle? This was meant to be a relaxing day off. Instead, you feel as though your world may be collapsing. Despite Jo’s assurances that she couldn’t have been less upset, that she still loves you, you feel sick.

You swing the door open to reveal your best friend. “Did you hear?” She asks in lieu of a greeting.

“I just got off the phone with her.”

“Holy shit!” She exclaims, pushing past you to get into your apartment. “Hey, where’s Colin?”

You wince softly, shrugging. “We broke up.”

Izzy gapes at you. “Why?”

“Because he thinks I’m in love with Taron.” You groan, dropping onto the couch yet again.

“You are.” She reminds you, earning a glare from you. She sits beside you, rubbing your back comfortingly. “You know what will make you feel better?”

“Dying?” You ask facetiously, the eye roll from Izzy glaringly obvious.

“The park is playing About Time tonight.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but gasp. “Really?”

“You wanna go?”

The park is less than crowded tonight, which means the two of you get a great spot, the thick blanket laid over the grass less than five rows from the front. It’s a much-needed distraction from the hot mess that is your life at the moment.

“Are you going to call Taron?” Izzy asks, the two of you ignoring the previews.

You sigh softly, picking at the grass near your hand. “I don’t know. I’m afraid it’s too soon.” You admit, turning to face her.

“Are you kidding? This dude canceled his wedding for you, I don’t think it’s soon enough.”

You groan, your head falling back. “Don’t remind me. I mean, I guess--”

“(Y/N!)”

The Welsh accent calls through the park, echoing over the heads of the patrons. Izzy’s head snaps toward you, a grin spreading over her face. “I don’t think he thinks it’s too soon.”

You spin around, but can’t see him. The sky is dark, making it difficult to see anything behind you. You’re straining your eyes to find him as he continues to call your name until Izzy slaps your calf. You look down at her, twisting when she gestures toward the screen.

There he stands, smack in the middle of the screen. Taron’s voice is still reverberating around the field and you can’t help but laugh when those around you begin to call your name. “Go over there, dude!” Izzy cries, reaching to push you toward him.

You take a hesitant step, enough movement to catch his attention. He doesn’t say anything, just watching as you speed to get to him. Within seconds, you’re standing before him. The two of you stand in front of one another for only a moment before your arms are thrown around his neck, his wrapped tightly around your waist. “Did Joelle tell you?” He asks, and you can only nod against him. “I don’t even care about Colin, (Y/N). Marry him, for all I care. But I want you to know I love you.”

“Colin and I are done. Because I’m in love with you.”

A face-splitting grin overtakes him and he pulls you closer, leaning down until your lips are connected. You lean into his body, the passion behind the kiss causing you to wobble. His lips work against yours, a hand raising from your waist to your face, caressing your skin gently. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief. You grin, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Maybe you aren’t so cynical after all.”

#taron egerton #taron egerton imagine #Taron Egerton imagines #Taron Egerton x reader

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