#and the number of heart eye emojis they and their teammates and ex teammates use...

[fortheloveofwonderland]

For my second SFW ask for your milestone celebration I’d like to request:

😡Enemies to Lovers

5️⃣Five Times Fic

📲Wrong Number

🔒Prison AU

❤️‍🩹Broken Heart

Thank you again my love! I might have gone off in a weird direction with this one. More exes to lovers than enemies but I think it still works!

Send me emojis for my milestone celebration and I’ll write you a blurb.

Summary - The four times Spencer called the wrong number at the wrong time and the one time he called it at the right time.

CW - mentions of Maeve, break ups, prison, reader insecurities and past heart breaks, Spencer being a complete dunce with technology.

Word Count - 2.4K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wake Up Call

Not my gif

Technology was not a forte of Spencer’s. He didn’t have email, he didn’t use the tablets that Garcia procured for the BAU, still choosing to go with a good old paper file. And he’d had his cellphone for as long as he could remember.

It lasted him years, so when it finally broke, he was a little devastated if truth be told.

At his teammate's instance, it was time for an upgrade anyway, so reluctantly he purchased a brand new iPhone.

It was utterly alien to Spencer. He liked phones with keypads, not touchscreens. And the device could do everything, he was convinced there was probably even an app to drive his car for him.

All he needed from a phone was to make phone calls and send an occasional text message.

The new phone was overly complicated for his technophobe brain. He was smart in a lot of areas, but this was not one of them.

He’d had the phone a week and already sent countless messages he hadn’t meant to, taken several photographs inside his pocket and gotten incredibly frustrated at the amount of times the Face ID didn’t recognise him when he wore his glasses.

But it was the accidental phone calls that were going to get him in trouble.

They’d been on a case in San Francisco, his phone sitting in his pocket while he was going over a case file in the local PD.

The phone had been in his pocket when he’d heard a faint noise cutting into the silence of the room.

Pulling the phone out he saw he’d somehow started a phone call.

He really needed lessons in this thing, he thought as he held the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?”

Spencer froze as soon as he heard the voice down the line. He didn’t even realise he still had your number.

“Seriously? Is anyone there?”

“Uh…” he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat from hearing your voice again. “Hi Y/N.”

You were suddenly silent, freezing the way he had moments ago.

“S-Spencer?” You croaked his name.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you calling me?” The frustration was evident in your tone.

“Uh…it was an accident. I got this new phone and I-“

“Don’t call me again.” You cut him off and then the line went dead.

Spencer tossed the device on the desk and stared at it as if he could make it explode with a look.

Of all the numbers in his contacts, it had managed to call you?

It had been close to a year since the last time Spencer heard your voice and it had been just as annoyed and frustrated then as it was today.

You were the great love of Spencer’s life, only you didn’t believe that.

Spencer knew all about your insecurities, you’d been very open about them from the start. You’d been hurt before, more than once, and you carried the weight of that pain with you.

You’d never felt good enough, you told him so. Your two exes before Spencer had left you for other women.

He remembered waking up that morning like it was yesterday and not a year ago.

You were staring at him, your large eyes filled with tears. Before he could comprehend it you spat, “who the fuck is Maeve?”

Three years after her death, Spencer spoke her name in his sleep. And you’d been there to hear it.

He’d never told you about her, he’d never seen the point. He tried desperately to explain to you what happened but your insecurities and low self worth didn’t allow you to see reason.

Despite the fact Maeve was dead you saw her as competition. You’d been left for other women in the past and the last thing you needed was to be second best to a ghost.

So regardless of what Spencer had to say, you left. You left him because he’d subconsciously mumbled the name of his dead ex girlfriend in his sleep.

And until today that was the last time he’d spoken to you.

***

A week later he was entering his apartment after a long day of work.

He hung his satchel up and kicked his shoes off before pulling his phone from his pocket.

Once again there was an active call.

“Hello?” Your frustrated voice was on the other end.

“Y/N, sorry it’s Spencer. Again. This new phone is really-“

“I told you not to call me.” You spat.

“I know and it wasn’t deliberate. This phone has a mind of its own I swear. I really didn’t mean-“

“Stop calling me, Spencer. I don’t want to talk to you.” And then the line went dead.

Spencer sighed and tossed the phone on the table.

Did you think he was doing this on purpose? Did you really think a year after the fact he’d just randomly try and get in touch with you?

Admittedly it had crossed his mind a few times. He still missed you and hearing your voice only furthered that.

But he’d broken your heart, unintentionally but he still had. And he knew you’d never forgive him for that.

***

It was another two days before his phantom iPhone struck again.

He was reading on the couch and decided to try and use some of his phone's other capabilities and look something up online.

What he did wrong was beyond him, seriously he needed Garcia to teach him how to use this thing.

But somehow he called you and this time you obviously recognised the number because you answered with a loud sigh.

“I’m getting sick of this Spencer.” You huffed. “Do I need to change my number?”

“Please believe me when I say none of these calls have been intentional. You know how I am with technology and my phone broke and I’ve got this new one that I don’t know how to work.”

“Seems pretty convenient.”

“Look I…I’m sorry ok? For the calls and for…well you know.”

“I don’t want your apologies Spencer. I just want you to leave me alone.”

Before he could respond, you hung up again.

He clenched his jaw, frowning at the offending device in his hand.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing this on purpose.” He snarled at the phone, putting it down on the table before he could cause any more trouble.

***

Another three weeks passed without an incident which Spencer was grateful for. Well he was partly grateful for it. In truth Spencer missed your voice.

It was on a case in Tampa when the device played up again.

This time he had meant to call someone. Just not you.

He could have sworn he picked Garcia’s name from his contacts. He held the device to his ear and waited for the tech analyst's cheery voice to flood his ears.

Instead he was met with a frustrated sigh.

“Seriously, I’m going to change my number.” You growled.

“Oh goddamnit it.” He groaned. “I really don’t know what I’m doing wrong! I swear I was calling Garcia.”

“Just get the hint ok, Spencer? No matter how many times you call, I’m never going to want to speak to you. Just get over it.”

“I can assure you I never intended to call you. I know it sounds highly improbable after all these phone calls, but they really were mistakes.”

“Delete my number.” You spat harshly. “I mean it Spencer. Delete it.” And yet again, you hung up.

He did as you asked and deleted your number but he had an eidetic memory, did you really think he wouldn’t have it memorised?

Hopefully it would be a lot less likely he would accidentally dial your number now it wasn’t programmed in the phone.

Or at least, that’s what he thought.

***

Spencer was arrested in Mexico a few weeks after his last call to you. He supposed at least now he didn’t have access to his phone he couldn’t possibly call you.

Right?

Two months into his incarceration he went to use his weekly phone time to call Luke.

He didn’t know what it was about the newest team member but Spencer always found something comforting about his voice. Maybe it was where he hadn’t known Spencer as long as the rest of the team had, but he enjoyed talking to Luke, it took his mind off things.

He dialled his number and cradled the phone between his neck and shoulder, pushing his back up against the wall.

But it wasn’t Luke’s deep voice that met his ears. It was your breezy cadence that spoke.

“Hello?”

“What is wrong with me?” Spencer sighed, speaking more to himself.

“Spencer?” You groaned.

“I honestly thought I was calling my friend Luke. I am so sorry, Y/N, truly. I must have had your number in the back of my mind and I-“

“Where are you calling from?” You cut him off.

“Uh…” he scuffed his toe on the floor. “Prison.”

What ensued was a long conversation about the whys and hows surrounding his arrest. And to his surprise you listened patiently, you didn’t try to get him off the phone. You didn’t tell him not to call again. You simply listened.

But soon enough the guard was bellowing that phone time was over.

Guess I won’t speak to Luke this week, he thought. Although speaking to you had been much better.

“I’ve got to go.” He sighed down the phone.

“Ok.” You sighed too. “Uh, Spencer?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I really am sorry this has happened to you. I hope you’re ok.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Thanks.” He chewed his lip. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Bye Spencer.”

For the first time, Spencer was the first to hang up.

***

Spencer lost track of days in prison, it was an easy thing to do. He knew how much work Garcia had put into her visitation rota but Spencer could barely keep up.

He thought JJ was the last to visit so maybe today it was Emily’s turn? Honestly Spencer didn’t know. He showed up in that visitation room once a week and had no idea who would be behind the plexiglass.

When he walked across the room with his fellow inmates, he searched the faces of the visitors for one of his team members. Only none of them were there.

Instead, a pair of eyes were looking back at him that he hadn’t looked into for over a year.

He slowed his movements towards you, not sure he really wanted to come face to face with you. Not here. Not like this.

But he couldn’t walk away.

He slid into the chair opposite the plexiglass you sat behind. You were smiling sadly at him.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi.” He swallowed. “What are you doing here?”

“I hope you don’t mind me taking Emily’s place. I dug out Penelope’s number after you called and she said it wasn’t a problem for me to come in Emily’s place.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you. Hearing you were in prison…I had to see you.” You wrung your hands together in your lap, the way you always did when you were nervous.

“I’m fine.” Spencer shrugged.

“The cuts and bruises on your face say otherwise.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this, Y/N. This isn’t exactly a shining moment in my life.”

“I wasn’t fair to you.” You spoke, seemingly ignoring him. “I let my own doubts and insecurities get the better of me. I knew you weren’t like my exes but I…I was scared Spencer. I couldn’t let myself get hurt again. Although ironically, I only hurt myself.”

“I can’t help what I dream about, Y/N. I didn’t even realise I was thinking about her. I can’t be blamed for what goes on in my subconscious.” He sighed.

“I know that now. She was your first love. I get that.”

“She was.” Spencer admitted. “But I wanted you to be my last.”

A small tear escaped your eye but you were quick to brush it away.

“Maybe once you get out of here you can call me on purpose?” You forced a smile.

“You don’t hate me?” Spencer frowned a little.

“I never hated you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” You placed your hand flush against the plexiglass that separated you and Spencer was quick to lay his hand over it.

“I was thinking about getting rid of that damn phone. But maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

“Maybe not.” You agreed. “I should probably go. But if you do ever feel like calling again…”

“I’ve got your number.” He tapped the side of his head.

You sat back in your chair, picking your purse up off the floor.

“Take care of yourself ok? I have no doubt your team will get you out of here soon.”

“I hope so. Even just to see you again sooner. Maybe you can even show me how to work that phone.”

“Spencer,” you shook your head, standing up from the chair. “You may be a technophobe but you and I both know you’re more than smart enough to figure out how a simple device works. I think your subconscious works in more mysterious ways than you realise.”

You shot him a smile and then you were turning on your heels.

He watched you walk away and he couldn’t help but smile.

Was it possible you were right? Maybe it had nothing to do with the phone after all, maybe all those times he’d accidentally called you had been much more than user error.

His subconscious had destroyed your relationship. And maybe this was his subliminal mind's way of making things up to him.

He’d never known for sure if he’d meant to call you or not, but he supposed it didn’t really matter either way.

Some things just happen for a reason. Breaking his old phone and having to get a new one were all things that needed to happen in order to lead him back to you.

In the innermost depths of his brain, he’d seen an opportunity and ran with it. Whether he’d ever realise that or not was another story.

But weirdly enough, Spencer’s phone never dialled the wrong number again.

[nugnthopkns]

don’t say you miss me

word count: 5.5k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, references to sex but nothing explicit, cursing, recreational drug use (marijuana), alcohol consumption, there is no happy ending

recommended listening: overnight | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: second installment of hiiapl! little overnight inspired ditty that i’m actually pretty proud of. i’m having so much fun with this it’s insane

You had never meant to get attached.

It was a lot easier said than done – especially with Kevin. He was loud and obnoxious, sure, but it was part of his charm. When you first met him, outside a club in downtown Winnipeg, you were blown away by his duality. He had been so loud with his group but quietly brought you a bottle of water after you puked on the sidewalk. After insisting you take his number so you could let him know you got home safely, Kevin convinced you to go to dinner with him. One meal turned into several and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual fling with the Winnipeg Jets’ newest centre. It was mostly sex, with the ocasional interaction outside of the bedroom, but something about Kevin made it feel like more than just a hookup. Over the few months you slept together your feelings shifted, and you began to harbour a rather large crush.

Just when you were going to take the leap and talk to Kevin about getting serious fate reared its ugly head. After only being in Winnipeg for six months, electing to not return to Massechusettes right away after the Jets playoff run finished, Kevin was traded out of the city. The news split your heart in two – there was no way the two of you could become a couple. Though long distance could have been an option, you weren’t going to ask him to commit to that. Being a professional athlete is tough as is, and having a girlfriend a six hour flight away was extra stress you refused to put on Kevin. 

The last night you spent with Kevin was emotional. Lots of tears were shed, mostly from you. You knew he was compartmentalizing it all and trying to not let you know how much the trade was affecting him. Whenever the two of you had talked about hockey, Kevin was always quick to mention how much he loved Winnipeg and how much he wanted to stay. Neither of you talked much, too focussed on wallowing in sadness and committing each other’s bodies to memory. He left the next morning, and there was a silent agreement that whatever the two of you had was over. It was fun while it lasted but now you both have to be adults and get on with life. 

☼☼☼☼

Nearly six months later you consider yourself to be getting on with life just fine. You’ve got a better paying job, a new apartment, and enthusiastically throw yourself into any project that’s presented. To others, however, you’re barely hanging on. Any time you get a text notification, you hold your breath until a name flashes that isn’t Kevin’s. A notification from Instagram saying he viewed your story makes your heart beat three times as fast. You constantly check for updates on how he’s playing, and watch as many Flyers games media blackouts will allow just to catch a glimpse of his face. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t shake Kevin Hayes. 

“They’ll be in town this weekend,” your best friend Rachel says. “Are you gonna reach out to him?”

You nearly drop the carton of chinese food you’re eating on the floor. “I didn’t know that,” you stammer, trying to make your surprise believable. Kevin will be back in Winnipeg for the first time since being traded. You knew this already, of course, because you have the Flyers scheduled imprinted in your memory.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew they were coming to town. The NHL app stays open on your phone at all times.”

Caught in your lie, you can do nothing but duck your head. You’ve thought a lot about what you’re going to do. Should you send him a text, let him know you’re available after the game? Or should you ignore him completely and make it seem as though you’re doing much better than you are?

“I don’t know Rach. I’ve never had a sort of ex come back to the city he left me in.”

“He didn’t necessarily want to leave you,” Rachel points out. “He got traded. If you want my two cents, I don’t think you should give him a call. You need to move on, not stay stuck in the past.”

Your friend is right, and you know that’s what you should do. Moving on from Kevin would be easier if you didn’t try to contact him. He hasn’t reached out to you so you assume you’re the only one in the relationship still struggling to come to terms with his departure. You struggle with the decision until puck drop, but ultimately decide against texting him. It simply wouldn’t be beneficial for your fragile heart. 

A small group of friends has gathered at Rachel’s to watch the game. You’re lucky, or unlucky, to run with a crowd of die-hard Jets fans who get together any time they play, whether it’s at someone’s house or a sports bar around the corner from the arena. Though you tried your best to get out of it tonight, making up any excuse you can think of to stay at home and sob quietly into a pillow, Rachel knows better than to let you be alone and forces you to be in attendance. 

It’s a pretty quiet game with the Jets dominating the first two periods. The Flyers are sluggish, not connecting passes and taking far too many penalties. You’re pretty sure Winnipeg has it in the bag when the puck drops for the final twenty minutes of play, so you turn your attention away from the television, picking up a conversation with Christina, the girl your friend Tyler brought along. 

Some choice words must have been said to the Flyers in the intermission because they come out swinging. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, they’ve tied the game. The period is full of contact, with multiple players from each team spending time in the penalty box. Your attention is once again returned to the large screen for the final few minutes, and your jaw drops as you watch Kevin dangle through the Jets defence to sink the puck into the back of the net. It turns out to be the game winning goal, and you sit in silence as your friends pay up the money they lost in bets and check their updated fantasy pool standings. Maybe you should text him. 

“Don’t fucking do it,” you hear Rachel whisper in your ear. Your other friends know of your past with Kevin, they were around and spent some time with him, but they don’t know how much you were still holding on. Everyone besides Rachel assumes you’re alright – that Kevin is just a blip in your past. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, but tuck your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. It stays there – out of sight, out of mind – until it buzzes some time later. Expecting it to be your mother hounding you for not calling in a while, you pull it out. A message from Kevin flashes and you go whiter than a ghost. 

Taking the boys out celebrating the big win. You in? 

The words, so casual, feel like a punch to the stomach. Why the months of radio silence just to ask to see him like you’re friends? Making sure that no one is paying attention to you, you quickly type out a reply. 

That’s not a good idea and you know it Kevin. 

You send the message and immediately turn off your phone. This way you won’t have to deal with the aftermath until much later. You allow other things to hold your attention and don’t head home until you’re so tired that it will be impossible for you to think about Kevin’s text. 

When you power your phone back up in the morning, you’re shocked to find that Kevin never responded. He obviously didn’t care too much about your absence, and part of you wonders if he was just being polite. It doesn’t make sense, but instead of letting your brain overthink the lack of response you throw yourself headfirst into cleaning your apartment. Hours later it’s spotless, and you slump onto the couch in a pile of exhaustion. You check your social media notifications, a few mentions from your friends about the shenanigans you all got up to the night before and your sister tagging you in a post letting you know she’d like to visit a specific beach the next time she comes to visit. Kevin’s profile photo sits at the top of your instagram feed, and before you can stop yourself you click to view his story. 

It’s a snapshot of his teammates with bright smiles on their faces. Each of them is holding a can of beer, and a few look as though they shared a joint before entering the establishment. The photo is captioned ‘glad to be back in winterpeg’ and is accompanied by a couple of snowflake emojis. Your heart clenches inside your chest – it hurts more than you thought it would to see him enjoying himself as though he has no bittersweet feelings about being back. It would be beneficial to unfollow Kevin, but you can’t force yourself to pull the metaphorical trigger and completely cut him from your life. 

Kevin leaves the next day for Vancouver. You know this because you watch his story yet again, and curse yourself for grasping at straws. Why must he have such a strong hold on you after so long? A call to Rachel has her driving to your place in minutes, ready to hold you while you cry and distract you from the pain that still lingers from his first departure.

☼☼☼☼

It’s easier to forget Kevin without him being in the city – you do your best, and eventually it sort of sticks.

He no longer crosses your mind every few days. You go weeks, sometimes a month or two, without thinking about him. It’s nice to no longer get sad when you enter a bar you frequented with him or wince when someone mentions how he’s playing. It also helps that he never returns to Winnipeg. 

There’s no reason for him to. The Flyers don’t play another away game against the Jets the rest of season, and as far as you know he doesn’t frequently talk to his old teammates. Your life fades into a quiet routine you come to love dearly. The world feels balanced for the first time since Kevin left and you’re nothing but thankful. 

Life moves on, and you find yourself succeeding in your career – so much so that you’re quickly offered a promotion. The change increases your workload and doesn’t leave you much of a life outside of work, but it doesn’t matter much to you. It’s a welcome distraction and keeps thoughts of Kevin out of your mind. No one comments on your genuine improvement, but you know they can see it. Rachel is proud, and she’s told you exactly once. It’s all you’ll get out of her so you take it and roll with it. The rest of the regular season passes without you so much as knowing, or caring, and before you know it there’s a notification for an article saying the Flyers were eliminated in the second round. For the first time you find it really hard to care.

☼☼☼☼

Summers in Winnipeg are your favourite. The city is warm for the first time all year and the flowers look beautiful in full bloom. With the promotion you’re afforded more vacation time, which you plan to take full advantage. There’s nothing you love more than hanging with friends in the sun, soaking up the rays, and casually drinking. 

The days bleed into one another in the way that all good summers should, and before you realize it it’s your last day at work for a week. It will be nice to be free from workplace constraints for a while, and your friends have the time off as well. The group of you are heading to a cabin on Falcon Lake where you’re sure lots of partying will take place. You suggested getting farther away, but settled on the area in case Tyler’s sister goes into labour. He’s a very family oriented person and offered to watch his nephew when the time comes. 

Four o’clock comes faster than you ever could have imagined, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to your co-workers. Some complain of your ability to leave during the busiest season of the year, but most of them wish you well. You put an immense amount of work into your job regardless of the quarter and know you deserve the break. If you don’t stop at the grocery store on your way you’ll be in trouble since you’re in charge of all the breakfasts and you currently only have a half-eaten loaf of bread that could go stale any day. 

You’re in the cereal aisle, deciding whether or not you really need Honey Nut Cheerios for the trip, when you hear his unforgettable voice. It’s loud and booming and brings back so many feelings that you’ve learned to repress that you turn on your heel and head to the nearest self checkout despite only gathering half the items on your list.

Back in your car, you dial Rachel’s number and try to regulate your breathing. 

“Hello?”

You don’t bother with any formalities. “Kevin is here.”

“In Winnipeg?” she asks, more than a tad confused. “Why would he be in Winnipeg?”

The interior of the Ford Escape you drive feels too small, so you crack a window and peel out of the parking space. Rachel’s voice reverberates throughout the car thanks to the bluetooth system. “I don’t fucking know, but he’s here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Y/N,” Rachel says, always the realist. “He lives in Boston. What would he be doing in Winnipeg in the middle of July?”

You aren’t sure, and make sure to tell her so. “But it was him,” you swear. “He was in the grocery store.” You stop at a red light, placing your blinker on and checking both ways before turning right. A few more minutes and you’d be safely tucked away in your apartment, away from the world and the possibility of running into Kevin.

“There’s like a hundred tall gingers in the city babe, you didn’t see him.”

“You’re right, I didn’t see him,” you agree. “I heard him. How many tall gingers are there in Winnipeg with Boston accents?”

“Oh fuck. I’m coming over.” With that, Rachel hangs up, and you pull into the parking garage. You sit in silence for a minute or two before deciding your shaking legs can hold you upright. Perhaps you weren’t as over Kevin as you thought. 

Rachel spends the rest of the afternoon and evening with you, ensuring you don’t do anything stupid and letting you spew all your feelings, both good and bad. More than one bottle of wine is consumed, but you have more than enough time to nurse a hangover. If you play your cards right through the week this won’t be the only time you do it either. 

You wake up on top of your pristine sheets, Rachel grumbling beside you – she’s never been as good at holding her alcohol.

“What time is it?”

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes a few numbers and you have to stare at them for a minute before you comprehend them. “Just after eight,” you say, sitting up. Surprisingly, you feel fine. Maybe the crippling weight of your feelings for Kevin cancels out the hangover you most definitely should be feeling. 

“We need to get going. Gotta pack the car and hit the road. I’m the one who needs to get the keys so we have to be there before everyone else,” she sighs, grumbling something else under her breath as her feet hit the floor. 

You just laugh at her and head into the kitchen. While Rachel showers you make coffee and pack the food into the ancient cooler your father gave you when you moved out many moons ago. It has served its purpose on several trips like this – you’ll be sad to see it go eventually. You switch places with Rachel, and once you’re feeling refreshed the two of you stuff your trunk and hit the road. 

The drive is rather uneventful, with the both of you sitting in silence, and it doesn’t take you long to approach your destination. Rachel is a poor navigator so you’re tasked with figuring out where you’re going and making sure you get there, but it could be worse. You have a general sense of where you’re going. Getting the keys is painless and you get to work unpacking your overloaded SUV.

“Do you think there will be other people around we can party with?” Rachel asks as you close the trunk for the last time. 

You shrug. “Don’t know Rach. It doesn’t look like it.”

She drops it, agreeing with you, and you separate to unpack your personal belongings. The cabin is large enough that no one has to share a room, which you’re grateful for. Though you love your friends dearly, they don’t always know what personal space is. At some point in the afternoon the rest of the group trickles in, and by dinner you’ve all settled and are ready to party. 

Tyler figures out how to use the ancient barbeque and sets to work cooking the burgers. Everyone else gets side dishes ready or sets the table, with Christine starting a bonfire. You don’t know her well, only having met her a few times, but your friend seems to be infatuated with her. She fits in great with the group so you aren’t worried about any awkward tension. Dinner passes in a fit of giggles and shouts, and once the dishes are done you can relax fully. 

The beer you grab from the fridge on your way out the door makes your insides fuzzy in the best way possible. By the fire, surrounded by those who care about you the most, you feel at peace. You’re yet to think about the sudden reappearance of Kevin in Winnipeg, and you’d like to keep it that way. Someone grabs the beat up acoustic guitar you found in the living room and thrusts it in your direction. You’d taught yourself to play in college, and it comes in handy for times like this. 

“I refuse to play Wonderwall,” you laugh, shooting pointed looks at each and every person sitting around you. 

“Come on Y/N,” Rachel groans. “Just once?”

“Fuck off.”

You don’t mean it, of course, and strum the opening chords with a grimace on your face. Tyler counts everyone in and they sing for you, which is appreciated. You might be decent at playing, but your singing voice is one that shouldn’t see the light of day if it can be helped. It’s more fun than you imagined it could be so one song turns into three, and before you know it your makeshift jamboree attracts the attention of the neighbours you didn’t know existed. 

Applause erupts from behind you, and you flush enough that your cheeks warm significantly. “You guys are so good I hate to disrupt the rhythm,” a deep voice says, “But do you mind if a buddy and I join you? We’re a little lonely by ourselves next door.”

Tyler’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, jumping up to pat the man on the back. “Of course man, come on over! I’m Tyler, and that’s Rachel, Christine, Marshall, and Y/N.”

You all wave politely, and the mystery guest introduces himself. “Nice you meet you guys. I’m Nolan.”

It’s then you get a good look at who you’re speaking to. He seems to be a few years younger than you, maybe early twenties, and he has a face you just can’t place. Maybe you’ve seen him around Winnipeg – the city is small enough that you can often spot the same faces in a crowd. “I’ll just yell at him to come over and we can get the party started,” Nolan explains, “Kev, bud, come on over! And bring a couple beers.”

All the blood rushes from your fingers at the name. You shake them intensely, willing your circulatory system to function properly again. If you had to hazard a guess there’s probably a million people in Manitoba named Kevin. There’s no reason for it to be Kevin Hayes. You’re most certainly still spooked from your near encounter with him yesterday. 

“Fuck Patty, you couldn’t come back and grab your own?” the emerging figure grumbles in the vocal stylings you’ll have imprinted on your heart until your dying day. Kevin is here, and if you don’t leave in the next few seconds you’ll be face to face with him for the first time in over a year. 

You stand abruptly, not stopping to explain your hasty exit to anyone, and practically run into the house. The door slams behind you and you do your best to make your heart rate return to normal. Tyler shouts something you can’t quite comprehend, but you know it’s probably some sort of reconnection greeting. He’d met Kevin a couple of times while the two of you were together and had gotten along with him well. 

“Hey,” Rachel whispers, “You good?”

You hadn’t heard her come in. “Not really,” you admit. “I mean like I knew he was in town but never in a million years did I think he’d crash my fucking vacation.”

She nods in agreement. “What do you want to do?”

“Stay in here forever?” An eye roll is sent your way but you choose to ignore it. “I’m serious Rach, I can’t go back out there, at least not tonight. Every time I think I’m over him he finds a way to make me realize I’m just faking.”

“I know,” Rachel says simply. She really does – as your best friend she’s privy to your every thought on the matter. After making sure that you'll be okay she heads back outside, armed with an excuse for your early departure. 

You spend the rest of the night tucked under the covers, listening to the laughter of your friends outside, no doubt in your mind that Kevin is the source for most of it. He’s always been good at commanding an audience. Thoughts swim freely in your brain, most of them occupied by Kevin in some capacity. Was tonight just a one off? Will you have to eventually face him? What will you say? Eventually sleep comes, though it’s fitful and fleeting. 

☼☼☼☼

You do your best to avoid Kevin, and it works for a day or two. Tyler has stricken up a friendship with the athlete, and spends more time with him and Nolan than your group. You don’t mind all that much because they typically are out on Nolan’s boat or lounging in their cabin, but every night the group reconvenes at your firepit. The excuses are starting to run out – there’s only so many times you can say you have heat exhaustion before someone stops believing you.

“Y/N, Kevin hasn’t even mentioned you,” Tyler whines one night after dinner. “It won’t be awkward. We only have a few days left, please spend time with us?”

“I’m spending plenty of time with you,” you grumble. “You promise he won’t say anything?”

Tyler shoots you a smile that lets you know he knows that he’s broken down your resolve. “Why would he? If he was going to do it he would have already.”

You aren’t sure if that makes you feel better or worse. You’re glad he’s faring better than you, but on the other hand you wish he’d at least make an effort to inquire into your well-being. Maybe it was simply proof that you were still holding onto something that didn’t mean much of anything. Eventually you’d have to face the music, whether it be with Kevin or someone in the future, so you make the decision to try and at least get used to seeing former flames in social settings. 

“You’re rolling my joints tonight asshole,” you grumble, shoving your sock clad feet into a pair of worn out sandals. 

There’s a small commotion, mostly in excitement at your begrudging agreement, and you roll your eyes as you grab what is destined to be your first of many beers from the fridge. Rachel slides up beside you on the way out the door and squeezes your hand, letting you know she’s ready to support you no matter what happens. It’s comforting, and the nerves in your stomach settle a small amount. 

Marshall is already outside, helping Nolan start the fire. They seem to be extremely similar and you’re glad they can seek each other out when the rest of the group gets too rambunctious. The rest of your party filters out of the house and takes up residence in the adirondack chairs. Kevin doesn’t appear to be around, so you allow yourself to speak freely, loud and unabashed. 

“No I’m telling you,” you insist, trying to convince Nolan your stance on Jack Antonoff is correct. “Jack is literally responsible for reinventing pop production.”

He laughs at how into the conversation you are. “Why the fuck should I care?”

“Because you fucking listen to Lorde!” 

Someone else is laughing along with you and it nearly stops you in your tracks. At some point Kevin had joined the party, but you hadn’t noticed. Knowing that he was listening makes you suddenly self conscious, and you wrap your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Nolan can tell you’re uncomfortable and does his best to relieve the tension. 

“Kev, do you wanna run back and grab the weed?” he asks. 

The auburn haired man pulls a baggie out of his hoodie pocket. “Got it right here baby cat,” he grins. “And it’s ready to go. You got a light?”

Nolan tosses him the lighter and Kevin expertly puts the joint between his parted lips. He lets the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, and you watch him more intently than you should. You’re thrown back to the memories of Kevin’s apartment downtown, where you’d smoke in content silence after a night of passionate sex. The scenes flash in your mind and you’re overcome with melancholia. You had been so happy in the moment, and now you’re in a similar situation but feel nothing. Other than sharing in your laughter, Kevin is yet to say anything to you. 

You must have been lost in your thoughts, because Kevin is staring at you with a quizzical expression. “Y/N? Do you want a hit?”

It takes you a second to snap out of your daze, but to cautiously take the lit joint from his hand. “Thank you Kevin,” you say, voice timid. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since he left Winnipeg for the first time. 

He shoots you a dazzling smile and your insides threaten to turn to mush. No matter how hard you’ve tried to convince yourself you over him, that you’ve moved on from Kevin, you know you’re wrong. Kevin Hayes will have some sort of hold on you until you die. To distract yourself from the overwhelming amount of emotion you inhale deeply, hoping that the buzz smoking will bring can clear your mind. You really don’t want to think about what you lost when he’s right in front of you. 

The three of you sit in silence, passing the joint in a circle, and listen to the conversation your friends are engaged in. Marshall ropes Nolan into a game of cornhole and he goes begrudgingly. As he stands he sends you a sympathetic look, and you know that he’s familiar with your history with Kevin. It doesn’t surprise you – Kevin isn’t exactly one to keep secrets. 

“So,” Kevin says once it’s just the two of you, “How have you been?”

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ve been good. Work has been crazy lately, so this break has been really nice.”

He presses, and you indulge him in a conversation about your new job, though it can barely be considered that now. Everything is surface level – you’re afraid of letting Kevin in too much. Though your fling may have been brief, it didn’t make his departure or the lack of contact any easier. He tells you about his life in Philadelphia and how much he loves it there. Before you can stop yourself, you ask him a loaded question. 

“Do you like it more than Winnipeg?”

Kevin falters. It takes both of you a moment to process what you said. Not one to lie, he answers truthfully. “Yeah.” It comes out in a sort of deflated sigh. “But I miss –”

“Don’t say it,” you rush, trying hard to keep your voice down. “You don’t mean it.”

An embittered huff comes from him, and you watch carefully as he peels the worn ball cap off his head and tugs on his curls. “I do,” he insists. “I absolutely miss you.”

You no longer care who can hear you. “If you missed me, you would have texted. Called. Anything,” you say cooly. Everyone else has clued in to the fact that something is going on between you and Kevin, and have migrated inside in an attempt to give you privacy.

“I did. You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea to see each other again.”

“Because it had been over half a year!” you shriek. “And it had been radio silence before then. You left Kevin, and I’m not blaming you. I know it’s your job. But you left and it was so fucking hard, and it stung because you didn’t even try. So when you hit me up after that game I knew I had to say no. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I’m still so in love with you that if you asked I’d uproot my life and follow you to Philly. I don’t want to be that girl.”

The outburst leaves you gasping for breath. Never before had you spilled heartache so fast – with a sort of reckless abandon. Anytime you’ve had these types of conversations you’ve been calm and collected. You’re currently the farthest thing from it. 

Kevin’s expression softens, and a sadness fills his eyes. “I was scared,” he begins, “Because for the first time in my life I was with someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. Sure, we weren’t serious, but I was going to take it there. Then I got traded and the plans I had went to shit and I was too scared to do anything about it. So I let you slip away.”

Silence fills the space between you. You don’t know what to say, so you focus on unraveling the loose thread from the hem of your cardigan. Kevin shuffles in his seat awkwardly. “Where do we, uh, go from here?”

The question shocks you. To the best of your understanding, you had made it perfectly clear where your relationship was headed. “Nowhere,” you breathe. “You head back to Philly, meet another girl, and fall in love. I stay here, do my job, and learn to be content with myself.”

“There’s no room for us in your little plan?”

“We’ve run our course Kev. As much as I still love you, will always love you, we’re too fundamentally different for us both to really be happy in a relationship. You have to know that.”

He nods. “I do.” With that, Kevin rises from the chair, gives you a sad smile, and leaves. You assume he’s calling it a night, and you wish to do the same. Finally having that conversation was exhausting and all you want to do is sleep for the next twelve hours. 

☼☼☼☼

The rest of the trip passes without you seeing Kevin again. He and Nolan left early the morning after your conversation, and you do your best to enjoy yourself. Part of your brain makes you believe you’re the reason they left, though Tyler tells you otherwise. No one asks about what happened between you two, not even Rachel, and you return to the city determined to start anew. Eventually you break the cycle of obsessing over Kevin’s stats, and take it upon yourself to unfollow him on social media. Life goes on. 

Things never really get easier. You still find yourself grieving the loss of Kevin, late at night when you can’t sleep, but are confident in your decision to say goodbye for good. Time heals everything, and eventually you’ll be okay. 

☼☼☼☼

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[chaos-and-recover]

Random morning musings because my current real people OTP are at it again, but all shipping aside I really appreciate that two straight male professional athletes will comment things like "you cute still" and "he's sexy, isn't he?" on each other's posts and not immediately follow it up with "no homo." Full homo, it's 2020 and mans is openly complimenting each other like they're drunk girls in the bathroom at the bar.