#blue l shape sofa

[mqslow]

Basement New York Example of a large trendy underground medium tone wood floor basement design with gray walls and no fireplace

[versailling]

Underground Basement An illustration of a large, modern basement with a medium-tone wood floor, gray walls, and no fireplace

[twinpeaksfashion]

New York Basement Underground Inspiration for a large contemporary basement remodel with a medium tone wood floor, gray walls, and no fireplace

[annalibertas]

Tile Patio

[randomfactortees]

Tile Patio

[rinaedin]

Game Room in Los Angeles Game room - large 1950s open concept medium tone wood floor and brown floor game room idea with gray walls, no fireplace and a tv stand

[whostolethetaiyaki]

Family Room in Miami Family room idea in gray with a wall-mounted tv, a bar, and porcelain tile in a transitional open concept design.

[charlieharvey]

Tile Patio

[jaynewton]

Tile Patio

[notsoniceguys]

Tile Patio

[homesolutionsonline]

https://wakefit.co/dream-home-studio/sofa-lounge-in-style/

[iluvapplesxh]

⧽⧽puppy love⧼⧼

❀ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

✰ summary: Your soul felt heavy with guilt every time you had to leave the not so little son of your girlfriend and how could she say no to the request of another member of your family to keep him company?

✯ warnings: uhm, none?? yay?

✒ a/n: help, I still can't write fluff 😭

The pad of your thumb pressed onto your phone screen, the brightness of it burning your eyes the slightest bit even in the daylight that’s coming in through the living room windows. Your free hand rested on the furry grey head resting on your lap, occasionally going down to rub at the pitbulls short-fur covered tummy, the dog’s breathing even and relaxed and his eyes closed as he seemingly basked in your presence. 

Your phone’s display was showing a web site of some kind, and you were scrolling down on it with pursed lips and furrowed brows. The focused expression directed at the pictures on the website, specifically the fury balls of joy displayed in them.

The door of the house slamming closed echoed loudly and your gaze rose, focus broken and your ears picked up on the sound of footsteps approaching the living room you were in, sitting on the grey L shaped couch in the middle.

“Baby? I’m home” 

You heard your girlfriend call out, a smile immediately growing on your face and soon she was in front of you with a big smile.

“Hey” She chuckled and looked down at Shark in your lap, reaching out to give his belly a rub before leaning forward. Your faces suddenly close to each other, breaths mingling. “I missed ya, pretty” Her voice was like honey as she spoke and you barely could process what she was saying before her lips found yours in a quick and sweet kiss.

When she pulled back, she dropped down next to you on the sofa, her right arm immediately wrapping around your shoulders while the ankle of one of her legs rested on the knee of the other. Her free hand took off her cap and tossed it onto Shark’s head -which obviously wasn’t enough to wake him-. 

“I missed you, too” You finally spoke up, your hand which was not resting on the pitbull dropping your phone and instead moving on Billie’s leg.

She grinned widely and a small giggle came from her. “I bet” She hummed softly and looked down at your discarded phone now slotted between the two of you’s squished thighs. Her left hand picks it up, flipping it swiftly when she realised it was upside-down. Her perfect eyebrows raised the slightest bit as her eyes took in the content of the screen, the bright white colour of the website making her blue eyes brighter.

“What’s this?” She asked curiously, tearing her gaze away from the device to turn her head and look at you.

Your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth for a moment before you smacked your lips and began speaking. “Well… I was just looking at something” Shoulders shrugging nonchalantly, you slowly took off Billie’s hat from Shark’s head, placing it on the sofa on your other side.

Billie’s eyes sparkled with amusement at your short excuse of an explanation and her hand squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Just ‘looking at something’? Come on, baby.” She laughs softly.

You breathe in deeply before exhaling. “Fine” You mumbled and rolled your eyes a little. “I thought… Shark could have some company when we’re not home. So I started looking for some…” Your lips pursed and you shrugged again, suddenly finding your actions ridiculous.

There was a beat of silence before Billie’s melody-like laugh filled the air. “Aw, oh my God, baby that’s so cute” Her arm pulled away from around your shoulders and her hand cupped your jaw gently, the metal of her rings cold on your skin. “You don’t want Shark to be lonely?” She fake pouted at you and a frown took place on your face, embarrassed as you pushed her hand away,

“Shut up. You’re so annoying” You muttered, arms folding over your chest.

Billie laughed again and shook her head. “Come on, you know I was just teasing” She said after her laughter died down, although there was still a hint of amusement in her voice. When you didn’t reply and only continued to frown with a glare she sighed and wrapped her arm around you again, this time around your waist and she pulled you close. 

Her lips became pouty once more and she leaned her face close to yours. “Pleaseee” She muttered, pressing on the last sound of the word. And you had to stifle a grin when her voice shifted from her normal one to her baby voice. “I’m sorry” Her breath was warm against your cheek as she spoke, once more dragging out the end of the word. Then her plump lips pressed onto your cheek. “I think it’s a great idea” Her normal voice was back now and she kissed your cheek once more before her left hand reached out and turned your head to look at her.

Her lips were still pouty when your eyes met and you bit back a smile. “Yeah? Are you sure?” 

Billie’s blue eyes shone with affection and she nodded. “Absolutely, I would love nothing more, babygirl” She grinned, left hand falling onto the small space of your thigh Shark wasn’t lying on. 

Your lips curled into a smile and your head moved up and down. “Fantastic.” You soon grew excited and your hands scrambled to pick up your phone again. “I was looking at the vet’s website, you know, the one like a block away…” You stated, tapping on your phone’s screen.

“M’yeah?”  Billie murmured, eyes on your focused face. Her heart filled with love for you and she couldn't wipe the smitten grin off her face. 

“Mhm!” You nodded eagerly, scrolling on the site again.

“Anyone ya like?” She asked, painfully tearing her eyes away from your face and looking down at your phone in your hands. 

“Yeah! Actually” You nodded with a big smile. “I really like this little one” You tapped the puppy’s picture, then tilted the device more towards Billie. A smile rose to her face and your eyes flickered to her dimpled cheeks for a moment, your heart skipping a beat at the sight before you looked back down at your screen. 

“Ahw, she looks cute” Billie coos gently, eyes scanning over the black fur baby.  Your smile grew at her expression and you nodded.

–

A couple weeks later and you were jumping out of Billie’s car as soon as she parked in the driveway, excitedly opening the backdoors and laughing when the thick furred puppy just as excitedly jumped out from the seats, her tail wagging fast and her head turning all around in every direction so fast you’re worried she might give herself whiplash of something.

Billie walks up to you and grins down at the small dog. “Oreo” She says excitedly, bending a little and reaching a hand out. She giggled when the Newfoundland puppy licked the tips of her fingers then let out a small bark. 

Your brows raised in surprise and amusement at Billie’s sudden naming. “Oreo?” You held a hand to your mouth as you tried to hold back a laugh. Her head lifted, a big smile still on her face. 

“Yeah!” She nodded and straightened up again, giggling when Oreo jumped around her before she stepped closer to you. “What, you don’t like it?” Her hands reach out and take your hips in them, eyes on yours. Your heart melts at the soft adorable expression on her face and your own hands reached up, resting on her cheeks tenderly.

“No, no, I do” You giggled softly. “It’s very… you” Your thumbs rubbed at the skin on her cheeks and her eyes sparkled brightly. A soft hum came from her then she leaned forward, lips meeting yours tenderly and sweetly. Her hands pulled you close by your hips, she hummed into the kiss and both your hearts beat faster. 

Then her hands let go of your hips and her arms wrapped around your back, palms spread flat on the small of it as your own arms slipped around her neck, the both of you getting lost in the kiss, in the feeling of the other’s body pressed against theirs, the subtle change in mood between you.

Then the moment was broken as Oreo jumped up, the first pair of her legs steadying her small body on one of yours and one of Billie’s legs. A surprisingly loud bark came from her and you both pulled back with a breathless laugh, foreheads pressed against each other. Billie’s lips found yours again in a quick peck before she pulled away completely and looked down at the black dog. 

“What’s up, girl? You wanna meet your brother? Yeah? “ She asked her with a small grin and when the dog barked excitedly your own face brightened with a smile. Billie’s hand took yours in hers and she began walking up to the front door, watching with a laugh slipping past her plump lips as Oreo got ahead of you two, sitting down by the doors. 

A minute later, the doors opened and not even 20 seconds went by before Shark’s running towards you guys is heard. Billie shut the door behind you and took off her jacket, putting it on the hanger before taking yours and doing the same.

Then the pitbull was in front of Oreo, the both of them having a silent stare down and after a couple moments Shark took a step closer to the other dog. Oreo also seemed reluctant and cautious as Shark approached her. But when he bumped the side of her head with his own, she grew confidence and nudged back playfully. The older pup barks loudly and marches.

As the two dogs began to play around, both you and Billie watched with smiles and occasional giggles escaping you. Billie’s arm snaked around your waist and she pulled you closer. Your right arm circled her torso and the other her front. She hummed softly, pressing her lips against the side of your head gently. Warmth and affection flooded both your bodies and in that very moment everything felt so happy, so easy.

And that’s how life with Billie always had been, always will be. And now with your new little family member it might be just the tiniest bit more chaotic, but you liked it that way. This was your life, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

✒ a/n: I feel like I say that I hate don't like my writings too often but it's trueee. Anyway enjoy this! as much as it can be at least <3

REQUESTS OPEN ♡

[o-sachi]

Roses and Thorns ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ you always wondered what what his tattoo meant... and now you know

ଳ character; michael kaiser (bllk)

ଳ tags; angst, more angst, but comfort at the end, depiction of Kaiser's trauma, no y/n, gn reader

Roses naturally came in colors of red, pink, yellow...

But never blue.

Yet, that was the same flower that adorned his arm. From his neck and down to the back of his hand, a beautiful blue rose littered his pallid skin. You always thought it was a captivating tattoo and in many ways—it was what made Kaiser... Kaiser.

Throughout your relationship, your perception of him changes and so does your idea about what his tattoo might mean. You could have asked him directly why he had it done, but where's the fun in that?

You liked the mystery and besides, he never talked about it in the first place.

That led you to think that it was one of those tattoos that people get on a whim. Not all tattoos had a deep meaning—sometimes it's just cool to look at.

Kaiser doesn't seem like the sentimental type after all. The only thing he probably cared about in this world was football and hopefully... you.

However, that view changed the longer you've been together. After seeing more sides to him, you realized how naive and insensitive it was to box him as the kind of person who had no capability to feel deeply for anything else.

The world may know him as an arrogant prodigy, but only you knew everything else behind that. You knew the tireless dedication he had to the sport—spending many restless nights watching replays of previous matches. You knew the vulnerable Kaiser whenever he'd spend weeks away from you—missing you all the way from his fancy hotel room.

But even then, you still had no idea what his tattoo meant. In fact, the more you got to know the true Kaiser, the more doubtful you became of the countless theories you've conjured up about his ink.

Nevertheless, you were firm in your belief that you knew him inside and out. The tattoo could remain a mystery for all you cared.

But roses always came with thorns and you had to learn the hard way.

It had been a couple of weeks since you've last seen each other. Being a football superstar was cruel. What people don't see behind the glamour are all the lonely nights he spends away from your arms.

As soon as he saw you standing in the doorway of your shared condo, he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. He swayed you side-to-side, inhaling your scent that had dulled in his memory after all this time being apart from each other.

After being absent for so long, all he wanted was to sit back and relax with you—no fancy dinners or grand dates. None of that. All he wanted was to be cooped up in your arms until he fell asleep, only to wake up again in the morning.

You indulge him, of course. You wanted it too anyway.

Both of you were now sat on the sofa. It was one of those L-shaped sofas you'd see in home magazines. They were large, but the space was wasted on the two of you since you'd much rather be cramped together in a suffocating embrace. It was better that way.

You absentmindedly traced the black stems of his tattoo as you held him—as you always did. Although, it was a bit odd. Normally, at this point he'd be going in and out of sleep—fighting back the drooping of his eyelids so that he could keep talking to you.

But he was wide awake.

"You don't seem tired tonight huh?"

He huffs out. "Chugging 2 energy drinks after lunch wasn't the best idea."

"Seriously? 2? What for?" you asked, a bit puzzled.

"I figured it would give me enough energy to at least hang out with you a bit before dozing off again, but I miscalculated. That shit was strong..."

Oh... How can you be mad now?

You could only chuckle at his thoughtfulness. "We could always catch up in the morning, y'know? It's not like I'm gonna disappear."

"Eh, still," he retorts, stubborn as ever. "We haven't had a movie night in a long time anyway."

He a had point. Back then movie nights were frequent. Both of you loved it—chilling, eating popcorn, and watching a good flick before bed.

It was good timing. Before his long-awaited arrival, you had been planning on how to surprise him in little ways. You wanted to keep him on his toes and it just so happens you figured out a way to spice up movie night.

You downloaded a bunch of old romantic German movies. It would be a lot different from the usual movies that you'd watch, but he might appreciate watching a movie from his own country. He had a preference for English movies, that much you knew. It was the only thing he'd watch for some unknown reason.

Excited—you hopped off the couch at lightning speed, ready as ever to retrieve the hard drive with all your downloads. As soon as you set everything up, you were back in your earlier position with him on the sofa.

"What's up with the hard drive? You forgot to pay for your streaming account?"

You shook your head with a smile. "No, I just have a surprise~"

"Surprise huh?" A small smile formed on his face at the thought. What could be so surprising about a movie?

The film starts off with a pitch black screen before a soft song filters in. He quickly recognized that it was German—it was a German love song.

He only needed to hear that to know what the "surprise" was.

Kaiser bit his lower lip in anticipation, not that you knew what exactly he was anticipating in the first place.

He wanted to be wrong—so wrong. He hoped that he wouldn't have to see her. The woman with beautiful long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes... the woman who most resembled him.

His mother.

But fate had a funny way of curbing expectations because she was right there on screen, smiling at him.

How cruel was it that the movie you chose—out of all the German movies out there—it had to be this one.

You were quick to notice the resemblance too. The eyes... the smile... they were practically the same. Perhaps he was aware of it too with how he stiffened in your grasp.

But before you could point it out, he had excused himself. "I'll just go to the bathroom for a sec... don't wait up for me."

The sudden change of the air around him was one thing, but for him to let the movie playing without him was another. He'd always ask you to pause it if he had to leave even for a millisecond.

...Did you do something wrong?

Worry filled you to your bones. It was unusual, sure. Maybe you were overthinking it. But the longer you stayed alone on the sofa—in the darkness of the room—the less you believed that you were being melodramatic.

Maybe there was something wrong with the way he turned rigid upon seeing that woman. Maybe there was something wrong about the way he abruptly stood up and left.

Your thoughts got the best of you and you decided to check up on him. In his haste, Kaiser forgot to lock the door. So, there you were—standing by the door and staring at him.

There was something definitely wrong with the way he clutched the bathroom sink as he breathed raggedly.

You could see how his fingers turned white as he gripped his arm, almost as if clawing at the rose etched on his arm.

"What's wrong?"

Your voice snapped him back to reality. Truthfully, he didn't know what was wrong. He thought he had gotten over it all—how his mother left him and how his father treated him. But he was wrong.

There was a reason he avoided those kinds of films. He was scared she'd pop up... looking happy.. acting happy—in a world where she didn't have to be concerned with her own son.

But that's precisely it. He chose to run away from it all instead of confronting it. So now that he was faced with her after all this time of avoiding anything that evoked the concept of her—he broke down.

And he hated that he had to do it in front of you.

But it was involuntary. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

His silence told you enough—all you had to know was that he needed your embrace. To which, you indulge him again.

You cautiously made your way over to him, hovering your arms around him at first before finally pulling him into you. The air stilled around you and time stopped for a moment. Neither of you moved a muscle or spoke a word—feeling content to stay like this for however long.

Eventually, he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He turned around to face you, unbothered if you had to see how glassy his eyes became or if his mouth was fixed in a frown.

All this suspense caused a pit to form in your stomach. Your chest felt hollow and your hands were clammy. If he stayed silent another second longer, the water works would've kicked into high gear.

"Sorry... did I scare you?" he asked while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Sniffling a bit, you wiped your eyes as if tears have already rolled down—though, it definitely felt as if it had. "I... no, I was just worried about you. What's wrong? Please tell me."

The way you pleaded at him clenched his heart painfully. Kaiser pulled you in, planting your face into his chest. His hand caressed your hair with his chin poking the top of your head as he embraced you softly.

"Do you believe in the impossible?" he asked.

All train of thought stopped in an instant. You didn't like that this confrontation you were having was slowly turning into one of those philosophical discourse about the meaning of life and whatnot. All you wanted to know was what happened to him—plain and simple.

"That woman on the screen," he continued. "That was my mother."

The normal reaction would be shock, but it made sense. Perhaps this wasn't developing into that philosophical discourse you dreaded.

"Back then I thought I'd never have to see her in person. Maybe in one of her films, but in the flesh? I would only dream of it. But then..." he chuckles, reminiscing of the past. "Not long after that thought... I came across her on the street. Well, more like I was loitering and she was surrounded by fans while she made her way into a hotel."

His expression dropped at the recollection of such a bittersweet memory. "She never looked my way. She only smiled at the people vying for her attention. But it's funny isn't it?"

You had no idea what was so humorous about it. The revelations were coming too quick for you to let it all sink in. Silence was the only response available from you.

"Then, a week after that, the police took me away from my father." He lets out a stifled laugh out of disbelief. "And back then I thought I'd never get away from him."

"The impossible always seems to happen," he adds.

His past was just too sad, almost like it was taken from a sappy telenovela. But the fact that it was real rendered you speechless. All you could do was hug him tighter to show him that you were still with him.

With an ear to his chest, you could hear how his heartbeat went from erratic to steady. Letting that all out had calmed him down, thankfully. You felt yourself growing relaxed as well. Your eyes wandered to his arm—to the rose that entangled his limb.

To answer his question earlier—no, you didn't believe in the impossible. It's called impossible for a reason. But the sincerity in his voice had you thinking otherwise.

Blue roses... those are impossible too, you thought to yourself as your eyes trailed his tattoo. It could be another one of your silly theories, but the coincidence was hard to deny.

His hands stopped caressing your head, choosing to find purchase on your lower back instead. This prompted you to look up at him and the sheepish smile on his face.

"And..." he started again. "I thought it would be impossible for me to be loved..."

"Yet, here you are."

[🐟]: HELP THIS IS SO CHEESY I'M SORRY. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[capuccinodoll]

The Holiday

Before the sun hits (chapter two)

Summary: You spend an interesting morning with Joel drinking hot chocolate.

-

DECEMBER 19TH

When you got up from bed, your parents were gone. You looked at the clock on the living room wall. 8:20 am. Outside, the snow covered almost the entire ground and the sun had barely finished rising completely. You'd been awake for at least thirty minutes and at no time had you heard them leave, so surely they had gone out earlier. Where had they gone?

You didn't think too much about it and approached the window that overlooked the entrance to the cabin. The scenery took your breath away. You and your parents arrived yesterday afternoon after a five-hour flight, and you fell in love with the place from the very first moment.  It was high tourist season, you saw them last afternoon when they'd fleetingly strolled through downtown, you being a tourist too. The quaintly decorated cafes gave off a delicious aroma of coffee, cinnamon, chocolate and apple, and all sorts of events were taking place in the local bookstores and galleries, such as movie showings at the local theater. Your mother mentioned them to you the night before; all kinds of Christmas classics would be playing and after eight o'clock, the occasional Christmas horror classics. The last part really caught your attention - seeing Black Christmas in a cozy theater in Canmore? Yes, sounded like you. 

You moved away from the window as your feet began to cool. The smell of the coffee was still fresh in the air and it didn't take you long to fill a cup and sit down at the kitchen counter.  The whole cabin looked like a fairy tale. The ceiling, with exposed wooden beams, was high, giving a sense of spaciousness without losing the intimate feel. The large windows that dominated the front walls allowed natural light to flood the room and offered a breathtaking view of the snowy outside. Through them, you could see snow-capped mountains, fir trees with white flakes on their branches, and a pale blue sky that promised a sunny day. In the living room, an L-shaped sofa upholstered in soft, light gray fabrics sat in the center, accompanied by red pillows and wool blankets. In front of the sofa, a rustic reclaimed wood coffee table held a tray of empty coffee cups. Your parents, you thought. A cozier corner was created to the side by an antique leather armchair and a floor lamp with a warm glow. Maybe you could sit there and cry a little.

You connected your phone into the TV and opened Spotify in search of the perfect song to brighten up your morning. Suspicious minds by Elvis started playing through the speakers and suddenly your body began to feel light, as if the weight of the last year was no longer in your veins. Your movements were loose and carefree, letting yourself go with the infectious rhythm of the song. You turned and jump on your heels with a wide grin on your face, arms raised, as if there was no other concern in the world but to warm up. As the music increased in intensity, your steps became bigger, almost theatrical, emulating the style of the 60's, with little hip swivels and a light laugh that escaped your lips. You moved your shoulders in a carefree manner, improvising as you sang along with Elvis' voice. Suddenly your steps stopped and you placed your hands on your chest: Oh, let our love survive, you sang, i'll dry the tears from your eyes, let's don't let a good thing die, when honey, you know i've never lied to you. 

Your feet began to move animatedly again as the pace quickened, and a cold breeze began to blow across your back, but you ignored it. Until, after a few seconds, as you turned back toward the archway leading into the hallway, you saw your parents standing in the doorway, watching you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. And right behind them... Joel, with his coat in his right hand and a suitcase in his left, looking at you in surprise. Time seemed to stand still. Your eyes widened and the music, which had been the main character before, suddenly seemed very loud, too loud. You stopped, frozen in a strange pose; your arms still raised and your legs slightly bent, completely out of place in the middle of the room. 

You straightened up and were suddenly very conscious of how you were dressed: in your Snoopy pants and an old Soundgarden t-shirt.  Your parents exchanged an amused look, trying to contain their laughter, as one of them says in a soft but playful-sounding voice: 

You quickly dropped your hands, feeling acutely aware of your Snoopy pajamas and worn Soundgarden t-shirt. Your parents exchanged a look, smirking like they couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer.

“Are you rehearsing for a show, darling?” one of them teased, their voice a gentle mockery that only made your cheeks burn hotter.

You fumbled for your phone, fingers clumsy as you turned down the volume, then retreated to the kitchen counter. Sipping your coffee, you tried to feign calm, but the cup trembled against your lips. You could only hope your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Hi, Joel,” you finally managed, aiming for casual, though you worried your voice betrayed just how rattled you felt.

He gave a slight nod, dropping his suitcase beside the sofa. He moved toward the kitchen with a familiarity that caught you off guard, turning on the faucet to wash his hands as if this were just another morning.

You hadn’t expected him to show up, and your attempt to keep cool faltered. “I thought you weren’t coming,” you blurted, trying to play it off. “I mean, it’s good to see you… if you wanted to be here.”

Your mom appeared beside you as if she’d been eavesdropping from the next room. Her sudden presence made you tense. “Your dad talked him into it, you know how he is. And don’t be rude, honey. Nobody should be alone this time of year,” she added in that gentle tone of hers, the one that left no room for argument.

You glanced at Joel quickly, worried that he might think you were upset that he was there. That wasn't the intention, but you didn't want him to misunderstand.

You glanced at Joel, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret your words as unwelcoming. That wasn’t how you meant it, but you couldn’t help the awkwardness that slipped through.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry…”

“S’okay,” Joel cut in, waving his hand dismissively, like he hadn’t noticed your clumsy words. “I know what you meant.”

But then his eyes shifted down to your pajama pants, lingering just a little too long. Of course, this was how you always ended up—making a fool of yourself in front of him. Did he have to look so good while doing it? He was wearing a dark green flannel, black jeans, and leather boots that seemed perfectly suited for him. His hair was a little messier than it had been last night, a hint of silver in his beard catching the light. He looked unreasonably handsome, like he’d just walked off the cover of a magazine for outdoorsmen.

You noticed a small heart-shaped patch between his chin and jaw, a detail you hadn't seen before, and suddenly felt an absurd urge to reach up and press your thumb there.

When your gaze flicked back up, you found him watching you—his eyes lingering over your face like he was memorizing every feature. The air between you seemed to thicken, your pulse quickening as heat rose to your cheeks. And yet, you couldn’t look away, and neither did he. For a few moments, everything felt suspended, like you might say something—anything—to break the silence. But then, your dad called out to him from the doorway.

Joel broke eye contact first, the spell snapping, and straightened up. “Coming,” he replied, and as he walked past, you caught yourself following him with your eyes, feeling a pang of something you couldn’t quite name.

You asked yourself if he would ever consider mentioning to your dad what was going on with you. Or, if at some point during his flight, the thought would have crossed his mind. But you forced yourself to stop thinking about it almost instantlyy. He had assured you that he wouldn't say anything, and, for some reason you didn't fully understand, you chose to believe him. 

*

Your mother tapped lightly on your bedroom door before pushing it open without waiting for a reply. The door creaked, her silhouette appearing in the frame with a cheerful familiarity that was always both comforting and a little intrusive.

“We're heading to the market to get some stuff. Need anything?”

You were sprawled out on the bed, limbs loose, staring up at the ceiling like it might reveal something new. It was hard to remember when you'd started doing that, letting your thoughts run away with you, drifting without purpose.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alright. We’ll be back soon. Don’t fall asleep,” she added with a gentle warning as her face disappeared back into the hallway.

A few moments later, you heard the rumble of your father’s car starting up, the low murmur of their voices mingling with the crunch of snow as they left. You knew they’d come back with arms full of holiday cheer—sweets, wine, things that seemed to make their eyes light up. You understood their excitement; you weren’t so different. Canmore at Christmas was magic wrapped in snow, each corner dressed in gold lights and bright red ribbons.

Who wouldn’t love this? Only someone heartbroken, you thought dryly. But then, you almost caught yourself sounding like your mother.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Ally:

I think this is your chance to find a hot Canadian to flirt with. I've heard the rumors, y'know.

You chuckled to yourself, though the suggestion wasn’t entirely unappealing.

Just got here, lol. Haven’t met anyone yet, but we’re going out to dinner later. I’ll keep you posted.

For a moment, your mind drifted back to Liam, to the last photo you saw of him, fingers entwined with his new girlfriend’s. And the words he’d left you with before your final day at the office. Strangely, the memory didn’t sting as much anymore—it had dulled, becoming something you could almost look at from a distance.

You exhaled, pushing yourself out of bed, and rummaged through the suitcase you still hadn’t bothered to unpack. Swapping your pajamas for a white turtleneck, a soft cream sweater, and black pants, you kept your slippers on because, well, you could.

As you opened your bedroom door, you nearly collided with Joel stepping out of the room directly across from yours. You hadn’t processed this arrangement earlier—your rooms were exactly opposite, separated only by a narrow hallway.

He had just showered; damp hair brushed back in a way that was somehow both careless and careful. His beard was neatly trimmed now, taming the stray grays you'd noticed earlier. He wore a gray flannel shirt, dark slacks, and practical boots, his look somehow fitting with the cabin’s rustic charm. You, by contrast, shuffled in your slippers.

You gave him a small smile and moved down the hallway. He followed, his steps deliberate and heavy. By the time you reached the stairs, he had already turned back towards the bathroom, the echo of his footsteps fading behind you.

In front of the television, there was nothing interesting, or at least nothing familiar to you. You switched channels without much enthusiasm until a sigh of satisfaction escaped your mouth. The Holiday was on the screen, right at the scene where Cameron Diaz throws her cheating boyfriend out of the house, yelling at him from the window while throwing his clothes from the second floor. Perfect, you thought. The Holiday. The only thing you were missing was a nice cup of hot chocolate.

You moved into the kitchen, feeling a little thrill when you found the chocolate bar your mother had insisted on buying at the airport. Maybe she’d been right after all. As you heated the milk, you glanced back at the couch, where Joel had reappeared, watching the movie with an unexpected intensity. You hadn’t pegged him for the rom-com type—more of a Western or noir guy, maybe. But he seemed to know the film, his eyes following the characters across the screen.

“Do you like hot chocolate?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head slightly, his expression serious. “Too sweet, usually.”

“I can make it less sweet for you,” you offered, adding a faint smile to soften the words.

He seemed to consider it for a moment and then gave a small nod. “Okay, I’ll trust you on that.”

You poured the warmed milk into two mugs, adding three squares of chocolate to yours and just one and a half to his. You skipped the sugar—no way he’d go for that. You stirred until the chocolate dissolved into a rich swirl, then carried the mugs back to the couch. He took his with a quiet, “Thank you,” and you settled beside him, leaving a cautious space between your bodies.

“Do you like the movie?” you asked after a moment, your curiosity winning out.

He shrugged, but there was a softness to the gesture. “It’s... got its moments. Used to watch it with Sarah.”

You nodded, the detail fitting more easily than you expected. It made sense now, why he seemed a little drawn into it.

“I love the neighbor part,” you said. “The little old man.”

“I love the neighbor storyline,” you admitted. “The old writer."

“Yeah, the writer’s good,” he agreed, then fell silent, watching the TV again.

But you couldn’t help yourself, his presence pulling at something inside you. “Joel,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. His name came out unbidden, and you almost regretted it when he looked at you, brows drawing together slightly.

“I—thank you, for not saying anything to my parents. About what I told you.”

He considered this, then nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. “Wasn’t mine to tell, don't worry” he said simply, but something in his tone held a weight that made your throat tighten.

Don't worry. He looked you straight in the eye as he said it, and for some reason, it made you freeze for a few seconds longer than necessary. 

“Anyway, thank you,” you said, breaking the silence. “For listening to me, too. I'm not usually like that.”

“How?” he asked, without looking away. There was something about the calmness of his posture -chocolate mug resting on his lap, one hand resting on the armrest of the couch- that contrasted completely with the stiffness of yours: straight back, both hands clutching your mug, feet tangled together as if trying to keep yourself anchored.

“Emotional, in an exaggerated way.”

He straightened a little, taking your answer seriously.

“I get it,” he murmured, ”though I'm not sure you were exaggerating.”

“What d'you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual as you watched him bring the cup to his lips. The fact that he took another sip made you feel an unexpected sense of relief, as if the success of your chocolate was somehow relevant to that conversation.

“I mean your motives make sense,” he replied, before the television screen drew your attention. Kate Winslet was sobbing on screen, her character’s heartbreak mirroring your own too neatly. Joel’s gaze lingered on your face, his eyes scanning you as if searching for something beyond words.

Joel looked at you, pursing his lips slightly, almost as if he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it.

You tried to make a joke out of it. “It’s funny, right? The timing?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, but he looked down as if to hide it. “Yeah. It’s a little funny.”

“I don't want to butt in too much,” he began cautiously, ”but I get the feeling that boy doesn't deserve the crying.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, surprised by his unexpected statement.

“I just feel it.”

"How?"

"I just do."

“You could try to convince me,” you said, half joking, half serious. “I've been feeling ridiculous about this for the last whole month.”

Joel let out a deep sigh, sinking back into the couch, his shoulders loosening. He raised the cup to his lips, the steam curling up between you, almost like it created its own fragile barrier. His usually guarded eyes seemed a little sharper, as if he was sorting through his thoughts, deciding which ones to share.

“How long were you two together?” he asked finally. His voice was softer than usual, but steady.

“Seven months,” you replied, bracing yourself for his reaction.

He frowned, his expression crinkling with something close to concern or frustration. And it struck you then, how natural that look seemed on his face, like it belonged there.

“And when did you break up?” He held your gaze, waiting for you to continue.

“Three weeks ago.”

He paused, considering this, then asked, “And how long had he been seeing the other woman?”

You hesitated, feeling a familiar sting in your chest, but you pressed on. “I found out about a month ago. But honestly, I’m not sure when it started.”

His frown deepened, shadows settling in the lines of his face. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger, maybe, or some unspoken frustration on your behalf. And despite the ache that came with telling him all of this, you couldn't deny the small, guilty satisfaction that he cared enough to be bothered by it.

“When did he get engaged?” His words came out slower now, like he was struggling to keep his disbelief in check.

“Last Friday,” you murmured, the memory fresh and bitter on your tongue.

“Last Friday?” He blinked, eyebrows knitting together, genuinely thrown. “You mean... like, right after you broke up?”

You nodded, watching him as he processed the timeline. He dragged a hand over his mouth, then licked his lips, as if trying to choose the right words—ones that wouldn’t be too harsh, even if they probably deserved to be.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone quieter but no less direct. “He doesn’t deserve any of those tears, you know. No one does.”

Something about the way he said it landed with you—his voice so matter-of-fact, so assured that it cut through the dull ache in your chest, striking deeper, in a way that was both comforting and disarming. It wasn’t a question or a gentle suggestion; it was a statement, one that left no room for doubt.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. It felt as if any sentence you might have tried to form would have crumbled halfway through. And he seemed to understand that immediately. He held your gaze, a faint crease of worry settling into his brow. For a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something else, maybe push further, but then the front door flew open, and your parents’ voices filled the space.

The moment broke, and he glanced away as if the sudden noise had snapped him back to the present. You felt his fingers graze your arm, just barely, as he shifted on the couch. You glanced at the spot where his touch had lingered, not sure if it had been a gesture of comfort or just an accident. But when you looked back up, he was still watching you, his concern barely masked.

You forced a smile, and he returned it, though his expression remained unconvinced.

Your mother swept into the room like a whirlwind, her laughter echoing against the walls as your dad set down bags of groceries on the kitchen counter nearby. She glanced between you and Joel, her eyes lighting up with something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction.

“I love seeing you two hanging out together!” she said brightly, her excitement bubbling over. “See, honey? I told you we needed that chocolate.”

You gave a small nod, taking the last sip of your hot chocolate. Joel did the same beside you, his cup now almost empty.

“What do you guys say to taking a walk around town later? The fair is in full swing, and there are all kinds of goodies,” your mother suggested, practically bouncing on her toes.

A pair of hands rested on your shoulders, your dad’s familiar warmth pressing into you, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head. It was a gesture that grounded you, something solid amidst the mess of emotions.

“Sounds perfect to me,” he said, glancing over at Joel. “And Joel and I can finally get those beers he promised me. What do you say, Miller?”

Joel tilted his head, offering a faint smirk—just a hint of something roguish in his expression, and it sent an unexpected shiver through you. How did he manage to stir so many conflicting feelings in you, all at once?

“Sounds good to me, Evans,” he replied with that casual tone that always seemed to catch you off guard.

You got up from the couch, slipping away under the pretense of putting your empty mug in the sink. As you moved into the kitchen, you busied yourself checking the contents of the fridge, smiling at the sight of your favorite foods, thoughtfully picked out by your parents. And some things you didn’t recognize—probably Joel’s, adding a new layer of domesticity to this strange new dynamic.

With them still chatting, you stole a chance to slip back upstairs, seeking the quiet of your room. The familiar comfort of your bed wrapped around you as you lay back, staring out the window. The view was breathtaking: the snow-covered mountains, the trees standing tall under the clear sky. It was the kind of beauty that tugged at something deep inside, something that made you want to cry, but in a different way than before. A better way. Joel’s words echoed in your mind. Maybe the mountains deserved your tears. Maybe the snow. The sun, absolutely. And the moon, too.

A soft knock broke the stillness, and you peeled yourself off the mattress to answer. The door creaked open just a sliver, revealing Joel leaning against the frame, closer than you’d expected.

“Joel? Did something happen?”

He hesitated for a beat, then shook his head. “No,” he said, voice low, almost sheepish. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I feel like... maybe I was a little insensitive earlier, down there.”

You stared at him, taken aback by the admission. A warmth spread through your chest, seeping into every corner as you realized he meant it. A smile pulled at your lips before you could stop it.

“It’s all right, really. I promise,” you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

“You sure?” He narrowed his eyes, studying you, and there was something about the way he looked at you then—like he was trying to figure out if you were telling the truth.

From that angle, you could get a good look at him, the way his dark eyes studied you. From above, and you below. His gaze moving as it did in the kitchen; slowly across your features. What could be going through his head? You didn't know. But you did know what was going on in yours, and it wasn't anything pure. So you looked at his lips and felt that extending that attention for more than a second was daring, but you did it anyway. And something throbbed in you.

“So sure,” you said, managing to sound steady.

He nodded, pulling back ever so slightly. His gaze flicked over you one last time, as if memorizing the way you looked at that moment, then he stepped back.

“Okay,” he agreed at last. “See you in a bit, then.”

As he left and you closed the door, a strange sensation began to form in your entire body and suddenly, Canmore began to take on a very, very different tinge.