#but god aaron CARRIED these 2am tracks

[dialdrunk]

taylor’s worst sin MUSICALLY is putting the best songs on the deluxe edition because from the bottom of my heart what the FUCK was that???????

[billhaderlovebot]

of heartbreak and raviolis - aaron conners

summary: you're sick and tired of everyone taking advantage of your best friend, aka aaron conners, aka the most wonderful man in the world, aka the man you love. not so subtle amy bashing fic.

tags: @whoseblogsthis @mpmarypoppins @a-second-hand-sorrow

aaron conners had always had shitty taste in women. you'd mainly thought so because none of the women he'd ever picked happened to be you.

aaron was too soft. too soft for this world and the men and women in it. they would break him. they would ball up the effervescent, unconditional kindness and love he had for people and shove it right back down.

amy was going to break him, too.

you knew she would.

and, oh, how you hated her. you hated her and how unreliable she was and the infuriating vapidness within her and her terrifying lack of respect for the man you had loved since you were seventeen. your best friend.

watching him kiss her was hell. watching him fall for her, knowing he was gone and there was nothing you could do about it, was worse.

but he was so happy, and he looked at her like she'd hung the moon.

it fucking hurt.

because you were tired of sitting by while everyone took advantage of how fucking nice he always was.

because you knew what was coming. and you didn't have the heart to say "i told you so".

"hey, hey, slow down, honey, i can't understand you."

aaron was crying. his voice came broken and shuddering down the line, trying desperately to get something out that wasn't cut with a sob burning from his chest. but you already knew what he was going to say. you knew, and you were pulling on a sweater and grabbing your keys before he could explain.

"she... she said-" and he couldn't get it out. the sound of his heartbreak made your own heart shatter.

"im coming over." you breathed, slamming the door and heading out into the night to comfort the man you had always wanted but could never have.

---

amy had cheated. actually, amy had been cheating for quite some time. she had never stopped, in fact.

you'd been tangled together on aaron's couch, a mass of crying and limbs and throw blankets, for hours now.

"i thought she loved me." aaron scoffed, staring blankly out of the window to where the sun was just beginning to rise over new york.

his head was in your lap and the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity was your hand threading through his hair. "she said she loved me."

he let out a mirthless laugh, and you were suddenly furious.

"i'm so fucking angry." you whispered, eyes intent on aaron's face, angled towards the sunrise, the remnants of heartbreak in shining tracks down his cheeks.

"why?" he inquired, turning over to look up at you.

"because... because this shouldn't happen, aaron. not to you."

---

light snores filled the quiet apartment as aaron drifted off in your arms. he had moved so that his face rested in the crook of your shoulder, his hand draped over your waist. you couldn't help but feel that this was a little bit not fair. it wasn't the first time something like this had happened to him, and it wasn't the first time you'd had to hold him and comfort him and pretend you hadn't been painfully in love with him since high school. so here you were, again, the doting, supportive best friend. again. fuck.

in sleep, he looked younger. in sleep, he looked content, save for the small wrinkle between his eyebrows, the remainder of the day's emotional strain. it disappeared with the gentle press of your lips against the soft skin, and aaron unconsciously held onto you a little tighter. your heart ached as it did when you were a teenager.

when, at seventeen, you lay eyes on him at a house party, shrouded in smoke and coloured lights and the thumping bass of some nondescript vaporwave track, your heart skipped, like, twelve beats or something.

and, when, blue eyed and floppy haired, he looked back at you, raising his red plastic cup, your heart fell out of your ass. upon trying to talk to the guy who had so quickly stolen your heart, you spilled your vodka soda all over him. he tipped his own drink over your head. you stared at each other for several solid seconds of short lived fury, and then cracked up, immediately going to find more alcohol. you were best friends from that day on.

you were the one who supported him through medical school, helping him study and walking to campus every morning to give him coffee and whatever baked good you deemed acceptable. bidding him goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and the promise of a movie marathon.

you endured aaron's many vapid, fake-nice, passive-aggressive girlfriends who would loathe you and shoot you looks that, should they kill, would have you six feet fucking under.

you pushed how deeply in love with him you were right down below the surface, because his happiness was more important to you.

you thought, now, almost a decade later, as he had cried in your arms for hours about a woman that didn't feel the same, that it might be time for you to get your feelings in order and fucking tell him that all you wanted was for him to take you in his arms and kiss you fucking senseless.

and then they got back together.

"aaron, you fuck- you what?" you were absolutely livid, like, struggling-to-hold-the-phone-without-smashing-it-into-someone's-face livid.

"um, i, i just really want to make it work with her, and she was really sorry, and-"

"aaron, she broke your fucking heart."

"yeah, i know, i-

"and i was the one to let you cry your fucking eyes out on me for hours, even though it hurt. i've stood by for years, watching people hurt you and knowing there was nothing i could do about it."

"i'm not your responsibility, honey." he said. "this is my own life and i... you don't have to be involved."

"how can you fucking say that, aaron? of course i do. i won't let her do this to you again. i'm your best fucking friend, is that not enough for you?"

"...i guess not."

you'd never wanted to beat aaron to death before, but if he continued being so fucking stupid, you'd advise him not to put it past you. there was a deafening silence on the phone after that, because there was nothing you could say to change his mind, and nothing he could say that would make you not want to murder amy townsend. or him.

"i won't do this anymore." you finally said, a lump in your throat.

"what?"

"pretend that... that i'm not in love with you so that i can be okay with the manipulative assholes you pick as girlfriends."

"wh-?"

"goodbye, aaron."

---

the month that followed was probably the worst month of your entire life. you didn't speak to aaron once. no calls, no emails, no 2am visits to listen to billy joel and eat junk and talk about how you both carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. you'd always shared that weight, and, now, it was like someone had torn you in half and left you bleeding.

you were halfway through the last episode of season ten of friends, and your second box of cold pop tarts, crying your eyes out, when the doorbell rang. you wiped your eyes with the sleeve of one of aaron's old college sweaters and dragged yourself up from the couch. your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the disheveled, very attractive man hyperventilating in front of you when the front door swung open.

"aaron?" you stumbled over your thrift store welcome mat you bought because of the blue cat on it, holding yourself up on the door frame and staring up at him in sleepy disbelief.

"hi, yes, hi." aaron was breathing hard, the aftermath of running the whole two miles to your apartment in the middle of the night. "i've been thinking a lot about... about what you said, and i just, i've missed you, yknow? and, i, um, not that that makes everything okay, because i didn't listen to you, and it sucked, and-"

"what do you want?" you asked, trying not to punch him. "i'm tired, aaron. and not just physically. i'm tired of waiting around for you to love me."

"oh, well that's, um, that's good." he nodded, peeling off his jacket. "sorry, um, im sweaty-"

"that's good?" you blinked. aaron was clueless at the best of times, but this was insane.

"yes, yeah, because i realised something, um, just now, at home, with amy."

"i really don't want to hear about amy right now-"

"no, i know, i just, um, i realised that she's not who i want." he shrugged.

"it's about fucking time, aaron, i swear to god-"

"you're my best friend, and... i meant what i said, yknow, about that not being enough for me."

aaron ducked under the doorframe, bending down to capture your lips with his own. your eyes widened, and you froze up, your arms at your sides. the fact that aaron conners was kissing you just wouldn't compute.

and then it did, and you were kissing him back, your arms flying around his neck and your fingers twisting into his hair.

the kiss was searing, and your skin burned where his hands trailed across your cheeks, cupping your jaw, and up the back of your shirt, ghosting across your hip bones.

even when you stumbled back into your apartment, falling backwards over the couch, aaron was relentless, attaching his lips to your neck as if nothing was amiss.

what stood out to you was how easy this was. how you were able to fall into place so quickly as if you'd been doing this for years. as if you hadn't been pining for him for half your life.

"hey," you broke the kiss, gazing up at him in all his blue eyed, flustered, swollen-lipped glory. "hey, we have some, ah, things to talk about, i think."

aaron nodded, swallowing. "yeah, um, yeah."

you pecked his lips, closing your eyes. you just wanted to be someone who had kissed aaron conners, no complications, for a few seconds longer.

"raviolis?" he asked quietly, still hovering above you with that signature, heart-melting grin.

"it's 1am, aaron."

"i know a guy."