#by ariana grande and nathan sykes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enkas-illusion · 4 months ago

Text

About My Man - Part 2/5

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader, Suguru x f!reader

Rating: SFW - but the next parts won’t be so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, language

Chapter Summary: A tale of three lovers and a series of unfortunate incidents. Your heart’s a mess in this tug of war where kindling romance is fizzled before it has a chance to bloom.

Author’s Note: I love writing this shit so much dksbgsbgzgndgbjabgr!!! Hope you enjoyed reading it just as much.

~ Eren’s Birdie

Part 1 | Part 3

Song Dedication: Almost Is Never Enough by Ariana Grande & Nathan Sykes

“Hi stranger… Do you remember me?” he smiles at you.

It takes a few seconds for your words to actually escape your throat, “Of course I do, Suguru.”

The slight caution in his eyes dissipates upon hearing your words. He takes a step closer, a little too close for someone who's supposed to be an ‘estranged friend’.

Invading your space and looking down at you, he delivers a joke that reeks of arrogance, “Right, it's hard to forget someone like me.”

You see a glimpse of the guy you once knew, still feeling a weird churning sensation in your stomach as you turn on your heels to face the door again without returning his smile.

The key unlocks your door without much trouble this time. You open the door wide, step to the side and look at him once again. He calmly walks in and you close the door behind him.

“So, what brings you here? How did you even find my address?” You ask as you lead him to the sofa, dropping your gym bag to its side.

“Damn, not even gonna ask me for a coffee or something?” he snickers.

You almost roll your eyes before playing along to get this over with quickly, “Sure… would you like some coffee?”

“Sure,” he smiles as he plops down in the centre of the sofa.

“Black? Or with milk?” You keep your questions short.

He smiles as he looks at you, who's trying the hardest to maintain a stoic face and avoid eye contact, “Don't you remember what I like?”

“Nope,” you give him a smile that can be better described as forcibly stretching one’s face muscles.

“Ouch,” his playful tone doesn't waver, “Plain milk, without sugar… just like your mom used to make for me.”

“Okay, be right back,” you speed walk into the kitchen. You make two cups of coffee and put them in the microwave as you slouch over the counter, almost collapsing completely.

My god… get a grip!

You rub your hands over your face, lightly slapping your cheeks a few times to snap out of it. With the beep of the microwave, you decide to be civil to the man sitting outside, no matter how annoyed you may feel.

You grab the two cups and walk out into the living room, placing his cup on the table in front of the sofa. He scoots to one side to make space for you but you settle down on the chair that's further away from his end.

He grabs the cup and scoots to the end near you nonetheless. You don't react. You simply blow on the steam emitting from your mug before taking a sip.

There's awkward silence as he looks at you. You don't look at him but you can feel him looking at you.

You simply concentrate on your coffee and take one sip. Then another. Then another. Then ano–

“Can you stop it?” He interrupts finally. When you look at him, the crease on his forehead disappears as soon as it arrives, no hint of irritation visible.

“Stop what? Drinking coffee?” You ask plainly as you take another sip.

“Why are you acting like this? As if I’m a total stranger?” He asks, sincerity in his voice.

“Because we are strangers. I don't know you… anymore,” you answer, holding his gaze.

“No, we’re old friends who just drifted apart,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Easy for you to say,” you snort.

“What does that mean?” He pokes, his calm voice irritating you beyond measure.

Don't do it. Don't say it. Just don't. Contro–

“Well of course it's no big deal for you! You crushed me when we left for college. I cried over you for like six damn months and then moved on like normal people do. And now you're here like nothing’s wrong and talking to me as if we're old buddies for whatever reason! Suguru, I couldn’t care less about you but it's your fake serenity that's annoying the shit out of me,” you speak in one breath.

Suguru is caught off guard for the first time during your entire conversation. And for the first time today, a rancid feeling seeps in his heart – maybe you two really have turned into strangers in the last 5 years.

“Right, I'm sorry,” he says without knowing what exactly he's sorry for. You wait for him to continue so he does, “I guess I just wanted to start again on good terms since we're gonna be neighbours.”

Your eyes almost pop out of their socket as you almost yell, “I'm sorry, what?”

“Oh,” he smiles awkwardly as he puts two and two together in his head, “I guess you haven't spoken to your mom recently. Since I got a job in the city, I was looking for a place to live. My mom told your mom about it and she gave me the contact number of your landlord… he owns the apartment next to this one as well.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, stunned at the massive dump of new information.

“Umm… I was hoping we could start off on the right note? Be friends again perhaps?” he hesitates.

“Right… welcome neighbour,” you smile and reduce the hostility in your voice. Figuring out your confused state of emotions can wait until after he's out of your house.

You hear a door unlock as your roommate walks out of her room in her pyjamas.

“Good morning, babygurlll,” she says to you in her baby voice, rubbing her eyes, unaware of Suguru’s presence.

Yet when he turns around to look at her, she's stupefied by his beauty (understandably so). Unwillingly tearing her eyes off of him, she looks at you for answers.

“This is Suguru, my old friend and apparently our new neighbour,” you speak, still in disbelief, “and that's Luna, my roommate and best friend.”

“Ah, so you’re the one to replace me?” He jokes, flashing his pearly whites to her.

You clear your throat at this and he turns to look at you. The calm serenity restored in his eyes.

“I'll get going now. See you around neighbour,” he drinks his now cold coffee in one chug before getting up. You lead him to the door.

“Yup. Bye,” you say as you close the door without returning his smile.

You walk back in and Luna almost sprints to get closer to you.

“Can you believe this guy?” You whisper.

“THAT'S Suguru?!” Luna's voice is too loud for a whisper, “Holy shit, he's hot!”

“Right,” you stare into nothingness as you contemplate life all over again… but before that, you had to call your mother and scold her for playing cupid with the wrong person.

~~~

You don’t dare step out of the house for the rest of the day, avoiding Suguru as if he were the plague. At least till you rationalised the whole situation in your brain, it was the right thing to do – or so you told yourself.

Choso and Satoru arrive on time for a change, but only because the latter got hungry and wanted to devour the pizzas as soon as possible. You ban him from touching the food, wanting everyone to eat together since Maki was only 15 minutes away.

“Then can I at least have those biscuits you baked last week?” Satoru pouts.

“Fineeee, wait here,” you roll your eyes at him as you leave to fetch the cookies for blondie.

Choso calmly follows you into the kitchen.

“Been busy?” he asks as you grab the cookie container from one of the overhead shelves.

“Hmm?” you turn to look at him.

“In the morning you hung up so abruptly, I figured you’d be busy, but then you didn't text me all day.”

“Sorry, it slipped my mind,” you sigh.

“All good? I was kinda worried for a sec… not much though,” he teases.

Your brain freezes for a second when you remember the events of the morning. You hesitate before speaking, “No, just… exhausted.”

He nods.

“Why? Missed me?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“And what if I say yes?” he retorts, folding his hands over his chest.

“Then I’d say, I'm right in front of you. You’ve got no reason to miss me,” you tease back.

“Hmmm, what about the…” he mumbles, concentrating on his maths, “ten whole hours since the morning?”

All you can do is blush. How do you even respond when your legs feel like jelly, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms?

“Well, no worries, you can just make it up to me now,” he answers his own question, moving closer to you with a smile.

“Sure, this should do it,” you open the box and bring a cookie up to his mouth, which he bites into oh-so-delicately. You try not to stare at his lips shamelessly as you look down to close the lid.

“I doubt it. The more you feed me, the more I keep craving,” he sighs with a delighted smile, “Is this your plan to get me addicted?”

“I can bake as many cookies as you want,” you smile back at him sincerely.

“Mmhm?” Choso moves closer, caging you against the counter, “So you do plan to get me addicted…”

Choso leans impossibly closer to you – so close that you feel his soft breath against your cheek. You break eye contact to look down at his lips, bringing a hand up to rub off the tiny bit of cookie crumble from the corner of his mouth. He brings his hand up against yours to tightly intertwine your fingers, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Are cookies really the worst thing to be addicted to?” you almost whisper, feeling the butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach.

You close your eyes when he nudges his nose against yours. You feel his soft breath fanning your lips as he whispers back, “Nope, just another excuse to be near yo–”

“I’M STARVING!” you hear an encroaching shriek, abruptly pushing Choso away just in time for Satoru to find you both standing in the middle of the kitchen like two deers stuck in headlights.

“I-I couldn’t remember where I’d kept it,” you stutter your way through the unnecessary lie as you extend the container out to Satoru.

He grins as he grabs it from you, “I’m calling dibs on whatever’s left in here.”

He takes a step to the exit and then looks back at you both again, “What are you guys waiting for? Maki’s here, let’s have dinner.”

You nod as Satoru walks out, about to follow behind when Choso grabs you by the arm and you feel embarrassment shoot through your every nerve. You turn around to look at him and he takes you by surprise when his soft lips gently land on your cheek. You place your hands over his chest to steady your racing heart.

“Choso,” you whisper as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. He whispers your name back, his hands cupping your cheeks. You stare at the way he licks his lips on instinct and you crane your neck up as your hands scrunch the fabric of his t-shirt.

He teases you – so close, yet not closing the half-inch gap. His intoxicated eyes look into yours as one of his thumbs rubs over your bottom lip before tugging it open slightly. You hear him cuss a light ‘fuck’ as his patience wears thin. Your lips almost touch and you feel goosebumps prick all over your skin.

“GUYSSSS BEER!” you hear the same annoying voice howling from the living room, startling you.

You feel your skin grow hot like lava under Choso’s touch but he’s moving away before you get a chance to melt completely. The silence is so loud that you don’t miss the sigh of disappointment Choso lets out, one he had been holding in since the moment Satoru had first interrupted.

“I’ll take these outside,” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, grabbing the bag of beer cans from the counter.

“I’ll get a– water,” you point towards the fridge and he nods before leaving you alone in the kitchen. You quickly turn on the sink to splash some cold water on your face. With a few deep breaths, you fix your appearance, grab the chilled bottles and walk out to join the group in the living room.

The minute you settle down, everyone basically inhales the slices. Once again, you and Choso are one clueless-blonde-friend distance away, who sits comfortably on the sofa, separating the two of you. Throughout the dinner, you catch Choso stealing glances at you because you’re busy doing the same thing, your eyes trying to find him subconsciously.

When Satoru extends a hand out for the last slice, Choso slaps his hand away to grab it instead.

“Mine,” Choso mumbles, taking a bite of the piece he already has in one hand. It makes you giggle.

“Hey! How can you be so ungrateful? I’m your best friend!” Satoru complains.

“Have my beer… I don’t care for it,” Choso tilts his head to the unopened can on the coffee table.

“You’re forgiven,” Gojo is quick to grab it, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa.

“Wow, I’m full. What about everyone else?” Luna wonders out loud.

“I’d love some ice cream!” Maki squeals.

“Nah, I’m done too,” you sigh as you rest your head back, “Check in the fridge, maybe there’s some chocochip left.”

Maki’s faster than lightning as she quickly returns from the kitchen with the ice cream container, “There’s not much left here, maybe for two people.”

The doorbell rings. Luna gets up to answer it.

“You can have it if you want! No worries…” your voice trails off when you see Suguru enter behind Luna.

Why the fuck can I not catch a break today?

“Hi,” Suguru smiles at you, almost ignoring everyone else.

“What are you doing here?” you didn’t mean for it to sound so rude but when Luna shoots you a look as if to say behave, you soften the frown on your face.

“I just finished unpacking and I was getting bored so I wondered if we could hang out,” Suguru explains himself, “but since you’ve got company, I better leave–”

“Are you the new neighbour? I noticed the lights were on when we arrived,” Maki asks.

“Yes,” he smiles at her, “that’s me.”

“Cool, what’s your name, neighbour?” Satoru’s next.

“I’m Suguru Geto,” the minute the words escape Suguru’s mouth, it feels as if the air changes and gets heavier… Okay, even if that might be an exaggeration, what Satoru says next might’ve just given you an embarrassing memory that’ll haunt you forever for the rest of your life.

“Suguru?” Satoru squeals, connecting the dots served to him on a silver platter, “Aww, that’s so cute! Did you really move here cause you missed your girl so much?”

You see a faint crease form on Suguru’s forehead in confusion that further deepens when his eyes meet your petrified ones.

“Suguru, would you like some beer?” you get up abruptly, making your way to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. He nods anyway, taking the hint as he follows behind you till you reach the kitchen.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you turn to face him as you mumble, “So, this is kinda embarrassing…”

“Does your friend know me?” Suguru questions calmly.

“Right, this is going to sound crazy but I have a valid reason,” you explain.

Suguru leans against the counter, an amused smile starting to form in the corner of his lips, he knows he’s going to enjoy this.

“Right… you saw the black haired guy outside?” you ask and he nods. You continue, “I kinda like him… well, a lot.”

“Like you used to like me,” he smiles smugly.

“Like I don’t anymore…” you glare at him but realise you might need his help so your eyes soften again, “Anyway, I was too scared to confess to him and when he asked me if I was seeing anyone, I sort of ended up lying that I had a long-distance boyfriend back home.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, pointing his index finger to his own chest, “Me?”

You simply nod.

“So I’m your pretend boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” you clarify.

“Right…” he contemplates, “But I’m here now.”

“Yup, that’s the problem. We’re supposed to be broken up cause you couldn’t handle long distance… hence blondie made that comment earlier,” you add.

“Hey, I can handle long distance shit! I’m not one to give up so easily,” he sounds offended.

“Right, when it’s someone you really like,” you snide.

In your desperation, you’d forgotten to realise how pathetic this seems. As much as you want to save yourself from this embarrassment, Suguru doesn’t owe you shit. He broke your heart once upon a time and you got over it long ago. It’s over, there’s no point in acting like a stubborn child and then feeling entitled to his help when you’ve been nothing but hostile towards him since the morning.

You take a deep breath to speak in a calmer manner this time, “Obviously you’re not obligated to play along. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

“This is so odd. I can’t figure you out,” he folds his hands to his chest, tilting his head slightly, “I felt like shit in the morning – it’s like you’re an entirely different person now, yet I keep seeing glimpses of the old you I knew so well.”

“People change. I’m sure you have too... look, no hard feelings, you’re allowed to walk out and say whatever you want, I won’t hold it against you,” you speak with a formal smile. He notices there’s no venom in your words and smiles at you.

“Okay… I’ll be your long lost, long-distance boyfriend… and it’s only cause you’re someone I really like,” he repeats your previous accusation.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you remind him again.

“Well, then we better get out before they start wondering if we’ve rekindled our romance,” he grins as he ruffles your hair before walking out, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

Your shoulders slump as you sigh. You grab a can of beer from the fridge before regaining your composure to follow him out quickly. You hand the can to Suguru and he enjoys it throughout the whole ordeal.

Suguru is surprisingly civil throughout the entire conversation with your friends. He had a smooth lie for every invasive question Satoru bombarded him with.

“So, will you guys get back together now that distance is no longer an issue?” Satoru asks with heart-eyes and eager for gossip. Choso, who had gone quiet since Suguru arrived, looks at you.

“Who knows–”

“No!” you interrupt Suguru’s answer, which somehow seems directed at Choso as you hold his gaze. You look at Suguru, who’s sitting on the chair you had dragged out from your room, and make another excuse, “We’ve decided to be just friends now.”

“But exes can’t be friends,” Choso speaks up for the first time since Suguru's arrival.

“Sure they can… we’ve been best friends before we started dating. We’ll be fine,” Suguru defends.

There’s an awkward silence in the air. Luna again comes to the rescue, “Guys, let’s start the movie? Or we won’t be able to sleep till late.”

“It’s Sunday tomorrow anyway,” Satoru groans.

“No, let’s begin. I’ll get the popcorn,” you answer as you make your way to the kitchen for the umpteenth time. This time you manage to get out without another breakdown-inducing incident.

When you come out with the popcorn, Suguru’s already leaving, excusing himself as he was too tired to stay for the movie. You lead him out the door and exchange no more than polite ‘good night’s.

As Luna presses play on the TV remote and Maki turns off the lights in the room, you successfully manage to sit next to Choso on the sofa with Satoru on his other side.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” Choso turns his head to look at you. With uncertainty in your eyes, you smile at him. In the dim light emitted through the TV screen, you see him smile back at you, but for the first time, you can’t tell if it’s sincere. You slowly rest your head on his shoulder – if this was the night you’d lose the guy you really liked cause you were too chicken to do anything about it then you might as well savour every minute of it. Choso relaxes his shoulders, allowing you to rest more comfortably.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep during the movie but you wake up when you feel movement around you.

You get up off the sofa, squinting your eyes at the lights being too bright, “Where’s everyone?”

“They left a few minutes ago,” Luna says as she finishes cleaning up the cans and boxes.

“Did Choso say anything?” you ask.

Luna shakes her head, “Nope.”

You touch your forehead, feeling as if your head will burst anytime. Luna calls out your name and you look at her.

“Go to sleep. Don’t think too much,” she smiles at you. You nod and make your way to your room. Overthinking could wait till the morning.

~to be continued~

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #choso kamo #geto x you #geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto

22 notes · View notes

oh-saints · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!! Love how you write angst, could you maybe write a one shot for either mason mount or martin ødegaard, where you have been dating for a couple of years and suddenly he starts being nervous around reader and she thinks that he is going to ask her to move in but he breaks up with her because he starts thinking that she should be with someone that can give her all their time and not being in the spotlight and then idk ajajajaj

Maybe they call them when they are drunk or they get hurt in a match and they call her or something where they hace to face each other or something

Omg this is long ajajajajaj hope you like my idea and it inspires you to write something, I know anything we got from you will be nice :)

hi nonny!! sorry it's only now i can write this request of yours. i hope i'm not too late? ;-)

but since i'm writing an angst-y series for mason, here may i present you something for our favourite young captain that i've been working on the past week...

ghost

it’s true what people say when they tell you to wrap up your unfinished business first. you’re just too blind to see the big, fat ass flag that’s waving as red as your boyfriend’s kit.

martin ødegaard x you tw: insecurity + cheating wc: 3.3k note: this is just a fiction ok i'm just in the mood to make devil out of everyone lolol this actually hits a bit too close to home but I need to let it out, so here we are. I don’t support cheating whatsoever btw, so remember to break it up good first things first 😉but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so it’s not beta-read yet. songs: almost is never enough - nathan sykes, ariana grande & midnight rain - taylor swift

“are you engaged or something that I don’t know of?”

it wasn’t often your best friend paid you a call, considering her florist business was thriving and all and they were now rather short-staffed. so when her name flashed over the screen of your phone, you didn’t think twice to excuse yourself out of your office to pick up her call.

but you didn’t think she’d fire you that question. sure, you’d been dating your boyfriend since the early days of his arrival to the north side of london and things had been going stable between you two. sure, you’d talked about the more serious part of your relationship, such as what if you both get married and all. but that was it—none of you discussed more than that, what ifs.

you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity if given, though.

“uh, no? why are you asking?”

“shit,” your friend muttered under her breath. “promise me, first. don’t tell him it comes from me, okay?”

the more your friend gave you disclaimer like that, the more your heart’s palpitation grew rapid. “as if I’d throw my best friend under the bus.”

she laughed at your lame attempt to hide your nervousness. your voice tended to reach an octave higher when you did so. “martin ordered so many peonies for the weekend.”

peony is your favourite flower, you’d told martin that a long while ago—to which martin utilised the information for every of your anniversary bouquet, along with every time your birthday came up. but he never orders for peony on ordinary days because he thinks it defeats the purpose of presenting you everything special on particular days.

and this weekend was the last game of the season, a mark to officially begin your summer break, which is always the time you both look forward to because in between martin’s constant flying schedules and your 9-5 hectic schedule, it’s always nice to have one or two week(s) secluding yourself from the entire world, spending day and night only with your boyfriend.

you had to take a deep breath to slow down your pounding heart. can it be?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

see you on the weekend, baby.

martin wasn’t supposed to be smiling this wide. he wasn’t even supposed to smile at all. because despite the sweet moniker, the sender wasn’t his own girlfriend of a little more than two years. worse, the sender had even been deprived of every right to call him by endearments since that painful moment she broke up with him, right when he informed her that there was a better opportunity for him in london.

logically, he was supposed to hate her with all his might—how could he stand someone who didn’t support his growth and development as a young football player? how could he stand someone who only crawled back to him when he was now an up-and-coming name in the football world?

logically, he was supposed to come back home straight from the training ground instead of ordering a bunch of flowers for the next time he met her. why did he feel obliged to bring her a handful of flowers? where did this feeling come from?

martin wasn’t one to understand flowers, anyway. he only bought flowers for special occasions, and that was also because he’d gotten the information yourself about your favourite flower. so why was he purchasing something he didn’t possess the knowledge of, to begin with?

but logic seemed to have escaped the most level-headed person under mikel arteta’s team since the ghost of his past decided to appear before him last week.

“martin, you should know that I’m very sorry for what I’ve done,” she started explaining, and the moment she reached for martin’s hands over the table was the moment his resolve crumbled apart. “I wasn’t thinking straight and I was too foolish to want you all for myself. but I’ve grown up, for you, so that I can be someone you need by your side.”

martin should naturally ask for an evidence, or anything to convince him that she had indeed become better for him, had turned into someone she believed he needed. martin should ask what she had become—could she be like you, the one who put shattered pieces of him together and glued him back to his old self?

martin should prove it himself if this very lady in front of him, who’d inflicted more pain than logically accepted, was a better fit to be his other half than you. hell, martin should’ve even proved it himself that she was no better than you, period. so why did his hand now get tangled with hers, reciprocating the light squeeze she gave him over the table?

why did he think she deserve at least a chance to explain herself?

ironic, really, when his gaffer picked martin to be the captain of his team himself solely for martin’s extraordinary football iq.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

landed! can’t wait to see you! xx where are you?

“martin, baby,” martin jumped in his place, his phone almost fell off his hands, as the sultry voice he loved—and he discovered that he still loves it all the same—tried to lure him back to bed. “what are you doing? come back here,”

the pristine white sheet of the hotel slid down her chest as she sat up, beautiful in between the mess he made of her—her now-tangled hair, purple spots down her neck and chest, red marks down her arms and thighs—and martin’s heart broke into two. one at the revelation at how much he’d missed this sight of her, the other at the fact he needed to leave this behind because he still had you to come back to.

you, who’d been waiting for him at the airport for two hours now, because he forgot about picking you up from your business trip. something he never did during the time you both spent together.

you, who would be waiting for him in his house later, ready to spill everything you went through during your business trip, because you know martin was a good listener and never a judgemental one. because you know martin would always have your back.

you, who had loved him before his name, who have loved him through the calm and the storm of a football season, who always love him no matter wins or loses, and who promises to always love him through thins and thicks.

something came up at the training ground. I’m sorry I can’t pick you up myself.

martin’s heart plopped down the plush carpet as he pressed send, for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge right now. not when a pair of arms managed to snake its way to his waist, eliminating the distance between martin and her in no time and they were now skin to skin, and good lord, was it not satisfying to have no barrier between them.

martin’s heart plopped down to the deepest part of hell, perhaps, when he felt his phone vibrated in his hand—the one that wasn’t busy moulding his body to fit the vixen in his arms—and saw the immediate response you replied him with.

alright, good luck with that. see you at home! xx

you, whose love martin had betrayed. consciously so.

“do you still love her?” was the question the woman martin believed as siren incarnated, fired off as soon as she saw him dressing up, ready to leave her behind in this luxury confinement they called five-star hotel.

brave, martin got to give her that. it was the very question martin kept asking himself as he laid awake last night, facing the ceiling while listening to the sound of her gentle breathing, tickling against the skin just an inch from his pecks. her flimsy finger was ghosting yet so palpable, just like your existence—resting there waiting to be acknowledged, like the elephant in the room.

funny how it was his favourite position of yours since the first night you slept together, for it reminded him of her touch, the very touch he’d lost because she was a selfish human being.

yet, martin was currently the one selfish beyond possible combination of words.

but somehow, martin was even braver for responding her when he himself wasn’t sure he could answer his own question.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t, søta,” he donned his jacket before he leaned down, claiming her lips once more—for what, he didn’t know. to satisfy himself? to soothe the impending thirst that’d been building up unknowingly since she left him? to boost his confidence and justify himself that he was about to do the right thing? “and probably a part of me always will.”

the woman frowned in the way martin was supposed to hate her—she was the reason he’d grown to hate frowny, clingy women—but instead, he shot down a well-placed kiss that she reciprocated in the same fervour, obvious to tell him that she didn’t like sharing. her hands pulled him down further the bed, trying to lull him back to her arms, just like siren personified, and martin laughed in between their heated exchange.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“what if you never come back?” the woman refused to let go of him, hugging him tightly like a koala to his tree. “what if you suddenly realise you love her more?”

“it’s clear to see I don’t love her that much anymore, no?” martin swept the brown locks that reminded him of milky chocolate fondue. sweet, silky, smelt as nice as it looked, as he plucked off one of the peony petals he’d showered her with. “not enough to make me stay with her, anyway.”

martin even surprised himself by saying such words. he didn’t know he was capable of that, he didn’t know how he could have it in him. but if he thought that was surprising, he certainly wouldn’t hold a candle against himself for the things he did—or maybe, had done—to you.

you, whose entire world martin shattered. consciously so, since the moment you parted yourself from the embrace you enveloped him with but whose warmth wasn’t returned.

“what’s wrong?”

he knew it wasn’t easy. it was never easy to be with you since the very beginning anyway—you gathering his broken pieces, you swiping off all of his insecurities and assuring him that you’d wait for him till he wiped off all traces of her, you hiding off your identity so you wouldn’t drag him down in any way possible—but martin didn’t expect them to be very difficult, disclosing all his sins and admitting his faults.

admitting she wasn’t the only one in his heart.

worse, admitting she was never the only one since the start.

“was the emergency that bad at work?”

martin wanted to scream at her, telling her off that she wasn’t supposed to think the better of him, not after everything he’d done to her and their relationship. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to be the bad guy for once for putting herself first. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to live happily without him because she didn’t deserve him.

“don’t look at me like that, martin,” your eyes were as clear as always, and martin’s heart broke once more for you and every of the emotions displayed in your eyes. you were scared of him, of how cold he was being around you, and martin’s heart broke because you had been nothing but warm to him. “what’s wrong?”

you didn’t look any different to him at that moment, still lovable and looked very much like his, in every sense of the word. yet he was no longer yours, in every sense of the word. that was what went wrong.

“nothing,” martin acted the way the word implied. martin acted like nothing was wrong, as he kissed the top of your head and slid his hand into yours. “how was your trip?”

“I just wish you were there,” other days, your words would warm him up—the way your presence always succeeded to—but today, as you didn’t grasp back his hand, you meant every single word that escaped your mouth. “too bad, you know?”

too bad, indeed, my love. what if you stayed? what if she wasn’t here? martin thought inwardly as he poured the risotto he was making.

too bad, indeed, my love. because you’re gone already the moment you come home. you thought inwardly as you received the only dish he’d serve you by far because cooking had always been your thing.

too bad, indeed, as the risotto started turning as cold as the long withstanding iceberg in the form of white marble countertop separating you two. too bad, indeed, as the risotto was beyond salvageable even if you tried resurrecting it with every kind of heat earth could produce.

but neither of you moved, so different to the silent dance you both had been doing around the room. yet everything around you two was as loud as obnoxious bunch of drunkards watching the netflix show playing in your living room.

“you know I love you, right?”

the deep breath he let out indicated everything but, and you had never felt so alone in a room full of him. you were left alone, behind a four-wall full of him—his scent, his words, his voice—with nothing but abundance of confusion in your hands. it was, more often than not, your job to declare you love to him, instead of the other way around like this, so what changed?

“I love you,” yet martin couldn’t look straight into your eyes. “but I’m sorry.”

the confusion in your eyes were still evident and martin’s heart broke for you once more because he knew you didn’t deserve any of this. of him, of what he did, of how he’d been treating you. a small doubt crept in for a millisecond—what if he could fix this?—but he buried them down once more because you deserved this from him, an ending as respectable as you are.

“I love you too.”

no, no, you don’t get to say that. you’re not supposed to say that. you were supposed to throw him a thousand questions why he said sorry to you, contradicting his rather fake declaration of love for you.

“I forgive you.”

martin’s head had never snapped that fast, this time it was him that couldn’t hide his bewilderment. of all scenarios he had in his head, what you just did was never in his card. “you don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t care,” you squared your shoulders, and martin knew you meant your words then. you were so full of love and compassion, and it was why martin decided to forget her to be with you, but now martin wanted to run away for how hard life had come to bite his ass. “I love you. I forgive you.”

“I slept with another person,” and he noticed the slight tremble on those strong shoulders that overcame you. there, he needed that. he needed you to know, to feel, to see reality. “I cheated on you. I want to say that I’m sorry every time and every chance I can but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

you had gone through the worst obstacles there was on this earth—tower of terror, skydiving at palm jumeirah, being struck by lightning. you had gone through even worse obstacles—you’d seen your parents divorced before your eyes, you’d seen your friend took his life in front of you. yet nothing was as painful as the joke martin just threw in your face. you could even brave yourself for a guillotine if given the chance.

anything but the lemon your boyfriend just handed over your open wound. clean-cut and straight to the point.

“you said you love me.”

“I do,” martin replied immediately, as if he was sure of it. as if he was sure that loving you was the right thing to do when he’d just committed the wrong thing to do. “that’s why I’m sorry I did what I did.”

“with who?”

“you don’t want to know who.”

but with martin’s answer, it didn’t take you another second to figure out the woman in question. and you regretted asking immediately because you knew it’d be better if you didn’t know. you could even truly forgive him for what he did, as long as it wasn’t her. knowing who the partypooper was always a better option, because not being able to place a face to a name was always better.

but now you knew about it, and you didn’t have time to save your fragile heart from a heavy rain of sharp knives, endlessly stabbing your open wound to enlarge it even more, giving space for another knife to launch itself to a bleeding heart. you didn’t have time to hide your pain, as tears slowly escaped your eyes.

“why?” you gathered every of your remaining energy to sound brave as you faced your losing battle. “what did I do wrong?”

you needed to know because you’d been doing only the right thing. nothing less than perfect for your boyfriend.

martin wanted to know too because you’d been nothing short of what he needed.

“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself when martin didn’t give you a response, then you gathered yourself again as you reciprocated his strong gaze. as best as you could anyway. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t enough—”

“no, no—”

“tell me what I can do to fix this, martin,” you pursed your lips, holding back the tears left unshed. “we can still fix this. just… please don’t leave me.”

“please don’t do this…” martin sighed because while he knew you’d always fight for what you believe in, he didn’t know it would bring him a big boomerang instead. “I’ve hurt you. staying with me will hurt you more and that’s the last thing I want for you.”

but that was the last straw for you, the look on his face. he spared you a look of sympathy, an emotion you rather detested because you weren’t a charity case. so you cried, this time not because of the lost cause in your relationship. you cried for yourself, because while you were displaying your desperate frustrations to amend the broken bridges, you addressed such wave of emotion to the wrong person.

“what did I do wrong?”

“it’s not you,” martin wanted to hug you—he still hated seeing you cry—but he knew it wasn’t his place anymore to comfort you. he’d deprived himself of the exclusive right in lieu of another set of different luxurious rights. “it’s never your fault.”

but martin never said it was his, either.

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