#close call clause and fix it pancakes origin story 🥺🥺

[burninlovebutler]

27 - The First Close Call // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin x fem!oc (elsie) | word count: 3k-ish

warnings: core origin story anchors, alcohol, FLUFF, typical sad undertones, talks of cheating, cringey bedroom concerts, lightly inspired by maroon by taylor swift lol, 18+ MDNI

summary: when elsie wakes up the day after new year’s eve with both austin & nox no where to be found, she sits with the questions racing through her head. an unlikely item transports her to a memory that may hold the answers she seeks.

previous chapter -> 26 - NYE pt. 2 - Say It Again**

see masterlist for chapter log or other works

vibes: forever winter playlist ❄️

We never talk about what's going on We're casual, we're nothing

We're the furthest thing from love Until we drink

We’re just friends Until we drink

-ELSIE-

I stirred awake bringing a curled fist to rub the sleep from my eyes before shooting straight up. Flashes of everything that transpired the night before hit me like bricks, knocking every molecule of oxygen from my lungs. My hands frantically felt around the bed finding it empty, then searching it for any traces of Austin – or Nox for that matter. The rapid thumping growing in my chest threatened to crack my ribs like glow sticks.

My fingertips trembled as they curled around the fluffy duvet, bringing it up to my face. The scent of him filled my nostrils, immediately pooling tears in my eyes. My fists curled into the fabric and pressed against my nose, inhaling every bit of him.

How did we get here?

I threw the comforter off my body leaping from the mattress to inspect the room then quietly peering out the door to find Nox. But the apartment was empty, no Austin, no Nox. Relief momentarily poured into my veins before sending me into a cleaning frenzy. I ripped off every piece of bedding, the fitted sheet, the pillowcases, the duvet – it all smelled of Austin. Of us.

It wasn’t until the washing machine was full and rumbling that I was able to sit with the empty morning. My stiff couch squeaked as I laid back into it. The cold palms of my hands pressed into my tired and hungover eye sockets.

If Nox caught any inkling of suspicion I’d be dead. Just the idea of him finding out sent a chill through my bones.

It didn’t matter how many suspicions I had stacked against him. It didn’t matter the late nights out, the new phone code, the lingering perfume on his clothes.

“Fuck.” I muttered. I wanted to be angry that Nox never came home, at least it seemed like he didn’t. But how could I be angry at him when I did what I did with Austin?

I wanted to be upset with Austin too, for leaving me like I was just some one-night stand. But how was I supposed to be upset with him when he wasn’t my boyfriend, and he had a ‘not-girlfriend’, and Nox could’ve came home at any moment last night.

Holy fuck, are we all just cheating on each other?

One could only imagine that Nox’s absence meant he had also left with someone else. I had suspected it for a while –Sure, I could lie to myself and say he must’ve just crashed at a buddy’s house, but I knew it wasn’t the truth. It was a ruse.

So,

Nox was presumably cheating on me.

And I was cheating on him with my best friend.

And of course, now he was cheating on his new ‘not girlfriend’ with me. Official or not, it was clear something was going on between them. It made me sick.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? I was cheating. No matter how much we masked it, how much we played the ‘no touching’ card, it was all just an excuse for our shitty actions right? Sure, he didn’t put his dick inside me, but we make each other cum – we’ve had each other in our mouths. One way or another it was sex.

Holy shit I’m having sex with Austin

Holy shit I’m fucking my best friend

What kinda fucked up geometric shape were we in and how did it all so complicated. I felt so many emotions at once, my head was so bogged with thoughts and memories of the night before, it was overwhelming. Suffocating.

As much as I really didn’t want to address it, the dread of knowing Austin and I would have to talk about it eventually settled between each rib. I wanted to ignore it, like we had been this whole time. Aside from the obvious uncomfortableness, I mostly just didn’t even know what to say.

‘I don’t want to keep doing what we’re doing’ – that was a lie.

‘I don’t like what we do’ – lie.

‘I want you stop calling me, baby’ – lie.

‘I want to stay with Nox’ - …lie?

‘I want to be with you’ - …lie?

I didn’t fucking want that, why the fuck would I want that? What the fuck did I want?

He’s my best friend, he’s always been just that. My friend. My person.

The person I run to when I’m sad, when I’m angry, when I’m heartbroken, when I need to vent, when I need someone to tell my secrets to. We’d seen each other go through multiple partners, isn’t that weird? We’ve talked about intimate details of our relationships. Though, the exchange of relationship details dwindled the longer we were friends.

Did everything we had done ruin our entire friendship? Last night was way past anything we’ve ever done. How do you go back to normal friendship when I literally fucked myself to him – in front of him? And he did to me…all over me.

And why the fuck did my belly flutter when he called me ‘baby’? God, I could barely even say it in my head. I shouldn’t fucking feel that way about my supposed ‘best friend’ calling me that. I didn’t even feel like that when Nox called me it. Friends don’t call each other baby.

“Oh god,” Curling over my thighs holding my hands over my face. The memory of me literally sobbing beneath him basically begging him to call me that name again. The New Years champagne had really done me in this time.

“Why the fuck would I do that.” I groaned and tugged at my under eyes.

Then the memory of what I told him.

‘Friends don’t do the things we do.’

“I’m so fucking stupid.” I reprimanded myself outloud, smacking my palm hard against my forehead.

How do you come back from that? How was I supposed to face him after that?

Even if I wanted to be with him – which I don’t – everything would change.

I wouldn’t be able to run to him anymore, not like that. I couldn’t share my secrets or just play video games with him. Or anything – all of our friendship traditions would be gone, right? How do you just shift into that different dynamic?

I never pictured us here. What the fuck were we doing? How did we get here? How do we go back? Can we go back? Do I want to go back?

I laid back and let the couch swallow me whole, curling into the corner and wrapping a draped blanket around me like a tight cocoon.

‘How did we get here?

‘How did we get here?’

‘How did we get here?’

The question haunted me, ringing over and over in my ear drums. Another equally as daunting sequence of questions swirled –

How, where and when did this start?

How did we get here, without me even realizing until we had crossed some fucked up line?

How long had this been looming in the background?

I brainlessly zoned out looking into my kitchen across from me when I spotted a half-drank bottle of rose that I didn’t remember opening or drinking.

The seemingly impertinent glass decanter brought forward a memory I had long forgotten. As the recollection unfolded in my memory, the details began to piece together a puzzle that perhaps held the answers I was looking for.

-5 years ago (Sophomore year)-

We sat on the floor of his dorm, my legs across Austin’s thigh with my feet in his lap. Our fit of laughter died down as the annual end-of-winter-break New Years party raged on downstairs of the giant fraternity mansion. The same house where we’d met just a year ago, and a year before all the shit hit the fan after his dad. Things were simple then, fun and innocent.

“I still think it’s funny that you’re in a frat.” I giggled, taking a swig of a bottle of Rosé that we stole.

The blonde rolled his eyes, “You know it’s just for my parents.” He snatched the chilled bottle from my hand, “Plus I get to live here, which is better than the dorms.” His lips curled into a cocky smirk before taking a sip. He dragged his sweater sleeve across his mouth to wipe off the excess wine and handed it back to me, “I am happy that we’re moving in together soon, I can’t wait to get out of here.”

My top teeth reflexively tugged my bottom lip in, for some reason wanting to hide the wide smile that begged to be worn, like a cozy cardigan on a cold winter day. But I swallowed it down with another chug. “Yeah, me too.” I hiccupped and set the glass bottle down.

In the year we’d grown to be friends I watched him blossom out of his shell. He says that it was me who made him bloom, but I don’t think I had anything to do with it. I think he was just waiting for someone or something to give him the chance to. Regardless, that shy boy I met just a year ago wasn’t the same one that sat across from me – at least not fully.

I watched him bring the glass bottle to his eyeline, reading the label for god knows why. But in the dim light of the desk lamp lit room… it was like I was seeing him through a new, different lens. The way his blonde hair curled at the edges, long straight lashes around crystal blue eyes, just how pink and plump his lips were. It had to be the alcohol, right?

“Hey Elsie,” He waved his hand in front of me, “Whatcha lookin at?” He laughed, “You checkin’ me out or something?” It was a joke, but it settled nervous swirl in my tummy.

I tried to mask the nerves in my chuckle with a light smack to his arm, “Yeah, you wish.” Rolling my eyes at him. I felt this daunting urge to remove myself from the situation, I needed to get my legs off of him, away from him. I never ever felt that way around him, he was normally a comfort to me, he would calm me down before an exam or watch movies with me when I was sad. But this… this wasn’t comfortable. I was uneasy, he made me uneasy.

I pushed a stray curl out of my face, letting out a breath before hastily pulling myself up from the carpeted floor. He took notice of my speedy escape as soon as I was on my feet, propping himself up on his elbows behind him. “Where are you goooooiiinnng?” He whined.

“I just wanted to um-“ I scanned around the room for any inspiration of a distraction landing on his record player. “I wanted to play music!” I perked walking over to the wooden box that held his vinyls.

“Why? The music from the party is so loud already.” He questioned, propping up a brow at me but I kept my back to him. Blood rushed into my cheeks and I couldn’t let him see it. The alcohol definitely was not helping the redness. For whatever reason, I grew aware of the missing makeup on my face. I never felt the need to wear it around him before, but now it felt like I was naked.

“Well, uh, yeah, that shit is so overrated.” I faux scoffed while thumbing through his record collection looking for a good one. I let out an involuntary gasp when I found an Elvis vinyl, plucking it instantly from the box and holding it close to my chest with my arms wrapped around it. “Elvis!” I exclaimed excitedly turning to him like a little kid that found a new toy at the store.

He raised his brows surprised at me then let out a laugh saturated in alcohol, “You like Elvis?” He questioned.

“Eeep!” I squealed, “Yes I love Elvis!” Nearly jumping from excitement like a 2012 One Direction fangirl.

“Wow I never pegged you as an Elvis fan, all you do is listen to Lana Del Rey.” He teased, knowing full well that wasn’t true.

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes, “No no you don’t understand, I love Elvis.”

A sincere smile curled the edge of his lips, “Wow I just really didn’t know-“

I leaned down to grab his shoulders looking him dead in the eyes, “No, you don’t understand. I watched his ’68 Comeback Special like 500 times.”

He laughed hard and put up his arms in defense, “Okay okay, I believe you.”

I squeaked going back to his player and gently pulled the vinyl from the sleeve, precariously placing it down and settling the needle on the outer edge of the black disc. I nearly screamed when one of my favorites began to pour from the small speakers, promptly turning the volume to its max. With a spin on my heels, I snatched the rose bottle from the neck taking a long swig, proceeding to dance across his floor. Every inkling of tension in my body disappeared, the music soothing the nerves with each hip swing.

I could feel his eyes on me but in that moment, I didn’t care if he was judging me, the only thing I cared about was staying on rhythm. He sneered, “You’re so ridiculous!” He teased.

My arms followed the dance moves I’d seen Elvis do in his old recorded concerts, spilling some wine on my burgundy t-shirt as I did so. I’d probably regret this debacle later, but I was having too much fun to stop. The spill abrupted my choreography causing me to stumble back and let out a tiny hiccup.

“Oh my god Elsie,” He shook his head with a chuckle, going to pull himself off the floor but was struggling with the wine in his veins just as much as I was. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Once solid on his feet he stretched to grasp my shoulders, but I spun just out of his reach. I suppose my next attempt at eluding him was to start belting out the lyrics, the dancing alone just wasn’t cutting it. “Here we go again… askin’ where I been!” I sang loudly and off tune.

Austin shook his head and as our impromptu concerts always went, he joined in, finally getting with the program and managed to steal the rose bottle back. I snagged a nearby hairbrush to replace the bottle as my microphone in preparation for the chorus. And as if we were on some stage somewhere, we turned to each other dramatically, ready to put on a show of a lifetime.

“We can’t go on together, with suspicious minds!” Singing in harmony into our respective makeshift microphones, “And we can’t build our dreams on suspicious miiiiiinds!”

Austin took over the vocals while I recreated one of Elvis’ famous ‘taking a knee’ moves and for a split second I swore I was 15 again, performing alone in my room. But I was 21 and in college and in my best friend’s fraternity dorm.

I got excited when I heard him finish off the line, “Oh honey, you know I’ve never lied to you…” And knew I had to get into position for another iconic line. Again, we were facing each other in our drunken duet, “We’re caught in a trap, I can’t walk out!”

Whether it was the alcohol, Elvis, or something I didn’t fucking know but I swore there was a slo-mo switch that flipped on as our eyes met. “…because I love you too much baby.” We sang softly in unison, our voices hushed under the blaring music, and he was closer than I realized. His sapphire eyes flickered to my lips and every ounce of air left my lungs. He dropped the empty glass bottle hitting the cushioned carpet with a thud and unexpectedly took hold of my hips pulling me to him.

‘Why can’t you see, what you’re doin’ to me…’ Elvis continued to sing in the background. Every part of him that touched me scorched like fire - his fingers on my hips, his chest pressed against mine. The insatiable burning spread throughout my body like a raging forest fire, every inch of skin, every muscle, every blood vessel, every single cell in my anatomy was totally and utterly consumed by him. The crystal ocean in his eyes, each individual blonde lash, the disheveled waves slashed across his forehead, the constellation of freckles I didn’t notice until then, the deep berry in his lips. The lips that were not even a centimeter from mine, just a hair from touching. I thought they’d land, I didn’t comprehend it at the time but god, I hoped they’d land. I was praying for them to land.

In that moment I realized that 15-year-old-alone-in-my room-comfort feeling wasn’t new, rather something that had been present for the past year. Anytime I was with him, anytime he entered the room, or his name was mentioned. He was comfort, he was safety. A true north I didn’t know I found.

Regular speed clicked back on, and we immediately retracted from each other like nothing had happened, like it was just part of the performance. The flurries of butterflies he left me with stayed though - I’m not entirely sure they ever left.

The next morning when I woke up on his floor, he didn’t bring it up and neither did I. Relief never felt so good, it was just some freak drunk accident, a close call. That all, just a close call. I didn’t know what I’d do without him, what something like that would do to us… I didn’t even want to think about it.

I eyed him looking over the menu at our favorite breakfast diner, Harry’s, pretending he was going to order something new, when we both knew it was gonna be chocolate chip pancakes.

“So, whatcha gonna get?” His eyes snapped up at me, the noon sun shining making his blues glimmer, even above his dark eye bags.

“Oh uh-“ I shook the haze from my head, “I don’t know if I’m gonna get anything, I’m uh, I’m pretty hungover.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” He just beamed at me with a optimistic smile that made me feel like everything would be okay, “Pancakes will fix it.”

And then there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach I didn’t recognize. At first I thought maybe I was hungover. It was a flutter, a churning, a nausea – a sinking trepidation, like I just signed a bad business deal, a contract that would cost me millions.

I didn’t know what fucked up clause we just implemented, but some dull ache in my bones whispered that it would cost me more than I could afford.

Next Chapter -> Temporary Fix* [coming soon]

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