#did you hear about the harry styles fic movie as well? same issue

[sugar-petals]

I really appreciate your sex ed posts because they have genuinely helped me. I didn't know how wrong my sex knowledge was until I came to your blog. I was a believer that you were supposed to bleed and that it was going to hurt. Sex ed knowledge is so wrong and flawed especially in America (where I'm from) and it's so dangerous to be teaching people. So I genuinely thank you for your sex ed posts- anon 🖤

Thank you for the feedback. The thing is. I write smut & female pleasure. Educating about the framework and blowing the cover of fallacies is the least I can, must do. If parents don’t tell you shit, friends are none the wiser or caught up in the copy-paste patterns of hookup culture, and teachers lie to you or leave out the most important things, where do girls go for insights hoping they don’t find the same 200-year-old bogus again: It’s always erotica or pornography. Where, again, you’re told you naturally experience harm for hetero sex and that’s supposed to be the only and sexiest way — while giving him all the fun which is the sole thing that should ever turn you on. I’m not at ease with shoulds and deceptions like that.

Especially since I provide fictional content; past the fantasy, discussing the real deal is very needed. If an advanced male x female smut author with your regular domestic AUs and so forth doesn’t know how the hymen works, the pH of semen and why it matters, where the male prostate is, never once mentions a condom, the list goes on, they’re in the worst possible place. Be very careful with writers who don’t serenely give advice to people who need it the most and trust them with intimate questions. Making erotica takes responsibility and knowledge and not cute emojis like “just enjoy yourself dear xoxo just ask what he likes“. Hell, most of the time I write about handsome mermen with long magical hair but still look up and experiment with things so I can help you form an understanding by yourself. That has to be a given, I can’t fall short of that. Erotica is a gatekeeper for sexual know-how, smut is right at the eye of the cyclone. Look at what 50 Shades of Non-Con caused. You can shape an entire generation with a book series.

[unmaskedagain]

To all Guys a Chat Loved Before

Okay, this is it. I’ve been working on this story for over a week. It’s seventy pages and twenty thousand words. I basically wrote you a short story. Enjoy it. Review. 

I’m not fond of Rom-Coms and rarely if ever watch Romantic movies. But there are a few that i’ve liked. So THROUGH OUT THIS i’ve sprinkled some of my favorite lines from my favorite romantic movies over the years. Some also came from tv shows. See if you can point them out.

This is Adrien-centered fic. It’s also slash.

Don’t you wish that people came with warning labels?

           Adrien did. He wished more than anything because his life would be so much easier if everyone could see each other’s warning labels.

Bustier: Terrible teacher. Needs to please everyone. Hates confrontation.

Lila: Waring massive Liar, manipulative shrew.

His father: Workaholic, possible sociopath. Might be allergic to hugs and any affection whatsoever.

Adrien: A little needy. Emotionally scarred. Touch starved. Famous. Trust issues. Lacks some basic social skills. Probably going to be in therapy for the rest of his life. Likes to run around in a skintight leather bodysuit.

           You know? The basics.

           Okay, maybe that’s too much. Too personal. Fine. Whatever.

           But at the very least, if he could meet someone and just know, you know?

           Know that this is the one.

           This is it.

           This one.

           They’re the one that’s gonna break your heart.

           Adrien’s life would be so much easier if he could at least get that one warning.

           Maybe he’d run the other way. But maybe he wouldn’t. Adrien had a terrible habit of always making the stupid choice.

           Still, it would be nice to know before he gets into deep.

           Before his heart isn’t just broken…

           It's shattered beyond repair.

Iron’s Kid: When did you realize you weren’t like other guys?

Chat Galore: I was twelve. You?

           The first time Adrien realized he might not be like other guys his age came AFTER he put on a magic ring and ran around Paris as a superhero in black spandex. And yes, that statement alone makes him realize how insane he sounds.

           But in his defense…

           Okay, there was no defense. He didn’t need to defend himself. There was nothing wrong with him. He knew that. There was nothing wrong with…

Iron’s Kid: Fourteen. And it took me completely by surprise. Like a bite in the neck.

           Adrien always really liked his penpal. It had been Chloe’s idea. Adrien signed up when he was thirteen, anonymously, through a program at school and was given an American penpal the same age as him. The schools vetted all participants in the program for authenticity. They’ve never told each other their real names, never seen so much as a picture of one another, but still, Iron’s kid became one of the few people who knew him best.

           The blond knew a lot about Iron’s Kid too. He even had a list.

Iron’s kid:

A year older than Adrien.

Huge geek like Adrien.

He was a guy.

He loved Legos

Said he had brown hair and eyes.

He was bisexual.

He was really funny.

Really smart. Like Genius smart.

He was an intern at Stark Industries.

He was a huge iron man fan and adored Spiderman a bit as any New Yorker did.

He loved superheroes and memes (like a lot) and stayed up late a lot.

He made as many puns as Adrien did as Chat Noir.

.           They got along really well. They texted constantly. And, Iron’s Kid slowly became one of Adrien’s dearest friends. After the first year of being Penpals, Adrien asked if Iron’s Kid wanted to meet. The answer was no. Adrien asked Iron’s Kid at least once a year if they could meet up (or skype or trade pictures); the answer was always No. It was only after Adrien revealed that he was a supermodel, that Iron’s Kid revealed he had a famous face too and just wanted to be treated normally.

           That did stop Adrien from still asking once a year. Iron’s Kid was one of the few people, outside of being Chat Noir that Adrien could just be himself with.

           But unlike Iron’s Kid…

           Honestly, Adrien always kind of knew, ya know?

           He was always as into Harry Styles as Chloe was. Maybe a bit more.

When he binged watched Stranger Things with Marinette; he noticed Finn Wolfhard as much as the bluenette did.

Maybe, he noticed Kim’s biceps just a bit too much.

           So he started to suspect early on.

           He didn’t know for sure until…

           Luka.

           And that’s the worst (and craziest) part because knew Luka. He had been sort of, kind of, friends with the guitarist for quite some time. He had never even thought of the blue-haired boy like that.

           Until one day, Adrien, Marinette, and Luka were playing video games after school. They were just laughing and chilling out like they always do. It was perfectly ordinary.

           Then out of nowhere, Adrien noticed just how blue Luka’s eyes were. Then that was it. Suddenly the blond couldn’t help but think how cool Luka was, how funny he was, how artistic. And Adrien was really self-conscious. When Luka was in the same room as him, Adrien was hyper-aware of everything his own body was doing and everything he was saying.

           It was like he existed outside it for a few seconds and was just watching the chaos.

How does my hair look?

Why did I JUST say that? No, don’t say that THAT’s even worse.

What is wrong with you?

Don’t stand like that! Who stands like that?

Does it look weird?

Am I being weird?

He totally thinks I’m weird.

Iron’s Kid: How could you NOT have seen Princess Bride?!!!!!?!!

Chat Galore: It doesn’t look like not my type of movie

Iron’s Kid: But you’ve seen the Labyrinth???!!! WTF

Chat Galore: It was my mom’s favorite movie!!! You haven’t seen vampire diaries yet!!!

Iron’s Kid: That is BESIDES the point. Princess Bride is a classic!!!!

Chat Galore: Oh just shut up

Iron’s Kid; As you wish.

           Adrien slowly became a blushing, stuttering mess.

           And he didn’t know how but somehow this was how Marinette figured it out what was going on.

“…You have a crush on Luka,” Marinette said slowly and quietly, one day after school as they sat in Marinette’s living room as if the words were as hard for her to get out as they were for him to hear.

The two had gotten closer as friends as a result of the Lila situation at school worsening. Once most of the class made it clear how quickly they were willing to drop Marinette for a shiny golden ticket; the blond and bluenette quickly washed their hands of the situation. They decided to let their ex-friends sink or swim on their own.

Adrien did not need fair-weather friends. Marinette was tired of being everyone’s doormat.  They decided to sit in the back together and wait for the fireworks. Surprisingly, not long after Nino joined them. The glasses-wearing boy hadn’t cared if Lila was lying or not (though Adrien and Marinette would provide him with enough evidence to convince him later), he just knew that Marinette was his childhood friend and Adrien was his best friend. Nino trusted them, and sure wasn’t going to abandon them.

That was over a year ago. Marinette, Nino, and Adrien were best friends. Then the bluenette and the blond found out they were really Ladybug and Chat Noir effectively ending their crushes on each other. (Though Marinette took a bit longer)

“No!” Adrien said quickly. “I mean, I can’t, I, uh. I used to love Ladybug, remember!”

           Marinette shrugged, “So? I dated Kagami for like three months last year, and I’d still wouldn’t say no to seven minutes in heaven with Luka. Or longer,” She smirked. “I used to like you. I’m bisexual; lots of people are.” She then tilted her head. “It’s okay if you like boys.”

           Adrien glanced down shyly. At that point, He hadn’t thought too much about his sexuality. He always figured he was straight. It was the standard some people would say. But… Did he? Did he like-like other guys like that?

           …He definitely liked Luka like that. But was it just Luka? Maybe Luka was special. And dreamy. And nice to look at. And he made Adrien’s stomach feel a little weird when he was around, “…I have a crush on Luka.”

“Everyone does,” Marinette nodded. “It’s a fact of life. He gets Kagami to blush. Chloe says he not completely awful. Hell, even Nino said, and I quote, ‘if I ever I had to pick a dude.’” She said but then her eyes widened as she looked at Adrien. “Wait! I just realized have you ever had a crush on a girl besides Ladybug? I never heard you talk about any. This is the first crush besides Ladybug.”

           Adrien blinked and then blinked again. “I went out with Kagami once,” He offered, and then gave Marinette a playful glare. “Before you stole her away from me.”

“It’s not stealing if she practically jumped into my arms,” Marinette defended with a laugh. “Don’t hate the playa!”

           The blond snorted.

“I mean, what did you like about Ladybug?” Marinette asked. “Not me! Not now. But before you knew that I was Ladybug. What did you like about her?”

           Adrien bit his lip as he thought, “She was always fun to be around. When I was with her I never had to worry, you know? I could do what I wanted, say what I wanted. There was no pressure or anything. I was just me… but more. And I liked that. It was easy being around her.”

           Marinette nodded, “Ladybug used to be the only one you could be free around,” She said. “As Chat Noir, you never had to censor yourself for fear of what your father would do. It was freedom. A type of freedom you always wanted; to be wild and carefree. You got to do that whenever you are Chat Noir, and whenever you were Chat Noir, Ladybug was there. Did you ever… you might’ve… I think you,” She sighed. “…Adrien, I don’t think you ever loved Ladybug. I think you loved how you got to feel when she was around. You might have equated the two.”

           It went quiet as Adrien thought about what his friend said. It helped that his crush had been long gone so he could view it without the bias he used to have. And yeah, the more he thought about it, the more he realized Marinette was right. Adrien had been more infatuated with the fun and freedom of being a superhero, being Chat Noir that he ever was with Ladybug.

           He also comprehended that His crush had ended it rather instantly the second he found out who was behind the mask. Marinette was amazing; the girl of most guys’ dreams. Yet Adrien just didn’t see her like that. He didn’t have romantic feelings for her. It was then he realized that no matter who was behind the mask, what girl, Adrien wouldn’t have been happy. “She wasn’t real to me,” He admitted. “Not really. Ladybug was this unattainable dream. Anything was possible with her. I got to think up outlandish fantasies all the time of what our future could be and nothing was too extreme or impossible. The second she became real, the fantasy ended, and… I didn’t want her anymore; not like that.” He told Marinette. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you! You’re practically my sister. You’re the best! But… It is strange, I know.”

           Marinette shook her head, “It’s not!” She would know better than most what it was like when the fantasy ended and you had faced reality. “We’re kids. Feelings are all haywire.”

“It’ll get easier.” He asked. “I mean it has to. Soon, right?”

“No!” Sabine, Marinette’s mom, called from the kitchen. “Try in about a decade. If you’re lucky!”

“Mama!” Marinette yelled as she face-palmed. “Private conversation.”

“In our very public family room,” Sabine sassed back. “Adrien, honey, besides Luka, have you ever thought about any boys like that?”

           Marinette just sighed.

           Adrien turned bright red. He had more or less been adopted by the Dupain-chengs, and he was still getting used to having an involved parent. “I, uh, like Kim’s arms.”

“Who doesn’t?” Marinette asked. “Drool-worthy.”

“Harry Styles,” Adrien offered. “I like his face.” The bluenette snorted, earning herself a face full of the pillow. “Oh, you are so helpful!”  After that, they erupted into a pillow fight.

Chat Galore: I’m late

Iron’s Kid: For what?

Chat Galore: Reality.

Iron’s Kid: Oooh someone’s feeling deep today. What’s up?

Chat Galore: I’m

           Adrien paused writing.

Iron’s Kid: You’re…

Iron’s kid: Chat? You still there?

Chat Galore: I’m gay.

Chat Galore: You’re the first person I’ve told.

Iron’s Kid: I’m honored. And proud of you man.

Chat Galore: TY!!

Iron’s Kid: So who made you realize you were finally into Luka?

Chat Galore: …I hate you. GO AWAY!

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

           It took another month, and a lot of introspection but Adrien finally came to terms with it, and while getting ice cream with his friends, he said, “So, yeah, I’m gay.”

“And the sky’s blue,” Chloe shrugged.

           Marinette elbowed, “That’s not how we’re supposed to react.”

           The blonde huffed, “What? We’re supposed to pretend to be surprised. I’ve known him since we were in diapers. I was there through OUR One Direction phase. We were just little kids but just because he blocked it out or whatever doesn’t mean I forgot he called dips on marrying Harry.”

“All good, dude,” Nino told Adrien. “Still my boy.” He told him. “Does this mean you’re finally gonna ask out Luka?”

“NINO!” Marinette groaned. “I didn’t tell them. I swear!”

“What?” Nino licked his ice cream. “It was obvious Sunshine digs Luka.”

           Adrien’s froze. “…How obvious?” Dread slowly crept onto his face.

           His friends quickly went to assure him.

“It’s barely noticeable!” Marinette said.

“Everyone wants Luka; he probably doesn’t even realize it at this point!” Went, Nino.

“It’s not as obvious as the crush Marinette had on you!”

“Chloe! Seriously?!”

“What!”

Chat Galore: My friends suck as much as you!

Iron’s kid: Ahh, they call you out on the Luka thing too?

Chat Galore: Fuck off

Iron’s Kid: lol

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

           Adrien just groaned, seriously wishing the earth would just swallow him up. It was official all of his friends were completely awful.

           Not long after he came out to his father, Nathalie, and Gorilla. His father barely blinked twice and told him not to make a fool of himself. Nathalie scheduled when he’ll announce it officially on twitter. Gorilla at least hugged him.

           Lila attempted to convince the class that Adrien was just confused and hiding his feelings for her. But even that was a bit too much to buy. Instead, the class shot the Italian girl pitying looks for being in love with an unreachable guy. Lila seethed with fury as what she thought was her ticket to fame and fortune going up in flame.

Pretty much everything stayed normal though. There were no big fireworks. Adrien never confessed to Luka about his crush; instead joined his dozens of other admirers in mooning from a distance.

           Adrien was fine with that. He wasn’t looking for anything for his life to radically change. Or to completely lose his mind over some guy (though he did come close with Luka). In fact, he was rather happy if that never happened.

           But since when does he ever get what he wants?

Iron’s Kid: If you could punch anyone in the face, who would it be?

Chat Galore: What did Flash do now?

Chat Galore: And the answer’s: Lila. But Marinette has dips. And then Chloe. Then Kagami for some reason. I’m also after Nino, which doesn’t seem fair.

Chat Galore: …There’s a line to punch Lila.

Iron’s Kid: lol.

Iron’s Kid: Flash embarrassed me in front of Liz. He got everyone at this party chanting the stupid nickname he gave me.

Chat Galore: What a jerk? I vote revenge!

Iron’s Kid: What happened to the high road?

Chat Galore: It went nowhere. Time to light someone’s car on fire now.

Chat Galore: OOOOHHH!!!! Get MJ to put a porn virus on his computer! Let it hit during that school project you guys got next week.

Iron’s Kid: You’re a cruel man. And you and MJ are never allowed meet!

Chat Galore: Lol

Iron’s Kid: I can’t do that. Revenge isn’t my thing. I wouldn’t even care if Liz wasn’t there.

Chat Galore: You really like her, huh?

Iron’s Kid: Yeah I do

           Adrien grinned at his phone. Iron had fallen hard for Liz a while back, and it was the cutest thing when he gushed over her. Plus it gave the blond some relief to know that there was someone as bad as him when it came to romance.

Iron’s Kid: So my dads suck

Chat Galore: We should start a club!

Iron’s kid: Lol.

Chat Galore: Your dad or your pops?

Iron’s Kid: Both. They totally freaked out on me! They’re so overprotective it is insane.

Chat Galore: Been there. Am there.

Iron’s Kid: Me and dad totally got into it. He thinks I’m reckless and stupid. Like I don’t know what I’m doing. I just wish he’d trust me

Chat Galore: Stop treating you like you’re a little kid?

Iron’s Kid: Exactly!!!!! I can do this! I know I can! If he just trusts me!

Iron’s Kid: Instead I’m grounded.

Chat Galore: What are you going to do?

Iron’s Kid: Whatever I have to!

Chat Galore: just be safe, ok? I don’t know what’s going on. And I know you can’t tell me. But just Be. Careful. I’d miss you.

Iron’s Kid: I’d miss you too.

Chat Galore: Goodnight!!

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

           It was Christmas. Adrien was staying with Marinette’s family while his father was away on business and avoiding all things happiness. Marinette told him that her Uncle was coming. Her dad’s great uncle from New York. He broke up with his boyfriend not too long ago and wanted to get out and see more of the world.

           Adrien had expectations of what Marinette’s great uncle would look like – like any Uncle. Old, kind of fat, who made way to many dad jokes, and smelled like mothballs. And he definitely wore tacky clothes.

           The guy who walked into the Dupain-Cheng home, following a laughing Tom Dupain, was NOT that guy!!

           First of all, he was young; like two or three years older than Adrien and Marinette. He wore was pale with dark eyes and hair. He was dressed in all black and wore an old black leather bomber jacket. He was unnaturally handsome.

“Who is that?” Adrien hissed.

“My uncle,” Marinette said. “I told you he was coming.”

“How is that your great Uncle?”

           Marinette shrugged, “Magic. Demigod. Prince of the Underworld. What can you do?” She said. “His name’s Nico.”

           Adrien’s life was already so bizarre he didn’t even question the demigod part. All he could see what Nico. His mind turned to mush. “Boing!” He pointed.

“That’s my Uncle, Adrien,” Mariette reminded him

“Sweet! I would be your Aunt,” Adrien said. “Uncle. I don’t care. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.”

           Marinette laughed and got off the couch to greet the newcomer, “Uncle Nico!”

“Marinette!” Nico smiled as he hugged his niece. “I told you to call me Nico.”

“Uncle is a bit weird,” Marinette nodded in agreement as she let go.

           As soon Nico let go, he found his arms full of again but this time by a blond, “Uncle Nico.”

“Adrien, right,” Nico said as he hugged the smaller boy, “I’m not your Uncle.”

“Even better!”

           Marinette snorted and pulled her friend away.

           Nico looked them up and down. “Aww, it’s good you two are still so close. I still got that picture your dad sent me of you two in Halloween costumes; Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.” He said. “Adorable. You two must have been, what eleven?” He shrugged and smiled at Adrien. “It’s been a while. You grew up gorgeous.” And then walked off to say hello to Sabine.

           Adrien turned bright red and a big grin spread across his face.

           Marinette crossed her arms, and gave him a serious look, “You are not going to be my Aunt.”

“I can’t hear you!” Adrien sang. “Buh dah Bu da da Da!”

“He’s almost eighteen; physically and mentally anyway!” Marinette said. “We’re fifteen.”

“Almost sixteen,” Adrien snapped quickly. “Which is practically seventeen. Which is a skip away from eighteen. Two plus Two, you know?”

           Marinette rolled her eyes, “I know Two plus two equals four. But with your logic, two plus two is three with a wig on.”

           He hissed at her.

Chat Galore: I think I found my Liz

Iron’s Kid: Someone Completely unattainable, and probably a bad idea?

Chat Galore: MJ or Ned?

Iron’s Kid: …

Chat Galore: Seriously? Give Iron back his phone!

Iron’s Kid:

Chat Galore: WAIT! What do you mean about Liz? What’s going on? Why is she a bad idea?

           He would get a response an hour later. It was just after dark.

Iron’s Kid: Sorry! MJ took my phone!

Chat Galore: NP. What’s this about Liz?

Iron’s Kid: A good friend will ignore whatever MJ told you!

Chat Galore: A best friend’s gonna get answers out of you!

           Adrien’s phone remained silent as he waited for Iron’s reply.

Iron’s Kid: ‘sigh’ Liz’s dad a supervillain. He tried to kill me.

Chat Galore: Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?

Iron’s Kid: It sucks. Liz’s dad in prison. She had to move.

Chat Galore: that blows

Iron’s Kid: Yep

           Then Adrien did something daring; something he thought about doing before but just stops short of being brave enough.

           He called Iron’s kid. It rang a few times before finally answering?

“Hello?”

“Iron’s kid?” Adrien whispered.

“Chat Galore?” Was said. “You called?”

“I thought you might need someone to talk to,” Adrien said. “Really talk to. It is fine if you don’t want to. I just thought…”

“No!” Was quickly said. “This is great. I mean, yeah. I’m cool with this if you are.”

They ended up talking to each other for hours like they always did. But this time it went on even longer; to the point where Adrien was genuinely surprised to see the sun starting to rise.

It was the first Adrien began to suspect he might be falling a little bit in love with Iron’s Kid.

           It didn’t end there. As the weeks went on Iron Kid and Chat Galore kept texting and talking. Iron Kid was going through a hard time and Adrien just wanted to be there for him.

Iron’s Kid: It’s never been easy being me. I love my parents. But normal doesn’t exactly coincide with our last name

Chat Galore: It is like no one can look past it, right? They don’t see you, they see your name. It’s all they care about.

Iron’s kid: Exactly!!!!! Who I am doesn’t matter. Its who my dad is, who my pop’s is. Hell sometimes who my grandfather was, and he died way before I was even born. It’s not fair!

Chat Galore: And you never know if anyone likes you for you. Or if they just want something from you. Or from your dad. You just want people to see YOU for who you are!

Iron’s Kid: Makes it really hard to trust people. My parents always did their best to give me a normal life but

Iron’s Kid: it’s whatever I guess.

Chat Galore: It’s not whatever. And its okay to feel like this.

Iron’s Kid: It’s sometimes I feel a little lost. Or maybe just…

Iron’s Kid:  I mean, I can be surrounded by a sea of people and still feel all alone. Like no one really knows me or sees me. Then I think of you. I think of talking to you. And I don’t feel so alone anymore.

Chat Galore: I see you.

Iron’s Kid: I see you too.

           Then once more Adrien asked Iron’s Kid if he wanted to meet, even though he knew he’d be turned down. That was fine. Adrien would wait.

If Marinette thought it was over when the holidays ended, she was dead wrong. Nico got an apartment to stay in Paris and to spend time with his family.

           And Adrien got used to his brain going all gooey when Nico was around. He always said goofy things; things that made him wish he’d never learned to speak in the first place. He read books that Nico casually mentioned just so they’d have something to talk about. He did ridiculous things try to get the older guy’s attention. And whenever, Nico asked the gang if anyone wanted to hang out, Adrien would be the first to shoot up and practically yell yes.

           And all Adrien would get from Nico would be a placating smirk; the same type Nino would give his younger brothers’ when they did something outlandish to impress him.

           The weird thing was when Adrien was going all googly-eyes at Nico, they got along really, really well. They both loved art and classic noir films like Gun For hire and Laura. The two once spent an entire afternoon in the museum just talking about the pieces, ignoring the whines of Marinette and Nino who got dragged along.

           Still no matter what Adrien did Nico never took the hint to ask Adrien out. Or even hint that he was open to Adrien possibly asking him out.

           His friends got used to Adrien sighing wistfully.

“Gods’ he so handsome, it makes my face hurt,” Adrien whined.

Marinette giggled, “You’re young, you’re dumb.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Chloe pointed a fork at him that still had a bit of salad on it, “That those are not necessarily correlated. You’re just an idiot.”

           Nino leaned forward, “Bro, just ask him out!” He said with his mouth half full of pizza.

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Marinette, Chloe, and Nino asked/yelled at him.

“What if he says no?” Adrien asked, because duh, why else wouldn’t he have asked Nico out already.

           Chloe glared at him, “Then you look in the mirror and remind yourself that you’re the second hottest dude, around our age, in Paris?”

“Ahh, Luka’s first,” Marinette put in.

           Nino raised his hand, “Just so we’re clear, I’m at least in the top ten, yeah?” Silence. “Guys? Top fifteen?” Nothing. “Top twenty?”

“Eehh,” Chloe offered as she flipped her hand side to side rapidly.

           Nino grinned, “I’ll take it!”

           It all came to a head during the Dupain-Cheng family game. Marinette invited Chloe, Nino, and Adrien, who had become Tom and Sabine’s additional adopted children, when Tom walked in, with Nico trailing behind him. “Family game night to the max!” Tom cheered.

           Nico chuckled and gave everyone their hellos.

           Marinette holding a hat on her lap, “Time to pick the games tonight: Mom, Chloe, and Nico’s turn to draw from the hat.

           Sabine drew Uno.

           Chloe drew Pictionary.

           Nico drew dungeons and dragons which caused everyone in the room to groaned, “What?”

“That game always takes forever,” Nino whined.

           Marinette flopped on the couch dramatically, “Mom’s always the dungeon master and she never lets us win. Dad always dies before anything good starts.”

“We always get frustrated,” Chloe added with an eye-roll. “And snap and try to kill each other!”

“In the game?” Nico asked.

           Nino glared at his friends, “Not. Always. Marinette!” He called her out, and she had the decency to blush. “Some people walk with scars.”

“Mental and emotional ones,” Adrien winced. “Marinette.”

           Chloe caught Nico’s confused look, and explained, “Marinette’s a bit competitive.”

“A bit!” Everyone else in the room said.

“Let’s just play!” Marinette gave them a playful glare.

           Uno was fast. Marinette won, of course.

           Pictionary resulted in tears. (Sabine was just as competitive as her daughter, and Tom was a bit sensitive.)

           The Dungeons and Dragons came took hours. Tom died right away and was content to watch the show. The kids turned on each other by the second hour, and it took Nico’s taking leadership and forcing them all to work together to achieve victory, for the suffering to stop.

           By the end, nearly everyone in the room was dead asleep, their characters long since dead, apart from Marinette, Sabine, Adrien, and Nico. Until the die was rolled for the final time and Marinette raised her tired arms in victory, “Finally. Six hours, friends came together on a harrowing quest; the longest game of my life. And we finally, finally won!”

Seconds after she was cuddled against her mother, both having fallen asleep.

           Adrien gave them a sleepy smile from where he sat on the floor before every cell in his body suddenly felt like it was hit by lightning when he caught Nico’s dark eyes staring at him. It was then that Adrien realized that, with the others all asleep, this was the first time Nico and he were ever technically alone together.

Be cool, he thought. Just be cool, damn you.

           It was all for naught as Nico got up off the couch and went to sit next to Adrien, who let out a small happy squeak.

“Let’s talk,” Nico told Adrien, who fought to stop his entire body from shaking. “We’re sort of friends, right?”

           Adrien winced a little but nodded eagerly, “Yep, friends, totally. I’m happy being friends. Yeah, friendship!” He waved his fist around in a small cheer and died a little inside as soon as he did it.

Why am I such a loser, he asked himself.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes, sure,” Adrien said. “Anything. Whatever you want. You can ask me anything too. I’ll probably say yes. I’ll defiantly say yes. Yes!”

           Nico just gave him a small smile, “When I was just about your age, maybe a bit younger, I had a crush on this older guy Percy. I was ten when I met him. He was fourteen, almost fifteen. In my eyes, he was all my dreams come to life; a real-life Greek demi-god hero. He fought monsters, saved lives. I had the biggest crush on him instantly,” He told Adrien. “Not that I knew it then. I was too young. I was from a completely different time where things like a man liking a man just were okay, or… Or Legal. I didn’t handle it well. Even worse after my sister died and wrongly placed at least part of the blame of unfairly on him. It took me a long time to realize I never hated him, I hated myself. I only stopped hating myself when I realized and accepted I was gay. And a little bit in love with Percy.”

           Adrien had no idea where this was going but he listened intensely. He always enjoyed listening to Nico whenever he told tales about his life as a demigod.

“Still I ended up doing a lot of stupid things,” Nico said. “Just to get his attention, to help him; to get him to fall for me back. A lot of stupid things.” He chuckled. “When I found out he was Bi, I thought I had a chance. But I didn’t. I never would’ve. Percy just saw me as a brother. I was too young for him. Way too young. There was no way Percy could’ve ever seen me like that. I accepted that. I moved on. I got over him. I even admitted to him about my crush; after telling him that he wasn’t my type. Asshole fell down laughing.”

           Adrien laughed a bit.

“We’re still friends,” Nico added. “Great friends actually. And I’m glad. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

           The blond frowned and suddenly found the game board very interesting. Because, yes he did know why Nico was telling him this.

“You know I’m too told for you, right?” Nico asked quietly as to not wake up the others.

“Yeah,” Adrien nodded slowly, his throat felt a little dry, and his eyes stung. “I know. I kind of always knew.” He glanced at the Dungeons and Dragons, and a strange sense of hope-filled him. The blond shot the older dark-haired boy a smirk, “But I’m playing the long game.”

           Adrien tried to be hopeful about it. Or least pretend to but…

Chat Galore: I just got my heartbroken.

Iron’s Kid: That Douchebag. I knew that weird death kid was no good!

Chat Galore: He’s not that bad. He said I’m too young for him. I get he’s trying to be a good guy but…

Iron’s Kid: It still hurts.

Chat Galore: Yep

Iron’s Kid: I get that. How about we watch Star Wars and make fun of Kylo Ren, that’ll make you feel better!

Chat Galore: I’ve seen less teen angst in my high school. The dude has problems!

           And that’s what they did. They texted each other while watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens; sending each other stupid memes and jokes. And Adrien felt a lot better by the end it of it.

Chat Galore: Thanks for this btw. I think I really need this.

Iron’s Kid: No Problem

Iron’s Kid: And for what it’s worth, I’d never turn you down.

           Adrien stared at that message for an hour, mentally screaming. Because… What. The. Hell.

Chat Galore: Oh be quiet! Lol

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

           The next day, Adrien sent Iron’s Kid another request to meet. The answer was a simple: Not Yet. That was Fine. Adrien would wait.`

“You are not playing the long game, Adrien Agreste,” Chloe glared at him. “Do you hear me? I will not take this into my twenties.”

           They had talked Adrien into ditching one of his many lessons and were hanging out downtown. Eating ice cream.

“But!”

“No!”

“I agree with her man,” Nino said, and Adrien gave him big green puppy dog eyes. “You can spend your life swooning over some guy. There’s other fish in the sea.”

“I don’t want fish,” Adrien complained. “I just someone to ride the Ferris Wheel with me!”

“Ferris Wheel?” Nino asked confused.

“Gay culture,” Chloe explained.

           Marinette nodded, “We just mean that… You need to Get some more life skills. Learn how to talk to guys. Get cool!”

“I’m cool!” Adrien defended and was met with multiple snorts. “I am. I got my dad to let me have more freedom. I paint. I went to comic con last year. I ride the metro now. And I can talk guys. I’ve successfully learned how to be cool.”

           Chloe smirked, “Okay, let's see how you react when you see him,” She looked over his shoulder. “Guy’s been checking you out since we got here.”

“I’m cool,” Adrien said as he casually glanced over his shoulder and saw just who was checking him out, he let out a series of nervous chuckles. And couldn’t stop.

           The guy looked about his age, with dark hair and blue eyes, a jawline that was similar to ones Adrien’s had seen on Greek statues; and he had muscles, so many muscles. He sat on a park bench and was writing or sketching in a red notebook.

           Nino shook his head, “Yeah you still need some lessons in cool.”

“Lesson one: go talk to him,” Chloe demanded.

           Adrien’s eyes went wide, and he let out a squeak. “Nope! Can’t do it. Won’t do it!”

           His friends shared a look, and Adrien suddenly fears for his life. He found himself all but pushed/carried over to the guy on the park bench. He struggled a bit. Suddenly when they got close enough, Adrien was pushed (By gleeful and vindictive looking Chloe, his official witch of an ex-best friend), right into park bench guy, who caught him at the last second. And Adrien found himself sitting in the lap of a virtual stranger.

“Hi?” Adrien offered weakly. “Me and my friends were just talking about you.”

           The guy gave him a big smile, “I know,” He said. “I figured. I’m Jon.” He said with a southern American accent. “Jon Kent. And you can talk about me any time you want.”

“Adrien,” The blond laughed.  “Adrien Agreste.”

“I like your laugh, Adrien.”

“I like your smile, Jon.”

           Then Adrien’s phone started ringing. It was Nathalie and Adrien had to rush home. Mourning his chances of ever seeing Jon again. He was probably a tourist who’d be gone the next day, the blond figured.

Chat Galore: I have the worst luck with guys!

Iron’s Kid: I don’t know. I think you have better luck than you think.

Chat Galore: Lol. What’s up with you lately.

Iron’s Kid: Flash finally left me alone. All it took was a school field trip to my job. Suddenly I’m not a liar anymore!

Chat Galore: Oh I would’ve killed to his face, lol.

Iron’s Kid: It was basically the crying emoji.

Iron’s Kid: Oh yeah, I met this guy named Johnny; totally gorgeous, rides a motorcycle, and my dads’ hate him

Chat Galore: Last ones’s the best part, right?

Iron’s Kid: YES!!

           The next morning Adrien and his friends were happily sitting in the back of the class. The other kids in the class ignored them as usual. Even Lila more or less pretended they didn’t exist. (Though she had been reluctant to let Adrien go and had made several attempts to get him under her thumb. Until Adrien got his dad to fire her under threat of dying his hair neon green, and wearing plaid, the one pattern his father hated above all others.)

           They had entered a cold war with her. As long as she stopped trying to make their lives hell, they’d stop exposing trying to expose her.

           Bustier was once again proving she had no control over her classroom as she struggled to teach a simple history lesson about the French Revolution. It didn’t make a lick of sense and Bustier tried way to hard to get the kids to relate on a personal level.

“History shows that bad things happen when you don’t know who you are,” Bustier said just as the classroom door opened and in walked two boys and a girl.

           Adrien’s eyes went wide, and leaned over to Chloe, “Park bench guy!” He whispered.

“Foreign exchange students,” One of the boys said. He had dark hair, green eyes, olive skin, and a thoroughly unimpressed look on his handsome face. He wore a black turtle neck and slacks. “Damian Wayne, Gotham.”

“Lian Nguyen-Harper-Queen,” Said the girl. She had Auburn hair and gray eyes. Lian wore a pink headband, a pink cardigan over a white top and blue shorts.

“Hi I’m Jon Kent,” He said. Jon wore a red plaid shirt over a simple t-shirt and blue jeans. “I split my time between the Farm in Smallville and Metropolis.” He looked at the back of the classroom straight at Adrien. “And I’m happy to be here.”

           Bustier nodded, “Welcome. Always happy to get new students! Let's find you some seats…” She looked around the room.

“OH! Damian can sit with me!” Lila waved her hand. “I’ll be happy to show him around.”

“Declined,” Damian simply said. “We’ll sit in the back.”

           Alya leaned forward, “But Lila’s goes to Gotham and Metropolis all the time!” She said and didn’t notice the way Lila paled. She seemed to have forgotten Damian Wayne was apart of her many, many lies. “Damian, you showed her around last time she was there. You guys became such a good friend. She just wants to return the favor.”

           Damian scoffed, “I’ve never seen this girl before in my life.”

           Marinette smirked at Adrien, “You’re going to need to move. I have a new best friend.”

“Mean,” Adrien said. “But understandable. Still not moving.”

           Jon and Damian sat in empty seats in front of Adrien and Marinette.

           Jon turned around in his seat, “Hi.”

           Adrien smiled shyly, “Hi.”

           Then they just stared at each other.

           Chloe let out a long-suffering sigh, “Oh this gonna be exhausting.”

Iron’s Kid: Best day EVER!!!

Chat Galore: SAME! What happened?

Iron’s Kid: Johnny asked me out!

Chat Galore: AWESOME!!!

Chat Galore: Park Bench Guy is in my class NOW!!!

Iron’s Kid: ‘High Five’ Maybe fate DOESN’T hate us.

Chat Galore: …

Chat Galore: …I swear to the Gods if you jinxed us

           The two guys in class quickly joined the Adrien’s friends’ group. They blended in seamlessly like they were always there as the weeks went on. Before anyone knew it, they were pretty much attached to hips. Even going as far as joining family game night.

           Through them; Damian, Lian, and Jon were able to get all the information they needed to survive Paris. The three had heard whispers of Hawkmoth but had been a little shocked when the Akuma alert went off and everyone had to duck for cover. After the third or fourth time, the new kids got used to it and easily swallowed the excuses Marinette, Adrien, Chloe, and Nino made about having to run off and go home during alerts.

           Around the same time as the fourth akuma of the new semester hit, three new heroes arrived in Paris.

           Well, new wouldn’t necessarily be the right word. They weren’t new heroes, they were just new to Paris.

           Robin, Superboy, and Arrowette. They assisted in fighting back akuma that turned people into candy; a toddler whose mother refused to buy him sweets. Afterward, they explained that they would be in the city for quite some time, and would assist when they are able.

           They didn’t reveal why they were there though. All Robin said was, “Justice League business.” And the Parisian heroes decided to leave it at that after offering to help if needed.

           Paris went nuts over the arrival of the new heroes.

           Alya cried in class when she found out Ladybug gave Aurore the exclusive interview about what was going on. Ladybug also publically endorsed Bugout, Aurore’s website, as the only reliable main source for credible information on the Parisian heroes. She didn’t say a word about Ladyblog, which was pretty much all anyone needed to know what they had already expected.

           Ladybug hadn’t given an exclusive on the Ladybug blog in almost two years but now it was official…

           The Ladyblog was out. Alya was out.

           Time went on. The kids grew closer as friends. Jon and Adrien got closer as… Well, Adrien didn’t know.

           He did know that his dad despised Jon because of time he picked Adrien up wearing a green plaid shirt but Gabriel wouldn’t admit it. Jon was the son of famous reporters Lois Lane and Clark Kent, godson to Lex Luther. And Gabriel Agreste was anything but stupid.

“I miss my family,” Jon told Adrien one day while they were studying in the library. “All the time. But I guess also miss the pets I have.”

“I always wanted a dog,” Adrien said.

“In Smallville, I have twelve chickens,” Jon said. “Three horses, four pigs, two cows, and a dog.”

           The blond nodded, “You win. Tell me about them.”

           And Jon did. He told all about his life in Smallville and metropolis. And Adrien told him what it was like growing up in Paris and being a supermodel.

Adrien grinned, “I want to be a lawyer when I get older,” he told Jon. “I want to fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. Like I read about this law firm called Nelson and Murdock who take all these pro bono cases to help people who usually have no chance of winning against bigger, bad-er, and richer people. It gets really dangerous for them but they just keep helping. Because it’s the right thing to do. I want to do that too!”

“I think when I grow up…” Jon said slowly. “I want to be like my mom. She goes above and beyond to get her story; to find out what’s really going on in the world and reports it honestly. I want to do that too. I want to be an investigative journalist. I want to hunt down the truth. Because people deserve the truth, even if they don’t like it. I know the truth can be scary sometimes, and a bit sad. But They deserve to hear it. But I’ve probably said too much.” He laughed.

“No,” Adrien shook his head, and smiled, “Tell me more.”

Still the more their friendship and bonds of trust grew, the more Lila became frustrated.  As far as she was concerned things just weren’t going her way. First, she lost her future as the world-famous fashion model Lila Rossi/Mrs. Adrien Agreste. Then Damian Waynes comes to town and won’t even look twice at her; too busy trailing after Miss Goody two-shoes. Then she finds out that Jon Kent is the son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, godson of Lex Luther, only AFTER she privately threatened to make his life hell for siding with Marinette. She didn’t bother to try to get close to Lian Queen, granddaughter of Oliver Queen, the girl had been glaring at her since the second she heard Lila tell her first lie.

So instead of The Italian girl, once again, tried to sow dissension in the class, tried to force Damian to sit next to her; loudly bragged about her trips and famous people she knew to get attention. Damian ignored her. Then she tried making Marinette look bad again; lied about how the bluenette was bullying her. It didn’t work. Damian was quick to point out inconsistencies in her tales.

           That didn’t stop the class from believing them.

“Morons,” Damian called them one day after school.

“They’re not that bad,” Marinette tried.

“They kinda are, dudette,” Nino said. “I really expected Alya to catch on by now. But it’s like she doesn’t want to.”

           Chloe scoffed, “Of course she doesn’t!” The blond sneered. “She betrayed her best friend, ditched her best friend, broke up with her boyfriend, pretty much led the charge in exiling us, spread Lila’s lies on her blog which included Lies about Ladybug. It’s not just admitting she was wrong.”

“It’s having to deal with consequences,” Lian agreed. “That Alya got herself into this mess. If Marinette and all us aren’t the bad guys in this, that means she is. That’s a hard pill to swallow.”

           Jon shook his head, “I don’t understand why Lila lies so much,” he said. “Dad’s always told me honesty is the best policy.”

“You’re a long way from the farm, boy scout,” Damian tsk’d.

“Damian,” Marinette sighed and grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled him away.

           Adrien snickered, “Those two are so into each other, it’s not even funny!”

“I know,” Jon laughed in agreement. “I’ve never seen Damian be so nice to anyone before. I’ve known him since we were in the sandbox, and he just stopped calling me Kent last year.”

“Yeah…” Chloe drawled. “Watching two people dance around each other for months, neither making a move. It’s the worst.”

“Waiting for one of them to finally make a move,” Nino said, “Literally. Kill. You. Inside.”

           Lian nodded, “They like each other. Everyone knows they like each other. And Yet nothing. And we'll have no choice but watch and wait for them to pull their heads out of their asses,” She told them. “When all you want to scream is: hey, you two! Just freaking kiss already!”

“Yep the absolute worst,” Nino repeated.

           Then Lian, Chloe, and Nino stared blatantly at Jon and Adrien who merely shrugged.

“Damian will make a move soon,” Jon assured.

“I’ll try to get Marinette to say something,” Adrien promised.

“…I hate you,” Chloe said.

           Adrien gave her another confused look. Because what did he do wrong now?

Chat Galore: Dude!

Iron’s Kid: Dude!

Chat Galore: I need Hufflepuff support now!

Iron’s Kid: …Crap, I never told you Pottermore sorted me into Gryffindor, did i?

Chat Galore: WHAT!

Chat Galore: Traitor. Never talk to me again

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

“How do I look?” Marinette asked as she twirled around in the living room. She wore a soft pink dress. Her hair was down and slightly curved. She looked like a princess from a fairytale.

“Flawless,” Adrien said, for the tenth time. “Why am I here?”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “Because!” She said. “You’re my bestie. I have my first real date. Chloe’s shopping with Lian. Nino won’t answer my calls. I need you here!”

“Take a deep breath, Mari!” Adrien told her. “You look absolutely beautiful. Damian’s already head over heels for you, and the way you look is gonna make his purpose.”

           The bluenette blushed a lovely pink, “Shut up!”

           The door opened, and in walked Nico, “Looking lovely, niece,” He said. “Big date tonight, huh?”

“Yes,” Marinette sighed dreamily. “He’ll be here soon.”

           Nico smirked, “Good. Don’t worry, I’ll only threaten him a little.”

“Nico!”

           The dark-haired boy chuckled before flopping down on the couch. “Hey, Adrien.”

           Adrien felt his mind go a little mushy. He never quite got over his crush on the older boy. At least not yet.

           The two still hung out every now and then, still always with Marinette. Nico frequently split his time between New York and Paris. So Adrien didn’t see him that often, though Nico had been around to wish Adrien a happy 16th birthday.

           Adrien tried to play it cool, but ended up sitting in awkwardly in the recliner, “Hey Nico!” His voice squeaked, and once more Adrien wanted to die.

           The doorbell rang.

           Damian brought Marinette a dozen red roses, let himself be mildly threatened by Nico, endured the massive amount of pictures Tom and Sabine took and ignored Adrien’s snickering in the background. Then the two love birds were gone. Sabine and Tom went to go finish closing the bakery for the night. And then it was just Adrien and Nico.

“So,” Nico said as he put his feet on the couch. “What are you doing tonight, Blond Wonder? Any plans?”

           Adrien shook his head, “Not really,” Jon was visiting his parents. Nino was watching his siblings. “I’ll just go home and watch Bleach. Or something.” Stuff his mouth with the hidden box of Oreos he had.

“Why don’t you hang out with me?” Nico offered. “The Maltese Falcon at the old theater on 3rd street. It’s your favorite right?”

           Adrien nodded eagerly, “Me and my Mom used to watch it all the time.”

           The two had a great time at the movie theater and ended up staying to watch another movie. They laughed. They ate lots of overpriced junk food. They talked. And Adrien finally managed to have a non-blushing, stammering, mind mushed, conversation with Nico. It was still just a bit awkward but it was not the cause of something either of them did.

           At the end, Nico walked Adrien to the front door of his house.

“It’s weird,” Nico said, “But I kind of always forget how great it is hanging out with you.”

           Adrien shrugged, “You’re not too bad yourself,” Then he smirked, “Though you’d probably be happier if you add some color to your wardrobe. Do own anything that’s not the color of sadness?”

           Nico barked a laugh, “I am the son of Hades,” He defended himself. “It’s our aesthetic, okay. And we all can’t be made from rainbows and sunshine.”

“Excuses.”

           The dark-haired boy shook his head, and smirked at Adrien, “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.” He said as he backed away.

“Yeah,” Adrien smiled. “Go to the beach, see what happens when you go out in the daylight. Even money, you burst into flames.

Nico chuckled as he turned around, “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Night, Twilight!”

“You’re dead to me!” Nico called back.

Ladybug and Chat Noir and the other Parisian heroes got used to the Three Justice League sidekicks appearing out of nowhere and assisting in battle. It had been strange at first; a little tense. Mostly due to Robin interrogating them every chance he got. Arrowette glaring menacingly at them. Even Superboy was a bit intimidating. Still, they never revealed why there in Paris.

           During this time, Adrien and Jon became much better friends. And the blond started to suspect that Jon would prefer to just stay friends with him.

Iron’s Kid: Johnny and Me are over.

Chat Galore: Ouch. What happened?

Iron’s Kid: ‘Dramatic Sigh’ we’re just too different, you know?

Chat Galore:  Different is not always bad. You really liked him, right?

Chat Galore: And did you actually type ‘Dramatic Sigh’, you dramatic bitch?

Iron’s Kid: I like that he was different at first. But we barely had anything in common. We were fire in and ice. Sure it is steamy at first but when the steam is gone…

Iron’s Kid: And yes I did

Chat Galore: You okay?

Iron’s Kid: I’m fine. I just realized I want someone I can talk to about everything and nothing.

Chat Galore: Someone to geek out over Star Trek with, and go to when you need a shoulder to lean on.

Iron’s Kid: Someone who’d stay up all night talking just because he wants to be there for me.

Chat Galore: Dating shouldn’t be this hard

Iron’s Kid: It’ll only get harder.

Chat Galore: Shut. Up.

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

For Marinette’s sixteenth birthday, she had a party. It was much bigger than she wanted, but not smaller than her friends tried to make it. The bluenette was always there for them, and they wanted to remind her how special was.

           However, for the first time, Adrien was pleased to say, he was not the one trying to overdue everything to the extreme. Chloe was pleased that she wasn’t the one making the party planner cry whenever she called them. Nino was pleased that he wasn’t the one to be overly critical of the musical entertainment for being just a bit subpar.

           No! That was Damian Wayne.

           And unlike Marinette’s best friends, Marinette’s boyfriend’s craziness could not be contained.

           The party was huge. There were hundreds of balloons. Everyone was wearing fanciest party clothes. There were hundreds of balloons. Gourmet food. All of Marinette’s friends, close acquaintances, and anyone who loved and or adored her had shown up. Jagged had come. Cara Nightingale did a surprise performance.

           Adrien had a blast. His friends found out that while the blond boy had lessons in practically everything, dance wasn’t one of them. He was a terrible dancer. Laughably bad. Still, everyone had fun. Nino danced in a giant glow in the dark dinosaur costume.

           Then Marinette, Adrien, Nino, Chloe got on stage and sang Born to Brave from High School Musical: The Series. Damian, Jon, and Lian joined them. The crowd sang with. Bubbles filled the air. It was exhilarating.

           So much so that Adrien stepped out to take a small break. He sat on a white wood bench outside, looking up at the stars, and let the cool brisk night air relax him. Even from where he sat, he could still hear music playing from the party.

“Needed a breather,” Jon asked as he sat down next to Adrien.

“Parties,” Adrien shrugged. “They can be a bit much.”        

           Jon shifted in his seat, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

           Then Blue eyes met green…

           And then everything suddenly felt really the world was holdings breath. Adrien had no idea where the tension came from but it was there. And it was like he was waiting for some imaginary bubble to burst. And Adrien just…  Ugh!

           He glanced down at his hands, suddenly not knowing what to do with them. He was also intensely aware of every millimeter Jon so much as moved. In fact, Adrien was aware of everything, including how many times he was blinking.

“This kind of reminds me of how we met,” Adrien finally blurted.

           Jon cast him a curious look but nodded, “Yeah, the park bench, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

           There it went quiet.

“Why are parties a bit much?” Jon asked.

“Not all parties,” Adrien said. “Just the ones my dad usually drags me to. Everyone is always overly polite while giving backhanded compliments; they pretend to be nice but they don’t mean it. No one’s straight forward.  I don’t know why it is so hard.”

“It’s not!” Jon turned to him. “Let’s try it now. Hi, I’m Jon and…” He took two plugs out of his ears, “…I wear earplugs because I can’t handle loud noises sometimes.”

           Adrien chuckled, “Hi. I’m Adrien. And apparently, I’m a terrible dancer.”

“God Awful!”

“Hey!”

           Jon laughed, “My little Pony is one my favorite shows.

“I once had an imaginary friend named Phineas!”

“I like fried broccoli!”

“I like fried Oreos.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Oh because fried broccoli so much better.”

“Hey, being straight forward here!” Jon defended. “I like raining days over sunny.”

           Adrien smiled, “I like you,” he took a deep breath. “Like really like you.” He glanced down and then back up at Jon and tried to be brave. “Like I the way I thought you might’ve used to like me but don’t anymore.”

“Really?” Jon asked looking just a bit stunned. “How very straight forward of you.”

           Adrien stood up quickly, slightly panicked, “That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say. If you don’t like me anymore, I get it.” He said. “I… I just really wanted you to tell you. Even if you change your mind.”

“Adrien,” Jon said, standing up too, facing the blond. “I’ve never changed my mind.” Then he leaned forward and kissed Adrien. “I really like you too.”

           Adrien and Jon held hands as they walked back into the party.

           Later, after the party ended, Adrien would tell Marinette, Chloe, and Nino about his first kiss, and go partially death from Marinette and Chloe’s screams.

Chat Galore: You know what I like?

Chat Galore: Life!

Iron’s Kid: Things going good then?

Chat Galore: Jon kissed me. My grades are perfect. My dad’s letting me cut back on modeling.

Iron’s Kid: Awesome! You’ve need a break.

Chat Galore: We need a happy song!

Iron’s Kid: We. Do. Not.

Chat Galore: We need a happy song so when we can sing the happy song when we’re happy.

Iron’s Kid: We will never have a happy song.

Iron’s Kid: That’s more of a Hufflepuff thing

Chat Galore: I’d be offended if it wasn’t true!

           Adrien’s life really was going great. He became good friends with Nico. Lila’s lies in the class were starting to unravel, and she was quickly losing her supporters. Jon and him were sort of, kind of, officially dating. The sun was shining. Rainbows were everywhere.

           …He should’ve known it wouldn’t last forever.

           Adrien got a 911 group text from Chloe; with like a dozen exclamation points and several frowny faces so he knew it was serious.

           When he got to Chloe’s place, he found Marinette and Nino already waiting on the couch, while Chloe paced the floor. Adrien joined on the couch.

“Okay,” Marinette said. “We’re all here. What’s up? What’s the emergency?”

“They’re spies,” Chloe hissed, rage clear on her face. “Lian, Jon, Damian; they’ve been spying on us all this time.”

“What? Dude, no way!” Nino shook his head. “They’re our friends. Lian hates traitors!”

“Damian would never!” Marinette denied. “He loves me. I love him.”

           Adrien agreed, “They’d never do that us. Jon couldn’t. He’s like the most honest kid ever.”

           Chloe picked up a nearby face and smashed against the wall, “They’re two-faced lying little creeps.” She yelled. Though it was clear she was angry, they could also see the hurt clear in the blonde’s eyes.

“Chloe…” Marinette started slowly but was cut off.”

“Lian is Arrowette!” Chloe growled. “Jon’s Superboy. And I’ll give you one big fat guess who Damian is. And for the record he is not as wonderful as his nickname implies.”

           Pollen flew out from wherever she was hiding, “It’s true!” She said. “I saw them myself. They are the American heroes.”

“Pollen followed them,” Chloe explained. “She saw everything. They’ve been following us. Reporting intel to the Justice League all about us. That’s why they’re here. That’s why they got close to us. They know we’re heroes!”

           Horror and understandingly slowly crept over Nino, Marinette, and Adrien’s faces.

Pollen nodded eagerly, “They have reports all about your lives in and out of the mask. It's very detailed.”

           Adrien was glad he was sitting down because he felt like the floor has disappeared under his feet. Shakily, he stood up, “I need too…” He shook his head. “I have too…” He couldn’t finish his sentence instead he just ran from the room.

           And kept running and running.

           Until he found himself standing in front of the apartment where Jon, Lian, and Damian lived. He stared at the olive green door as if he didn’t recognize it. As if he hadn’t been there, in that same spot, standing in front of that door, a hundred times before.

           He closed his eyes and he knocked.

           Jon opened the door, “Adrien!” He had a large grin on his face that slowly disappeared when he saw the look on the blond boy’s face.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah!” Jon moved out of the way to let Adrien pass. “Is everything okay?”

           Adrien walked into the living room and saw Damian and Lian sitting on the couch, “Go see Marinette,” He ordered Damian. “If you want any chance of saving your relationship, if you ever really loved her like you said you; you will go see Her. Right. Now.”

           That was all Damian needed to here to fly out of the room.

           Adrien turned to Lian, “I need to speak with Jon alone, please,” He said as politely as possible. “I would suggest going to go speak with Nino and Chloe.”

           Lian frowned but nodded and left the room.

“Adrien, what’s going on?” Jon asked again. “You’re scaring me.”

           Adrien let out a shorter bitter laugh, “I’m going to ask you three questions, and I need to be honest with me, okay? Is your name Jon Kent?

“Yes,” Jon stated firmly. “Jonathan Kent Lane.”

“Are we friends?”

“Of course!”

           Adrien nodded and swallowed the lump that was building in his throat, “Why did you really come to Paris?”

           Jon frowned, “I’m here on a foreign exchange-” Adrien cut him off.

“Don’t lie to me, Superboy!”

           The boy of Steel flinched back.

“Tell me it isn’t true!” Adrien all but begged. “Tell me you didn’t come here to spy on Chat Noir and Ladybug and everyone else. Tell me this wasn’t all a big lie. Tell me you weren’t using me for information. Tell me! Tell me wrong I’m, please.”

“Adrien…” Jon whispered, pain on his face. “I’m sorry.”

           That was Adrien needed to here. “All this time. You… I thought… Was any of it real? Was anything you ever told me real? Do I even know you?” He asked. “

“The Justice League was concerned about Hawkmoth,” Jon tried to explain. “They received intelligence that Ladybug and Chat Noir were teenagers, and wanted to know more. They sent us.”

           Adrien just stared at him, “I like you,” He said. “I really liked you. You were my friend, Did you do all just because you were ordered to?”

“No!” Jon nodded, “I swear. I’d never do that to you, to anyone.”

“But you thought it was okay to kiss me,” Adrien said “To date me! When I had no idea who you are really?”

           Jon tossed his hands in the air, “You know who I am. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the same guy. I’m still me!”

“Everything’s changed!” Adrien yelled. “I’m questioning everything. Everything I’ve ever said to you, everything we ever did together!” His entire body shook. “You were sent to get close to us. You were sent to get close to me. To. Get. Information.”

           It went quiet. Neither knowing what to say.

“…That day in the park,” Adrien whispered. “You were on the bench and Chloe thought you were checking me out. You weren’t, were you? You were watching me, us. Gathering intel. Weren’t you?”

           Jon looked away, “…Yeah, I was.”

You knew I was Chat Noir even then?”

“I did.”

Adrien nodded, “It’s been a lie since the beginning,” He clenched his fists. “In the library, you told me that people deserve the truth. I believed in you. I trusted you. I told you things I’ve haven’t even told people who’ve known my entire life. Because I trusted you. I trusted you were honest and good and you would tell me the truth. Why didn’t I deserve the truth?”

He looked up at the mantle that was covered in pictures of people that Adrien knew as friends and family of Jon, Damian, and Lian, and at all of the pictures of Chloe, Nino, Adrien, and Marinette together with the three; laughing and smiling. And it hurt to look at it. “You’ve been here for almost a year. You three pretended to be our friends, to care, for almost a year.”

“It wasn’t pretend. Or a lie,” Jon looked ready to cry. “You are our friends!”

           Adrien ran a hand through his hair, “Then Why? If we were your friends, why?”

Jon shrugged, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. Everything was so complicated. We were never supposed to be here this long. It was our first big mission. The first mission JL trusted us to handle alone. I could give you a thousand excuses but I know they wouldn’t be good enough.”

“They wouldn’t be,” Adrien agreed. “They aren’t. They never will be.”

           It went silent again. Jon and Adrien just stared at each other.

“You weren’t sent to get close us,” Adrien repeated. “Not just learn about Hawkmoth. But you were specifically sent to get close us; learn who we are as heroes and as civilians. Hawkmoth was a bonus. But you were sent for Ladybug and Chat Noir and Queen Bee and Carapace. Right?”

Jon looked down, away from Adrien’s soul-piercing gaze, and admitted, “You were the mission.”

Adrien closed his eyes, stood up straight, and with every ounce of control he could muster, he calmly said, “Goodbye, Jon.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” Jon said.

“That doesn’t really matter, because, in the end, it all hurts the same,” Adrien replied and left.

For the next few hours, Jon saying, “You were the mission,” Kept echoing in Adrien’s head on a loop.

Not long after leaving Jon’s place, Adrien would find himself in Marinette’s room, letting the bluenette cry her eyes out into his shoulder, shedding his own tears too. Chloe would arrive next with bloodshot eyes, and cuddle next to them. Nino, just after her, looking like a wreck and would take the spot next to Adrien.

It would be hours before they’d calm themselves down. But it wouldn’t be until the next day that any of them managed to ask what they should next.

Chloe spitefully suggested kicking them out of Paris.

Nino agreed halfheartedly.

Adrien was fine with just ignoring them. At least he hoped that he could. He would try really, really hard to.

Marinette didn’t say a word. Instead, she just let them talk with a faraway look on her face.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter.

By Monday, Jon, Damian, and Lian would be gone. Bustier would announce that the exchange program ended.

And Adrien would find himself frequently staring at Jon’s empty seat.

Chat Galore: So it turns out… Jon’s a big jerk

Chat Galore: He wasn’t who I thought he was.

Chat Galore: It’s complicated but to summarize he’s a jerk.

Iron’s Kid: Screw Prince Charming if he turned out to be a warty, jerky frog.

Iron’s Kid: You deserve better.

Chat Galore: To quote Gabriella Montez: Now I know you're not a fairy tale And dreams were meant for sleeping And wishes on a star Just don't come true

Iron’s Kid: Crap, you're quoting high school musical. You're really hurting, aren’t you.

Iron’s Kids: Want to watch shitty Disney Channel movies and talk?

Chat Galore: …Yes.

            Three months, two weeks, six days, nine hours, and twelve minutes. That was how long it took for Adrien to move on. For all of them to move on from the sense of betrayal.

Iron’s Kid: YOU STILL HAVEN’T WATCHED PRINCESS BRIDE

Chat Galore: It doesn’t seem like that good of a movie

Iron’s Kid: ‘Insulted Gasp’ How. Dare. YOU!

Chat Galore: You still have watched Vampire Diaries!

Iron’s Kid: I have taste!

           It took almost three weeks for Chloe to stop growling whenever someone mentioned Damian, Jon, or Lian’s name.

Iron’s Kid: I might need to hide out in Paris for a while

Chat Galore: Did you blow up your dad’s lab again?

Iron’s Kid: Worse!

Chat Galore: You superglue legos to your Pop’s shield again.

Iron’s Kid: That was an accident. They were supposed to come right off. And it's worse.

Chat Galore: Melt another hole in your living room floor?

Iron’s Kid: So. SO much worse.

Chat Galore: You didn’t call Natasha fat did you?

Iron’s Kid: Never that bad

Iron’s Kid: I may or may not have caused MJ’s laptop to crash

Chat Galore: … Shit

Chat Galore: Not even the gods could save you.

           A month for Marinette to not look like she wanted to cry when she thought about Damian.

Chat Galore: I’ve decided to learn to cook

Iron’s Kid: Sweet

Chat Galore:  Just think One day you will try my cooking.

Iron’s Kid: Sorry, Can’t I’m on a new diet.

Chat Galore: WHAT DIET?

Iron’s Kid: Photosynthesis

           Two months for Nino to redownload all the songs he deleted because Lian recommended them.

Iron’s Kid: Archie is one of my best friends

Chat Galore: *doing the Fortnite dance*

Iron’s Kid: I lied I don’t know you

           Three months for Adrien to be able to sit in the park and not think about Jon.

Iron’s Kid: I think are MJ and Shure are laughing at me

Chat Galore: Don't be so paranoid

Iron’s Kid: They're pointing at me and laughing.

           In the fourth month, things are pretty much the same as they ever were. Though everyone picked up the habit of pretending they didn’t know Marinette started texting Damian again. Eventually, the gang was okay when Marinette announced she was seeing Damian again; even if they, themselves, decided not to deal with the American heroes.

Chat Galore: I really thought 2020 would be a great year!!!

Iron’s Kid: …WWIII was trending in the first week of January.

           Time went on. Adrien went on dates, had fun, had a boyfriend or two. He grew up a bit, and kind of understood the position Jon had been in better. And then he wasn’t so angry. Still, a bit hurt though.

Iron’s Kid: I’m sending good vibes your way, they’re coming and there is nothing you can do to stop the

Chat Galore: that is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

           By the time summer hit, Adrien decided to take a step back from love and romance and just focus on himself. He finally told his dad his wanted to be a Lawyer, and to his surprise, his dad helped him get a summer internship at a prestigious law firm.

Chat Galore: I’ve decided if I kill Lila, I’ll make it look like an accident.

Chat Galore: Unlike Chloe who has plans to mount her head on the balcony like a warning to the next that may come

Iron’s Kid: How will you make it look like an accident?

Chat Galore: I have a crowbar and a banana.

Iron’s Kid: Quick request: Go look up accident in the dictionary.

He quit modeling because he never really liked it. He found out he liked to paint and was pretty good at it. He tried and failed to learn how to dance.

           He did learn to surf.

           Adrien hung out a lot with Nico, who had become a good friend.

           By the time summer ended, the gang was back on speaking terms with Damian, Lian, and Job. Mostly at Marinette’s behest. She and Damian were going strong. And she really wanted everyone to forgive and forget and be friends.

           Chloe just agreed to be civil.

           Nino agreed to try being friends again after the three apologized.

           Adrien, mostly out of love for his all but sister Marnette, put his best foot forward and start over with them – even Jon. They agreed to be friends. Just friends.

Iron’s Kid: I don’t have a nervous system.

Iron’s Kid: I am a nervous system.

Chat Galore: I’m a Scorpio!

Their final year of school started with a bang. Next year they would all be off at University. And by Bang, Adrien meant Alya knocking Lila the fuck out during the first week.

           Lila had told the one lie Alya couldn’t just live in denial with.

“I told Ladybug, I just couldn’t do it anymore,” Lila sighed, “I already have so many medical issues. I couldn’t be Rene Rouge anymore. Ladybug was devasted.”

           Then the entire class heard Lila scream, and the thing they knew Alya was on top of Lila beating the hell out of her, screaming, “You lying little WITCH!!”

Chat Galore: ‘Video Sent’

Iron’s Kid: Lila’s the girl on the floor right?

Chat Galore: Alya SNAPPED

           Lila transferred out of the school Alya transferred out of class. No one got an apology. Adrien didn’t know why he was still a little surprised.

           Outside of school, Adrien was pleased to say the gang’s friendship with Jon, Lian, and Damian was back to full force. Even Chloe greeted the three warmly.

           Once Adrien decided to move passed any lingering romantic feelings for Jon, they managed to have a pretty good friendship. Even the Superboy and Chat Noir team-ups were going well.

Chat Galore: what should I be for Halloween this year?

Iron’s Kid:  a vampire, Batman, my boyfriend, Superman

           Adrien laughs until everything processed in his mind.

Chat Galore: What?

           He didn’t get a reply. And Adrien figured it was just autocorrected. But still… his mind couldn’t help but wonder. Just a bit… What if?

           A while ago, he had vaguely considered that maybe him and Iron’s Kid had something, could possibly be…

In the middle of Winter break, Adrien got the best gift he could’ve ever asked for.

Iron’s Kid: I’ve been thinking

Chat Galore: Well that can’t end well

Iron’s Kid: Have you and MJ been talking behind my back

Iron’s Kid: Wait don’t answer that. I’m afraid to know

Iron’s Kid: Ned made a point the today

           Adrien waited for Iron’s Kid to elaborate more, because what?

Iron’s Kid: I’ve been stupid.

Chat Galore: Ned makes a good point, lol

Iron’s Kid: WHAT I’m TRYING TO say is; I trust you

           Adrien smiled as his phone.

Iron’s Kid: We’ve been friends since we were like 11

Iron’s Kid: I want to meet

Iron’s Kid: I want to know what you look like.

           Adrien agreed instantly. Because he’s been waiting for like six years. They agreed to meet up that spring. Iron’s Kid’s was going on a trip to Europe for his spring break. It was just going to be him and a few classmates who were in the same club as him. Iron’s Kid said everyone else in their grade was looking forward to the Big Senior Ski Trip at the Brown Bear Ski Lodge that happened every year.

Adrien had family in England. They would meet at six pm at the London’s Eye.

Chat Galore: I always figured you were secretly a werewolf and knew we’d automatically be enemies.

Iron’s Kid: Wait, why would we be enemies?

Iron’s Kid: Oh You’re a Cat!

Chat Galore: And You’re supposed to be a genius.

Iron’s Kid: Meow!

           Adrien’s seventeenth birthday came and went without any fireworks; metaphorical ones anyway. His party was huge.

           He also met the Justice League and got to watch Chloe cuss out the greatest heroes in the world for the invasion of privacy. Marinette, Adrien, and Nino just watched with smiles on their faces.

           He was counting down the days. Until he and Iron’s Kid finally met. It was strange to think it was really going to happen.

Chat Galore: Would you say you’re an independent person?

Iron’s Kid: MJ told me to say to yes.

Chat Galore: Stop being weird.

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

           Adrien chuckled.

“What?” Marinette asked. He showed her the text. “It kind of funny.

“Not the Mj thing,” Adrien shook his head. “Iron’s Kid always says ‘As You wish’ whenever I tell him to do something. It’s weird.”

“…Like in Princess Bride,” Marinette asked.

           Adrien shrugged, “Never seen it. It’s one of Iron’s favorite though. Irritates him that I refuse to watch it. But I won’t until he watches the Vampire Diaries.”

           Marinette stared at him, “And Iron’s Kid says ‘As you Wish’ every time.”

“Yep.”

“Adrien, WATCH. THAT. MOVIE,” Marinette ordered a firm look on her face.

           Adrien pointed at her, “No!” He said firmly. “It goes against my principles.” She shot him a curious look. “I have a duty to annoying Iron’s Kid in any way I can.”

           The bluenette nodded understandingly, a small smile on her face, “Makes sense,” She said. “I totally accept your reasoning.”

           Adrien smiled happily… Like a fool.

           In retrospect, he should’ve known Marinette would never back down that easily.

           And that was how he ended up literally hogtied on the couch, the Princess Bride playing on the TV, with a smug Chloe and a gleeful Marinette next to him. Nino watched from the recliner with an easy grin on his face.

“You’ve could’ve helped!” Adrien complained to his friend.

           Nino shrugged, “I did help!” He defended. “…Them.”

           Adrien sighed and allowed himself to watch the movie; he fully knows two things.

One; there was no way he was getting out of this

Two; Iron’s Kid was never going to let him live this down.

           The movie was actually pretty good. But then…

           The scene played…

Grandpa: Nothing gave Buttercup as much pleasure as ordering Westley around.

Buttercup: Farm boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.

Westley: As you wish.

Grandpa: "As you wish" was all he ever said to her.

Buttercup: Farm boy, fill these with water - please.

Westley: As you wish.

Grandpa: That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying "As you wish," what he meant was, "I love you." And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.

Buttercup: Farm boy ... fetch me that pitcher.

Westley: As you wish.

           Adrien’s mind went blank. His heart started beating faster than it ever had before. It couldn’t mean…

           Iron’s kid didn’t mean…

           Right?

           But what if he did.

           Adrien always sort of held a small torch for his penpal. And he never had any concrete evidence that said he felt the same. And he was waiting until he did.

           But what if Iron’s Kid was waiting too. What if he was waiting for Adrien to finally say something; to finally get his message.

Chat Galore: So…

Iron’s Kid: So… Did we agree to stop sending cryptic messages

Chat Galore: We did not

Chat Galore: So I finally watched Princess Bride

Iron’s Kid: YES!!!!!!!!! Finally!!! Fuck yeah! Tell you me loved it.

Chat Galore: It was good, you freaking loser

Iron’s Kid: It’s amazing. It’s a classic you asshat

Chat Galore: Learned something interesting though

Chat Galore: ‘As you wish’, huh? You say a lot

Chat Galore: To me.

           Adrien stared as his phone waiting for a reply. It came after ten minutes.

Iron’s Kid: I do.

Chat Galore: Does it mean what it's supposed to.

           Another five minutes, and it felt agony.

Iron’s Kid: It does

           Adrien screamed a little

Chat Galore: Are you seriously just going to give me two-word answers? Why didn’t just you tell me

Iron’s Kid: In a way I sort of did

           Adrien glared at the phone.

Chat Galore: You are the most frustrating person to ever exist!!!!!!

Iron’s Kid: Thank you

           Adrien took a deep breath before dialing, “You suck!” He said as soon as it answered.

“I told you to watch the movie,” Iron’s kid defended.

           Adrien gripped his hair, “You don’t tell someone you love them by using some obscure 80s movie reference!” He snapped. “How hard would it be to say: Iron’s Kid, I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve-years-old.”

           It went quiet as both processed what Adrien just said.

“…That’s oddly specific,” Iron’s kid whispered.

           Adrien took a deep breath, “Yeah it is.” He said. He was forcing himself to be brave, braver than he ever had before. “But its how I feel. And I can’t help that.”

“I love you too,” Iron’s kid said. “And I’ve loved you since the first time stayed up talking while Binge-watching Harry Potter. It was the first time I realized you know me best in the entire world, and you don’t even know my real name. I could be honest with you in a way I can’t be with anyone. If I could dream up the perfect guy, he wouldn’t even come close to you.”

“Boys meets world,” Adrien let out a small laugh, that sounded a bit more like a sob. “Most of my life I felt alone, even when I was with people. That was until I met you.”

“Pretty little liars,” Iron’s Kid stated.

“In a few weeks, we’re finally gonna meet.”

“I’ll be there,” Iron’s kid said. “I swear.”

           Adrien smiled, “Good because I’ve been waiting for six years. And I know this is scary, but I will be there. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” He promised.

           Valentine’s day came and went.

           Adrien was literally marking off the days on the calendar.  The trip was all planned already; Nino, Chloe, and Marinette were tagging along.

           Iron’s Kid and Adrien talked every day.        

“Okay if you sigh dreamily one more...” Nico teased.

           Adrien flushed a bright pink, “I’m finally gonna meet Iron’s Kid.”

“Ahh,” Nico nodded understandingly. “The mysterious penpal. It’s been what seven years?”\

“Six,” Adrien corrected. “Feels like twice that. We like each other,” He admitted. “Like really, really each other. We told each other a few weeks ago.’

           Nico frowned, “Just before meeting each other. Sounds like a lot of pressure. You ready for that?”

           The blond took a deep breath, “Yeah, I think so. It’s time. It’s going to be perfect. We’re gonna meet at London’s eyes, under the stars; it’ll be like a movie.”

“Your Ferris wheel moment,” Nico concluded. “Marinette told me,” The older boy explained. “Just… be careful okay.”

“I will be.”

           Nico gave him a hard look, “I’m serious. I know you. You’re all in. You always are,” he said. “Just don’t build this some more than you should. Don’t go in thinking it’ll be this picture-perfect movie moment. I don’t want to see you let down.” He told Adrien. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

           Adrien gave him a small smile, “I don’t care if the Ferris wheel is broken when I get there. Or its raining cats and dogs. It’ll be perfect.”

“Just be careful,” Nico repeated.

           The big day came. Adrien arrived in England on late Thursday with a stomach full of butterflies. Iron’s Kid had texted that he had been in London with his friends for a few days and that he couldn’t wait to see Adrien.

Iron’s Kid: I have brown hair. I’ll be wearing black slacks, and a rose lapel flower pin.

It wasn’t the first time the blond had been to England; he had more than a few photoshoots there. Yet somehow it all felt different. It all felt new. And it was like he was looking at everything again for the first time.

           He was to meet Iron’s Kid on Saturday at 6 pm. And he could barely contain himself

           He spent most of the Friday touring with his friends. They went to Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, The British Museum; standard tourist spots. And eating really, really British cuisine.

           Adrien woke up bright and early on Saturday and pretty much had a panic attack. It took Nino twenty minutes to calm him down. However, even when he was breathing normally again, Adrien was adamant about running back to Paris. That was when Nino called in Marinette and Chloe as reinforcements.

“If I have to drag to London’s Eye by your tacky boyband haircut,” Chloe growled. “I will.”

           Marinette tried the nice route, “Everything’s going to be fine,” She assured.

Chloe huffed, “I didn’t come all the way to London so you can be a little bitch.”

“You are so hostile,” Nino complained.

“What if this a mistake?” Adrien asked. “What if he’s disappointed? What if he takes one look at me, and is ‘You? I waited six years, and I get you. Waste of time.”

“That won’t happen!” Marinette said. “He’s gonna love you. He already does!”

           Nino nodded, “Yeah. You two are practically soulmates.”

“No!” Chloe held up a finger. “Listen to me clearly, Adrien Agreste; Just because he likes the same nerdy crap you do doesn't mean he's your soul mate. And if it doesn’t work out, not that it won’t, you will be just fine.”

           Marinette sighed, “No matter what happens everything is going to be okay.” She said firmly. “But you should really change that blazer. It’s not doing you any favors. Then we’re going to get breakfast and go to the museum. You have 11 hours until you have to be at the London’s eye. You’re going to relax until.”

“While we stop you from fleeing the country,” Nino yawned tiredly.

           That had to stop Adrien at least three times. One time Ladybug actually had appeared to pick Adrien up when he was halfway to the airport. This was all before one pm.

           The blond boy managed to calm down after that. Then he went back to bursting with excitement.  He was still afraid but he couldn’t let that stop him. Adrien has been waiting six years to meet Iron’s Kid, to meet Iron’s Kid.

           He arrived at the London’s eye, half an hour before six. He wore a silver suit Marinette had designed for him.

           Adrien took calming breaths. Marinette rolled her eyes as she fixed his tie, “See? This isn't so bad. You look amazing.”

“Are you kidding?” He gave her a nervous smile, “He traveled over three thousand miles to me. Any second now he's gonna get here, look at me and go, "Ha. Yeah, right, you're so not worth this.”

           Marinette gave him a hard look, “Yes, you are.” She patted his chest. “Take a lot of pictures. Text if you need anything.”

           And then she was gone.

           Adrien texted Iron’s Kid.

Chat Galore: I’m here. Blond; silver suit.

           The blond looked up at the London’s eyes, the biggest Ferris wheel had ever seen, and knew this was it. This was the moment Adrien had been waiting for. He smiled.

            When six pm came, Adrien was practically bursting at the seams. He was literally shaking in excitement. He watched the people go by and held his breath every time he saw a guy his age with brown hair but would frown when he didn’t see the rose lapel pin.

Chat Galore: You here yet?

           Six turned into seven. The sun had gone down. The stars were shining. Everything looked so perfect. Adrien was sure Iron’s Kid was on his way.

Chat Galore: If your running late it’s cool. I’ll wait.

           Seven turned into eight. Adrien refused to give up hope. He would wait no matter how long it took.

           Iron’s Kid was worth it.

Chat Galore: Still here.

Chat Galore: Did something come up?

           Eight turned into nine. The London’s eye closed. People started leaving. Adrien texted his friends that he was fine.

           He wasn’t feeling as hopeful as he did a few hours ago. But he’d wait.

Chat Galore: Still waiting.

Chat Galore: Well past feeling just a little pathetic.

           Nine turned into ten. Hope kind of then.

Chat Galore: Still here. Still waiting.

Chat Galore: What happened?

Chat Galore: Just say something!

           Ten turned to eleven. Adrien didn’t even know why he was still waiting.

Chat Galore: Anything! Please!

           A quarter to midnight, Adrien finally got an answer.

Iron’s Kid: I’m sorry.

           That was it. That was all he said.

           Adrien got back to his hotel room a little after midnight; feeling numb. His throat burned a little. His eyes were a little red.

           Nino greeted him with a big grin, “Back late, huh? Must’ve had a good time…” He trailed off when he saw the look on Adrien’s face. “Oh god, what happened?”

           Adrien shoved his hands in his pockets, “He, uh, he never showed up,” he said and swallowed the lump that had been building in his throat. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s okay.” Adrien nodded. “I need to, I have to, uh. I got to the bathroom.” And then he fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him; willing the world to just stop existing for just a few moments.

“Dude, it’s okay,” Nino said through the door. “I know this has to be rough. But you’ll get through it. I’m here. I called Chloe and Marinette, they’re on their way.”

           Adrien didn’t say anything. He just wiped the tears off his face, and then gripped the bathroom sink.

“They’ll probably be banging on the door any sec,” Nino added. “Unless, Marinette’s trying to stop Chloe from committing murder,” He joked. “Which would be way rude by the way. I’d have liked an invitation. I thought our friendship was stronger.”

           Adrien heard loud knocking and the sweet voice of Marinette asking where he was, and the furious voice of Chloe already talking about how she knew how t to hide a body.

           The blond boy figured it was only a matter of time before Nino or Marinette convinced him to open up the door. Or Chloe broke it down.

           However, surprisingly after twenty or so minutes of his friends pleading with him to open the door, the door would gently swing open to reveal Marinette kneeling with a lockpick set in her hands.

           That got a smile out of Adrien. After all these years, the bluenette was still full of surprises.

           Adrien spent the rest of the night letting his friends comfort him. They left England the next morning.

           When they got back to Paris, and Adrien was back in the comfort of his room, he finally texted Iron’s Kid back.

Chat Galore: Why didn’t you show?

           He’d wait for a reply all day but wouldn’t get one.

           The next day, Adrien texted again.

Chat Galore: I’m not mad.

Chat Galore: I promise

Chat Galore: just a little hurt.

           Again, he’d wait for a reply all day, but it didn’t come.

           Though his friends tried to get him to talk about it, Adrien wouldn’t budge. He just couldn’t…

           It just stung too much. It burned too much.

Chat Galore: I get it if you were afraid or something

Chat Galore: It’s okay.

           And was the truth; it was fine.

           He would be fine. Everything was good. It was okay.

           Adrien would be fine.

           That was what he told everyone.

Chat Galore: We can pretend this never happened if you want

Chat Galore: Just be friends.

           Adrien still didn’t get a reply. That didn’t stop him from waiting for one. He figured Iron’s Kid was just embarrassed that he didn’t show or something. Everything would go back to normal after a few days.

Chat Galore: I’m going to see Onward. Heard its pretty good.

           But a few days became a week. A week became two. Two weeks a became a month of radio silence. And a seed of worrying starting to grow in Adrien’s stomach. Nevertheless, Adrien wrote Iron’s Kid once a day. He refused to give up hope.

           Adrien kept a smile on his face to stop his friends from being concerned. There was no reason to. He would be fine. It was okay. It wasn’t the first time he got his heart broken; probably would even be his last.

His days were split between studying and fight Hawkmoth. The villain was getting bolder and more desperate. Every Akuma seemed worse and stronger than the last. The kids got used to the feeling of always being dead on their feet.

           Marinette finally decided they needed a break and ordered a family game night. She got the newly permanent heroes Luka, Kagami, and Aurore to cover for them.

           Adrien tried to give all his attention to the monopoly game they played; laughed when he was supposed to. Tried to ignore that in the back of his mind, his attention was still a bit focused on his phone, and that fact that it's been a month since he heard from Iron’s Kid.

           A month since London.

           He barely even blinked twice when Marinette successfully bankrupted him, even though he was the first one out. Instead, as soon as the game got more intense, Adrien stuck away. He found himself on the roof the bakery, staring at the stars, clutching his phone in his hand.

Chat Galore: I’m running out of things to say

Chat Galore: Hard to have a one-sided conversation.

Chat Galore: I’m not even sure you’re reading this.

Chat Galore: Maybe I’ll just you send you movie quotes until you respond

            Adrien looked back up at the stars and wished. He wished never agreed to meet Iron’s Kid. He wished he never told him he loved him. He wished he could take it all back because at least he’d still have his friend.

           He wrapped his arms around himself. Adrien blinked back the tears that were building.

           He heard the door open behind him and figured it was Chloe or Nino coming to check on him; whoever got kicked out of the game firsts. Because Marinette was going to win.

“Beautiful night,” A voice said. “Nothing quite like Paris in the springtime.”

           Adrien cast a quick smile at Nico, “I always preferred it during Winter. A Snowy wonderland.” He went back to looking up at the stars.

“You know someday someone will walk into your life,” Nico said as he walked to stand next to the blond, “And make you realize why he never worked out with anyone else.”

“Go ahead,” Adrien laughed bitterly. “Tell me I told you so.”

           Nico shrugged, ‘Iron’s Kid’s a kid. And an idiot.”

“Yeah,” The blond sobbed. “That doesn’t mean much coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nico crossed his arms.

“Nothing,” Adrien rolled his eyes. “I’m just tired… I'm so tired of falling for guys that don't fall back. It hurts.”

“Adrien, I…”

           Adrien cut him off, “It’s the same thing every time. I’m all in, and they’re not. I’m the one left out in the cold. I’m waiting, looking like a total idiot. Because I was stupid enough to give all my heart when no one else ever does. So you wanna help me, Nico? Tell me what I do wrong.

“Nothing!” Nico gripped Adrien’s shoulders. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re smart and talented. You’re caring and you’re funny. You look at this world like everything is possible, and you make me believe it too. You’re not the problem.”

“Tell me why I'm so easy to give up then,” The blond asked. “And maybe I can fix it”

“You’re asking the wrong guy, Sunshine,” Nico whispered, his forehead against Adrien’s, their lips inches apart. “There is no time or place or world, where it would ever be easy to give you up.”

Nico moved closer; so did Adrien…

“Hey!!” A voice called from downstairs. “New games starting. It’s Poker! Hurry your butts up!”        

           The two guys snapped back to reality and away from each other.

“You should go,” Nico said dryly, looking away from the other boy. “I’m going to stay here for a bit.”

“Nico…” Adrien said, looking a bit confused.

           The older boy shook his head.

           The blond nodded and started for the door.

“For what it’s worth,” Nico called. “He made the wrong choice.”.

           A small smile spread over Adrien’s face, “I know.”

“I wonder what would’ve happened if we met when we were older,” Nico asked.

           Adrien shrugged, “Someday we will be.”

“Long game?”

“Long game.”

           He went back to the living room where everyone was waiting, with the cards and poker chips already dealt.

           Adrien settled in the seat next to Marinette.

           The bluenette shot him a concerned look, “You okay?”

“I’ll be…” Adrien sighed. “Eventually.”

           The blond boy decided to chalk up whatever happened on the roof with Nico as… Just the two of them being caught in the moment. Emotions were high.

           …That didn’t stop Adrien from smiling every time someone mentioned Nico’s name.

Chat Galore: Everything is possible.

Chat Galore: Even the impossible.

           He still wrote Iron’s Kid once every day. Adrien didn’t say much. He just sent a movie quote he liked, just to let Iron’s Kid know he was still there. He was still waiting… if Iron’s Kid ever changed his mind.

Chat Galore: When you can’t look on the Brightside, I will sit with you in the dark.

           A month became two.

Chat Galore: In the garden of memory, in the palace of Dreams,  that is where you and I shall meet.

           Two became three. They figured out who Hawkmoth was. The battle had been epic. Adrien’s father had hesitated when he realized Adrien was Chat Noir, long enough for Ladybug to make the killing shot.

           Figuratively anyway.

           Ladybug blasted Hawkmoth into a wall. The heroes banded together to remove his miraculous. Then they erased his memory. And then Natalie’s. Of any and all knowledge of magic permanently; defeating Hawkmoth once and for all.

           As far as Gabriel knew he was just a recluse workaholic with what barely passed as a decent relationship with his only child.

           Adrien was devastated to learn who his father really was. Even so when he discovered the reason behind Hawkmoth’s villainous pursuit; his comatose mother and learned from Fu there was no way to save her; not even with a wish.

           The blond boy had long ago mourned his mother and moved on but that it didn’t hurt.

           Emilie Agreste was officially declared dead and buried on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in the middle of Spring.

Chat Galore: Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it

           Three months became four.

           At this point, he knows Iron’s Kid’s never going to write him back. And that was okay. Adrien was okay.

           People move on. And while Adrien would always wonder why Iron’s Kid never showed, he could live without knowing.

           If anyone asked why he was still writing, Adrien would say he didn’t know.

           But that was a lie.

           He did know.

           Iron’s Kid had been a really big part of his life, had been one greatest friend he ever had; had been his first love in a way.

           So yes, Adrien knew exactly why he was still writing.

           He could live without Iron’s Kid in his life but he couldn’t live without one thing.

Chat Galore: Here's looking at you kid

           Adrien officially graduated from school. He was accepted into Columbia. He’d be living in New York. And so, would Chloe, Marinette, and Nino. They decided they wanted to stick together and keep being heroes.

           Chloe would be going to Columbia with him to study business and public relations. Marinette would study business and fashion. Nino decided to dedicate his life to being the next great movie director. Adrien would study Law.

           They decided to get two apartments across from each other like in F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Because that was pretty much all they knew about New York.

           Damian would be attending Columbia; he was gearing up to take over Wayne Industries one day. Him and Marinette were still going strong. Lian would be going to Princeton, as Oliver Queen would be damned if his granddaughter went anywhere else. Jon would take a year off to explore the world before attending Metropolis University; he still wanted to Major in Journalism.

           Damian kept hinting hard that the Titans, not the Teen Titans, were looking for new members. And as he was the current leader of the Titans, it was less of a hint and more like being actively headhunted by the most aggressive Robin to ever walk the earth.

           It was official, they weren’t kids anymore.

Chat Galore: You know that place between sleep and awake where you’re always dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.

           They had a few months before they had to move completely to New York, and decided to do something special. Or rather Tom and Sabine did.

           And mostly because they just wanted to see where their kids would be living from now on.

           Sabine and Tom claimed to find this great deal on a ski resort near New York.  Everyone was invited; Nico, Kagami, Luka, Aurore, Lian, Jon, and Damian.

They did the whole tourist thing, led by Nico who was excited his cousin would be living in the same city as him and explored the great New York City, and Tom and Sabine got to see the penthouses, Gabriel and Audrey had bought each their perspective children and were assured their kids would be living in a safe location.

Chat Galore: So maybe it won’t look like you thought it would in high school, but it’s important to remember that love is possible. Anything is possible. This is New York

           The Brown Bear Ski Lodge was packed, apparently, some class from a school called Midtown had booked a trip at the same time they did. So the entire lodge was filled with graduating seniors, between the ages of seventeen and eighteen years old.

           To say it was wild was an understatement. Sabine vocally wondered why the school though three chaperones to watch over an entire class of students were enough. Tom just comforted Mr. Harrison when he started to cry.

Adrien got to meet loads of kids his age, a few that would even be starting at Columbia the same time as the French kids. It turned out most of the kids from Midtown were insanely smart.

           The blond boy ended up spraining his ankle while skiing and ended up spending most of the time on sitting on the lodge’s bay window watching nature and relaxing. He ended up sitting there long after nearly everyone else had gone off to bed.

“Having fun,” A boy his age asked, one of the few people left in the room. He was handsome with light brown hair and kind brown eyes.

“As close as I can get,” Adrien answered.

The brown-haired boy smiled, “Well if you get bored out of your mind, I got some movies on my tablet if you want to watch. I know some pretty good ones.”

“I’m good,” Adrien said. “You can join me if you want. I wouldn’t say no to company.”

           The boy did, “Name’s Peter.”

“Adrien.”

“By your accent, I’m guessing your not with the Midtown group,” Peter asked. “Also, because I’m from the Midtown group.”

           Adrien snorted, “France. I’ll be living full time in New York come autumn.”

“Is that right?” Peter looked excited by the news. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Yeah, and why’s that?”

           And then Peter went on to tell Adrien all about the places and people he loved in New York. They talked for hours until morning rays hit them through the window.

           Over the next week of the vacation, the two ended up finding themselves repeating that; talking and letting time disappear.

Chat Galore: I wish I knew how to quit you.

           Adrien introduced Peter to Marinette, Chloe, Nino, and the others. Peter introduced him to his friends Michelle, Ned, and Gwen. Like Adrien and his friends, Peter and his friends were pretty much attached at the hip.

“He pissed me off, so I put a porn virus into his computer,” Michelle answered the Marinette’s question as to why a Eugene kept running from her.

           Marinette and Adrien had decided to enjoy a nice cup of hot chocolate by the fire, only to be joined by Peter’s friends: Michelle and Ned. Another would’ve joined them but he scampered away the second he saw the girl.

“He deserved it,” Michelle added.

“He totally did,” The large Asian boy nodded in agreement. “But MJ you might’ve taken it too far when you made it happen during class.”

           Marinette giggled. “Harsh!”

“No mercy, Ned!”

Adrien laughed until his brain processed what was said, “Wait, I thought your name was Michelle?”

Michelle and Ned froze like deer caught in the headlights.

“MJ’s my nickname,” Mj explained cooly. “And we should really be going…”

“Geniuses,” Adrien suddenly recalled; his mind finishing a calculation, he didn’t even realize he was trying to figure out. “Who goes to a school for super-smart kids. MJ, scary queen who could rule the universe,” He pointed at her. “Ned; loveable teddy bear nerd with a fixation on Legos. A bully named Eugene who I’m guessing goes by Flash.” He swallowed hard, and fixed hard green eyes on the two kids in front of him. “Did you take a class trip to Europe in Spring? Keep in mind I would really like you to say no.”

           Ned and MJ paled.

“Ned and MJ,” Adrien repeated. “Iron’s Kid’s best friends…” He whispered. “Peter’s best friends. Peter is Iron’s Kid, isn’t he?”

           MJ narrowed her eyes at him, “Chat Galore: Adrien Agreste.”

           Adrien’s entire body froze. He tried to remain calm, “This can’t be happening.”

           Marinette glared at them, “Your friends with Iron’s Kid!” She growled. “Peter is Iron’s Kid. What was he thinking? How could he just stand Adrien up? I’ll kill him!”

“I never told you my last name!” Adrien realized. “How did you?”

“We hacked into Peter’s phone a few months ago,” MJ shrugged. “And traced your Ip address.”

           Adrien glared, “And Peter knew? When I got here, he knew who I was didn’t?” He accused. “He lied right to my face!”

“It’s complicated!” Ned looked at Adrien with wide eyes. “Yeah, he knew who you were when he saw you. He just wanted a do-over. It’s weird I know. I told him not to do it!”

           MJ looked at Marinette, “You should kill him. It was a bitch move,” She said. “But if it means anything, he regrets not showing up at London’s eye.” This part she told Adrien.

“Like super regrets it!” Ned added. “You can’t beat him up half as much as he does himself.”

“I can try,” Marinette crossed her arms.

“He reads your texts every day,” Mj said.

           Adrien stood up angrily, “Then why doesn’t he text back?” He demanded to know. “Why didn’t he show up at the London’s eye. I waited! I’ve been waiting!”

           MJ shrugged, “I can’t answer that,” She said. “Only he can. I can only tell you he was stupid. And he overreacted. You deserve to hear everything from him.”

           Ned nodded eagerly, “He really likes you. He nearly dropped dead when he saw you were here. Just let him explain!”

“No!” Adrien snapped. “I don’t want to see him. Ever.” He clenched his fists. “I… I just can’t.”

           And he stumped away.

           He went to his room and packed his bags. He was getting out of there. He was leaving he had nothing to say to Iron’s Kid. Or Peter. Or whoever he was.

           There was a knock on his door.

“Go. Away!” Adrien snapped.

“I can’t do that!” It was Jon that surprisingly said that.

“Come in!” The door opened. “What do you want?” Adrien asked. “Sorry, I’m just a bit busy right now.”

           Jon wore a red plaid shirt over a white t-shirt and blue jeans, “Don’t leave,” He told Adrien.

“I have to,” The blond said he snuffed his suitcase.

“You can’t!”

           Adrien all but snarled, “Look you don’t understand. You don’t get it.” He said. “I have to leave.”

“Yeah I do,” Jon said and shut the door behind him. “Super hearing, remember? I know everything that’s going on. You can’t go, not like this.”

“Yes, I-” The blond started but was cut off.

           Jon grabbed his shoulders and sat him on the bed, “You deserve an answer. You’ve been waiting for an answer,” He stated. “You deserve to know why he didn’t show up.”

“And why he decided to mess with me for the last week?!!”

“That I understand!” Jon said. “He wanted to start over. Second chances are hard to come by. And once upon a time, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for one.”

“And you think he deserves one?”

“Just talk to him,” Superboy said. “Or scream at him. Whatever.”

           Adrien ran a hand through his hair, “I haven’t been waiting for an answer,” He admitted. “I would’ve liked one, but I wasn’t waiting for it.”

“You love him,” Jon said. “You did. Or do. I know. Because I remember how you used to look when he texted you. I know… Because you used to look like that around me.”

“Jon…”

“I saw you two together,” Jon said. “You’re good together. Leaving now would be a big mistake. I’m saying that as your friend. Meet him, talk to him. Even nothing happens. Or everything does.”

           Adrien hid his face in his hands and groaned, “Even if it’s just to reject him?” He crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t it be better to just leave?”

“Not for you,” Jon shook his head. “Look, if you reject him now, he's gonna make it his life's mission to go out there and meet the most perfect, beautiful guy or girl in the world just to try and get over you. And he'll end up marrying this other person and spending the rest of his life with them. And you know, he'll tell himself that they're perfect and... He really must be happy, but they won't be you, you know? And that’s the worst thing that will happen.”

           It went quiet.

“Follow your heart, Adrien,” Jon added. “It’s what you do best. And it’s the best thing about you.”

           Then the boy of steel left.

           And Adrien was alone with his thoughts.

Chat Galore: Relationships are messy and people’s feelings get hurt. Who needs it?

           Adrien left. It wasn’t his finest moment and not his bravest. But he left. Because he wasn’t ready to see Peter. Not yet. He texted his friends and tom and Sabine that he was leaving and that he’d okay… eventually.

           He’d go back to New York City, leave on the next flight out. He’d back to the big Apple two months later, move into his apartment with Nino, Marinette, and Chloe and start his life there.

           Two weeks after that Chloe would get the opportunity of a lifetime, a PR internship for college credit at Stark Industries. The blonde girl invited them all to go on her tour with her; apparently, she was told she could bring friends.

           Adrien would frown when he heard but not say anything. Peter wasn’t the only one with friends that could track an IP address.

           It was time. No more running.

           Stark Tower was everything, the kids all dreamed it would be. A scientist, futuristic wonderland. They oohhh’ed and awed. And Adrien tried to enjoy himself and keep his mouth closed.

           Even when the most advanced elevator in the entire world “mysteriously” malfunctioned and took them to the very top floor; otherwise known as the place the Avengers lived.

“Sorry about that,” Tony Stark, himself, gave them his most charming grin when the doors opened and he was standing right there. “We’ll get that fixed right away.” He promised. “Come on kiddies, let me show you where the big kids play.”

           He led them to the living room where Captain America was watching TV.

“Hey, babe!” Tony grinned. “This is Chloe, Pepper’s newest intern. Marinette, Nino, and… Adrien.”

“Tony…” Steve Roger gave his husband a chastising look.

“Cap…”

           Adrien huffed and glared at the occupants in the room, “Cut the crap,” He ordered them, drawing surprised looks from his friends. “Where’s Peter?” He asked. “Iron’s Kid,” Tony smirked at the name. “Is Peter. Peter Stark-Rogers.”

           His friends turned fierce glares at the Avengers.

“It’s a setup!” Chloe accused.

“Heroes are supposed, to be honest,” Marinette chided.

           Nino crossed his arms, “What a letdown.”

“Where’s Peter?” Adrien asked again.

“He’s coming,” Tony said. “You three and my hotter than the sun husband come with me; I’ll show you the training room that you can use full time If Ladybug, Queen Bee, Carapace, and Chat Noir decides they wanted to ditch the Justice League and hang with the Major Leagues.”

           His friends paled at the fact that Tony Stark and probably all the Avengers knew their superhero identities and followed Iron Man out of the room.  Steve just sighed at his husband’s antics and follow him out.

           Adrien crossed his arms and waited.

           The elevator would ping, and five minutes later Peter would walk into the living room. They just at each other for a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” Peter finally said.

           Adrien shook his head, “I don’t want your apologies. I came here… I waited here… for the same reason I’ve waited the last seven months,” He said. “I only waited to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Peter gave him half a smile. “We’ve only just met.”

           Adrien pointed him, “Don’t!” He said. “Don’t quote movies at me.” He snapped. “Why?” Adrien asked. “Why weren’t you there? How could you not be there?!”

“I was!” Peter said. “I was there. I saw you. I was terrified. And I left.”

“I was afraid too!” Adrien said. “The difference is I still showed up. I waited six years to meet you. And I waited at the London’s eye for almost seven hours, and you just left me. You blew me off.”

“I’m sorry!” Peter yelled. “I’m so sorry. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Adrien clenched his fists. “Why didn’t you write me back? Why did you pretend at the lodge?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “I really don’t. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just saw you and my mind just went blank. I thought it was like fate giving me a second chance. I didn’t do it right. I screw up. Again!”

“A second chance?” Adrien glared at him. “You think that was your second chance? No. Your second chance was I texted asking what happened. You got another chance every time I texted you. I texted you every day for six months. Those were your chances!” He yelled. “If it was over for you, you could have told me. Said something. But you left me in the dark. If you didn’t feel the same about me, you could’ve told me. I just wanted my friend back!”

“Adrien, I…”

“Why didn’t you write me back?” Adrien asked, tears burning in his eyes. “Why? It wasn’t over for me. Six months, that’s one hundred and eighty-two days. I wrote you one hundred and eighty-two times. I waited for you! It’s too late now. It’s over!”

           Peter looked ready to cry, “I wrote you over three hundred emails. I have them saved on my computer I never sent them. I didn’t think they’d be enough. They’re still not enough. It’s wasn’t over for me. It’s still not over.”

“Why?” Adrien asked again. “Why didn’t Iron’s Kid show up? Why was he so afraid?”

           Peter just looked at the blond boy for a moment, before taking a deep breath, “Iron’s Kid thinks about that moment every day. He used to think he didn’t show up because he was afraid of what would happen; that it wouldn’t work out. That he’d lose one his best friends.” He said. “That them being together would ruin everything. Because they were just kids; they were stupid and young. But that was just a lie he told himself because he was afraid. The truth is, He was at the London’s eye that night, he saw Chat Galore: the most perfect person he’d ever seen and got scared for a completely different reason.”

“Why?”

           Peter stepped towards Adrien, “Once he figured that out, and he figured that out really quick but only when it was just too late, Iron’s Kid didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say to make it right. So he said nothing. And it killed him every day. Iron’s Kid would give anything to go back to that night at the London’s eye, to back to that moment when they were supposed to meet. Before everything went wrong. Iron’s kid would tell Chat Galore everything he always wanted. But he couldn’t. Because doesn’t work like that. Instead, he was so sorry for what he had done.”

           Adrien just listened.

“Because Iron’s Kid realized,” Peter said, “That he wasn’t afraid that night because he thought it wouldn’t work out; that Chat Galore wasn’t the one. He was absolutely terrified because he knew he was. And if Adrien could just give him one more chance. Just one more chance, he’d spend the rest of his making it up to him.”

“Peter…”

“I love you,” Peter said. “I’m totally and completely in love with you. And I don’t care if you think its too late. I’m telling you anyway. Because if I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Because I know in my heart, you’re the one for me.”

           Adrien just sighed and looked away, wondering what he should do.

“I don’t what’s going to happen in the future,” Peter said. “I don’t if in the time I was an idiot if Jon or Nico or Luka,” He chuckled, and so did Adrien. “Won your heart. I just know… I may not be your first love, but I intend to be your last. However long it takes.”

           A smile spread across Adrien’s face, “You watched it,” He said. “You finally watched the Vampire diaries. It only took you, what? Seven years.”

“Six and a half,” Peter corrected. “Sorry I made you wait.”

“I know,” Adrien nodded. “I need some time, okay. I need to get my head on straight. Before I decide anything.”

“I understand,” Peter agreed eagerly. “I get it. I’ll wait.”

           Adrien would take two weeks to decide what he was feeling and what he wanted to do. And when the two weeks were over, he knew exactly what he wanted, and who he wanted. So he made a call.

           And then ended up a Coney island, next to The Wonder Wheel, one of the most famous Ferris wheels in the world. He waited in line and happily got on the ride. The seats next to him were quickly filled by Marinette, Chloe, and Nino.

“Finally getting your Ferris wheel moment?” Nino asked as the ride started.

           Adrien smiled, “Yeah. Except I wanted the people I love the most with me.”

“Awww,” Marinette hugged him. “We love you too.”

“That’s a dollar for the overly sentimental jar,” Chloe glared at him. “And no more rom-com for you.”

           Adrien snorted.

           The kids enjoyed the ride, and when it was over, and they got off, Marinette asked, “So you didn’t choose anyone?”

“Well…” He motioned to the guy waiting at the exit of the ride. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m done. No more waiting, no more long game, no more… anything. Its time I get a little more proactive.”

           Chloe smirked, “About time. Get it, Agreste!”

“Just remember you have a roommate,” Nino smirked.

           The three walked off to enjoy the rest of the amusement park.

           Adrien smiled at them, and then smirked at the guy waiting for him, “Wait long?”

“I’d wait forever.”

[ivyveil]

Truth or Drink

the one where it's worth a shot, but is it worth the truth?

A/N: Hi! This fic is based off of this video series by Cut (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auBSJIJ_C_8) . I fell in love with the idea and I thought I would do a piece on it. I hope you enjoy! 11.4k

It hadn’t seemed real until you were there.

The set was more professional than you had expected. Considering how much time you had spent with Harry’s old circle of friends, you had anticipated a low budget, maybe with the setting being a friend’s house. But it was genuinely in a production studio warehouse, with props and expensive equipment. You kept forgetting that Harry was doing much better for himself now.

They even had a snack tray, for Christ’s sake.

A sizable crew of people milled around the outskirts of the set, their shoes crinkling up the paper that cascaded down two poles, creating a white wall and floor in front of the camera. The director’s seat was empty and the camera was given a wide berth.

A wooden table had been set up in the middle of the paper floor, with three bottles of alcohol, two glasses of orange juice, and two shot glasses on top. The set-up was cute, probably ‘aesthetic’, but regardless, it sent shivers down your spine. Two chairs sat beside the table, angled out towards the expectant camera and muttering crew. Waiting for you, waiting for him.

It hadn’t seemed real until he showed up.

In a sweater colored with muted hues of greens and tans, and sunglasses pulling back his hair, Harry looked unbearably familiar. In an unsettling way, like you had watched a movie starring him at 3 am and woke up the next morning, dusty and vague memories of him coating your tongue and settling against your pillows.

It even fell down to the way he was walking, how his stance lingered more on the left than the right, and how his eyes swept the room. And how he could make you feel like the only one in the world, when his eyes landed on you and he smiled. He smiled as if you both had a secret no one else could understand, because that was partially the truth.

His boots sounded crisp on the paper. He was clipping his microphone against the collar of his shirt, ducking his head down momentarily to eyeball whether it was right. Which was a reminder of how this was all to be made public, how you two were to broadcast your conversation to countless of strangers who never asked for it, but would readily comment.

And that hadn’t seemed like something Harry would normally be willing to do, but to be fair, you hadn’t spoken to the man for almost a year.

It hadn’t seemed real until it was.

The two of you didn’t properly acknowledge each other, not in the way you would’ve if the meeting had been a casual one. Not riddled with anticipation and nerves.

Instead, you two chose to settle in the chairs and keep your attention on the objects around you. There had been smiles exchanged but the air was still thick, feeling like starch against the back of your throat. You both invented itches on your arms, a sudden interest in how your sleeves were rolled, etc, and ignored that the other was doing the same.

Harry shifted the shot glass so it was closer to him, as if anticipating the inevitable slosh of drunken choices he’d make soon. It was more likely than not, that you two – usually fairly private – would rather drink than confess anything.

“Looks like whiskey, vodka, and-” Harry opened up the third bottle, grasping onto the lid as he held up the bottle to his nose. “-maybe tequila?”

He glanced over, eyebrows raised as he tilted the bottle, presumably for you to smell as well. Perhaps there was hope in his eyes that you two could proceed with grace and without properly acknowledging the iceberg of problems between you.

The fact he could sit there and treat the situation so casually, was so frustratingly Harry that you weren’t sure how you had expected anything different. It had been a long while since you had been near him, but he still knew how to try and make you feel at ease. Like he could still read your mind as well as he had a year ago, that he could feel your discomfort and wanted to make amends.

The problem had been, and still was, that he tried to make up for whatever had gone wrong, without fully acknowledging what had actually gone wrong to begin with. His words never laid out flat what the issue was, and so you had often been left dissatisfied, searching for a resolution that he wasn’t offering.

You sniffed the bottle, because of course you did, wrinkling up your nose as you nodded. Tequila. Some strangled noise came from your throat, and Harry was clearly expecting it, for he giggled and plugged up the bottle again.

You hated tequila.

“Thanks fo’ coming, by the way. Didn’t think you’d agree to it,” he confessed, his fingers lingering on the sides of the bottle as he feigned interest in organizing them. As if a straighter line of liquor would wash away the tension, how quiet you had been, and how strangely surreal the next half hour would be.

Shifting in the seat, you crossed your legs and flexed out your foot. Getting comfortable in a situation that was anything but was not your forte by any means. It was your job as an interior designer, for Christ’s sake, to make every environment graceful and cozy.

But the tension between you two had another layer on top, which was your inherent nature of despising the something not being positioned correctly.

In this case, it was the fact you were even in the room.

“No problem. Sounded interesting. Thanks for-” you paused, unsure of what to say but feeling as though you ought to thank him back, “-thinking of me?”

Harry let out a laugh, unexpected by you, and apparently from him as well. Not that you had anticipated a change, or were even trying to notice, but his nose still wiggled when he smiled.

For the first moment since your friend had dropped you off in the parking lot ten minutes prior, you felt settled. Perhaps not confident enough to last through the list of questions without a single tear, but confident enough that you were both in the same situation. You and Harry could make it work and be alright.

It was a situation set up with the consent of each of you, after all, although that didn’t take away the nervous butterflies and worms writhing around in your chest.

Harry poured each of you a shot of whiskey, holding out the glass like a sense of a peace offering. Alcohol had never been your safe havens, but you figured it was alright to pitch a tent for a day.

You accepted it gratefully, making sure your fingers wouldn’t graze against his as you took the drink. Knocking it back felt like a rude awakening, but a necessary one, to approach what was coming.

The wall of paper rustled behind you, and the director popped his head around the corner. His name-tag read Chris, and you recognized the name as one of Harry’s newer friends, not one of the friends who would recognize you, which was a relief.

Chris was the reason Harry was doing the show, it seemed, as voluntarily airing past relationships was slightly out of character for Harry. His sense of duty towards his friends seemed to outweigh his typical cloak of privacy, and you couldn’t say you were altogether surprised. It didn’t clarify why he had asked you to be the ex on the show, though. He had a handful of others who were more likely to generate “viral content” with their outlandish drama, you knew, yet he had asked you.

“Thank you both for getting here on time. We can go ahead and get started if that’s okay,” Chris clasped his hands together, strutting past the table and towards his director’s chair. He was wearing plaid pants that swished against his legs as they moved, and that was the only noise in the room for a few seconds. Harry and you looked at each other, a bit uneasy that the moment had come upon you both so quickly. He quirked an eyebrow, as if to say there was no reason to delay it any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay, here’s how it’ll work. Martha will put these cards on the table. One of you will read out the question and the other will answer. If the person answering chooses not to, that person will have to take a shot. Easy enough. If you wanted to elaborate with your answers, we encourage that as well. And if you need to take a moment, let us know, but the camera stays rolling.”

It was a lot of information at once, and you found yourself nodding without comprehending as Chris rambled on. Your mind, ever the traitor, was stuck on how a week ago Harry had texted you. It was truly out of the blue, since your break up hadn’t resulted in a good, or even shaky, friendship, and you had felt certain he had deleted your number.

Hey, it’s Harry Styles. Know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I have a favor to ask. My friend is doing a new Internet series where exes get together and talk about their relationship, and he wanted to know if I would be willing. Thought of you. Interested? Xxx.

At first, you weren’t sure. The situation seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, if you were being honest. Darkened skies and trees blowing enough to the point their trunks swayed in the wind - that sort of disaster.

There was something about seeing his face that would send you spiraling off, bubbling anger and frustration swelling up your chest when you stumbled on his Instagram those few times. And then those times when you looked him up. And then those times when you took a screenshot the particularly good photos and went back to them when you were in a pit of self-despair. But only those many few times.

“Sounds good,” Harry was saying, and you chimed in with similar agreement. Martha, presumably, moved forward and put the cards on the table. There were a sizable number of questions, enough to keep you two interested in the game and not to be tempted to drink on every one.

Which had been your plan.

“Alright, just introduce yourselves to the camera and then go ahead,” Chris gestured outwards, smiling, before settling back in his seat.

Chris’ facial expression shifted into something more serious, the friendly facade morphing into a professional stare, which made you feel incredibly aware of how awfully slouched you were. You felt like you were in front of your parents, or a teacher, like you were a kid again and had to present yourself well.

Sitting up, you turned towards the camera. It was a large, black pit of emotionless indifference. It was going to record everything and wouldn’t have the decency to look away, if tears were to fall or if blood were to be shed.

Which didn’t feel too melodramatic, if you were being honest.

Harry introduced himself as Harry, an art teacher, and gave a gentle wave paired with one of his charming smiles. You followed suit, opting to just fold your arms against the table, as you introduced yourself as an interior designer.

The truth extended a bit beyond that for the both of you, with Harry also owning a popular photography Instagram working to introduce inner-city kids to film tech. And you were working with the local homeless shelters in the area to improve structural efficiency, as well as beginning your line of eco-friendly furniture.

But the two of you had become wrapped in the other’s threads of intimacy when you were merely an art teacher and an interior designer, and it would be easier to hark back a year ago if you were no longer attached to today’s version of yourselves.

Perhaps it was a hope for the past to emerge once more.

“How long did you two date?” Chris prompted.

“Two and a half years,” Harry answered.

“And how long ago was that?”

Harry looked over at you, raising his eyebrows silently asking you to be the one to answer. You knew he knew, that the wounds were still fresh and it wasn’t some ex-relationship lost in the foggy realm of his mind. So, you obliged, replying steadily and only taking your eyes away from Harry’s for a brief moment.

“About a year ago.”

And then, abruptly, it was simply you and Harry.

The crew faded away, when you two settled in against the backs of the seats and looked at each other. Harry seemed to be toying with some type of smile, probably more out of discomfort than genuinely finding humor in the situation.

“Should I go first?” Harry offered, reaching over towards the pile.

“Yeah, go for it.”

You shifted your legs once more, crossing them so the other was on top. Your fingers rested on the edge of the table, curling against the wood and waiting for Harry to speak.

“Describe how you feel about me right now.”

Harry began chewing on his lip, not harshly, but enough for you to pick up on his nerves. His eyes shot over to the bottles, thinking you’d immediately cop out, but you began to respond.

“I feel like...” you sighed, dropping your gaze from his inquisitive eyes as you collected your thoughts, “I feel like you’re an ex. And that’s not saying a lot but that’s the best way to describe it.”

You nodded, satisfied with your answer.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked.

You shrugged.

“It just is. Feels like an ending brought back up.”

And it did. You had grown a lot since you two had left the other as a broken shell, and meeting up again felt like a continuation that wasn’t supposed to be. Unnatural was a word to describe how your eyes settled on the small parts of him, deciphering what was different now, yet there was a thread of normalcy in how you two could understand the other like an instinct buried deep away.

“Ah, it’s the bad sequel,” he mused, with a grin that deepened against his cheeks when you laughed. With a smirk to himself, he put down the card in the discard pile.

It felt a bit easier than you had expected, to sit across from him. The bitter words you two had left stewing in the other’s mind had apparently evaporated for the time being. Texting Harry back your confirmation while drunk and alone on a Friday night could maybe be chalked down as a good life decision, if the goodwill carried on throughout the video.

“What about you?” you prompted. You weren’t sure if that was allowed, if the game permitted for you to turn the question onto him. But you were intrigued by the ability to ask him whatever, to find out the depths of Harry you never thought you’d be privy to again, under the guise of something that could be easily excused.

“Me?” he asked, needlessly, for there was no one else you could be asking.

“I feel kinda the same,” he spoke as if it were a question, but continued on with building confidence, “I dunno much about yeh life anymore. Remember how we’d go out on the fire escape ‘n just talked-” you smiled at that, because it was one of those things that couldn’t be remembered without being cherished “-but I also remember how we fought. Especially on tha’ last night. But it doesn’t feel bad to be here. Not wha’ I expected.”

You nodded as he spoke, already feeling the analysis of his word choice kick into gear in the depths of your brain. Nothing he said rose red flags, though, and to a sad extent, you understood him. It hadn’t been as painful as your friends had tried to convince you it would be when you were leaving the apartment that morning.

“Alright, my turn?” you looked over to Chris, who nodded towards the pile. It seemed a bit ominous, with Harry being the one to potentially answer now. Because you had control over what was said a moment ago but now it was truly up to him. It made you nervous

“Did you ever have the chance to cheat on me, and did you?”

Time almost seemed to stop, an unbearable delicacy in the way your eyes held contact with his own. An impressive acknowledgment that whatever he said, and especially the moves his body would make, held the potential of ripping a shred into the both of you.

“I had a chance.” Harry nodded slowly, and his fingers began to twist around themselves on the table. “With...with a mutual friend.”

You nodded, not even needing him to go on further. You knew who it was.

Melanie.

You valued female support and girl love for one another, but Melanie was just a straight up bitch. In the ways that men never could see, because the complexities of female language would twist around the way she eyed women up, the way her lips would curl around each false compliment, as if snapping its neck. Her words had a double meaning that only girls could decode, a simple system that carved knives down their back as she manipulated situations to her fancy.

She was in a ‘game’ no one else was playing, but she was in it for blood.

Perhaps insecurities could be an excuse, maybe there were lingering traumas in her childhood that had morphed her into the beast she was today. But it was easier for you to shut down those ideas and accept her in the monstrosity she had become, one way or another, and keep your hand firmly in Harry’s whenever you all were out together.

She had a thing for Harry.

She would sidle up next to him in the booth, when the lights were low enough to mask her demon-slit eyes and let him be blind to the venom-soaked tongue that flicked out of her mouth with two prongs.

(You were being dramatic, but that’s neither here nor there).

She would be cuddly with him, and Harry would insist to you that they were just friends. When his phone went off with her name splashed on it for the fifth time in ten minutes, he’d make up excuses. Say she was interested in his record collection, that she had sent him a link to some obscure new photography magazine that Celtic porn stars had created downtown. It was nothing incriminating but Melanie had her code, and it seemed only you knew how to read it. He was protective over her, almost, and it had bugged you to no end.

You never called him out with direct accusations, though, because you had never thought of him as the cheating type.

You’d always assumed Melanie was in it for the attention and would stop before any buttons could slip out of their hold.

It seemed you had assumed wrong.

“When was it?” you found yourself asking, the question bursting through before you could have enough time to address whether you wanted to know.

“A week before we broke up.” Harry had the decency to look unsettled, clearing his throat and glancing around the room. “I was taking her home after that night out, the one when we went to tha’ bar and we fought so yeh left early-” you nodded, so he cut to the chase, almost gratefully “-and she wanted me to kiss her when we reached the door.”

“Did you?”

Harry shook his head, his lips pursing together as he swallowed.

“No, didn’t.”

You nodded, feeling a swoosh of satisfaction dipping into your lungs. Even though you couldn’t call him yours anymore, the fact that you both had stayed honest made you feel better.

Made you realize that even though your break up felt like exposed film, negatives that could never be altered into something bursting of color, you two still had the foundation of respect. The pictures were still beautiful, even if you couldn’t see what they were.

“You?”

Glancing up from the card to Harry, you noticed his head was tilted down, his eyes up. He was the one who was unsure, now. The delicacy remained and your head tilted to the side as you replied evenly.

“No, never.”

“Ever had the chance?”

You paused, letting the question sink in.

“I guess from random guys at bars ‘n stuff, but I always said I was with you.”

Harry nodded, leaning back somewhat, as if the answer had lightened some burden.

“Was never sure about Shawn, to be honest. Thought he had a thing for you,” Harry confessed with a shrug, a light smile on his lips. His eyes were still honest, still serious, still had the heaviness that you felt in your soul.

You weren’t sure what to say, with the bright lights and the rolling camera, so you just put the card down and nodded up at him.

It was his turn now.

Another card drawn.

“What do you miss the most about us?”

“Our friendship.” Your answer was immediate, no thinking required. “We had so much respect for each other. I remember feeling so in awe about how persistent you were - like the time you crashed the governor’s party to debate school board funding?”

Harry grinned at that, his eyes crinkling more than usual at the memory, as you continued.

“We knew everything about each other, always had the other’s back, and now we just...”

Your hand waved off towards the crew, although it was meant more as a general ‘nothingness’ gesture, but Harry nodded. He almost looked relieved. A more permanent smile was on his lips, and you knew there was one on yours. It was impossible not to look back on that aspect without a consuming sense of fondness, an adoration for what had been.

“Feels weird tha’ I see still yeh face everywhere now, but like...I don’t even know how your family is doing,” Harry said and he glanced up at you, a slant to his eyebrows that spoke more than he could on camera.

“He’s fine,” you murmured, and Harry’s eyes glimmered somewhat. You could tell he was happy for you and you wondered if it were your imagination misleading you when he readjusted on the seat, and his hand went out on the table. Not close enough to be against yours, but it was possible he was trying.

“Did tha’ fucker kick you out?” Greg yelled towards the street, as if Harry were lurking behind a streetlamp watching you shuffle on the doorstep. The street echoed quietly back Greg’s words, without a reply, not even an indignant shout from the neighbors.

“No,” you sniffled, and Greg’s attention was brought back to you. He opened his door wider so you could step out of the rain, looking once more up and down the street, as if still unsure of Harry’s location. Then, he stepped inside as well.

“I just needed someplace to go. C-can’t stay at the apartment. Everything’s j-just a mess right now, y’know?”

Your eyes had kept on the floor, but Greg lifted up your chin with his fingers. He was staring at you in some odd type of way.

Somehow comforting, you supposed, but not having spoken to Greg in forever, you weren’t particularly sure if it was judgment or sympathy he was feeling towards the situation. He hadn’t seemed to approve of Harry the one time they met, but the entire evening hadn’t gone well for your family, so it was impossible to tell.

“I understand. Stay as long as you need, ‘kay?” His answer surprised you and also didn’t. You knew he wouldn’t have let you past his doorstep if he was still angry.

It seemed the pain left by Harry was enough to forgive the harsh dispute that had cracked open your ribcage first, the fighting that had stirred up your temper to high enough levels to really go at it with your boyfriend. Or ex, now, it seemed.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Greg’s voice cracked at the end, and you blinked in surprise. “We’re family. Beyond the blood or marriages or what-fuckin’-ever, that’s what we are. I love you, and that’s not going to change. All that shit doesn’t matter right now, ‘kay?” You nodded.

And that was the first conversation you had with Greg in all twenty-five years of your life, that didn’t end with screaming. It was the first time since you could remember that your half-brother hugged you and told you he loved you.

It was the first step the both of you took towards healing.

“And I have no clue how your pet fish is getting on,” you replied, as if your drama with your half-sibling would appropriately compare to Harry’s fish episodes.

You two had bought a pet fish, about a year and a half ago, for one of Harry’s projects – back when he was paying for all of the supplies but was still determined to get the kids what they needed – but Goldie kept dying, and every one of Goldie’s descendants died, as well, none lasting a month and most not seeing it through a week.

Harry laughed.

“No more fish, actually. Decided to stop trying,” he explained, and your lips formed some sort of tight smile. At least, you hoped they had succeeded in doing that, and there wasn’t some sort of disfigured grimace that would be captured on camera.

A feeling of something close to comfort draped over your shoulders as you moved to pick up the next card. The questions had been easy, almost too easy, and you were falling into a lull of belief that you could take on all the twists and turns of the segment. Being honest wasn’t feeling hard.

But it seemed like God suddenly had a call to take, or the Goddess of the Moon had her attention elsewhere, for the easy questions came to an end.

“Do I ever pop up in your head when you masturbate?”

Several of the crew laughed at your reaction. Your jaw had dropped slightly, eyebrows furrowed at the card as if the ink could apologize and scramble into a more appropriate question. You hadn’t expected that at all.

Nor did you expect the familiar swooping feeling in your stomach, because you had the all-too-vivid memories of being with Harry. Knowing his moans, the grip he prefers, the words that, when murmured against his throat at the right second, could send him over the edge.

Harry didn’t seem to mind too much, only looking like a deer in headlights for a moment, before he reached out towards the bottle of tequila, an unsure chuckle mixed with a light hysteria coming from his lips.

“Gonna need to take a few shots for that one,” he joked, shaking his head, before drawing his hand back in. Your heart started thumping rapidly.

Inhale. Exhale. You could feel your cheeks burn, even if the red wasn’t noticeable it was still felt, and the light-headed spin within your mind increased.

But it was going to be alright, you weren’t going to die, despite feeling it in your heart that it could possibly happen, once your friends saw the video in a few weeks time. Telling it to yourself over and over, you blinked at Harry and your face squinted together, in a ‘hell, you gotta answer’ type of way.

Harry was looking at you, his eyes a shade more serious than before. A flicker of confusion registered within the green, as if he weren’t accustomed to seeing you calm down so quickly (despite your anxieties not being apparent to the rest of the room, it seemed as though Harry hadn’t lost his knack for picking up on it) but he persisted on.

Fuck. You realized he was actually going to answer.

It wasn’t that you minded. The thought of him using the memories of you two wasn’t a slap in the face by any means. But it was more the confrontation of it that you were struggling to break through, escaping the ocean waves of wanting to know, while definitely not wanting to know. The waves were lapping up against the sides of your neck as you looked around, but no land was in sight.

You two were there, and the threat of drowning was imminent.

“I mean, yeah. Together almost three years, we had some good times.” His voice quietened by a fraction, as if the words would remain private. A cheeky grin still dug into his lips, a flush sort of pink dusting his cheekbones as he shrugged. But you know what he meant, beyond the clothes draped against half-done canvases and wallpaper samples.

You both knew how it felt.

“An apartment...all to ourselves,” Harry whispered, his fingertips stretching up against the bare mattress towards its edge. The sheets lay, arranged as if by a Greek sculpture, around your legs and Harry’s waist. His arm was around you, his palm laying on the small of your back to cuddle you in closer. He felt warm, smelled like coconuts. His chest rose slow, his breath evening out.

The empty space was now, indeed, yours. Your mind had been whirling ever since you first saw the structure with ideas for patio design and kitchen layout, but Harry had managed to distract you for a quick “house-warming party for two, love, gotta do it right” that had lasted all afternoon.

The sun was dipping lazily against the skyline, streaming golden and orange rays down into the home. Because it was a home now, with Harry and you in it.

“You still awake, love?” Harry tapped his fingers against your back, and you lifted your head sleepily. It felt like a thousand pounds, with your eyes fluttering closed while your mind was trying to open them. Harry chuckled.

“Tired yeh out?” he teased, and you managed to peep your eyes open enough to roll them properly, before propping your head up on his chest.

“Just sleepy. Had a long day moving in boxes. And then again tomorrow...but you’ve got work, yeah?”

Harry made an affirmative noise, soft and gentle as he looked down

His hair had just grown long enough for him to be satisfied; curls caressing his collarbones and laying against the mattress like an angel’s halo. You didn’t have to open your eyes to see it, the image was painted across the skies of your eyelids after a year of admiring him.

“Gonna be another long day tomorrow,” you mumbled around the upcoming yawn, and you felt Harry brushing your hair back. His fingers got caught, at times, against the messier curls, and he would untangle them. You’d do the same for him, if the positions were reversed, but your eyes only felt real when they were closed. Like the genuine rest would start when you weren’t looking around the room, wild ideas forming upon the walls.

You and Harry spent the rest of your first night in your first apartment cuddled. He didn’t even bring out his camera when the sun hit your cheeks just right, instead feeling in his heart like the moment was best at the time it was happening. Never to be seen again, never to happen again, it was yours, and you were his.

“Had some good times,” you agreed, gesturing for Harry to pick up the next card. It sent your heart racing once more, the thought of Harry turning the question on you. The words were in his eyes, anyway, and it went beyond crude nights spent alone with lube and memories, and into something deeper. Something about whether you treasured those times still, whether they had been tarnished by an ending.

The truth was, you did. On the romantic nights when your bed felt empty, an ocean of sheets and cold pillowcases, with that itch of needing something to bring you higher, that you recalled the good times. It felt like in public eye, you had to maintain the appearance that you and Harry weren’t compatible, that something tragic had occurred, something was wrong within the relationship, and it was irreparable. And perhaps that was true, but your feelings had a nasty tendency to not align with the truth. Contradictions galore, your mind would go to Harry and feel something deeper than an ending.

Harry gave a short nod, cleared his throat, and picked up the next card. The opportunity of waiting allowed for you to glance around the room, making eye contact with one sounds-person who seemed particularly apologetic in the way they smiled.

“How long did it take for you to get over me?”

Before you could even think, he put the card down and shook his head.

“I know this,” he claimed, and your eyebrows rose in surprise, “You hooked up with Shawn two months after we broke up.”

It was what you had been trying to avoid in the conversation earlier, how the topic of Shawn had elicited jealousy and concern from Harry, and it was not entirely unfounded. You and Shawn had ‘hooked up’, but not to the extent Harry was perhaps expecting. Shawn had kissed you after a particularly rowdy rendition of Love Shack during karaoke night. It had ended there, because the guilt welling up in your throat felt like bile and you needed some air immediately.

It still felt wrong, even when the person you thought was ‘right’ was across the city, wanting nothing to do with you.

Harry finding out about that night wasn’t a surprise, since your friend group was still, a year later, overlapped in a few areas. What was a surprise was how Harry had taken that one kiss as a sign of you officially Moving On, as if a Facebook relationship status change and a quick peck could alter almost 3 years of passion and commitment.

Three months ago.

The night had begun with dark purples and blues around your figure, the way your curtains draped against empty windows and the pillows were untouched on one side of the bed. Your friends were blowing up your phone, rattling against the side table persistently, trying to call you out of the depressing apartment and into the club life they were thriving within.

You had already decided to join them but didn’t have the fancy of responding yet. The outfit needed to be perfect, you wanted to feel like you were alive through someone else’s light for the night, before making it official. It was a process of shedding who you had been the week prior and stepping into the greasy, sweaty club as if it were an ocean of opportunity.

Through this endeavor, you found yourself deeper in your closet than you typically were. And that’s where it was, a small brown case with a white tag in the corner, gold stitching around the edges. The tag read “Harry” and your heart made a distant noise, six stories below, as it crashed through the floor.

The moment quickly altered itself, adapting a more serious tone, and the thoughts to color-coordination drifted off like smoke from your mind as you crouched down. Picked off the lid. Looked inside.

There were Polaroids. Dozens of them, stacked against each other and looped together with multi-colored rubber bands.

Photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. Some were dirtier than others, some made you blush as you fingered through the stack, but others made you pause. Like the one where you were snuggled against Harry’s neck, with Harry’s smug smile peeking out in the corner. It was taken on your first anniversary with him, when the two of you were so broke you had to spend the celebration cooking each other mac’n’cheese with flowers from the Dollar General out on the table.

Or the one where Harry was laid out on the bed, his hair curling against the pillows, shirtless and sleepily looking into the lens. You remembered taking the photo, standing up with your feet on either side of his hips, his hands wrapped around your ankles to hold you steady. You had taken your time getting the position right, making sure the light fell across Harry’s chest like cage stripes along the butterfly. Harry seemed absolutely smitten that you wanted to take a photo of him, cheekily asking, “Lookin’ good, hm?” in between shots.

You cried that night.

More than you had in months, you cried over what was lost. Even the happy moments made you cry because of their fleeting nature, how quickly they had become distant. You cried because you felt like you were mourning all over again, with the box of photos you had forgotten about in the back of your closet.

Your heels were kicked off, your dress was splotched with mascara from wiping at your eyes, and you sat against the closet wall, your knees brought up to your chest.

Within the tears held the question of what it all meant, why you hadn’t felt cried out over the entire situation. Why there were wracking sobs echoing against the walls, why the apartment suddenly seemed like a graveyard and you were a tombstone.

And within the tears held the question of whether you had let go at all.

“I’ll take the shot,” you gestured towards the vodka bottle, and Harry’s body stilled, somewhat unnaturally, somewhat in shock. He was obviously stunned at whether that was confirmation of you genuinely having gotten over him within two months, which he had said more as an accusation than a sure fact. But you couldn’t find it in you to confirm or deny. It just was, and no matter what the truth had been or was still, you weren’t going to touch on it.

“Alright,” he muttered, and with how his head was turned away as he kindly poured you what would be your second shot, you couldn’t distinguish whether he was still shocked or had made the leap to upset. And you weren’t sure which you wanted him to be.

It was bitter going down, searing your throat a bit, and you shook your head immediately, feeling the racks of shudders going down your spine as you powered on through the shot. Several of the crew members laughed at that, and your head tilted up, leaning back into your neck as you cringed.

“Fuckin’ hate that,” you whispered, eyes squeezed shut, and you heard Harry chuckle quietly.

“Alright, your turn, love,” he gestured towards the stack, and on came the next question.

“Is there anything you want to apologize for?”

The silence extended beyond the two of you, into the scope of the room and surrounding the walls like a thin layer of lace. The itchy kind.

“I didn’t know how to talk to yeh. About what I was feeling, ‘n stuff. Figured we’d be okay, no matter what.” He took a deep breath in and his eyes settled on a particularly dark knot in the wood of the table, eyebrows furrowed as her continued. “I’m sorry for tha’. Shouldn’t have assumed yeh knew.”

“Knew what?”

“How much I loved yeh. How much I wished I could’ve solved things, early on before they got to be too much.” He was choking up at the end, nodding quickly and blinking his eyes. It took a moment before you realized he was close to tears, at the memories and at the loss.

You couldn’t say you felt any different, with your own throat closing up around your words.

“We tried our best,” you said, feeling your lips wobble around the smile as if unsure. Harry shrugged, like he didn’t quite feel the same but wasn’t going to argue. The emotions ebbed upon you both quickly and remained, a wave over your heads that didn’t return back to the ocean like it should’ve.

The final fight between you two could have been avoided. It was the cumulative frustration over months of miscommunication, of Harry always being at work, of him putting his school kids first, of you needing someone there with you, of you never knowing how to speak the words of that question, of both of you deciding to be stubborn instead of empathetic. It was a disaster, a war zone marked by scowls and hot tears and rattling doors.

“You can’t take one day off to fix this?” Your voice was shattered, glass shards etching themselves into the walls. It was quiet, as it always was when Harry had something to say but refused to get the words out. He’d just shut down again, seethe in his frustration, never confess to being pissed off, as if denial in itself could create a false reality where you were Okay.

“I’ve got work,” he said it pained, as if he were powerless.

Perhaps you’d been privy to too much of his loveliness, saw too much of his bright sun, because you no longer believed in that. You knew he could do so much, that perseverance was nothing compared to his willpower, and yet you were never on the receiving end of his dedication and work, just an observer.

It was watching him fight for everything but you that sealed the deal, in the end. You had enough empty spots in your heart from people who had left without a second thought about commitment, who took your love for granted and assumed it would last for miles (and it had, which was the worst bit). You couldn’t allow for Harry to make his mark like that. He didn’t have that power over you like he had for others, you had decided.

Which was why you moved in with your brother the next day. Which was why Harry showed up the next night, still in his work clothes, with his teacher’s briefcase in one hand and your apartment key in the other.

“The fuck is this?” he spat, once you had stepped out onto the porch. The streets were slick with rain, the tree branches were weighed heavily upon one another, and Harry’s eyes were the scorched lightning setting it all ablaze.

“I’m done.”

“What yeh mean, done? Done with wha’? Done with us?”

A stunned silence.

“I said we’d work it out.”

He was trying to speak patiently now, talk down as if you had simply forgotten the way he had made you feel cozy and warm again, with promises and soft smiles, before leaving you once more.

“I asked for you to stay.”

“When have yeh ever needed someone to stay?”

It was blunt, harshly spoken, his eyes unfocusing as he furiously blinked the rainwater from his vision. You didn’t move back, you never invited him beyond the porch gate, somewhat afraid of what you’d do if he came closer.

“In the past two years, not once have yeh ever asked for me. Never asked for my advice, n-never told me yeh needed me. What the fuck ‘m I supp’sed to do with that? Know magically that this one time is when you’re actually gonna open up, genuinely gonna talk things out? Not just take whatever path yeh want, without thinkin’ of me?”

“I asked for you to-”

“Stay. Yeah. You asked for me to stay.” He sighed and whipped his head to the side, attempting to sniffle discreetly. You knew that his hay fever was acting up, and you knew he was trying to pretend it wasn’t. A sub-drama within the original, a dialogue stupidly unspoken.

“And you didn’t.”

“What would I be stayin’ for?” It was a serious question,

“For us? To make it work, to talk about what we haven’t-”

“Okay, fuckin’ fine. Talk. Tell me what yeh want me to know.”

You opened your mouth and closed it several times, unable to know what to say. It was a contradiction of overwhelming emotions and the realization that you had no idea. Everything had piled up on each other and digging through the past had no effect on the future, at that point, and you felt as though you had made your mind up the moment you left your key out on the dining table, a night bag stuffed with your everyday things, and your mind blank, to stop yourself from surrendering to him once more.

You’d never forget how he looked, at that moment. In his loose button-up and jeans, with paint on his knuckles and his hair piled in a bun, he looked helpless.

“I’m waiting.”

After a few more moments, he shook his head.

“I’ll move in with Liam next week.” It was a shuddered statement, as if he had come up with that plan on the way over. And that was the way you two ended, because the cliff had been seen for miles and neither one of you pulled the damn car over.

He paused, his body shifted back towards the gate. His hands were by his side, limp, already having given up far before his mind had, your apartment key loosely between two of his fingers.

A minute later, you were back inside. Sliding down the back of the front door, letting your hands immediately rack through your hair, your vision blurry with the loss and the lack of focus, now that he was gone. Because you were gone, and everything was right, but it felt like devastation.

“Our best,” Harry repeated, but that didn’t even sound like enough.

The studio was silent.

“Kiss on the mouth or take a shot each.”

Approximately thirty seconds later, two shot glasses hit the table. You had downed your third of the day, as Harry scrunched his face as he got down his second. Neither of you had hesitated, both realizing that it would bring the level of discomfort to excessive levels. Perhaps if you two were at a friend’s house, wine bottles being passed around in front of the fire, a brief kiss wouldn’t have been seen as much of anything. But not for a camera. Not for the Internet.

The crew was amused how the two of you were on similar tracks of mind, and if you were sober you wouldn’t have found it as funny. But when Harry had his face all squishy like a boy who just ate a lemon, you couldn’t help the giggles that manifested themselves against your lips.

“Okay,” Chris interjected, and it was the river of smooth liquor that kept you two from jumping at the interruption. You had almost forgotten about where you were.

“Just a quick question,” Chris continued, “One we’re asking all the couples.” He paused for dramatic effect, perhaps waiting for the right camera shot, before asking, “Do you feel you have closure?”

The director was bent forward, as if he were brought to the edge of his seat by something that wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Of course neither of you felt you had closure, and of course neither of you would confess to that. Whether the lack of a proper good-bye still haunted your bedposts was another ordeal, one you didn’t feel particularly keen to jump into.

“Uh,” Harry spoke with the stumbling eloquence you had somewhat missed, “Um-well, I-” his eyes flashed over to yours, and then to the side of the table, “Drink. I’m gonna drink.” You gestured with your hand to the bottles, as if inviting him to it, not quite expecting anything less.

His cheeks were flushed as he poured himself another shot, obviously quite upset that he had to further his count. He was an embarrassing lightweight, which you knew, and Chris most likely knew as well.

But Harry must’ve felt more comfortable with risking himself getting drunk on camera, than answering the question, or else he would’ve just confessed that you never let him have the opportunity for closure. And he had treated you similarly, it was a relationship destroyed like frayed clothing, feathering off near the end and getting caught in every sort of mechanism known to mankind.

You never quite understood metaphors.

Harry took the drink in one swoop, without a second thought, and despite you hoping he’d be the one to pour you a shot again, he was obviously needing a moment or two to adjust. So, you poured your own, saluted Chris with it, and drank.

Another truth avoided, and you were feeling like the haze of life had descended upon you. Warmed up and ready to strike.

It hadn’t occurred to you much, at the time, how drinking could speak volumes louder than an answer, one you could elaborate on. But no man ever said vodka brought him sense, so you continued on with the game, under the assumption that the shot glasses would be there for you if all else failed.

“Your turn,” Harry reminded you gently, nudging the cards closer.

You drew.

“Would you be with me again?”

There were flecks of gold in his irises, which felt cliche and overrated, but you were struggling to find anything else in his eyes. There they were, gold and glistening, and the gold was shifting around as Harry glanced away.

It didn’t quite sink in, the implication of his stance, how heavy the air became to everyone sober in the room. Harry nodded slowly at the question, more in the process of thinking over his answer than the nod genuinely being a response.

He started biting his lip again.

“I’m gonna have t’ drink.”

Particles of the air shifted in that fraction of a second. They turned on their sides and pierced the nothingness surrounding them until there was an invisible knife pricking against your chest. It felt hot and unwelcome, and under the gaze of the entire crew, you were speechless for a few seconds.

“I can get why not,” you mumbled after a while, your fingers fixing your hair, the collar of your shirt, anything but how tightly wound the rope was around your neck. “If it didn’t work once, probably wouldn’t work again.”

“Just don’t know who you are, now.” Harry was nice enough to cover his true intentions as he poured the shot. The glasses clinked as they were rearranged and you noticed they were no longer in a straight line. Perhaps Harry was done with easing your tension, maybe this was it. The real pair, the couple of exes with nothing but honesty, a year too late.

“I’ve changed a lot,” you agreed. “Us ending definitely showed me where I needed to work on myself. Took a while, definitely took a while, but I’m getting better.”

Harry, his lips still pursed and his eyes squeezed shut from the nasty aftershock of the shot, managed to nod. When he was able to focus again, he spoke.

“Exactly. I think what was important for the two ‘f us to learn was tha’ we had areas to work on. And we did do tha’ work, but we can’t relive the past. No take twos.”

His words had become a touch more slurred, his head was nodding more from a gradual lack of balance than a genuine agreement. But Harry’s lips were still poised in a smile, in the dopey way his heart would grow whenever he was pleasantly warm.

You couldn’t say you were feeling that sort of happy high, tipsy warmth and giddy love, but you certainly were trying to keep yourself more put together than he was.

“I’ll go, then.” Harry’s hand reached out for the card, accidentally knocking one out of place. Shuffling them back, he drew up the top one again.

“What should I change about myself for future relationships?”

You were shaking your head before Harry was even finished with the question. Which wasn’t altogether impressively fast, because his speech was slower than normal. And he seemed confused by the words - perhaps more apprehensive - and each vowel was elongated.

There was no way you felt you had a right to answer. It had been too long since the break-up. If it were six months ago, maybe, you would’ve jumped through rings of fire to be able to tell Harry what you thought about him. But the truth was, you felt like you were a million miles away from how you both had coexisted a year ago. It was likely life had done Harry the same justice, and any advice you had that wasn’t founded in bitter resentment would simply be irrelevant.

In addition, if the question had been the other way around, there would’ve been no way Harry would’ve answered. There was a possibility you would’ve just died on the spot if he did - it would’ve been hurtful, to hear what he found was such a fundamental flaw within your character that it simply had to be changed in order to make anything work with another person. Some self-problems were designed to be discovered by the individual, not by their angry exes.

“Why not answer?” Chris spoke up.

“Can’t tell him what to do, he’s perfectly fine. Was both of us that made it not work, y’know?” your words felt like syrup in the way they glided from your tongue.

“Yeh gotta drink,” Harry reminded you, a sloppier grin appearing on his face. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table and putting his forefinger and thumb around his lip. Sparks of fire ignited in your chest, from his eyes and how they consumed you. Once more, you were reminded how Harry could make you feel like the only person in the room, and how addictive feeling special could be.

“Know I do, Haz.”

You readied the glass and popped back open the bottle, feeling like that noise would forever be associated with this video, with your heart racing and your fingers moving restlessly.

“Called me Haz, just then.”

You simply nodded at his observation, not bothering to look up at see his reaction. A momentary slip of tongue, but it didn’t mean much. A nickname was all, and you refused to think about it for longer than that.

You drank and then quickly picked up the orange juice. Harry, at the same moment, seemed to realize there was a chaser next to the bottles, and picked up his own glass. There was a momentary break so you both could ease down a little, not feel the punch of alcohol and postpone the gentle sway of future regret and public restroom vomit.

“You ready to continue? Just a few more questions,” Chris gestured towards the last two cards on the table, and you nodded, bleating out a question.

“Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Harry answered, pushing a hand down and moving the cards towards you. You snapped finger guns at him, humming with your lips to indicate that you were impressed by his memory.

It all felt smooth. A gradient of emotions, piled on top of another until the feeling was general existence. And it was nice, sitting across from Harry, seeing him after so long, knowing he was doing okay and he had been trying to improve. The harsh feelings were still there, but they were concealed by the concern of catching up, with the hopes of appearing fine on the camera would translate into actuality.

“Do you think I’d be a good wife?”

Harry’s head dropped down to his hands, his palms supporting his forehead as he moaned something unintelligible. It was a quick change of atmosphere but nothing grossly out of place for two drunk people, as the alcohol had a way of gliding over the rough patches.

You weren’t sure about marriage, in how/if it would come into your life. The topic had come up now and again during your relationship with Harry, especially when he had proposed the idea of moving in together. But the conversation was usually vague on both sides, more in the tone of possibility than probability. It simply wasn’t a major point within the way you two interacted, there was no planning or waiting for a one-knee-kneel and velvet box.

“’F course yeh would,” Harry moaned, and your eyes scanned his face, but the majority of his head was still tucked away.

“Fuck, thought yeh’d be mine, didn’t I?”

Silence.

A blank silence, a blanket of nothing cloaked your mind and your tongue. The thought had never crossed your mind, that he would be planning on proposing. He had never seemed the type to want to settle down quickly. Sure, in the deepest corners of your mind, you had thought what it would be like to take on his last name, or to have him take on yours, and to hold a ceremony to make your love ‘officially’ public, to have the societal relationship cemented by expectation and the ring to physically prove it. But it hadn’t felt realistic.

But there he was, sitting across the table from you, drunkenly confessing he had planned on making you his wife.

And all you could feel was the wet clothes on your skin again, the heavy rain that drowned away your relationship, the sopping weight of an apartment key left behind, the hollow carcass of an apartment that became too empty too soon, the rough edges of Polaroids with scratched handwriting left behind.

Near the end, you had started to think he wasn’t fully committed to the idea of your relationship. That there was a chance he was still looking - not actively, not by any means - but looking in the sense that if someone were to stumble along, someone who made his heart feel like it were floating a million miles in the sky, he would leave. Like he wasn’t completely tied down to you, because he simply was never there. That sense of loss before it had even manifested had brought you towards the edge of neediness, shoving you into desperation without knowing the language of asking for reassurance.

It felt logical at the time. If he wasn’t going to work at the relationship, if there weren’t signs of him planning in the future to cement your love more firmly, that meant he was losing interest. That he would leave, like so many others had, and you were going to be lost in another forest with dense trees of ‘not enough’. So you had lashed out before he could, you had burned the bridge before he had even set foot on it.

Your fear had brought you further away, until the crumpled bedsheets and pillowtalks had faded into sullen silences and avoidance, all while he had thought everything was going to be okay.

Harry lifted his head and dropped his hands onto the table. He looked at you warily, sensing the silence had extended beyond what could be a good thing. His hair was disheveled. His eyes were wet and the golden flecks were magnified.

“Oh.” It was all you could think to say.

Harry sniffled, his eyes batting away briefly as he raised a hand to wipe under them. A curl of hair shifted around the edge of his sunglasses as he moved, falling against his cheek. He brushed it behind his ear.

You were sitting as more an observer than an active member of the moment. It still felt surreal, amplified by the sensation of being drunk and feeling like nothing had a consequence, yet understanding at the core of yourself that this very much had a consequence.

“I’m gonna pick the next one,” Harry whispered, as if the microphone wouldn’t pick it up. You felt a flash of anger at how this moment would be exploited, because you knew it would, and his tears would become a part of the Internet. Floating between particles would be his confession, his vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

He picked up the last card. You held your breath.

“Do you still love me?”

Despite the studio not having made any noise, a deadly quiet resettled itself into the air like a thick dust, gripping away the oxygen from your lungs. It seemed to affect Harry too, for when he was reading, his voice broke at the end. As if cut off by something other than his choice. His eyes went up to the ceiling, praying for you to not answer.

Your hands were in your lap, your fingers curling around the other nervously as you continued to sit through the worst drinking game of your life. Nothing could’ve saved that moment and it seemed the crew knew that as well. Many of them looked away, others couldn’t tear their eyes off of your quivering lip and wide eyes.

Any response seemed it had the potential to break him, but you couldn’t have him not know. He must’ve known anyway. People can’t wash away their first love like a stain, those kinds of relationships were never meant to fully end.

“Don’t think I’d ever stop. Just who we are.”

Harry’s eyes moved from the ceiling to meet yours. Underneath his eyes was a fine shade of pink, as he was trying to hold back the onslaught of hot tears, and after a moment you realized your eyes must have been the same.

The edges of your vision were clouded, the bottles on the side of the table had been washed out with a visible slur.

He looked at you silently, his lips moving without making a noise. It was clear he was trying to ask you again for confirmation with his own words and not the ones written on a card.

But he was still Harry and the words didn’t come out.

Do you love me?

“We grew up together, y’know? In all the adult ways,” your voice wobbled and a few tears slipped out, painting a fine line down your cheeks. “Can’t not love that. You’re a part of those moments, cherish them and I’m cherishing you.”

Harry made an odd light noise, somewhere between a whine and a noise of agreement. He was clearly caught between lines of emotion, unable to lift his intoxicated head above the waves. The drowning had begun.

You had accepted your fate a while back in the game, but it seemed it was only now that Harry realized the long-term impacts these questions could have. His hands were still on the table, palms down, the card between his fingers. You gently reached forward and plucked the card, placing it on the stack. As if that would help ease his pain.

And it was painful, there was no way around it. The immense loss you two had suffered, alone and unable to grieve with the other, irreparable slashes down your hearts caused equally by yourselves as by the other. It had just been a fuckery. The endings always were.

“Do you love me still?” you whispered, the whole spectrum of concentration you had left in your veins solely resting on the slope of his brow, how his eyes gazed into yours, and settled somewhat. Like it was comforting for him to see you.

Your head tilted to the side as you waited, and in the fog of your mind, you realized you had started holding his hand at some moment. Your fingers were wrapped around his outer palm, but he slowly turned his hand over. Threaded your fingers together. Moved his thumb against the side of your hand in slow, small movements.

His heartbeat could be felt through his hand, a steady rhythm like a song you used to play on repeat for days. You had forgotten what it felt like to dance to it, but your heart remembered the tempo.

“I thought I didn’t, but now,” he paused, a sudden hilt in his throat stopping him from continuing momentarily, “Now I’m not sure.”

No one spoke.

No one moved.

His eyes scanned your face. His lips were slightly pursed, in thought, and his eyebrows were low. His thumb continued moving against your skin, as if it would be a comfort to you, but you knew it was mostly for him.

Chris cleared his throat softly, and whispered something to one of his assistants.

“Okay, you two,” he spoke louder to the two of you, but you were the only one to look over. Harry’s eyes stayed on your face, before dropping to the table. Harry’s thumb moved against your skin once more, slowly but with enough pressure that it was clear he had done it consciously.

“I think we’re good, that’s a wrap. Gonna run through some clips, check audio and lighting, but then you’re free to go.”

You nodded, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat, trying to snap back into reality.

His thumb stopped moving.

You looked over at your hands clasped together, wondering what it would feel like to no longer be holding onto Harry, now that the video was over.

The camera turned its ugly head away, the red light on the edge powering off like a suction of tension being lifted from the room. Chris and a few other of the crew started talking at normal volume, perhaps writing over the moment the best they could by avoiding looking at you two.

Harry sat back and cleared his throat, reaching his free hand up to wipe away at the growing collection of tears within his eyes. His hand began to untangle from yours, as you readied yourself to move on, to get over him again, to feel the impending loss with each step towards lot where your friends would pick you up.

It almost hurt more, losing him a second time.

Perhaps that was why you did it. Maybe it was the instinctive reaction to not ache again, to protect yourself by removing the hurt.

His fingers were barely in your palm when you reacted, leaning forward again to lock your fingers around his. Firmly, with your eyes flashing up to him, a question in your eyes but not yet on your tongue. Harry looked at you, confused but more wary than anything else, before his gaze settled back on your joined hands.

“I would like it if we could go somewhere and talk.”

You hadn’t been able to ask him to settle down to have a serious talk for the past three and a half years, but the words slipped out as naturally as if you were asking him for the time of day. Harry’s confusion deepened before he realized that yes, you had spoken and yes, you had asked for him. Asked for him, after being so vulnerable and stripping away your false sense of brutal independence in order to get together with him for a half hour.

His soft smile indicated his answer was yes, but he accompanied it with a verbal confirmation, a nudge that he was headed in the right direction. Harry was hardly ever shy, but the rosy flush on his cheeks was only partially from the drink, and mostly because of your smile back at him.

Maybe you two wouldn’t talk things out and find that elusive ‘resolution’ nestled between the vast gap where closure was supposed to take root. Maybe you two would flare up in old arguments again and end up storming out, thunder and lighting booming again in your hearts and bitter resentment welling up in your throats.

But at that moment, Harry squeezed his hand around yours, and you felt your chest slowly rise up, the butterflies, forgotten but not gone, stretching out their wings.

Maybe you two could not let go, this time.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! This has definitely been a dear piece to me. Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!

[anemonensblog]

11(33) Questions meme

So I got tagged by @writsgrimmyblog quite a while ago, and didn’t get around to answering it since I was travelling, so got further tagged by @dictacontrion​ and @huldrejenta​. So this is very long. Hence the cut thing.

RULES:

- Always post the rules

- Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

- Write 11 questions of your own

- Tag 11 people (or however many you want)

As for my questions, I’m tagging @eidheann, @dracogotgame, @capipuff, @awesomedig, @comingupwithusernamesishard, @noeeon, @i-didnt-wanna-do-it, @firethesound and then if you guys who tagged me wants to do my questions too, I wouldn’t mind readig your answers :D

@writsgrimmyblog​ asked:

1.       What’s your favourite quote from a book or poem? I'm not the best at picking out quotes and I've never been big on poetry, but Kate Tempest has some texts that really digs into my soul. Seeing her at the third biggest stage at Glastonbury, a spoken word artist drawing such a crowd - was pretty powerful. So I chose this quote from her 'Tunnel Vision':

"The myth of the individual has left us disconnected, lost, and pitiful" (which sounds a bit bleak, but the whole poem/album is really powerful, and it ends on a sort of hopeful note.)

2.       What song makes you want to dance like nobody’s watching? I only ever dance like nobody's watching :D latest to Pumarosa at their set at Glastonbury, and then to some pretty heavy techno waiting for Josefin Örn's set at the Glade. While I don't listen to it much on my own, nothing really makes me let loose and not give a shit like hard electronic music does wrt dancing.

3.       What’s your favourite ship to read? Currently Larry. Fic wise it's such a varied pairing to read - covering so many themes and settings - so I never manage to get tired of it. I also really love Tomlinshaw, but Drarry is always in my heart - my first and deepest fandom love.

4.       If you could own one item of clothing belonging to any celebrity what would you pick and why? Umm, is it weird to be in a celeb related fandom and say that I don't really pay that much attention to celebrities? I guess in the sense of overall style I usually like Kristen Stewart's choices and I'd probably be more than happy to wear her wardrobe at all times. But for a single item I'd probably go for one of Harry Styles's lush and luxurious and ridiculously expensive floral blouses and pair it with a pair of high waisted skinny jeans and my brogues.

5.       Gif with a hard or soft ‘g’? Well, as I usually pronounce file formats in Norwegian, the hard g is the only one that makes sense. I suppose we do have a version of soft g too, but that would make it yif, and that just sounds weird. So hard g it is!

6.       What’s your favourite fanfic ‘getting together’ trope? Hmm, does coming to terms with one's sexuality count as a getting together trope? That always hits me really hard and feels very emotional. Otherwise I guess friends to lovers and enemies to lovers, with loads of pining and ust.

7.       What’s your guiltiest pleasure? I'm not sure I actually have a really guilty pleasure? I used to watch a lot of Americas next top model, just because I loved seeing the process with the photo shoots, so maybe that's a little guilty with regards to how the modelling and fashion industry perpetuates some very unhealthy things.

8.       Most relatable 1D (or solo 1D) lyric? “If tomorrow you won’t be mine, won’t you give it to me one last time” JK LMAO but no one can convince me that song isn’t fucking hilarious. For real though, I’m more of a melody than lyrics kind of gal, so I’m not entirely sure? Maybe this one, for good luck, since I’m making some changes in my life (also bonus since they are Louis’ lines :D): “I think I'm gonna win this time, Riding on the wind and I won't give up, I think I'm gonna win this time, I roll and I roll, 'til I change my luck, I roll and I roll, 'til I change my luck”

9.       If you could give one piece of advice to a celebrity, what would it be? I don't necessarily feel like I have any good basis for giving advice to celebs, but I guess just remembering to keep a healthy perspective towards the world, and to use their platform for good. Their participation in politics and activism could do more good than I think a lot of them realise. (But stay informed and think before you speak.)

10.   Tell me your favourite joke. You know, I literally can’t think of a single joke. I guess I could search for some, but that would sort of belie the point.

11.   If you were famous for a day, what question would you most dread being asked during an interview? I think anything related to diet/workout routine/keeping my body in shape would make me feel really uncomfortable and objectified.

@dictacontrion​'s questions:

1.       If you could have one billion dollars or the not (or only incidentally) profitable superpower of your choosing, which would you choose and why? As my big dream/my favourite thing to do is travelling and seeing the world, my chosen superpower would probably be teleportation. BUT teleportation would still leave me with the issue of spending money and getting days off work (unless I used the teleportation for criminal purposes I guess). So I think I'd go for the billion dollars, which not only would enable me to travel as much and however I'd like, but is such a ridiculous amount of money that maybe I could use it to do some good in the world.

2.       What article of clothing makes you feel most awesome? The way I dress is incredibly dependent on my mood, but I guess maybe my denim shorts? Mostly because of the setting in which I would wear them. I love the feeling of warm air and sun on bare skin more than practically anything, so the few occasions where I'm able to wear my denim shorts I feel happy and awesome from the get-go :)

3.       How did you get into your most recent fandom? That must be the 1d fandom, so long story short: a 1d fanfic based m/m novel tickled my curiousity, Harry's 'not that important' even more so. Got recommended the fantastic gryles fic “If this is love” by sunsetmog which I read and adored, and diving deeper into sunsemog’s fics I then read “I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow” which till this day still stands as one of my fave ever fics. Then followed some arbitrary tumblr searching and blog following, and in time the rabbit hole that is Larry swallowed me hole and has failed to spit me back out.

4.       What’s your least favorite/most hated book, and why? I’m terribly impatient, so I don’t really finish stuff I don’t like? So I don’t really have that passionate bad feelings about any one book I’ve read. Read some 1800s Norwegian realism/naturalism literature in high school which at the time felt like a drag, but in hindsight I’m very happy I read. Moby Dick annoyed the hell out of me, and I gave up halfway through, but I still don’t hate it, I don’t think. So I don’t really know *shrugs*

5.       Describe a fanwork you’d love to read/see/watch, but don’t want to create yourself, please? Ummm, a long and plotty Ginny/Luna fic maybe. I’d love to read more femslash, but the fics I’ve seen out there are usually just little ficlet. And nothing against a good ficlet, but I’m longing to dive deep into a long and immersive wlw story. (Incidentally, if anyone have any such recs, be it fanfic or original fiction, I’d be happy to hear about it!)

6.       What would be the lineup of your ideal music festival? Ahhhh this is simultaneously the hardest and the best possible question for me!! Okayyy: Grimes, Years & Years, One Direction (ofc), Pumarosa, Arctic Monkeys, Lianne La Havas, Shura, The Shins, Loyle Carner, Wolf Alice, Ezra Furman, Lady Gaga and Rihanna (the two of whom I don't listen to much, but I think they'd bring some amazing pop flair), the Kills, Chvrches, All We Are, Warpaint, Tame Impala, Susanne Sundfør, Amason and then Katzenjammer for some fun nostalgia, ohh and Kate Tempest! and Charli XCX was a lot of fun and I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. ummm okay and then a club line-up for after hours with AlunaGeorge, Disclosure, Hot Chip, Roger Sanchez, Röksopp ft Robyn, Christine Dancke and Nick Grimshaw because why not ;) (And now I’ll probably go on to regret everyone I forgot to add)

7.       You’re given the power to unilaterally create one law or policy in one country - what is it? To nationalise all natural resources so their riches would benefit the people rather than a few rich private business owners and multinational corporations who are often not even based locally.

8.       If you had to commit to living in one place for the rest of your life, what would it be?  Part of me wants to say London, but I think realistically I'll have to choose Bergen (in Norway)<3

9.       Thinking about your life a year from now, what’s one thing that you hope will be different? I hope I’m no longer in this limbo between life phases and will have got to implement the changes I’m going for properly.

10.   What’s one thing that you hope will be the same? My relationship.

11.   What’s the last thing that made you laugh? Was out with some friends for beers last night, which included many laughs, but I can’t remember what in particular that made me laugh. I hang out with these people way to rarely. They’re such great people, and hanging out with them feels so relaxed.

And last but not least, @huldrejenta​‘s questions:

1. What was your favourite album as a teenager? Depends on when you asked me. If I was 13, probably “The Eminem Show”, but as a 17-year old, most definitely Arctic Monkeys’ “Whatever People Say I Am That’s What I’m Not” (which still stands as one of my all time favourites)

2. What’s your favourite album now? Pumarosa – “The Witch” – fantastic album, which I wholeheartedly recommend.

3. One pairing you’d love to have more fanfic/art about? As mentioned above, Ginny/Luna. But also more femslash in general would be pretty fantastic.

4. What’s your favourite villain in books and/or movies? I’m not a villain kind of lady, but maybe Umbridge? I don’t think anyone has ever given me as bad feelings as her, because she’s such a realistic villain in a lot of ways. She’s not caricature evil like Voldy or Sauron, but an everyday, self-involved, closed minded evil. And that’s a very effective kind of evil to hate.

5. Do you believe in supernatural phenomenons? No

6. You can have dinner with any person from history, who would you choose? This is kind of an impossible question. So many interesting persons through history. But, actually, I think I’d really have loved to have met my grandfather on my father’s side. My dad is quite old, so his dad was born in the late 1800s and died long before I was born, but he was a teacher and from the sound of it, incredibly foresighted and modern for a man of that time. Which are values he’s very much passed on to his sons. My dad is amazing. My grandfather was a teacher, and during the Nazi occupation of Norway during WW2, he was among those who lost their jobs because he refused to teach nazi ideology to his pupils. And this was in a small, working class industry town, and my dad has told so many fantastic stories about him. I’d love to have met him and talked to him.

7. Name three things you like about yourself :) While I’m pretty shy, I’m also kind of tough in some ways. I went to Japan without much of a plan and winged it as we went. I started playing rugby at age 27. I started singing in a choir I found by googling, where I didn’t know anyone. I wish that toughness spread to other sides of my life, but at least it’s something. I can sing, something which brings me immense joy. I have a pretty good memory, combined with wide spanning interests and curiosity, so I remember a lot of weird facts and random things.

8. Hogwarts era Drarry, yes or no? Depends. 8th year, post war/canon, yes. Canon divergence (other than ewe), mostly no.

9. What was the last thing you googled? The lyrics for some 1d songs for one of the questions further up :P

10. Favourite Harry Potter book? Hmmmmmmmmmm I don’t know? Maybe Prisoner of Azkaban? They’ve all had very profound effects on me though, so it’s like choosing a favourite child.

11. Favourite museum/gallery? I’ve seen a lot of amazing museum during my life, so that’s kind of impossible to answer as well. But maybe, for nostalgic reasons, Bryggens Museum in Bergen. Because my dad used to take me and my sister there sometimes during weekends when we were little, when my mum needed to sleep after a night shift at the hospital. And he’d tell stories and we’d look at the archaeological spots and the seasonal exhibits, and we’d get soda and cake in the museum café.

My questions:

1.     Do you have a song stuck in your head right now? Which one?

2.     Do you have any plans in the foreseeable future that you’re looking forward to?

3.     What’s your favourite place inside your house/flat?

4.     What hobbies do you have outside of fandom?

5.     Do you speak any languages besides your own?

6.     What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to?

7.     If you could meet the leader of your country and tell them whatever you wanted, and be guaranteed they’d listen to you, what would you say?

8.     What movie did you watch over and over as a child, and what was your favourite thing about it?

9.     What’s your favourite thing about each season through the year?

10. If you were to get a pet tomorrow, what would you call it and why?

11. How did you discover fanfiction?