#heartbreak weather edit

[stellatekintsugi]

Niall Horan

[cloudslou]

heaven won’t be the same

[x-lulu]

lu’s spotify library - heartbreak weather, niall horan

[bandsanitizer]

Lonely Heart by 5sos x Put A Little Love On Me MV

when the lights come up and there’s no shadows dancing

I look around as my heart is collapsing

for @hoodhoran for the 5sos edit holiday exchange

[delusional-day-dreamer]

First. Love. Part² - p.b

playlist!

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‣ paige bueckers x oc

‣ wc: 12079 (this took me way too long but I got carried away...)

‣‣ synopsis: background on paige and jenna's relationship, how they met, fell in love, and how paige ended up becoming jenna's first heartbreak and eternal muse.

‣‣‣ a/n: So High School Part 2 will be out soon (i have no idea where to take the plot in that series 😔), this is sort of a filler chapter in between the podcast episode in part 3 to give context. EDIT: I changed Jenna's major to be Business Economics with a minor in Film, Television, and Digital Media because it's more relevant for the later plot!

June 30th, 2016 (summer before freshman year; 14 years old)

Jenna's POV:

You didn't know how much more of this stupid city you could handle. You had just locked your front door behind you as you left to go to the pool inside your new neighborhood, excited to read a book you had bought the other day while sunbathing on a lounge chair.

Your parents had just uprooted your life and moved you from San Diego, California, land of sunshine, beaches, and only a small amount of criminal activity, to middle of nowhere Hopkins, Minnesota, right before you started high school with all of your old friends.

Of course you understood that this was for the better of your family, both of your parents had gotten new jobs at a huge hospital with far better pay than their previous ones, they found a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood close to what was going to be your new school, and living in your dad's hometown meant being close to his family.

However, none of these facts soothed the bitter taste in your mouth that formed at the thought of having to be the new kid, having no friends to hang out with for the rest of summer or to start school off with, no job or classes to distract your never-ending train of thoughts, and you didn't even have a sibling to act as your built in friend.

Regardless, you tried your best to adjust to your new, albeit lonely, life by distracting yourself as much as possible. Your parents had re-enrolled you in music lessons the same week you finished moving into your house, gave you an allowance to buy new clothes and hang out at the local mall, as you very quickly realized your Californian wardrobe would not fit the Minnesota weather, despite it being summertime (although you hadn't gone yet as you hated shopping alone), and you had even been going to the pool frequently with the hopes of meeting kids close to your age.

And it just so happened that today, your prayers had been answered. As you were walking down the street, the door to a house you had just crossed by across the street had barely opened before a small boy barrels out, closely followed by a taller, blonde girl who appeared to be around your age, locking the door behind the two of them. You weren't able to put a finger on it, but there was simply something about the girl that was mesmerizing, just a quick glance at her had you wanting to know more.

You had always known you liked girls to some extent, you always found yourself gazing at the t.v. in wonder at the beautiful girls displayed upon the screen. However, it wasn't until probably a hundred, "Am I Gay?" internet quizzes later in seventh grade you recognized the fact that you were queer and were in fact attracted to girls, you just didn't bother telling anyone about this revelation.

In particular, the girl in front of you invoked millions of questions that raced through your mind: who was she, was she your age, was she going to the same high school as you, and most importantly, why was she so pretty? Her blonde hair cascaded down her back with a slight wave to them, her white oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts draped over her tall frame, and her voice that rang out as she scolded the little boy who ran in front of her to the end of their walkway.

God, her voice was the most intoxicating thing you had ever heard, luring you into her like a siren's song to the depths of the ocean. You swore you were floating at the twinkling sound of her laughter echoing around the block as she joked with, who you head her refer to as, her little brother.

You snapped out of your stunned daze and continued walking forward as she followed her little brother onto the main sidewalk, now almost parallel with your frame. You were mentally counting your blessings that she hadn't looked up enough to see your stalker-esque figure staring at her, although you were praying that she happened to be going to the pool as well (definitely not so you could look at her some more).

Truly, God had decided to pay special attention to you today, as your blonde neighbor grabbed her little brother's hand as she crossed the street, making her way towards you. You couldn't help but glance at her as she approached you, and you were taken aback by the shockingly blue eyes that met yours. You gave her a tight-lipped smile as she stepped up to the sidewalk just behind you, hoping your internal panic wasn't apparent on your face as you faced forward once again.

Your focus on taking deep breaths in and out to not embarrass yourself in front of the first person your age you've even made eye contact with in the last month is interrupted by the little boy running past you, gently bumping into your leg as he brushes past you. His short legs are working overtime to maintain a pace faster than both you and the pretty stranger, who had now jogged up next to you to keep close to her brother.

"Drew the pool isn't gonna run away by the time we get there, you gotta slow down buddy," She called out to the curly-headed child, turning her head to peer slightly down at you.

"Sorry about him, he gets really ahead of himself sometimes," She apologized on his behalf, her eyes scanning over your face. Before giving you a chance to reply, she continued on. "Are you new to the neighborhood? I don't think I've ever seen you around?" She questions, your heart slightly speeding up at the undivided attention she was paying to your face.

"No yeah I am, I just moved here from California," you replied, tucking your hands into the pockets of your shorts to avoid any nervous flailing.

"No way, that's so cool, I've always wanted to visit. Did you live next to the beaches? One of my old friends went there for vacation and she loved it, like she wouldn't shut up about how nice it is over there. I think she went somewhere close to LA. Wait are you going to the pool too?" Her outgoing demeanor surprised you. You had only seen her for the first time a minute ago, and she was already carrying you into a conversation about your old life.

"Yeah I did and I am, I lived in San Diego so the beaches there were really nice compared to the northern part. I miss being able to go there all the time, so I guess for now the pool will just have to do," you joked back, and your heart fluttered at the smile that broke out on her face.

It had appeared that you made your first friend in Hopkins, Minnesota, and unbeknownst to you, she would quickly become your first ever best friend. Then your first girlfriend, your first love, and then slowly, your first and last heartbreak.

April 4th, 2017 (spring break, freshman year; 15 years old)

Paige's POV:

"Dude there's no way you think pancakes are supposed to be better than waffles, they're so boring," I protested on my bed next to Jenna, rolling onto my stomach towards her and propping up my elbows so I could look at her. Jenna had somehow become my best friend within the span of two months during summer, and although I was unsure of when and how her presence became so prominent in my life in such a quick span of time, I was nothing but grateful.

We had started high school together and even had a class together everyday, which was a saving grace for both of us. She came to every single one of my home games this season, even some of the closer away games. She made it to more of my games that any person in my family did, which surprised me, but she just was always there for me somehow.

I was never the best at making friends outside of basketball, the sport was my comfort zone and it was always so much easier to relate to my teammates who felt the same. Yet, me and Jenna just clicked, despite our many differences. Hanging out with her quenches a thirst within me I didn't know I had. A thirst to be seen, to be heard and known, a desire for someone to see me past all my future athletic potential and to just see me, and without fail, she did that for me. Every. Time.

One of the things we discovered early into our friendship, the first time she came over to my house to hang out, were our matching initials. PB and JS, which we affectionately coined to be our nicknames, Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich (pretend pazzi does not own this nickname). Jenna always says that our matching initials are a sign from above, a sign that we're meant to stick by the other's side. We even bought matching necklaces with our initials over winter break as a mutual Christmas present, mine was silver and hers was gold.

Our parents loved the nickname as well, joking that it's the reason they can never separate us, as you just can't have one without the other. Our families somehow became intertwined over the course of our friendship as well, trading in between carpool duties, spending long weekends and the occasional holiday together, and even coming to cheer me on at my basketball games or watching Jenna's dance recitals from the class she took instead of P.E. We all even went out to eat together to celebrate me and Jenna's small freshmen year milestones, like our birthdays.

Hers was a bit before mine, September 21st, 2001, which made her just slightly older than me. Apparently according to the Minnesota school laws or whatever, Jenna is supposed to be in the grade above, but California has different age cutoffs so she's one of the oldest people in our grade.

She confessed to me before school started that she was nervous about being the eldest out of everyone, but I reassured her by saying that it just meant she could drive the two of us around and do a bunch of other things before everyone else could. That really helped.

She even let me into her secret world of music, I knew she took classes but until she played and sang for me, I didn't realize just how good she was. She was fairly shy when it came to her talent, and almost never played in front of people she wasn't comfortable with, which is why it felt like an honor when she played a song on the piano or guitar for me, or sang for or with me, whether it was playing from the radio or something small she wrote.

But the thing that really brought us closer together was when Jenna's parents had to go out of town from time to time for their medical conferences, which left her home alone. When she was younger, she always used to go with them, as missing school wasn't that big of a deal. But now, she ended up refusing, insisting that she would be alright home alone.

This didn't fly with either of our families, and our parents eventually came to the conclusion that Jenna could just stay over at our house when needed. It wasn't like me and Jenna didn't have sleepovers all the time anyways, and both me and Drew loved having her over. She even met my Mom and my two other little siblings, Ryan and Lauren. The three of them immediately took to her the way I did, entranced by her presence. She loved hanging out with them too, since she was an only child.

There was something about Jenna that somehow attracted people to her. Maybe it was her welcoming presence, the way she made you feel like the most important person in the world with the way she looked at you, or perhaps it was something appealing about her appearance. The small makeup she put on and the way she spent extra time styling her hair was always unnecessary in my opinion, I always thought she was the prettiest person in our grade.

Sometimes I wondered if the two of us were truly best friends. I know friends hang out a bunch like we do, they don't mind changing in the same room or even in front of each other, and they definitely feel comfortable enough to cuddle together in bed or while watching a movie. Right?

But sometimes I swear there's a weird fluttering in my stomach when Jenna's bare legs drape over mine on the couch, or sometimes my heart skips a beat when we're getting ready for bed and she just pauses while changing her shirt, intent on continuing our conversation even while standing in just her bra.

But it's okay for friends to do that right? I mean, I've only ever had crushes or thought boys were attractive, so everything I'm feeling is probably just from the fact that I've never had a best friend like Jenna. Sure, I've had a bunch of friends and teammates I'm really close to, but me and Jenna spend all of our time together, and there's almost nothing we wouldn't do together. Sometimes, we just take turns showering while the other person stays in the bathroom just so we can keep talking.

Which led the two of us up to now, spending spring break sprawled out on my bed at 9pm, arguing about whether waffles or pancakes were better. We never had any real arguments, but with me and Jenna both being super competitive and never wanting to be wrong, we always had long discussions "fighting" about meaningless topics.

"Pancakes are so much smoother and like, enjoyable to eat compared to waffles, plus waffles end up crispy at the edges and they just end up tasting weird," She insisted, adjusting herself from her back to her side so she could argue with me face to face.

Her hair fell over her shoulder when she moved, leaving her shoulder exposed as her, no, my sweatshirt had slightly slouched down as it was big on her. Jenna wasn't exactly short, she was around 5'5, it's just that I happened to be even taller.

"Girls, come down for dinner please," my step-mom yelled from downstairs before I could even snap out of my distracted state to argue back.

"Coming Mrs. Bueckers," Jenna took the initiative to yell back slightly when I didn't respond in time, still in shock as to why I ended up staring at my best friend, distracted by her bare shoulder in my clothes. Me and Jenna always shared clothes, we even kept clothing and toiletry spares in each others rooms for spontaneous sleepovers. So why was her wearing my sweatshirt, in my bed, so different this time?

Whatever the reason was, I didn't have time to even think it over before Jenna got up from next to me, grabbing my hands with hers so she could yank me up as well, complaining that she was hungry. She kept our hands interlocked as we left my room, walking down the stairs hurridley. It was a miracle she didn't notice that for some reason, her soft, warm hands in mine had left a barely noticeable blush on my cheeks.

October 28th, 2017 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Come on J hurry up, it's just a stupid party," Paige walked into your bathroom as you were almost finished curling your hair. "I'm on my last section P chill, I'll be done in a minute," you reassured her reflection. The two of you were invited to a Halloween party, but apparently you weren't supposed to dress up since technically it's not Halloween yet? (skinny jeans were the shit in 2017 but I can't bring myself to write that that's what they're wearing 😔)

You were both confused about it but the junior who invited you guys, Alexa, was one of your friends from math class. You were sat together on the first day and despite both of you struggling here and there, you often got the concepts a little bit quicker than her, so you always helped her when possible. And in return, she got the two of you an invite, well technically she invited you but everyone knows you and Paige are a package deal, to one of the biggest house parties of the school year.

It was also going to be the first party you were ever going to, and you both agreed to not go overboard on the drinks, since your aunt cristina, who was visiting, was going to pick and drop you in her car. Your mom's sister couldn't have chosen a better time to come visit, as both of your parents were working the night shift tonight and Paige's parents allowed her to sleepover at your house since your aunt was supposed to "supervise".

"See, I'm ready, let's go," you told Paige as you finished your hair with a thin layer of hairspray, moving past her into your room to grab your phone and keys. Your parents had gotten you a used Ford F-150 truck (so gay) so it would be easier for you to drive to school, with Paige of course, since they both started working longer hours now that you were old enough to take care of yourself and so that they could retire earlier.

You both made your way downstairs to your Aunt Cristina on the couch, watching tv while waiting for you to finish getting ready. "Ready to hit the road girls?" She got up to turn off the tv and grab her things from around the living room.

"Yup, thank you again for taking us, and for not telling our parents," Paige responded on your behalf as well. It was typical of adults to love Paige, she was always the most respectful and responsible kid in their eyes, even when thanking your aunt for driving you to a party so you could drink responsibly.

"No problem, I'd rather you girls be safe while having fun, no point in sneaking out if I'm here for you," She joked as you moved to get in her car, and within ten minutes, the three of you were pulled up outside the address Alexa had given you.

"Now please just remember to be safe, have fun, drink responsibly, don't leave your drinks unattended, don't try drinks from random people, keep your phone on you, don't leave each other's side," Your aunt was rambling off safety rules to the two of you in the backseat. You thought it was ironic she had to mention for you to stay together as if you ever left each other's side anyways.

"Yes Auntie C of course," You promised her as you moved to open the car door, "We'll be safe and I'll text you, love you, thanks, bye!" You closed the door the second Paige climbed out from the backseat, eager to walk into the house you could hear music blaring out of.

Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting pressed up together on a couch in a crowded living room, two red solo cups in hand with sprite and vodka. You and Paige were tipsy from the past two hours of drinking, a warm fuzziness settled into our brains, making the circle of people around us funnier than they probably were.

"No you know what we should play, seven minutes in heaven!" A drunk junior called out mid-conversation. You weren't really absorbing anything that was being said around you until that, and the loud cheers that erupted from the living room at the suggestion.

"Everybody gather around in a circle on the floor, whoever spins it has to go in the guest bedroom with the person it lands on for seven minutes," Alexa called out to everyone as she reached for an empty beer bottle behind her, before moving to sit on the floor.

"D'you wanna play?" Paige asked quietly next to you. You could tell she was hesitant on joining, and would only sit down if you went with her or dragged her with you.

"Why not, what are the chances we get picked anyways?" You decided, downing the last sip of your drink before setting it down on the floor, pulling Paige off the couch with you and into the circle.

"Before we start," Alexa loudly interrupted the conversation of the circle as she placed the beer bottle in the middle, causing everyone to quiet down and listen to her. "If you get picked to go in the room, you do not, and I repeat do not, have to do anything. The room stays unlocked the whole time, and you can't force the other person to do anything, even kiss," She insisted, making eye contact with every person in the circle before sitting back down in her spot.

"Agreed?" She asked everyone, and only allowed the game to start after hearing a response from everyone.

The game started and by the fourth round, everyone except one couple had clearly used the seven minutes to their advantage, coming out with tousled hair, bruised lips, and one girl even came out with a visibly red hickey on her neck. You and Paige had yet to be picked, and you felt a sense of relief that the two of you got to participate without having to actually play the game.

But, you suppose you must have spoken (or thought) too soon though, as you watched the next guy spin the bottle, and it slowed to a stop, the neck pointing right at you. Encouragements and cheers burst from the circle, urging the two of us to go in the room. You recognized who he was from around campus and his games, a junior volleyball player.

He got up from his seat, walking across the circle to you, and offering his hand to pull you up. You looked over hesitantly at Paige, who was barely meeting your eyes and had a small, tight-lipped smile on her face. Ignoring her reaction, you took his hand in yours and allowed him to hoist you up, dropping it the moment you stood in front of him.

You walked into the room first, sitting on the desk pushed up against the wall as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you, leaving a foot of space in between you two, presumably waiting for you to give him some sort of indicator.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't really mind but I wasn't really planning on getting picked and I'm not comfortable, like, kissing you or anything so if you want to pick someone else I get it, I just don't want to," the nervous ramble poured out of you without constraint, the alcohol you had consumed making you more open-lipped than normal.

"Hey it's cool, you heard Alexa, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he shrugged, moving to take a seat on the edge of the queen bed in the room.

"Oh, thank you, I guess. I didn't think you would be so cool about your turn being wasted," You settled on top of the desk properly, turning to face the boy who was surprisingly chill.

"Nah it's whatever, I just broke up with my girlfriend like a month ago too, so I don't really care. I'm Jeremy by the way," he introduced, bringing one foot off the floor to rest over his other knee, leaning slightly back onto the bed.

"I'm Jenna, this is my first party so I wasn't really sure how all of this was gonna go."

"Jenna, I swear I've heard your name before," he paused, thinking for a moment. "Ohh, you’re the one who's friends with the basketball girl, Paige something right?" He suddenly remembered.

"Yeah I came with her tonight, she's my best friend," You smiled, talking about Paige was one of the easiest things in the world for you. You knew everything about her, inside and out, and majority of people knew you through her, since her athleticism made her quite popular around school. You never minded being known as Paige's best friend though, you knew you had your own identity and Paige always reminded anyone who referred to you as that, but there was a certain comfort that your friendship was strong enough for even a stranger to know that about you.

You and Jeremy continued small talking about school and a little bit about his ex-girlfriend before a knock rang out from the door, signaling that your time was up. He got up before you and held the door open as you walked out, instantly being bombarded with excited whoops and teasing "oooo's" as you walked to join the circle again.

"We didn't even do anything, guys" Jeremy emphasized to the circle, attempting to calm the rambunctious circle.

"Then why is she red as a tomato? The girl couldn't be blushing harder if she tried," a random girl in the circle yelled out, revving up the groups fever.

"She's like sixteen, chill out. Besides it's probably cause all of you," Jeremy backed you up as you walked over to your previous seat, but before you sat back down, you realized Paige was no longer there.

"Where did Paige go?" You asked the group before the next person could spin the bottle, causing eyes to shoot up at you.

"She went to the kitchen for a refill, so probably still there," Alexa informed you. You nodded at her before walking away, searching for your missing best friend.

You didn't have to look for long before you found her taking a shot in the kitchen with two other random girls, her face souring heavily at the alcoholic taste. You knew Paige hated the taste of alcohol and was never one to submit to peer-pressure, so why was she taking a shot of tequila with strangers?

"Hey P," you walked up to her, resting your hand on her bicep to draw her attention to you.

"Hey J," she responded dryly, but her voice was slightly slurred, moving her arm out of your hold to swap out the shot class for a full solo cup you could only pray she filled herself.

"You wanna leave soon? It's already like one ish?"

"Sure, whatever," she took a long sip from her cup, downing half of whatever she had poured in it.

"Okay, we can wait outside, let the cold air sober us up a bit before Auntie C gets here," you gently pried the red plastic cup out of her hand before grabbing her hand and leading her out to the living room, saying bye to the small amount of friends you knew before walking outside.

The two of you settled onto the edge of the curb at the ending curve of the sidewalk, just far enough from the house to get a little quiet. The stuffed house had been slightly humid, and the light breeze was a refreshing contrast to your previous environment.

"How was it?" Paige's question broke the quiet but tension-filled bubble the two of you had formed.

"How was what?"

"Your seven minutes in heaven," Paige drunkenly mocked.

"P, we didn't do anything. Like, anything anything," you were confused at her attitude, did she know something about Jeremy, or dislike him for some reason?

"You, you didn't kiss him?" The shock was apparent on her face. "The second you left everyone was talking about Jeremy and Jenna kissing in a tree, it was really annoying," she grumbled, you concluded that the alcohol she had consumed must be what was making her weird.

"No way P, I don't want my first kiss to be like that. Forced and with someone I don't even know, let alone like," you scooched closer into her, resting your head on her shoulder.

You awaited a response from her but never get one, she simply leaned her head on top of yours as you waited in a comfortable silence for your ride, which came quickly.

*small time skip*

You had just finished your short skincare routine and were finally ready to climb into bed with Paige, the long night had taken its toll on you, and you were ready to collapse into the warm embrace of your best friend. But tonight, when you laid down next to her in bed, she didn't immediately cuddle into you like she always did, remaining flat on her back, staring at your ceiling.

Instead, she turned over to face you, only a few inches of space were left in between your faces as she whispered to you, "Why didn't you kiss him?"

Her question shocked you. The two of you rarely visited the topic of romantic relationships or feelings of the sort, and both of you agreed that you weren't interested in the thought as of right now.

"I," you paused. You had never officially come out to Paige, afraid that once she knew you liked girls, your every move would be scrutinized and judged, and your relationship would never be the same. But surely, you insisted internally, Paige wasn't going to be like that.

"I wasn't really interested in the thought of kissing a guy," You quietly admitted, rolling back over onto your back to avoid her gaze.

"Oh." That was it? You basically just came out to her and that's all you got?

"Would you ever kiss a guy? Or just," she paused, the hesitation clear in her voice. "Just girls?"

"No I would kiss both, I just don't think I want my first kiss to be with one? Or at least not Jeremy," you confessed quietly, turning your head back over to look at her. She was staring intently at you, scanning your face.

"Who would you want your first kiss to be with?"

"I don't know, but at least with someone I'm close to. Have you ever," you waited a moment before finishing your sentence, taking a deep breath in between your words.

"Have you ever thought about kissing girls? Or a girl?" You whispered, watching her slightly panicked reaction.

"A few times, but I've never kissed anyone either, so I don't know," Her eyes darted in between your eyes and down to your lips. "What if you kiss me? Just so we can both have our first kisses with someone we know," in retrospect, you should've thought harder before agreeing to kiss your previously assumed straight best friend. But her offer set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks flushed deeply as you nodded.

You shuffled closer to her in bed, such that there was barely an inch of space separating your lips. "Are you sure about this?" You whispered, staring down at her lips while reaching your hand to cup her jaw, the other arm bent at the elbow to support your body above hers.

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at your own lips, slightly moving in until your lips grazed against hers. You pressed your lips a little firmer into hers, slanting your head further as your lips barely opened. She moved in tandem with you, her hand resting at the nape of your neck as she kissed you back.

Your kiss only lasted a few moments, pulling back the second you registered the taste of alcohol still prominent in her mouth. You realized it was possible that the only reason your best friend asked you to kiss her was because she was drunk, sixteen, and very single.

"This isn't gonna be weird tomorrow is it?" Your brows furrowed as a worried expression settled into your face.

"No, why would it? Friends can kiss, besides we just won't make it weird," she promised. And despite knowing it was a stupid idea, an even stupider statement, you agreed. Collapsing down back onto your pillow, you opened your arms for Paige to snuggle into you, and the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

February 3rd, 2018 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Paige's POV:

It was a relief to finally find a quiet moment to myself, even if it was at three in the morning in the middle of my living room couch. Everyone in my house was asleep, including Jenna, who was still snoring when I extracted myself from her arms. The ac vent aimed straight at me caused me to pull the blanket tighter into my body, despite the pajama pants I was wearing and one of Jenna's hoodies.

We were almost done with basketball season and were currently playing our conference games, and were thankfully on a streak. And yet, the pressure inside of me continued to build, the need to be perfect and to support and carry my team throughout our games constantly weighing down on me.

Of course my teammates, coaches, family, and my other friends were supportive of me and encouraged me to try my best, and that no one expected perfection of me. But for whatever reason, I couldn't get rid of the anxiety that was constantly taking over my brain, sending me into spiraling panics over my future and my performance.

But throughout the past few months, the only person I felt like I could truly breathe around was Jenna, my lifeline. Despite not being involved in basketball in any way, she understood me and what I was feeling. She confided in me about her having chronic anxiety (GAD) the first time I slept over at her house, when I saw her medication on the dinner table.

She taught me breathing exercises and calming methods, held and comforted me when I cried in the middle of the night from the constant mental pressure, and even told me that I should slide around my initial charm on our matching necklace since it was a better nervous habit than biting my nails.

Even besides that, her presence in itself was a comfort to me, even if I wasn't yet sure of how deep my feelings for her went. She was the first friend I ever said "I love you" too, and I think the same goes for her. And it is true, I do love her with my whole heart, I would do anything she asked or needed of me, I just wasn't sure to what extent this love went.

Along with that, I was still unsure of where I stood with my sexuality. Before Jenna, I never thought about girls in a more than platonic way, but from the first few months of getting to know her, to our first kiss together (still the only time I've ever kissed anybody), to even now, where she was cuddled into my chest a mere thirty minutes ago, I felt electrifying sparks course through my body at her touch, she could make me blush with the most innocent of looks, and she made me giddy in a way even basketball didn't.

But despite all that, it's normal for best friends to love each other? It doesn't automatically mean being gay or being in love, you could just deeply care for the other person. Besides, Jenna never brought up the kiss again, which meant it had probably only happened due to both of our inebriated states.

It was as if my deep train of thought about her cause her to miraculously appear, I knew it was her just from the footsteps upstairs, the way she gently walked down the stairs to avoid a creaky step, and the way her sock-covered feet padded over to the couch, grabbing a throw blanket for herself before taking a seat in the corner end of the couch next as me.

We sat in silence as she reached over to the side of the couch, pushing the button to recline the seat back, unfolding the blanket and covering her bottom half before patting her lap for me once she was fully adjusted.

I all but threw my head into her lap, facing her body, as I extended my legs out onto the rest of the sofa as I moved my arms up hug the tops of her legs as her hands came up to gently scratch at my scalp, playing with my hair in a way that immediately relaxed me into her.

"M'sorry if I woke you," I whispered into her stomach, even though I wasn't actually sorry. I was selfishly happy that she came downstairs for me and would give up anything for us to have more of these quiet moments together, her attention solely focused on me.

"S'okay P, you technically didn't. I felt the bed was empty and then my spidey senses told me you were thinking too hard again, so I came to convince you to come back to bed, but then this beautiful couch looked way too comfortable, so we can just spend the night here," she sleepily mumbled, looking down at me sprawled out onto her lap.

"Tell me who or what is stealing our sleep so I can beat their asses," she joked quietly, her hands coming to rub at my temples.

I sighed, it felt as if her hands were physically melting the pounding in my skull, my headache nearly subsiding just from her touch.

"Just stressed out about everything again y'know? Basketball, school, life, kind of everything," I admitted quietly. The one thing I hated doing, was talking about things that bothered or upset me, it always made me feel weak.

"Hey, we are all so proud of you P. We all know how hard you're working and even though you feel like it, I promise that it's not all up to you. All the people around you love you, and we're all here to help if you need it. You just say the word and we'll all line up for whatever you need," she reassured me, only slightly teasing as her fingers moved to pinch my cheek lightly before moving back to my hair.

"Yeah I know, God really blessed me with you guys. Especially you, I don't know what I would do without you," I murmured up at her, smiling at her sleepy but happy expression.

"Yeah yeah, just say you love me Paige," she poked fun at me quietly, letting her head drop onto the cushion behind her without breaking eye contact with me.

"Hey I do love you J, I say it all the time," I retorted, using my fingers to draw small shapes on her pajama-covered thighs.

"Well I love you too P," her hands smoothed over my hair as she bent down to press a kiss on my hairline before reaching back up to settle into the couch.

"Just trust me, you just need to do all you can so God can do all you can't," she muttered, closing her eyes as she leaned her head slightly onto her shoulder to get comfortable, all without stilling her hands' movements in my scalp.

"Hey that's a sick quote, I'm stealing that from you for my interviews," I teased groggily, the lack of sleep slowly overcoming my voice.

"You can have anything you want from me P, you already know that," she didn't open her eyes when she said that, but I could hear the sincerity in her tone even without looking at her.

The two of us slept the whole night in the exact same position, unaware of everyone waking up to us cuddling on the couch together. My eyes only fluttered open at the sound of quieted laughter and the shuttering of two cameras pointed at the two of us.

As I rolled my head out of Jenna's lap to look at whoever had caused the disturbance, I squinted my eyes to see my dad with his polaroid and Drew using someone's phone. I groaned, burying myself back into Jenna, I probably would never hear the end of this, but it was alright, because it was with Jenna.

July 4th, 2018 (summer before junior year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Jenna you need to slow down, I don't want you to throw up or anything," Paige insisted as she walked up to you, pulling you away from the living room of the house party you were in, preventing you from throwing back another shot. The party was hosted by a senior at the end of your neighborhood, just walking distance from both of your houses.

"What's your problem P, I'm just having fun," you argued back, doing your best to enunciate your words to prevent having a slur, knowing she would cut you off immediately if you got too drunk. You were pretty good at holding your liquor, somehow being a natural heavy-weight when it came to drinking.

"Come on Paigey, just lighten up a little, it's the fourth of fucking July, have fun with me. Ooo, we should do a shot together," you elbowed her side jokingly, looking up at her hesitant expression with your best puppy dog eyes.

Her concerned expression softened, you knew it was wrong of you to take advantage of the fact she could never say no to you, but she was the reason you were adamant on drinking to the point of memory loss tonight.

As shameful as it felt to admit it, your best friend had been haunting your every waking moment for the last few months, and you were desperate for an escape from your own thoughts. You always knew you felt something deeper than friendship for Paige, the way your heartbeat would speed up at every touch of her hands, the way you found yourself unable to tear your eyes off of her, on and off the court, and especially, the way you could not escape the mental replay of your kiss.

The press of her soft lips against yours, the slight vanilla taste from her chapstick you so often borrowed, the way the skin of her jaw felt so soft in the palm of your hand, and the way your body melted into hers, pressed against her warm figure.

So, like any reasonable sixteen year old, you were determined to get absolutely shit-faced tonight, to the point where you wouldn't even be able to remember your own name. And the only way that would happen, is if Paige stopped monitoring your every sip of alcohol.

"Okay fine, one shot, but that's it. We can't both be super drunk," She relented, allowing you to pull her back into the kitchen to pour yourself shots.

And just to your luck, Paige had run into a few friends and teammates, leaving you alone with a few class friends for what she intended to be only a few minutes, but ended up being a little over half an hour. Those thirty ish minutes were all you needed to take two more shots, chug one whiteclaw and two beers, and finish a cup of a vodka sprite.

By the time Paige came back, still mostly sober, she was pissed to see that you were plastered, hanging off the shoulder of some guy she could recognize, but was too mad to focus on. She couldn't figure out why you were drinking so much tonight, despite her warning, you were practically making yourself sick for the next day, and you wouldn't even tell her the reason you had been off lately, brushing it off with some bullshitted excuse of school or your parents.

"Yo, who's the blonde chick staring at you?" The random guy you were talking to asked, nodding his head towards Paige, who was leaned against one of the kitchen counters and boring holes into the guy's head.

"Paigeyyy," you called out, lifting your now very heavy head from his shoulder as he pointed out your best friend who was now within eyeline, a deeply annoyed expression settled into her otherwise soft features.

"Hey me and Jenna are gonna head out, it's already past two and she's clearly done drinking for tonight," Paige announced to the group of friends you were hanging out with as she moved towards you, gently guiding your arm over shoulder and pulling you away from the other guy.

"Hey she's fine," the guy you were previously all over slightly slurred, "What are you her babysitter or somethin?"

"Dude worry about yourself, you look like you’re two seconds away from passing out," she snapped at him before walking away, supporting around half of your weight as the two of you exited the house.

"You're always so good to me Paigey, always my taking care of me," you drunkenly mumbled into her shoulder, pressing yourself further into her in an attempt to warm yourself up with her body heat. The summer night in Minnesota wasn't too bad, but your lack of a jacket wasn't helping.

"We'll reach your house in like five minutes, you just gotta walk till there okay?" She spoke firmly, avoiding glancing down at your slouched figure attached to her.

"You're always my best girl," you continued your drunken ramble.

"Always there fo' me, you cuddle me and you kiss me, and you even walk me home," for some selfish reason, she didn't have it in her to stop you. She knew it wasn't fair to you, letting you pour your innermost thoughts or feelings out to her when you weren't in the right state of mind, but she couldn't bear to stop the compliments gushing from your mouth.

"No need to date anyone in the whole wide world when I have you. You're so much nicer than the other girls. Or boys. And prettier. You're the prettiest out of all of them. So pretty, even when you're all sweaty and gross in basketball. You even kiss nice, don't wanna kiss anyone else after you kissed me," she finally cut your mindless babble into her neck off.

"We're here, I need your keys," her voice was curt, almost like she didn't want to be with you anymore. You lifted your head out of the crook of her neck to fumble around the pockets of your jeans, finally pulling out your lanyard and holding it out for her.

She took it from your grasp quickly, unlocking your house and helping you in to take both of your shoes off and lead you up into your bathroom, sitting you on the closed toilet as she went into your room to grab a change of clothes for you.

You leaned your head back in the two minutes she had left, closing your eyes and barely drifting off when she re-entered the bathroom, waking you up so she could help you change and take off your makeup.

It wasn't until you were sitting against the headboard of your bed, watching her move around your room to collect stray clothes from the floor into your hamper that the two of you finally spoke again.

"Paigey are you mad at me?" the nickname slipped from your mouth once again as you questioned her quietly. Paigey was something that usually only Drew called her regularly, but for some reason it was the only thing you referred to her as when drunk.

"Yes Jenna, is that what you wanna hear? That I'm fucking pissed off at you? You've been acting weird for the last like, two months. And no matter how much I try, you won't open up to me, it's frustrating me," she exclaimed pausing her movements around the room to rant to you despite her better judgement telling her she shouldn't talk to you about this while you're drunk.

"And then tonight you're all over some random douche, pretending like everything is fine when you know it's not. Then you start spewing that bullshit about me I know you don't mean because you're drunk."

You stayed silent for a few moments before you responded, "'M sorry, I shouldn't have shut you out for something you didn't do. But saying I don't mean what I said? That's not fair and you know it."

"Stop it Jenna, I think that you should just go to sleep. You're so drunk, you're not even coherent anymore, and I don't want to have this conversation with you like this,"

"What if I just wanna tell you how pretty you are, or how nice you kiss? Or that I love-"

"Stop Jenna, please just stop," Paige shut her eyes, her voice sounding nearly painful.

"Please J, you're drunk and you don't mean it. You can't say things like that and not mean it to me, I can't take it," she begged.

"If I say it to you tomorrow will you believe me?" you whispered, hesitating before continuing.

"If I tell you I love you tomorrow, will you say it back? Will you mean it the same way I mean it?" you pleaded with her, desperate to hear that she felt the same way you did, that you weren’t the only idiot who had fallen in love with her best friend.

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch," she muttered, walking out of your room and closing the door behind her. You could feel your heart sinking, the tears burning in your eyes, threatening to pour out at the smallest movement.

You stare at the door for a few minutes, praying that Paige would change her mind, burst back in and say that she did love you too, that you weren’t alone. She would pull you into her, kiss you stupid, and cuddle you for the rest of the night.

But she didn't and you eventually cried yourself into an uncomfortable sleep, tossing and turning the whole night.

***the next morning***

Your eyes fluttered open from the sunlight beaming through my half-closed curtains. Your head was pounding, threatening to split in half as you turned over, burying yourself into the pillow underneath your comforter.

You tried my best to recall what had happened last night that left you nearly dead the next morning. As you fought to focus despite a dry throat, aching body, and throbbing head, a specific moment came pouring back.

There was no fucking way.

You told Paige, presumably straight Paige, your best friend ever Paige, that you loved her. You had gone on a whole fucking tangent about how pretty she was, how nobody could compare, and the fact that you loved her.

You shot up in bed, fighting every painful twinge in your body to reach for your phone, when you saw a water bottle with two advils on your nightstand. You quickly chugged them as you reached for your phone, unplugging it from the charger. That was something you had most definitely not remembered to do last night.

At 7:21 in the morning there was only one text from Paige.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peanut Butter 💜: Hey, my step-mom called me over to help her clean some stuff up. You went pretty hard last night so I left some water and painkillers for you, make sure you take them and eat breakfast. I'll see you later yeah?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fuck, did she not remember what had happened last night? No, that wasn't possible, she barely drank. Did she want to pretend like it never happened? Was it because she didn't feel the same about you? As it was, she didn't allow you to finish saying you were in love with her, and it wasn't like she said it back. Was she trying to avoid ruining your friendship?

She had texted you almost three hours ago, which meant your parents had to already be back from their night shift and everyone in her house was probably awake.

You threw your phone out onto your bed, slamming yourself back down and under your covers.

What were your options here? Either pretend like it never happened and continue hopelessly pining after your best friend, confess your feelings only to get rejected and ruin your friendship, or the least likely of them all.

You told her and she felt the same.

You thought long and hard about what to do. As much as it would hurt to only be something, continuing to hide your feelings, it would be worse to be nothing to her, right?

But if it had slipped out of you once, wasn't there the chance it could happen again? What if it was even worse the next time, what if it was in public and everyone ended up finding out.

It would be better to own up to the truth now, right? Right? Right, you decided.

You finally mustered up the courage to leave the safe haven of your bed. dragging yourself to the bathroom to freshen up (ESPECIALLY BRUSHING YOUR TEETH) before quietly exiting your house, walking across the street to hers.

You knocked on the door firmly, knowing the Bueckers weren't the biggest fans of using the doorbell.

"Jenna," Drew exclaimed as he opened the door for you, allowing you into the house you had quickly claimed as your second home.

"What's up little man," you greeted him while taking off your slippers, "Where's your sister?" You asked him.

You had made it a habit to call Paige, Drew's sister, when talking to him. You felt bad that people always mentioned him as Paige's little brother instead of taking two seconds to learn his name, so you always made the effort to make sure he felt seen.

"She's in her room, she said she was feeling weird when she came home and she won't leave her room," he told you.

Shit, that meant she did remember what had happened. Well, it was now or never.

"Thanks Drew, Hi Mrs. Bueckers," you waved to her in the kitchen as you made your way to the stairs, bounding up two at a time to reach Paige's room faster. Her door was shut when you reached, and you knocked lightly on the wood.

"Hey P, it's me," you called out through the closed door, waiting to hear her mumbled, come in, before turning the knob. She was laying down in her bed, putting her phone down as she looked up at you.

"How you feeling Jelly? You drank a lot last night," she asked quietly, her hands fiddling with the top of her comforter, something you knew she did when she was nervous.

"Not that bad," you moved to sit down next to her lying figure, gazing down at her exhausted face. You could tell she hadn't slept well last night either, surely from your intoxicated confession.

"Listen, I know I was really stupid last night, but what we were talking about in my room," Paige cut you off before you could finish.

"Hey it's fine, I get it. You were really drunk and you get kind of emotional at that stage, so it's not even a big deal-"

"Oh my god Paige will you let me even speak? I meant what I said last night," you interrupted. There was no way you would allow her to brush this under the rug the same way you let her pretend your kiss had never happened.

"You're not just my best friend, you're my everything. You mean the literal world to me, there's barely anything I wouldn't do for you, because I'm in love with you. I have been for a reallly really long time now, that's why I was trying to keep my distance. It hurt, being around you and pretending like my heart wasn't going to explode at nearly everything you said or did with me," you professed, watching her expression morph from faked nonchalance to shock, and slowly, a small smile broke out.

"You, you love me love me? Like, you're in love with me? In a more than friends way?" She sat up to face you fully as she questioned you, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for your response.

"No shit Sherlock Holmes, it's almost like I said it like four times now, and you're still not-" she didn't let you finish your exasperated sentence before pulling you into her, pressing your lips firmly into hers.

You closed your eyes as you sighed into the minty kiss, melting into her hold as she moved her lips against you slowly, the rest of the world faded away as the two of you found peace in each other's embrace.

"You know you still haven't told me you love me back," you mumbled against her lips as the two of you separated a minute later, a wide grin stretched out across your face.

"No shit I love you too Sherlock Holmes," she teased, using the nickname you had come up with against you. "Have been for a while now, glad you finally noticed," she pulled you into her as she flopped down to lie down on her side, facing you.

The two of you continued to exchange light pecks and languid kisses, reveling in the comfort of your intertwined bodies in Paige's warm bed.

"Does this mean we're dating?" Paige pulled back to watch your face as she asked.

"Yeah P, this means you're my girlfriend now. Just mine, kay?" You beamed, caressing her cheek with your thumb.

"Got it, as long as you're only mine J."

December 23rd, 2019 (Winter Break, senior year; 18 years old)

Paige’s POV:

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean," Jenna giggled at my response, her laughter rumbling her body against mine. She was currently sprawled over my body in tiny pajama shorts and a cropped tank top, her head laying on my chest as she wrote random words onto my left arm for me to guess, my other hand wrapped tightly over her waist, eliminating any space that may have been between us.

Jenna had finally finished all of her college applications and we both took our winter finals two weeks prior, leaving us to peacefully enjoy our Christmas and New Years together.

We had already been dating for over a year now, and if I wasn't completely and irrevocably head over heels for Jenna Smyths before, I most definitely was now. The two of us were already inseparable even before we started dating, but since last July it was almost like we couldn't spend go more than twenty-four hours apart, which our families had slowly started picking up on.

We never really told my family that we were dating, just slowly started leaving hints here and there. Spending more time together, being more cuddly or touchy with the other person (all pg of course), and we went to our most recent school dances together, as friends, but still.

Even at school or in public, we basically acted the same as we always did, and despite the rumors running rampant in the many gossip circles, no one had any evidence to prove any allegation, and when prompted, we always gave the same answer, "She's my best friend".

But with Jenna's family on the other hand, only her mom knew after a really awkward walking-in incident. It wasn't too bad, it just so happened that one night when I was sleeping over at her house in March, we were innocently making out in her bed, as any seventeen year-old couple did, when her mom walked in to tell us that we were going out for breakfast the next morning. We quickly separated, but not fast enough to evade her mom.

Needless to say, the two of us had to endure a very, very embarrassing conversation of being safe and responsible together, and the only reason she didn't rat us out to Jenna's dad or my family to stop our sleepovers was the fact that neither of us could get pregnant from anything we may or may not do.

Unfortunately, our "separation anxiety problem" proved to be quite the difficult challenge when I had to leave for the team USA basketball games and Jenna went on college tours with her parents. The two of us managed to get by through near constant texting and nightly FaceTime calls, which I've accepted may be the norm for our relationship in the future.

I already committed to UConn back in April, but Jenna still hasn't decided where she wants to go. She's applied sort of everywhere, California, Washington, Michigan, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, New York, and of course, Connecticut. She hasn't told me what her top pick is out of all of her applications, but I had a feeling she was refraining from telling me because it was going to be one of the furthest ones from UConn.

I didn't mind having to do long distance, as hard as it would be, I would take that struggle over losing Jenna any day. But there was a sneaking suspicion in the back of my mind that Jenna didn't agree, that she would rather break up than have to deal with long distance.

But that couldn't happen to us, we were Paige and Jenna, Peanut Butter and Jelly, and there was no way that we would break up because of college. I mean sure, we had real arguments every once in awhile, one of us got a little jealous, or we were tired or annoyed and accidentally took it out on the other person. But those never lasted long, both of us being too weak to remain mad at the other for more than a day.

One of the biggest arguments we had was over one of my newest and closest friends, Azzi Fudd. We met through team USA and got really close really quickly, which Jenna wasn't the fondest of. We never talked about her until I had gotten back, and Jenna finally burst when I paused our conversation to text Azzi back.

It wasn't until after I assured Jenna that Azzi was straight and was definitely not interested in me in anyway since she had a crush on a boy at her school, that she was my girlfriend and the only one I had eyes for, and she met Azzi in person for the first time that she understood just how platonic our friendship was and also formed a connection with the younger girl.

To be fair, Jenna wasn't the only one with slight jealousy issues, or as she called it, me being "territorial", which I wholeheartedly disagree with. I just think that some of the guys and girls she's friends with don't need to be all over her all the time, but Jenna was just a naturally affectionate person who made everyone around her feel loved and seen, and I understood that doesn't necessarily mean in a romantic way.

Which is all to say that despite any minor bumps in the road, our relationship was as steady and strong as ever, and there was no where else in the world I would rather be right now than in bed with Jenna's body covering mine.

"I wrote bball doofus, okay there's no way you don't get this next one," she remarked teasingly. I pinched her side as she stifled her laughter, adjusting herself over me before going to write her next phrase on my bicep. I was wearing a similar tank top to hers, but with warmer, full length pajama pants. Jenna always refused to admit when she was feeling cold, which was always, instead choosing to intertwine her legs with mine, absorbing any body heat radiating off of me.

I closed my eyes and focused on her fingers fluttering over my arm, concentrating on the words she attempted to spell out. It was a phrase so familiar to us at this point I had figured it out before she had even gotten to the last word.

I smiled down at her, watching as she moved her gaze from her writing to my face, a wide grin and blush present on her features.

"I love you," I whispered to her, admiring at the way her cheeks flushed deeper at my statement. She never used to be the type of person who got easily flustered or shied away from a challenge, but when it came down to the sweetest moments like this, her body was almost constantly some shade of red or pink.

Jenna wasn't the most openly affectionate person, she often got shy when it came to dates, romantic gesture, even verbally expressing her feelings. But by driving me around all the time when I didn't have my car or even my license, helping me with homework last minute, doing my hair for games, cooking and baking food for me, and remembering the smallest details about me, she showed me how much she loved me, and that was always enough for me.

"I love you too," she whispered back, resting her chin on my chest as she continued to gaze up at me, deep adoration present in her eyes, and without a doubt, I was sure I was looking back at her with either the same or deeper level of infatuation. I moved my hand around her waist to draw small circles on the sliver of skin that was exposed, relishing in the sweet intimacy.

Moments like this were my favorite, relishing in the presence of one of my favorite people on earth, quiet and at peace with no distractions, just the two of us enjoying our time spent together.

"Wait I wanna switch, it's your turn to be the big spoon," I patted her waist to guide her to flip over onto her back, so I could lay my head down on her this time.

One of the things I loved to do with Jenna was listen to her heartbeat, it was the beat of a song I would never know the name of, but it was my favorite. To me, it proved the tangibility of the connection between our souls, the love we held for each other. It was listening to the sound that kept my life force breathing, that allowed me to keep my rock and anchor, the person I loved the most and showed me that everyday was worth living, no matter what, because it was with her.

May 22nd, 2020 (End of Senior Year; 18 years old)

My heart sank at the silence I received from Paige, she was sitting across from me on my bed and kept switching from quietly scanning over the letter on my computer screen to changing the tabs, looking over all the schools I had received acceptance letters from.

Despite getting into UConn with Paige, and even universities close to her on the East Coast, like NYU and UPenn, I was choosing to commit to UCLA, my dream school since I was seven. It was safe to say Paige wasn't thrilled with my decision, evident through her lack of a response.

"P? Please say something, literally anything," I begged, her silence was unsettling, and her face was stoic and near emotionless, which meant I had no idea of the thoughts running through her head right now.

"I don't even know what you want me to say. Or expect me to do," she paused before continuing, "I am so proud of you and everything you've done and accomplished to make it this far, but I feel so," she stopped, collecting her thoughts and emotions before continuing.

"I almost want to hate you for choosing to go so far, for choosing to leave me and be so far away from me when we both know this kind of long-distance won't work," her voice cracked, at the end of her sentence. Rather than continuing to talk, she raised the collar of her t-shirt to her eyes, tucking her head under to hide the tears that had begun to spill out.

You moved your laptop away so could close some of the distance between the two of you. You gently cupped her face, coaxing her to let go of her t-shirt so you could look directly in her eyes.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, but I can't not go Paige. I need to do this for myself and I know that if I don't go, or at least give it my best shot, I'll regret it for the rest of my life," her heartbroken expression was painful for you to watch, only making it harder for you to refrain from crying.

"If I asked you to even consider, not even coming to UConn with me but like, NYU or something, literally anywhere closer to make the long distance work, would you?" Her eyes bore into yours, searching for the answer she dreaded hearing.

You waited a moment to answer, not to think over your answer or consider her question, you already knew the answer. But to compose yourself, holding in the pain you felt from hurting the only person who would ever love you like this.

You dropped your hands from her face before responding, "No."

You could see, practically hear, her heart shatter at your response, not expecting you to be so cold and short with her. She was openly crying now, her voice now shaky and slightly higher-pitched.

"So all the times that you told me that you couldn't imagine living without me, that you needed me, that you felt like you could only breathe around me, that was all bullshit? Or you just, what, changed your mind?"

"I never lied to you about that Paige, all of those things are still true. But this is my dream, I obviously didn't go into this whole process expecting to get into one of the top universities in the nation. If I asked you the same thing right now, to give up UConn and accept one of the recruitment offers you got closer to UCLA, would you?"

"Don't turn this around on me and make me the selfish one right now. That's not fair and you know it Jenna. Getting recruited is different, it determines whether or not I can go pro in the future, it makes all the difference in the world when it comes time for me to get drafted in the W."

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything Paige, I'm just trying to make you understand that I can't give up UCLA. And selfish, really? Trying to make a life for myself, going to the college of my dreams, that's selfish?"

"That's not what I meant," she sighed, rubbing her hands over her tear-streaked face.

"You have to understand what it feels like to be in my position right now. You're my everything, my best friend, my girlfriend, the one person who knows me better than anyone, even my parents. And you just dropped a bomb of information on me. From day one, I have always been clear about where I wanted to go to college, and I signed as soon as I got the offer. But you never said anything about that, and on top of it, you were always the one who talked about our future together, and now it's like you're taking all of your previous statement back."

"I'm sorry Paige. I'm so sorry that I'm doing this to you, that I'm hurting you. That was never my intention with this. You're my everything too, but that's not right and that's not how it should be. One person can't be my whole life, and I can't be yours either. No matter how much I love you and need you, I also need this for myself."

Paige's eyes were bloodshot at this point, and you hadn't noticed when, but somewhere during your conversation you had given up on trying to hold back your own tears.

"I've already submitted a housing application, the apartments open from June but usually students don't go until July or August, so I'll still be here for a little while," you sniffled.

As much as your decision hurt Paige, you knew it was the right thing for both of you. Paige had to focus on basketball and you needed to focus on school and your own future, and maybe the time apart would allow you to grow together rather than apart.

After all, isn't distance supposed to make the heart grow fonder?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, any and all support is greatly appreciated!!

[hyunjinspark]

Can we have a chapter snippet🤞

yes! here is a teaser for your patience, since it's taking me longer (and killing me, in the best way) to edit this 40K chapter...

The snowflakes had settled on his coat, melting slowly in the confused warmth of the apartment and the cold wind from the outside, where he’d stupidly left the door open.

His eyes were filled with confusion, gaze moving from you to the duffel bag in your hands. The wheels clicked in his head, and oh, to know what went through Hyunjin’s mind when he put two and two together. You would kill to know how his mind worked, especially right now. His lips parted, but before he could say anything, you said, “What are you doing here, Hyunjin?”

His brows furrowed as some kind of epiphany sank in, “Are you going somewhere?”

It wasn’t an answer to your question, and you had no energy to justify yourself right now, “That doesn’t concern you.”

“What do you mean?” He took a step up tentatively like if he stepped too close, you’d run away. But you were, weren’t you? You were running away. You didn’t want to talk to him, not when all of your latest conversations with Hyunjin had ended in heartbreak.

You had made up your mind, and you were going home. He obviously didn’t want you in your life, as he’d explicitly stated every time. So why the fuck was he at your doorstep?

You looked him in the eye, a bubbling anticipation rising within you at his possible reaction.

He obviously wouldn’t care though, would he? He wanted you gone too.

You swallowed, speaking clearly so he wouldn’t misunderstand, “I’m leaving, Hyunjin.”

“What?” A flash of confusion crippled his features. Just then, Jeongin’s voice carried through the stairwell, and you heard his footsteps as he ran up the stairs, yelling, “The taxi’s here! I already put your suitcases in the trunk.”

Hyunjin frowned, “Your suitcases? What is he talking about?”

Helpless, you stared at him. You had no clue how to explain this to him because it would mean admitting that you were wrong about everything. About moving here, about the classes, about Jieong… You weren’t going to be weak in front of him.

His cheeks were red, courtesy of the quickly developing storm outside. It just meant you needed to get out of here as soon as possible, you couldn’t wait around for your train to get delayed because of the increment weather. It was fitting, because the snowstorm matched your turmoil. You tightened the grip on your bag, taking a step ahead, and your voice didn’t waver as you said, “It means that I’m going home, Hyunjin. To Daejon.”

“I’m sorry…what?” His eyes widened.

You stepped closer, lugging your bag with you, “You heard me…” Finally, you came eye-to-eye with him in the middle of the staircase, “I never should have come here. It was my mistake. So you don’t have to worry about me being in your life anymore, and since you’re probably never coming back to Daejon then….” You swallowed, staring at him, and suddenly it was harder to speak the following few words, “Then… I guess this is goodbye, Hyunjin.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2}

Title: If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Heavy Angst, Plot Heavy, LOTS OF WORDS, Heartbreak, Cursing, 

Words: 9.1k

Summary: The fall out of Lewis’ actions is real, as is the freeze out. You’re fuming but brokenhearted. Not only do you feel like a fool, but you also feel used. Moving on is the only option, but Lewis doesn’t want to move on—or that’s what his actions say. 

Note: Part 2 is here! The plot thickens. 

Note II: Italicized text is a flashback/memory or someone’s words all from some time in the past.

As always, thank you all so much for reading. I truly appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous: If This Is Love, I Don’t Want It {1}

~~~~~~

“Listen to your gut about men. Your gut is never wrong.”

Your mother’s sage old advice echoed in your head. It had been one of the many lessons she’d voice recorded for you before her untimely death when you were just shy of your 18th birthday.

You’d always wondered what had motivated her to write letters and record videos for you dropping wise words, encouragement, mantras, sweet stories and other things of the sort. You often wondered if she knew she was not going to be around in the future.

 Your soft cries turned into loud wails then. Raising the bottle of dark liquor to your lips, you chugged two mouthfuls then cried from the burn. It was just another added pain onto the others you carried. It had been two days since the events at Lewis’ house. Two days you’d locked yourself in one of your family’s vacation homes off the coast of Monaco. Two days you’d been surviving on dark liquor, chocolate, ice-cream and oxygen. Two days you hadn’t answered your phone or done anything else but cry.

As if the heavens sympathized with you, the weather for the last two days had been a dreary, rainy mess. It seemed like the perfect backdrop for you, so you often sat on the deck in the rain and just cried. No care for getting sick, no care for even your hair which you normally were super careful and protective of. Everything be dammed. None of it mattered.

 Everything played in your mind over and over like a movie. It hadn’t felt real then, hell it still didn’t feel real now. You didn’t know how you’d gotten here. Everything had been going so well. For the last year and change his words matched his actions and efforts matched what you saw in his eyes. He was attentive, loving, thoughtful, giving, helpful, honest, devoted. He was perfect. It didn’t make any sense. None of this made sense.

 Could you have imagined what you saw in his eyes? All this time could he have been lying? Was he really such a smooth player and liar to be so skilled to make lies shine through his eyes? Could he really have kept up a façade for over a year? For what? Sex? Your virginity? He didn’t even know you were a virgin.

 You groaned, stood from the shower floor then turned off the water. While dripping wet, you walked to your robe then wrapped yourself in it. Ignoring anything else you walked back to your bedroom and laid down. The weather today was another shitter and again you didn’t care one bit. As you stared out the ceiling to floor window at nothing really your mind drifted away to thoughts trying to make sense of everything. your brain went left, right, up, down and around but still you couldn’t make any sense of it. As your eyelids grew heavier and heavier your brain moved on to the hurt and betrayal of it all. You’d believed, you’d tried, you’d been sold a dream and now it was proven to all be a lie.

 The next time you opened your eyes, it was a lot harder. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy as if you wore several pairs of lashes. That wasn’t the only thing odd, you couldn’t hear anything except warbled words, high pitched beeping and wind as if a vacuum were on beside you. Writhing, you felt hands everywhere, then something powerful held you down and you felt painful pinches in your arms and thighs. You opened your mouth to scream or shout “stop” but no sound came, your throat was dry and tight. Finally, you were able to open your eyes, but everything was blurry. It was as if you were seeing through them for the first time. It hurt, they felt raw as if someone had thrown sand in them, but it was forever embedded inside.

 Then you heard your name being called but the voice was foreign. As soon as it all started it stopped. Now you heard and saw nothing—but darkness.

Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.

You snapped your eyes open and gasped gulping in air as quickly as you could. It felt as if you’d been deprived for days.

 “Y/N!”

 Big mistake you thought as quivered from the ache in your body that felt as if it were emulating from your very bones. Then your eyes immediately burned making you shut them again as your back dropped to a bed.

 “Wh--,” you began but stopped once you recognized pain. You felt hoarse.

 The only thought in your head was, what the hell had happened?

 “It’s okay. Calm down,” your father’s voice advised as he placed his hands on your arms steadying you.

 “I know you’re confused. it’s okay. Take slow breaths. I’m here.”

 “Seriously, Jordan, you spoil her. If you coddle her like this, she’ll think she can pull stunts like this all the time,” came the shrill voice of the woman you hated most in this world.

 “Coddle? Aleeza, she almost died,” your father clarified, exasperation clear in his tone.

 “Da—da--,” you swallowed painfully hoping it would help then tried again. “Da--.”

 “Here my love, some water.”

 You felt the glass touch your bottom lip and you took a tentative sip. The first touch of the cold water over your taste buds woke you up making you feel even more like you’d crawled through the Kalahari Desert for a week. You took mouthful after mouthful until the glass was empty.

 “That a girl,” your father encouraged while gently rubbing your back.

 “Yes, she almost died because of her own negligence. Really, Y/N, disappearing for a rager and then drinking until blackout? How mature. I told you Jordan, she is nowhere ready to take on any responsibility with the club,” Aleeza blabbered on.

 Though you were confused as shit, you were seconds from leaping out of the bed and giving her a Mortal Kombat finish her move. You hated this woman, and it was evident the feeling was mutual.

 “Enough!”

 Your father’s voice boomed around the room stopping any further comments from his 2nd wife. Through the thin slits of your burning eyes, you saw that she pouted at him but quickly shaped up seeing he was not going to be fooled.

 “Either sit down and be quiet or you can wait for me in the hall.”

 You didn’t have to look at Aleeza to know she was cowering. You heard her huff, but you didn’t hear her heels clinking out the room, so you assumed she sat.

 “Sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

 You cleared your throat then spoke, “Wha—What happened?”

 “You don’t remember?”

 Shaking your head, you tried to open your eyes more to see him fully.

 “I couldn’t reach you for 4 days. You were supposed to be back in London. I got worried. None of your friends had heard from you, no one had heard from you. I ended up having to have a friend of mine hack into your phone to get your location. When I got to the house you were unconscious, burning up, shivering with vomit on you.”

 Bits and pieces finally came back to you.

 “I brought you here. You had alcohol poisoning, a bronchial infection, and your anemia had been severely triggered. You don’t have enough red blood cells honey. I thought you were taking care of yourself. You know you shouldn’t be drinking excessively. Then come to find out you hadn’t taken your medication in days. Y/N.”

 “Irresponsible.”

 “Aleeza,” your father cautioned.

 With your head down, you allowed the events leading up to today to play through your mind.

 “I’m sorry dad.”

 He sighed, pulled you into a hug and pat the back of your head like he used to when you were a kid. You melted into him and allowed your tears to fall.

 “It’s okay. I—you scared the shit out of me Y/N. I thought I was going to lose you too. I can’t lose you, not after your mother.”

 His voice was clouded with emotion and unshed tears. You knew how difficult losing your mother was for him. You could tell he still hadn’t recovered fully. Your eye caught Aleeza sitting a ways away. The look on her face brightly showed her disgust, annoyance and hatred. There was something else there too, something you couldn’t place. Was it smugness, happiness?

 “They had to pump your stomach to get rid of the alcohol. They gave you iron transfusions and IV meds for the bronchial infection, and a blood transfusion” your father further informed lifting his arm to show his bandaged forearm.

 That bad, you though as the guilt was swirling in you; “How long have I been here?”

 “Two long days,” Aleeza piped up. “Plus, the day you were found. My, my, you should be careful the state you allow others to see you in. You neeever know who snapped a picture and what they’ll do with it.”

 Both yours and your father’s eyes went to her.

 “All I am saying is plenty of tabloid trash would love a picture of Y-F-N/ Y-L-N thee daughter of F1’s most prominent front runner,” Aleeza said. “It isn’t only your name you drag through the mud, Y/N, it is your father’s—mine.”

 You narrowed your eyes, the hatred you felt for her was bubbling at the surface. You knew the woman was vile but for her to say this to you or your father spoke of how ballsy she really felt. They’d only been married for 4 years, and she thought she held the whole Y-L-N power in her hands. Before you could lurch for her and turn this hospital room into a celebrity deathmatch arena, your father sighed.

 “Wait outside Aleeza.”

 “But honey,” she whined dragging out the pet name.

 “Now.”

 Not liking his tone or that she couldn’t cutesy her way out of this she stomped then walked to the door. Once finally alone, you leaned back onto the bed and sighed. The woman was like dark matter, her leaving instantly relieved the tension in the room.

 “I’m sorry for Aleeza. She’s going through a lot with the shareholders not voting her in.”

 “She was the only one who thought they would vote her in,” you rasped.

 “They did however unanimously vote in your favor to take the next steps. Congratulations to the club’s newest and first woman in senior management.”

 You smiled hearing the confirmation that your hard work and effort had paid off.

 “Congratulations honey. Next step shareholder. Toto better watch his back.”

 You snorted then groaned feeling the pain in your chest and abdomen.

 “It serves you right. They pumped 3 times the normal alcohol consumption for the average human from your system. What the hell?”

 You sighed.

 “What’s going on?”

 You couldn’t tell him the truth. There was no way you could tell him that you’d been sleeping with Mercedes’ golden boy and major bread winner. Internal fraternization was frowned upon, hell it was practically in everyone’s contract and now that you’d been placed in senior management it could look really bad. No matter how much you hated Aleeza she was right. Your name was not yours alone. Your father had worked too long to accomplish all he had for you to fuck it up. Plus, if he found out the entirety of things you were sure he’d rip Lewis’ contract to shreds and kick his ass out of MB. You smiled thinking that, but the devious thought quickly passed. You were not that kind of person. He may have turned out to be a lying, selfish, self-centered asshole, but you were none of those things.

 “Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

 With your mother’s words in your head, you began; “I just got some unsatisfactory news about some investment choices I’d made outside of F1, and the family and I just felt like I’d been pushed back hundreds of steps. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to achieve the things I wanted,” you lied.

 “Honey. What have I always told you? Investments are a game, 50/50. If it’s 50 in your favor great, if not then I’m here. Me and legal the team could have quickly and easily fixed it for you. This was not necessary. Was this a cry for help like Aleeza said?”

 You disgustedly snorted. “No. Aleeza couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m fine now dad. I promise to never let this happen again.”

 He studied you with his wrinkle rimmed all seeing eyes for several long moments. With each second that ticked by, you feared he’d seen right through you. Ever since your mother’s passing, he’d taken her place and was always there for you when you’d gotten your heart broken. He was ready with the ice cream, chocolate, and Brandy. He’d stay with you while you cried offering his lifetime’s worth of advice. If he’d been the one to find you then you knew he had to have seen the empty ice cream cartons and bottles of Brandy lying around amongst the chocolate wrappers. If he had seen them, he knew very well what you were dealing with.

 A sad smile spread across his face. “All right, Y/N. I will take your word for it. Just know I am always your father first and foremost. I will always put you first and I’m always here for you.”

 You nodded and kissed his cheek. If he knew he wasn’t saying anything, and you were grateful to him for that.

 ~~~~~~~

 -3 Days Later-

“Oh my god, when we saw you were in the hospital from Daily Mail, we were so worried,” Francesca said with your hands clasped in hers.

 “Aw, I’m sorry you had to hear about it from Daily Mail—eck! However, I am perfectly fine.”

 You smiled hoping that she and all the other girls believed you. Currently, you were sitting in the conference room that you’d changed around to resemble a comfortable lounge. You’d replaced the oblong conference table and stifling office chairs with oversized bean bag chairs, comfortable designer couches and settees and other elements that gave the room a comfortable vibe.

 “I’m relieved,” Monica, your assistant said.

 “I’m thankful I have you as my right-hand woman and to have such thoughtful women around me.”

 They all beamed at you then Monica stood and walked to the corner where she took out a bouquet of flowers and a galaxy printed gift bag.

 “We all heard about your new title, and we wanted to say...”

 They all jumped up from their seats and threw sparkled confetti at you and into the air.

 “Congratulations!”

 You laughed covering your eyes as the shock washed over you. The room that had been clean seconds ago was now covered in confetti.

 “Wow, you guys. This is—wow, thank you.”

 Monica held the flowers and the gift bag to you. Happily, you took the items and took a deep whiff of them.

 “Mmm. Thank you guys. I appreciate the sentiment and I promise to be the best that I can for all of you.”

 They pooled in and hugged you. With a warm heart you forgot about the stress of the last week or so. This was what you’d worked for, this was what mattered. Your ringing cell phone brought your attention to your purse off to the side.

 “We have to go down to the garage. Are you coming?”

 You looked back at Farrah then nodded; “Give me a second, let me get this and I’ll be right there.”

 They walked to the door leaving you to dig your phone out of your purse. When you had, the caller ID had you pausing.

 💘😘Lewis😍💘

 Your heart immediately began beating out your chest. You stared at his ID and the movie that was your life over the last week or so played in your head at hyper speed. The extreme highs of being with him and being cared for by him, his words during your most intimate moments, his attention, his sex, then the extreme lows of his betrayal, his lies, his selfishness and the aftermath. Your anxiousness turned to anger then.

 This wasn’t the first time he’d called. He’d called so many times since you’d woken in the hospital. Each call of course went unanswered, even ignored. You’d think he would have gotten the hint but no, he kept calling. You thought to put him on the block list, but you hadn’t. You couldn’t. For some reason it still felt wrong, and that fact pissed you off even more. How was it wrong when this was the least of what he deserved?

 The ringing stopped, showing you’d missed his call, but even though you’d missed it, the aftereffects were still present. You cursed your damn body for its treachery and then chastised yourself for still caring and having it prevent you from blocking his ass.

 “Y/N?”

 You shook it off then walked out of the conference room with your purse in tow. As you got downstairs and began your walk to the garage your mind drifted yet again. It had been like this for the last few days. You couldn’t for the life of you keep your head in the game. The smallest things triggered a memory and that memory a slew of emotion and those emotions brought you back to present day and then you crashed—hard.

 You didn’t even realize you’d arrived until you were surrounded by interviewers who were shouting your name trying to get your attention.

 “Y/N, just a few questions.”

 “Okay, sure.”

 “We’ve heard the news of your new position. Congratulations.”

 “Thank you.”

 “Being the daughter of Jordan Y-L-N, did you immediately fall for the idea of working for Mercedes or did they have to woo you?”

 You giggled; “No there was no wooing needed. All I’ve ever known is Mercedes, F1 and racing. Was there really any other career option for me?”

 The reporters laughed all together as the cameras continued snapping.

 “You definitely have a knack for fashion and beauty so there is always that.”

 You struck a pose then fanned off the reporter. “Stop it.”

 “What is the chain of command with your new role?”

 “Uh, I’m still at the bottom of the food chain guys.”

 They laughed again.

 “We doubt that. You are the first woman to enter senior management with the organization. What a feat.”

 “I am incredibly proud of that actually. To see some real change happening to become more inclusive is so monumental.”

 “What do you bring to the Mercedes and F1 table?”

 “A woman’s eye and my entire life of information being behind the scenes, a fan and up front. Needless to say, I’ve seen a lot and I’ve learned even more, and I believe I offer a creative and modern take on the sport and can bring this side of F1 to greater heights.”

 The women you were now in charge of applauded behind you making you smile. They held so much faith in you and it was contagious.

 “Thanks guys,” you said ready to walk away.

 “One more, please, Y/N.”

 “Okay. Last one.”

 “Why do you think Mercedes offered you this role rather than someone more experienced and someone with more skin in the game? Someone who isn’t the daughter of the biggest name in Mercedes. Why you? And couldn’t you consider this nepotism that plenty of African American media users have called for so many of their white counterparts?”

 You couldn’t believe what you’d heard. The old white man who’d asked the question didn’t look in the least bit ashamed or worried about the question. He looked proud. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to say to a reporter. For the first time you actually wanted to reach over and punch a reporter in the face.

 You cleared your throat then stepped forward. That was when someone stepped in front of you. A body with a head full of braids you recognized.

“What kind of question is that? Mercedes chose her because she’s worked her ass off in and around the field learning, helping and wearing more hats than you could possibly imagine. Mercedes chose her for the role because there wasn’t anyone better, no one with more experience, no one with more skin in the game. She has the most as she’s been with this division since the very beginning when it was a formulated idea between Jordan Y-L-N and his late wife, her mother. Who better to take the helm than one of the founding visionaries. As for this being nepotism according to non-POCs, why does it matter what you think? A qualified woman given a position that she is qualified and skilled to do. Isn’t that what we call equal opportunity? Now an unqualified individual given a position that they are unqualified for and highly under skilled to complete thus relying on those who should have been given the position. Isn’t that the textbook definition of nepotism and isn’t that 90% of the nonblack workforce? Y/N more than has the talk to back up the walk. Do you need clarification?”

 The interviewers all looked stunned, and their speechlessness showed just how thoroughly they’d been read. None of them continued. They just nodded and thanked him and moved on. When he turned to you, you knew you should have walked away but you were still standing there dumbstruck. Lewis stared at you, his face solemn, eyebrows knitted and a frown on his lips. From the circles under his eyes and the lack of luster to his skin you, could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. Probably fucking everything with legs, you said to yourself.

 At that thought you clenched your jaw and shook your head. Turning, you began walking.

 “Y/N, wait.”

 As if it were instinct, you stopped. Go, you screamed in your head. Walk! No matter how much you screamed at yourself, your legs didn’t move.

 “Can we talk?”

 You reared back with eyes wide from his audacity. Lewis shrunk back, flinching as if you’d slapped him across the face. You wanted to so badly your palms itched for it.

 “Please,” he softly added.

 The anger bubbling inside of you finally took over. Instead of it making you irrational and shaky, it had the opposite effect. You felt calm. With one brow raised and poison in your eyes you tapped into your bitch side.

 “You can talk to the crack of my ass!”

��With that you walked away joining your team.

 Over the next several days you wished you could have said he’d gotten the hint. He still called even when you put him on the block list. He’d use other means, Toto’s phone, the Mercedes office phones, his crew, other drivers. It was insane. You’d gotten to the point where you were screening calls by voicemail now.

 Every time you broke and listened to one of his voicemails, they sounded more and more desperate. He never said anything of substance or even explained himself. He simply rambled about the past and asked how you were together. His behavior was so confusing it put you in a state of extreme anger and dangerous sadness. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but when you did you couldn’t get past feeling weak for trying to make excuses for him.

By the middle of the week, you’d managed to avoid Lewis, and anyone associated with him. Today you’d told your father you’d accompany him to one of the races and you were now walking around the paddock with other members of the crew inspecting the car and having small chats.

 “Congratulations little Y-L-N,” came a voice you recognized.

 Spinning around, you found Toto coming toward you. Smiling, you approached him and accepted his wide stretched arms for a hug.

 “Thank you, big bad Wolff.”

 He chuckled at your nickname for him. “I hear I should watch my back within the next year or two.”

 “I didn’t say it but--,” you stretched making your father and Toto laugh.

 “All right. Well, I welcome you to take my job because then I’ll be sure you deserve it. Come play with the big boys.”

 You rolled your eyes at his teasing.

 “Are you here in senior management mode or are you a spectator?”

 “A little bit of both I guess. I’m also my dad’s plus one.”

 He nodded then looked back as someone called his name. Approaching your trio was Lewis. You released a heavy sigh then caught your father’s eyes on you. Doing your best to cover, you smiled brightly at him.

 “Lewis, feeling good for the race?”

 “Eh, I’m feeling all right.”

 “Good. You remember Jordan Y-L-N and Y/N.”

 Lewis reached out and shook your father’s hand. You noticed the tight hold your father took of him as he held him in place while slightly leaning forward.

 “What kind of man are you, Lewis?”

 “Uh--,” he began clearly confused by your father’s sudden inquiry.

 “The kind of man someone is says a lot about the kind of driver he is. Are you a good, strong, loyal man who knows right from wrong and always protects those he values or a weak man who easily falls prey to pretty words and pretty faces? Are you the kind of man who a father would be proud to hand his pride and joy over to because he’s certain she’ll be cared for properly?”

 Part of you was confused about what had gotten into him and why he was asking this while the other part of you wanted to pat him on the back and grab a cup of the tea because he was definitely getting his Wendy Williams on. They were damn good questions. You knew from experience he was the latter, but you’d let him tell it or lie. What man in their right mind would admit to being a fuckboi?

 Your eyes, your father’s and Toto’s were on Lewis waiting for his answer.

 “Em, I uh—the former, sir.”

 You snorted louder than you’d intended and now three pairs of eyes were on you.

 “Ehm, sorry, I saw something just over there with Charles.”

 Your father smirked while Lewis grimaced.

 “All right. Good to see you again Lewis. Good luck out there,” your father finished.

 Lewis nodded, thanked him then looked at you. He must have been able to see the disdain in your eyes because the only vibe you got from him was a gloomy and depressing one. What the hell you thought. He’d gotten what he wanted. Why the hell would he be anything but overjoyed?

 “Good luck Lewis,” Toto added.

 He looked at you as if he expected you to say the same. You wouldn’t. You weren’t there yet. You wished him pain. Instead of saying that, you kept your lips sealed. When he realized you weren’t going to be a sheep led by the herd, he nodded then walked away back to his crew.

 Twenty or so minutes later, the race was beginning. From behind the scenes, you watched as the lead fluctuated for the first several laps. By the time lap 40 came around, Lewis was in lead, and you couldn’t quell the part of you that was excited and proud of him. It had been so long programed in you that you hadn’t been able to turn it off yet. With effort, you stifled it and kept yourself in check.

 Lap 55 brought different results, Charles took over the lead putting Lewis in second and now the spectators were split. Some cheering for Lewis, some for Charles. Looking around you could sense the angst in the air. Lewis’ team looked on edge as did Charles’. You found it interesting that 3 weeks ago you would also be on edge hoping for the best outcome for Lewis, but everything was different now. You’d seen his true colors, seen the man underneath the pleasant mask and unfortunate for you, you’d been disillusioned.

 Biting your bottom lip, you checked your phone becoming bored with the race. Before you knew it, everyone was standing and cheering on their teams. Then you heard it, the end of the race. You looked up at the screen and saw the standings. Charles had taken P1 while Lewis was at P2. Again, you felt things a significant other would have felt, things you were not obligated or should have felt. It pissed you off more.

 “Hm, interesting,” your father said.

 “What?”

 “He rarely loses.”

 “He did seem off the last week,” Toto informed.

 You shrugged trying to convince yourself you didn’t care.

 When the cars rolled in, and everyone came in you saw the downtrodden look on Lewis’ face and you had to fight with ever fiber in your being against your instincts. You kept yourself planted right where you were and averted your eyes.

 “Charles, the man of the day,” your father began, “Congratulations.”

 “Thank you, sir. Wow, I’m speechless you know who I am.”

 “Of course. Anyone pulling stats like yours I make a business to know,” your father joked.

 “Do you know Y/N?”

 Charles’ eyes landed on you and a wide smile filled his face. He was adorable and you could see how he had the attention of so many fans.

 “I do but glad to finally be up close and personal.”

 Your eyebrow crooked at what sounded like a flirtatious line. Just behind Charles you saw Lewis watching though a sea of people surrounded him trying to get his thoughts.

 “Well up close and personal we are. Good race, congratulations.”

 You stepped in and hugged him while giving Lewis your daggered glare of death.

 “Thanks. Wow, you have such a beautiful daughter Mr. Y-L-N.”

 Your father chuckled. “Don’t I know it. It’s my curse. No matter how I try I can’t keep the boys from her yard.”

 You snorted and teasingly slapped your father’s shoulder. “Ew, dad.”

 Those around laughed as well.

 “Well not all boys in her yard are bad.”

 “Are you throwing yourself in her yard, son?”

 Charles looked at you again and smiled. “I’d be honored to be there.”

 You giggled and swatted at his chest playing up your flirtation. Lewis looked absolutely livid. Good you thought and hoped he understood he wasn’t the end of your world. There were indeed plenty of fish in the sea or in this pond.

Several hours later, you were finally walking to your car ready to go home from a long day. Your feet and face hurt from walking and smiling too much, and you couldn’t wait to wipe off all the makeup and kick off the heels. You sat in the driver’s seat with your feet outside the car then unbuckled your heels. after taking one off, you put it over your knee and massaged it sighing when you hit a particularly achy part.

 “Ouch.”

 Just then a memory hit you of Lewis massaging your feet on long days like this. He never missed a massage. Usually that massage led to other things like him nestling his head between your thighs to then lick, suck and slurp the stress of the day away. With that memory in your head, you dazed out reminiscing about all the good times. Things had been so good, so perfect. you felt the tears prick your eyes and before you could stop them, they rolled down your face.

 “Damn it,” you said on a whine as you buried your face in your palms.

 You couldn’t stop the cries that wracked your body. It was like you hadn’t shed any tears these last weeks when in fact you’d cried every day since finding Lewis exercising his right to be a man whore.

 “Fuck. Stop it Y/N. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!”

 No matter how many times you said it the tears kept coming. You didn’t know how long you sat there barefoot and weeping. It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You didn’t know nor cared.

 “Y/N?”

 You were crying so loud that you barely heard the voice.

 “Y/N!”

 Suddenly before you Lewis was dropped to his knees searching you.

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

 His words were frantic, eyes wide and wild. It took a few moments to realize what was happening but instead of kicking him in his face, you made up your face and wailed even more.

 “Get the fuck—the fuck—the fuck away!”

 He didn’t.

 “What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”

 “Y—y—you! Asshole!”

 His hands slackened on your arms, and you saw him dip his head.

 “I—I--,” he stuttered.

 “Get away!”

 He began getting up, but you pulled him back down. “Why? Why’d you do it?! How could you!”

 You held him by his shirt like you were a gangster getting ready to pummel him. He didn’t fight you, so you released your fists in a fury of hits against his chest. No matter how hard you hit him he didn’t move, nor try to stop you. He just took it. Soon, your barrage of hits turned to you just pressing your forehead on his chest as you cried.

 “Shit, I’m sorry Y/N. I--.”

 You barely heard his words all you could focus on was the pain in your heart. Many long moments passed with the two of you like this, Lewis on his knees before you with your forehead on his chest. You hated it but he still felt like home to you. He still felt like yours. Those feelings angered you because you knew you were being stupid, pathetic and weak. You knew if he’d fucked you over once, he’d do it again and again. You weren’t blind to the games of the assholes in the world, but you couldn’t believe you’d fallen for one. You couldn’t believe you’d given one such a significant part of you and now you had nothing to show for it but the shattered pieces of your heart and clown face paint as souvenirs.

 When your sobs slowed then finally dwindled down to sniffles, and your body stilled to only sudden sharp intakes of breath every so often your senses returned. The first thing you became aware of were Lewis’ arms wrapped around you holding you close to him. The second was the fact he was kneeling between your thighs, something that felt intimate in its own standing. The third was that his two-man bodyguard team were standing a few feet away with their backs turned. That jarred you so much that you immediately felt regret.

 “Get off me!”

 You shoved him off harder than you’d intended then wiped your tear-soaked face.

 “Y/N--,” Lewis began.

 “Shut up!”

 Your voice echoed around the empty parking space. You were the only people around, but you didn’t put it past some pap to be hiding out trying to get a candid of F1’s golden boy.

 “Let me explain.”

 “Explain? You had your chance to explain. You chose to remain silent, and fuck lose pussy.”

 “I didn’t fuck anyone!”

 His voice was sharp and sudden as if he’d been enflamed to set the record straight all of a sudden. You narrowed your eyes at him and began moving trying to swing your legs inside your car. Lewis grabbed your thighs keeping you in place.

 “I didn’t.”

 “You’re a fucking liar Lewis! I was there. I saw it!”

 “You saw what I wanted you to see.”

 Your anger sparked then.

 “What the fuck does that mean? You wanted me to see you fucking other bitches? You wanted me to see you for the asshole you are. Fine! Done! I see it! Let me the fuck go!”

 He didn’t.

 “I thought I could do this. I thought I could easily do this because it was to protect you, it was to keep you safe.”

 “What! What’re you talking about?”

 Lewis rubbed across his face. He looked haunted, exhausted, and broken. “If you’re this bad off to end up in the hospital and now this—fuck. I fucked up.”

 You didn’t know what he was saying much less couldn’t understand anything. Nothing made sense.

 “Y/N, listen—I—shit—okay listen.”

 He continued to stutter as he tried to formulate a sentence but every time nothing came out. You sat there giving him time to get it together but realized your idiocy midway through. Groaning, you shoved him again.

 “Get the fuck away. You’re full of shit!”

 Managing to push him away this time, he fell backward. You swung your legs inside your car then reached for the door. Lewis put his hand on yours, stopping you.

 “Wait, please.”

 “Fuck you, Lewis. Fuck you and fuck this!”

 You shook your hand free then slammed your car door. It took you seconds to start your engine and revved out of there like F1’s newest driving talent. As you sped away you looked in your rearview mirror at a still kneeling Lewis with his hands planted atop his head. Your heart broke seeing it but that only angered you more.

 That night you struggled to get any sleep. You were in between states of hysterical crying and obsessive staring and stalking. You couldn’t make sense of anything, couldn’t understand his behavior. One minute he was telling you that all he wanted to do was live life in the fast lane and fuck around then he was holding you so tenderly and apologizing. You were getting mental whiplash from his change up and it infuriated you.

By the time the sun rose, you were still awake. As you were getting ready to shoot a message informing everyone of a personal day, you received a message telling you about a meeting at the company. You groaned knowing you did not have the energy to sit through a 2-hour meeting. You shot Toto a message telling him you’d have to pass blaming a medical appointment for the absence then decided to use the company gym to burn off some steam.

 After you’d changed and had gotten in your car, you drove to the company barely aware of anything happening around you. All of it felt like muscle memory to you. The reason why it had, you realized once you’d parked your car, was because you hadn’t driven yourself to the company. You’d driven to Lewis’ London house instead.

 “What the actual fuck, Y/N?”

 You dropped your forehead on your steering wheel and groaned. Muscle memory indeed, you thought. You didn’t see his car on the street and thought maybe he wasn’t home. Deciding now would be a good time to clear your stuff out of his place you entered the code into the alarm system then drove in once the gates opened. After parking on what Lewis had distinguished as your parking area you closed the garage door then let yourself inside using the keys he’d given you.

 This was another thing you couldn’t understand. If you were just a conquest and an easy target, why give you keys to his houses, why tell you the codes to security systems? You took off your sneakers and took them with you as you passed a large blown-up photo of the two of you hung right in the foyer. You stood stunned staring at it. You remembered this day. He’d shut down the top of the Empire State Building for a one-on-one date. Then after wining and dining you all night while whispering sweet words the entire time, he’d asked his guard to snap a few pictures. You remembered the words he’d whispered in your ear in this exact picture.

 “You make me want forever.”

 You closed your eyes feeling the tears. Willing them away you fought against your emotional side. You were tired of crying, tired of going around and around with this and him. It was time to end things, once and for all. You cut your eyes at the photo then hurried upstairs to his bedroom. The memories and his scent hit you like a ton of bricks when you walked in and again you fought it all. You couldn’t afford to get sucked back into the memories that were clearly a lie.

 After finding one of your overnight bags in his walk-in closet, you began filling it with your things. It surprised you how much of your stuff was here. It wasn’t just clothes and toiletries. It was shoes, bags, make up, jewelry, hair things, work files, even gifts you planned on giving to friends. Sighing, you packed everything you’d came with while leaving anything he’d given you. They would only hurt to find later.

 It took longer than you’d anticipated but after an hour you had three bags filled with your things. As you passed the photo again on your way out you paused to look around once more. Though it was just a few seconds, you knew you’d missed your window when you heard a car pull in.

 “Shit.”

 Hurrying, you dragged your bags behind the large bar then ducked down out of sight. The door opened and shut then you heard a heavy sigh.

 “I thought she’d be at the meeting,” Lewis said.

 “If you want to talk to her just call her,” one of his guards said.

 “If she wanted to talk to me, she would have answered the other hundred times I called.”

 “Then tell her the truth.”

 Lewis sighed again. “How?”

 His voice was close now. You guessed he was standing right at the bar. You made yourself smaller and hoped he didn’t come behind it.

 “I’m sure when you start the words will come.”

 The door opened again then you heard the voice of his friends. You’d spent a lot of time with his friends getting to know them. They were cool people.

 “When are we clubbing,” Miles asked.

 “Not in the mood,” Lewis said dismissing the idea.

 “Come on. Just because your shorty left you doesn’t mean we all gotta suffer.”

 “She ain’t leave him bruv, he made her leave,” Daniel clarified.

 Your attention piqued. What did that mean?

 “You still haven’t explained all that yet. What now?”

 Suddenly, the bell rang, and everyone got quiet.

 “For fuck’s sake. Really?”

 Lewis sounded beyond upset, beyond fed up. A few moments of silence passed, and you were almost tempted to peep your head out to see what was happening. When he began speaking, you remained in your hiding spot.

 “Y’all gotta hide. I don’t want her knowing you’re here and I’m sure it’ll be clear.”

 You heard hurried footsteps.

 “Nah, behind the bar,” Lewis said.

Your eyes bugged knowing you were going to be caught. Shit, you thought. It was Daniel who saw you first, his reaction was quick, simple widened eyes before he ducked down. Andrew saw you next and though he paused he didn’t comment until he was ducked down. Now Miles, when he saw you, he had to be the one.

 “What the--.”

 Daniel yanked him down before he could say much else though.

 “We’re good,” Daniel said.

 “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 “Getting my stuff,” you whispered back to Miles.

 Their eyes dipped to the bags around you, then they nodded.

 “What the fuck is going on?”

 They all shrugged in unison.

 “What’re you doing here?”

 “There he is,” a feminine voice spoke.

 Your spine stiffened. There’s no way. It couldn’t be, you thought. The clinking of heels was so loud, so distinctively her.

 “What do you want Aleeza. Also, I don’t remember inviting you in.”

 Your eyes widened. What the hell was your father’s evil trophy wife doing here?

 “Trust me, you’re going to want to make sure no one else hears what I have to say.”

 The door slammed and echoed throughout the first floor. When you looked over three pairs of eyes were on you as if waiting for you to explain. You shrugged. You had no idea why she was there.

 “What more do you want? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I have nothing left to give.”

 Aleeza laughed, it sounded like the wicked witch in Snow White’s cackle. The three men across from you shuddered all at once. You scoffed to yourself thinking if they only knew the half of it.

 “Aww poor baby. Are you hurting? Get over it. she was nothing, less than nothing, an insignificant speck.”

 “Why do you hate her so much?”

 Were they talking about you?

 Aleeza scoffed disgustedly, “Why do I hate the so-called perfect Y-F-N/Y-L-N? Pick a reason. Her father chose to marry her mother over me. He had the nerve to pick her over me saying he loved her and not me. It should have been me. It was supposed to be me! All anyone ever talked about was her stupid, perfect mother. Oh, Alisha is so pretty, she’s so kind, she’s so smart. My god just wanted them to shut up. So, I bided my time until the bitch died then I swooped in.”

 You were so stunned right now you hadn’t moved an inch. Your eyes remained bugged and glued to one particular spot in the bar as you listened. Slowly, the pieces all fit together. You never knew why she didn’t like you, never even knew of the rivalry she’d had with your mother. You felt like you were an outsider looking in on an episode of F1’s WAGS (Wives and Girlfriends).

 “I’ve hated her from the day I met her. Why would I love that bitch’s daughter. Then I realized she is just like her. All anyone can talk about is Y/N. She’s so beautiful, so kind, so smart, so skilled. Uuuugh!”

 A loud crash of something breaking had all four of you jumping out of your skin. As if this were campfire horror stories, the four of you grabbed hands. This shit could go south at any moment.

 “Then I saw you and I wanted you.”

 Lewis let out a disgusted huff.

 “The plan was to seduce you slowly or use a little force to get you into my bed and ya’ know.”

 The four of you now made up your faces as if you were going to be sick. Hearing all this, you actually might get sick very soon.

 “Then I saw how you were with that bitch. I don’t know how anyone else didn’t notice. I put two and two together and realized you were fucking the slut. Just like her whore of a mother, taking what was mine!”

 Another crash of shattering glass filled the room.

 “So, I had the perfect way to give that little slut what she deserved, what her mother should have gotten. That’s why I got the idea to have you do my dirty work. I mean I already had the goods on you. If Jordan found out you were fucking his precious daughter born of true loves kiss from his soulmate, you’d be out of Mercedes quicker than you can say 103 first place standings. They wouldn’t have mattered.”

 “So that’s why you made me do what I did,” Lewis said sort of in disbelief.

 Aleeza cackled again and again the fellas shuddered.

 “Made you? Lewis come on. All I said was either end things brutally by breaking and shattering her heart so she’d never recover, or I’d tell daddy dearest,” Aleeza said.

 Your eyes widened even more. She was blackmailing him.

 “Of course, you being you and so damn delicious, manly and sexy was ready to throw your hard-earned career to the side come what may just for that little slut. I can’t believe you were willing to have me tell her father and have him rip up your contract rather than break her heart.”

 She laughed maniacally and you swore outside got as dark as midnight though it was probably only noon. Across from you, Miles had a panicked look on his face, and he was mouthing; “what the fuck” over and over.

 “I could never do that to her.”

 “Yet you did. Tell me was it only because I said she’d end up in another unfortunate accident like her car accident a few months ago?”

 A disturbing thought filled you. Was Aleeza behind your car accident? The police deemed it a drunk driver who’d ran out of the car to avoid being caught but could it have been a hired goon who had been paid to plow into you as you stood outside the Gala that night waiting for Lewis to bring his car around? Goosebumps peppered your flesh as so many emotions coursed through you.

 “Was it you?”

 As if he’d heard your thoughts, Lewis asked what you wanted to know.

“Me?”

 “Were you behind the accident then?”

 A long silence filled the room as you anxiously waited for her answer. You were ready to leap over the bar and beat it out of her. Thankfully she spoke.

 “If only that idiot hadn’t fucked up the first accident. She’d be long gone by now and I would be the sole inheritor to Jordan’s estate when he dies. So, this plan worked well too. Anyway, it was you who decided how to break her heart. You made that choice all by yourself and might I add what an incredible choice it was. My, my when you go you go all out.”

 She cackled some more.

 “After everything we’d been through there was no way she’d believe anything else.”

 He sounded dejected and heartbroken.

 “And believe you she did. That show was incredible. I was just—”

 She slow clapped for him, and each heavy-handed clap echoed sounding more and more like the annoying clash cymbals.

 “Watching it I couldn’t believe it. Then when she revealed that you’d taken her virginity, holy hell what a fucking plot twist! The little slut really wasn’t a slut but a total prude.”

 She cackled some more, and the fellas looked sympathetically to you. You didn’t know what the hell to say at this point. This was too much.

 “Bravo. You did more than a job well done. Shattered her heart, broke her faith in men and stole her virginity.”

 “Where in your plan did you figure you’d get me in your bed after this?”

 Another long silence.

 “I mean after you’d pulled off all of these disgusting things revealing your true face. Why would I ever sleep with you?”

 “You’ve slept with far worse.”

 He scoffed.

 “Then I can still blackmail you with your deflowering of your boss’ innocent daughter oh and your falling out which put her in the hospital. Either you give me what I want, or you would have done all this for nothing, broken her heart, and lost your career.”

 Her heels clinked again a few times. She wasn’t walking away she was getting closer to him.

 “Come on Lewis, it’s easy. All I want is that part of you that you’ve given to soooo many before Y/N.”

 “Dick. You did all of this for dick.”

 “Your dick and to ruin that little bitch. Do I have to ruin you too? Why not keep the one thing you have left.”

 “I can tell Y/N.”

 She laughed again. “Like she’d believe that incredulous story of me making you sleep with other girls. Hell like she’d speak to you. I’ve seen the freeze out. Yikes, it’s almost like you broke her heart.”

 “You’re evil, pure evil.”

 “Watch it, Lewis. Your career and future are in my hands, or should I say my pussy. Please it and you will find salvation.”

 She chuckled. “You have 2 days. Buh-bye.”

 The annoying sound of her stupid heels clinked across the floor until they faded with the close of a door. No one moved for several moments. You didn’t think you could. Suddenly Miles sprang up.

 “What the Five Nights at Freddy’s fucking hell was that shit?!”

 Slowly, Andrew then Daniel stood as well. You could hear Miles carrying on, but you didn’t hear the words out of his mouth. You were too lost in your thoughts, too lost replaying all of that and trying to let it digest. You went over the entire thing in your head. You were so lost in your thoughts that you’d tuned everything out.

 When you saw Daniel come back over and stand in front of you, it barely registered. He stooped and held his hand out for you. Slowly, you pulled some of yourself together enough to acknowledge him there. When you took his hand, he stood leading you up.

It took a few moments but when Lewis saw you from across the room, he bolted to his feet. His eyes were wide as he crossed the room eyes never leaving you.

 “Y/N?”

 You stepped back though you were separated by the bar top. Lewis stopped.

 “Wha—what are you doing here? How’d you get in? Did—did you hear that?”

 He looked over to Daniel then back to you. A few moments later, he came around to you bucking his feet on your bags. You watched as the realization washed over him.

 “You—you didn’t come for me. You came to pack your things.”

 He sounded so hopeless, so hurt. Now more than ever you wanted to go to him, but you couldn’t move. What the fuck was real and what wasn’t? You were struggling to wrap your head around any of this.

 “What the fuck!”

 It was all you could say. Though there were plenty of words to say in your head, those were the only ones that made it through your lips. You could feel yourself beginning to panic. It was something you’d thought you worked through after the accident. You’d gone to therapy and everything to get over the panic and anxiety nearly being run over had caused. Now here it was again.

 Your airways tightened and soon the struggle wasn’t to wrap your head around this soap opera, it was to breathe. The less air you could get, the more you panicked. Soon you were surrounded by Lewis and his friends, each dictating to you how to breathe with panicked serial killer eyes or telling you to calm down as they were clearly not calm or straight up panicking along with you.

 The last thought you had was you were going to die surrounded by the four stooges. Then everything faded to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[p4p1l0nn]

“GHOSTS OF US”

pairing: johnny x reader

genre: angst.

a/n: [edited] just wanted to mention this johnny fic is a standalone read — no sequels in sight. author’s just feeling a bit whipped for johnny and decided to whip up another tale.

johnny, a solemn expression etched on his face, struggled to find words that could stitch back the fabric of their unraveling connection.

“i can't explain it,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “the spark, the fire we had — it's just not there anymore.”

a mix of pain and confusion in your eyes, implored, “was our love just a temporary illusion, johnny? something you could discard when it became inconvenient?”

johnny, grappling with the weight of his own choices, insisted, “i didn’t plan for this. i never wanted to hurt you.”

“but you have, johnny. every day, a little more,” you sighed, your voice trembling like fragile leaves in the wind. “it’s like watching the person i love disappear, leaving only a hollow shell behind.”

as the room seemed to tighten, johnny struggled with his next admission. “i thought i could find happiness elsewhere. i thought i needed something more.”

your heart breaking with each uttered word, questioned, “and what about me? wasn’t i enough? or was i just a placeholder until you found whatever it is you’re looking for?”

“i don’t have answers,” johnny confessed, a painful honesty in his voice. “all i know is that staying feels like a lie, and leaving feels like tearing my own heart out.”

you, grappling with the harsh reality, whispered, “so you choose to break us instead? to break me?”

“i’m sorry,” johnny uttered, his voice a fragile apology in the air. “i never wanted to be the one who stopped loving. but i can’t pretend anymore.”

as johnny’s apology lingered in the air, you took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the weight of acceptance. “i understand, johnny.” you whispered, your voice carrying the strength of bittersweet understanding. “sometimes, we have to let go to find our way back.”

silence. no response. johnny stood silently in the stillness, his shoulders weighed down by the burden of unspoken words.

your voice a mere whisper on the wind, repeated softly, “let it go, johnny.” the breeze, once a gentle companion, now carried a sorrowful tune, mourning the love that had slipped through the cracks. johnny, lost in the echoes of his own thoughts, mumbled another apology.

“let me go, johnny,” you urged, your words hanging in the air like fragile petals. “it’s been years.” in a heartbreaking twist, johnny was confronted with the truth — you had left this world long ago. the connection that seemed so real existed only in his own mind.

he knelt beside your grave, the cool breeze carrying whispers of forgotten memories. the tombstone stood as a stoic witness to the fading echoes of your shared past.

a lone willow, its branches weeping like johnny’s heart, cast shadows upon the weathered gravestones. the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving hues of melancholic purples and oranges painting the sky.

“johnny, do you remember the way i used to laugh?” your voice, like a ghostly breeze, wove through the tombstones, reaching the depths of johnny’s soul.

his eyes, filled with an unsettled sorrow, scanned the inscriptions on nearby graves. the silence was broken only by the distant chirping of the crickets and the soft rustling of leaves.

he hesitated, the weight of the question sinking into the earth beneath him. “i . . . i think so,” johnny murmured, his voice barely audible in the quietude of the graveyard.

“tell me, johnny. what was the sound of my laughter?”

his breath caught in his throat, and the distant city lights flickered. a fading sunbeam highlighted the engraved letters on your tombstone, casting a poignant glow.

“i . . . i’m sorry. i can’t remember,” johnny confessed, his words a fragile offering to the memory slipping through his grasp like grains of sand.

“it’s okay, johnny. let go,” you whispered, the words mingling with the wind that swept through the cemetery.

yet, johnny’s fingers tightened on the bouquet of flowers he held, a silent plea against the fading tide of recollection.

“it relieves me, you know,” you spoke softly, your voice a gentle melody. “to see you moving on, even if it means forgetting the little details.”

he looked up, his eyes meeting the translucent figure beside the gravestone. “but i don’t want to forget you. i can’t,” he pleaded, his fingers tracing the letters on the cold stone beneath him.

you extended a spectral hand, a comforting gesture. “johnny, it’s not about what you want. it’s about what we both need. i’m at peace, and i want you to find that too.”

he gazed into the emptiness of the gravestone, wrestling with his emotions. “but why? why do you want me to forget you?”

a breeze whispered through the trees, carrying your words. “because my love, clinging to memories that only bring you pain is no way to honour what we had. life is for the living, and you deserve happiness beyond the shadows of the past.”

johnny’s shoulders slumped, the weight of understanding settling upon him. “i just . . . i feel guilty. like i failed you.”

your form shimmered in a comforting light. “you didn’t fail me, johnny. you’ve carried the burden for too long. i want you to let go of this guilt and live a life where joy can bloom again.”

he nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “i’ll try.”

with a heavy heart, johnny placed a vibrant daisy on your grave, its simple and cheerful petals reflecting the brightness that you once brought into his life.

a wistful smile crossed his face as he said, “just like you, always spreading joy.” trying to lighten the heavy air, he added, “guess what? i’m thinking of bringing a lemon pie next time, even though you know i can’t stand that stuff. just for you.”

a gentle breeze stirred, as if carrying away your laughter, and johnny chuckled, finding comfort in the shared jokes that transcended the realms of the living.

with a final lingering gaze at your resting place, johnny whispered, “goodbye for now, love. until our laughter echoes together again.”

and with that, he walked away, the weight of memories lightening with each step, leaving behind a graveyard filled with flowers and a heart holding onto the sweetness of shared moments.

[mcxcuseme13]

My boy got that Heartbreak Weather fit goin on

Edit: Please ignore Bernie Sanders in the corner

[stellatekintsugi]

Niall Horan

[ugh-yoongi]

Congrats on the 1k!!!

Can I request an idol boyfriend Namjoon and y/n drabble? Something like they’re on a museum date and Joon is being his intelligent/passionate about art self, talking all the artwork and whatnot, and y/n just gets so turned on so they end up hooking up in a hidden part of the museum? 👀

namjoon being an enthusiastic art heaux? this is right up @effortandmore's alley. thank you for this request, though. this one was fun.

most of the history on the piece described here is from the met's website, here. it's a really interesting and heartbreaking piece; i encourage everyone to check it out.

(also, this is more "waxes poetic about art" than anything else. smut takes me forever to write and i figured you've waited long enough, so you'll have to headcanon it, i am so sorry. also, something about this piece just screamed namjoon to me and i wanted to write it. hope you enjoy anyway!)

nydia

pairing: namjoon x reader (no pronouns used) genre: established relationship au; fluff warnings: can be read as idolverse or not, one mention of suicide (the story behind the sculpture is pretty depressing), light swearing, namjoon being hot and smart, unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1k

The next gallery you walk into is vast.

Full of windows that cast a mid-afternoon glow on the floor. Stained glass casting colors. In here, everything feels grand. Feels a little overwhelming, reminds you of your place in the world: small, irrelevant, hopeful. You’re standing in a room of giants, both literally and metaphorically.

Namjoon is large on his own, but here it feels endless.

Diana is centered in the room, light dancing across the bronze. As you stare up at her, you wonder if she’s happy with this iteration. If she mourns her original purpose, poised atop one of the city’s most recognizable buildings, now long-gone. Demolished. You wonder if she’s content to be stationary when she used to go the way of the wind.

She’s stunning, even as a replica of her original self, but she’s not what Namjoon came here for.

What Namjoon came here for is also in the center of the room. The marble she’s carved from is more modest than Diana’s glittery bronze, but no less impactful. Her name is Nydia, and Namjoon has been obsessed with her since he’d gotten his hands on a first edition of an old novel, out of place amongst his poetry, but inspired by art and weathered by time and someone else’s devotion to it.

“There she is,” he says, and the room is vast and empty but you could make out the hushed awe in his voice from miles away.

You tuck yourself into his side, feeling just as small next to him as you do next to all of these sculptures. Laugh softly, endlessly endeared, at all the pamphlets he has clutched in his hands. History upon history, always something else to learn, and you could write just as many on the man beside you.

“Tell me about her.”

Namjoon looks down at you. Smiles. Says, “Her name is Nydia,” even though you know that already. “Randolph Rogers sculpted her in 1856. She’s based off of the character from The Last Days of Pompeii.”

You study her. Admire all of her intricacies, all the love that had gone into creating her and telling her story: her closed eyes, the broken Corinthian column lying at her feet, the movement of her dress. You’re vaguely aware of her story, recited to you by Namjoon over the span of three afternoons, one for each volume, so you know enough to know the tragedy, but you’d be able to feel it if you hadn’t.

“In the novel, she was kidnapped and enslaved and rescued by a man named Glaucus. She falls in love with him, but he’s betrothed to Ione.” He sighs, subdued; probably knowing too much about unrequited love. Probably relating too much to the sculpture standing tall before him. “There’s a lot that happens in between, but Vesuvius erupts and Nydia leads Glaucus and Ione to the Bay of Naples, where they’re able to board a ship to safety.”

Namjoon reaches out, careful not to touch, and traces the air along Nydia’s fingertips, her hand that’s raised to her ear. “She’s blind, so she’s used to navigating by sound. Everyone else in Pompeii is unable to see through the ash and rock, but Nydia has never been able to see, so she’s able to get them to the ship by listening to the ocean.”

The two of you share a quiet moment. You wonder what it must’ve been like, living through the chaos of that day. Watching, hearing the world burn down around you, helpless to stop it. Knowing you’re doomed to your fate. You wonder if you would’ve made the same decision as Nydia, if the pain of loving someone who doesn’t love you in return would hurt too much to be selfless. You wonder if it would’ve haunted you.

“What happened to her?”

Namjoon remains quiet. You almost think he doesn’t hear you, but then he answers, just above a whisper: “She decides that death is preferable to the pain of her unrequited love for Glaucus and kills herself. Slips into the sea.”

“Oh.”

The huff of laughter that tumbles out of Namjoon surprises you. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to be depressing.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ll just have to write a strongly-worded letter to Edward Bulwer-Lytton.”

A full-on cackle. “Yeah. Let me know what he says.”

“Probably, ‘Sorry my novel upset you, but I’ve been dead for a hundred and fifty years.’” You sigh, trying to shake off the dregs of sadness. “Tell me about Rogers. Is that less depressing, at least?”

Namjoon lights up the way he always does when you ask him about art: entirely, with his whole being. Looks like the first time you told him you loved him, and you think they’re probably the same, that they say the same thing. “Mostly. C’mere.”

You follow him to another sculpture. Ruth Gleaning, it says. “He carved this one, too. It was his first large-scale work, since he’d mostly sculpted busts of tourists after he moved to Italy. Nydia was much more popular, though; a year or two later he was commissioned by the U.S. to do the bronze doors for the Capitol building. He was also commissioned to do a statue of John Adams but it got lost at sea.” Namjoon looks anguished at this. “Fuck, can you imagine? He had to redo the whole thing.”

“Sounds a lot like you.”

“Wow, rude.”

The two of you share another laugh, but you’re struck by all of what Namjoon is. Intelligent, empathetic, eager. Always wants to bring you into what he loves, always wants to share it. Doesn’t deem anything unworthy of knowing, because you wouldn’t have thought Namjoon would know all of this, the history of an American sculptor forgotten behind the likes of Calder, Nevelson, French. But he has assigned spaces for everything, so of course he knows.

It’s a little overwhelming, how much you love him.

How much you want to know him the way he knows everything else.

The gallery you’re in is vast, but it’s filled with love. An artist’s love for its subject, your love for Namjoon. They say the same thing.

[khaleesiofalicante]

Okay, so I got NO work and No writing done today. The weather was too cozy so I just drank lots of tea and listened to music hehe.

So, instead of an LMCH or LBAF update, you get a glimpse into the Lightwood-Bane family in the RWRB AU. I'm so excited for you to all to meet them next week (?).

What was that mean tweet he read at the Jimmy Kimmel interview last year? 

President Lightwood’s family looks like the cover of a diversity brochure of a community college. 

Max had laughed out loud so hard that he almost fell off the chair. Because despite being mean, it was absolutely hilarious and you gotta give credit where credit is due. 

Despite this kind of criticism, the Lightwood-Banes used their diversity to their advantage. They each had their own strength and a target group they controlled. 

Dad, who was called the Orion of the Democratic Party - for his targeted initiatives and unmissable victories. His father, if he set his mind to something, always saw it through. Dad had the rich people and the white people and especially the rich white people under his thumb. The Lightwoods were famous long before Dad wanted to become president, so it also helped that their family came from old money and had friends in all the right places. 

Bapak, who was nicknamed Saint Magnus, is kind of like a modern-day Mother Theresa – perfectly balancing Dad’s straightforward and no-bullshit personality with soft smiles and gentle words. Bapak, who used to be a refugee himself, got most of the minority votes –including racial minorities and second-gen immigrants. He was very appealing to the liberals - especially the activists and the scholars and the feminists.

People liked Dad. But people were in love with Bapak. 

Well, not all of them, obviously. 

Just because they have a gay president now, it doesn’t homophobia was dead and equality is achieved. 

This is still the real world. 

Rafael, who had dubbed America’s Future, is the visionary among them. Because what Rafael lacked in experience, he made up more than enough with his passion. Despite spending all his free time with bapak, if there’s any, and hogging all of bapak’s attention like the unapologetically selfish asshole he is, Rafael is a mini-Dad. Max, who grew up with the man, saw it a long time ago. But the people started to see it too. 

However, while Dad had the upper class covered, Rafe wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty – not literally though. Bapak taught him to protect his cuticles. 

Rafe is one with the people of the working class. He got his first part-time job at the local diner when he was in middle school, he volunteered for everything damn charity project under the sun during high school and by the time he was in college, he was already helping Dad with his next campaign. 

While the rest of his family worked really hard to earn these titles and support, Max had barely done anything at all. He, anointed and appointed as ‘America’s Sweetheart, by the people themselves, just needed to be himself. A sweetheart. 

It wasn’t the press the gave him the name. Max’s target demographic is Gen Z and the name turned into a thing shortly after someone random person on TikTok made an edit of him to Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince. 

He’s fine it. Honestly, it’s much better than being called America’s Future. Yikes. 

Since Max’s key demographic is chronically online and would rather die than go out, much of the work he does is also online. This means he needs to have a consistent social media presence and do the allocated number of livestreams every week and meet the expected number of social media reach every day. 

It’s a little exhausting. But it’s nothing compared to what Rafael does, which is to do real work in the real world. 

But there you have it. 

The First Family of the United States of America. 

The Orion, Saint Magnus, America’s Future, and America’s Sweetheart.

[coella-cox]

Okay just saw the Daisy Jones and the Six trailer and…hmmm- The music sounds amazing, so that’s good (I had found the lyrics a little underwhelming when I read them but woah I was wrong). But I’m not sure I like what they’ve done with Camilla. I feel like they’ve maybe ironed out some of the gorgeous complexity of the story and made it more like an average rockstar love triangle/marriage infidelity story?

Idk I feel like by selling Camilla short you ultimately sell Billy’s struggles and his love for her short? The story somehow becomes about Daisy and Billy falling in love and not about Billy trying to weather Daisy and addiction while struggling so hard to be loyal to the life that he has built with Camilla and his kids. Camilla’s trust and understanding of Billy created a gorgeous story about working for a family and how hard it can be to stay on track and I hope the show honors that. But overall I mean it looks amazing

Edit: it also kind of sells Daisy’s heartbreak short? In a way it makes it seem like she could have had Billy when probably the most heartbreaking thing was that she never could. Even if he seemed so right for her, he was always adamant about not going into her world.

[scifimagpie]

Writeblr intro

Last Updated: Mar 2024 So, I realised I hadn't actually written one of these, and I had to fix it!

Name: Magpie, or Shelle, or Michelle.

Pronouns: she/her or xe/xer/xis.

Who: both a writer and an editor!

The Writing: I’ve been publishing since 2011, and I have a bunch of free and paid anthologies I’ve organized, but these are my most important/favourite works.

Except for The Meaning Wars series, all of my books are set in Canada!  

The Meaning Wars (complete; And The Stars Will Sing, The Stolen: Two Short Stories, The Meaning Wars, Poe’s Outlaws, A Jade’s Trick, The Meaning Wars Complete Omnibus)

Similar to: Becky Chambers’ A Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet and Ruthanna Emrys’ A Half-Built Garden

Vibes: Space opera! Found family! Mature (30s) protagonists! Best friends! Sapphic and queer m/f romance elements! Friendly space raptors! Space pirates! A beach episode! Antifascism! Colonization (and inequality issues)! Fighting stuff with democracy and direct action!  

The Underlighters (Book 1 of The Nightmare Cycle; Book 2, Monsters and Fools, is complete and in edits. Book 3, The Foundling City, is a current WIP!)

Similar to: Jean DuPrau’s The City of Ember, Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, the Fallout series

Vibes: Coming of age/new adult themes. Spooky monsters. Post-apocalyptic. The importance and warmth of community. Friendship. Struggling with teen problems. Polyamory. Nightmares. Mental health issues. Trauma. Hope. Recycling.

After The Garden (Book 1 of the Memory Bearers Saga; Book 2, Within the Tempest, is also one of my WIPs)

Similar to: Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, The Wachowski sisters’ Sense-8, the Fallout series

Vibes: Found family. Gentle romance. Polyamory (m/f/m). Superpowers without superheroes. Sinister cults and religious extremism. Reincarnation. An alternate future. Adorable giant spiders. Silk-weaving and fiber arts. Post-collapse societal reorganization and politics.

The Loved, The Lost, The Dreaming: A Horror Anthology includes an alternate-ending version of The Underlighters, the novella A Shot of Vodka, and a dozen or so genre-crossing short stories. All of them have spooky elements.

Similar to: Neil Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors, Roald Dahl’s Skin and Other Stories (this is not an endorsement of antisemite Roald Dahl; I am antifascist)

Vibes: Underground living. Spooky dolls. Abandoned houses. Queerness. Sinister fey. Nightmares. Lovecraftian eeriness. Here be monsters.

Bad Things That Happen To Girls (Book 1 of the Memory Bearers Saga; Book 2, Within the Tempest, is also one of my WIPs) Possibly my most underrated work, this New Adultish story is a standalone novella about trauma and what happens when life breaks down.

Similar to: Emily Danforth’sThe Miseducation of Cameron Post and Miriam Toews’ A Complicated Kindness

Vibes: Broken family. Abusive mother. Being queer in a small city. Religious trauma. Forbidden cross-cultural love. Teen heartbreak. Coming-of-age. Sisters.

The Hell series (Unpublished WIPs; Dark as Hell, Uncharted Hell, Hope in Hell)

Similar to: Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag, Andrej Sapkowski’s The Witcher series

Vibes: Grumpy/sunshine romance! Mature protagonists! Queer f/m romance! Thriller elements! Immortal pirate! Marxist/anti-billionaire politics—with a billionaire protag! Lovecraftian ocean horror! Historical fantasy elements! Lots and lots of boat stuff!

Prairie Weather Trilogy (Unpublished but complete, in submission; Chinook Phase, Tornado Warning, Brushfire)

Similar to: Douglas Couplands’ Jpod,Nick Sagan’s Idlewild trilogy (without the sci fi stuff), Love Actually, Heartstoppers

Vibes: Aggressively Canadian! Found family! Cozy academia! University! Set in the early 2010s! Queer romance! Ensemble cast! Aggressively queer, diverse, and inclusive! Coming-of-Age/New Adult issues! Friendship! Drama! Sex work-positivity!             

The Editing: I've been a professional freelance editor since 2013, with Top-Rated status on Upwork (a freelancing website) and several hundred books under my belt. (I don't know how many things I've worked on at this point. I've lost count!) Primarily into sci fi, fantasy, horror, and literature (and associated subgenres); enthusiastic about #ownvoices and all kinds of diversity/marginalised representation in fiction.

You don’t have to go through Upwork unless you want to; DM me if you’re looking for an editor who’s knowledgeable, enthusiastic, and gentle. I’m also budget-friendly!

Age: in my 30s.

Queer?: yes. Also poly! Happily married to two people; also have a girlfriend. Not looking for more partners.

Disabled?: yes.

Languages: English mostly, but some conversational Spanish (rusty), scraps of French, tiny bits of German and Irish. All my writing is in English, though.

Location: Southern Alberta, Canada. (Texas + Kansas + Colorado = Alberta, more or less.)

Other hobbies: Knitting, making jewelry, playing Dungeons and Dragons (and other tabletop games), singing, reading (obviously), learning stuff; playing cello, clarinet, and violin

Interests: Jewelry, gems, metalworking, fiber arts, queer issues and social justice, environmentalism, drinking quite a lot of tea (usually black; I like an assam, Ceylon, or breakfast blends, though Golden Snail absolutely slaps when I’m in the mood for it, and I love Earl Grey Cream as well)

Other internet profiles: *Website * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Tumblr * Mastodon *Facebook * Medium * Twitter  * OG Blog* Instagram * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

[dairy-farmer]

Can you please add this au here? Or update a03?

brutim| au where tim never became robin and one day bruce was feeling more pathetic than usual and decided to take a drive past jason's old school. he spots little dark haired and blue eyed timmy drake waiting at the bus stop while it's pouring rain, looking like a drowned rat.

sure! i don't mind! since twitter has made it so people can't view tweets or lurk without an account and i know that it can be quite a hassle for people to make another social media account and twitter has made it harder for people to interact with media. as for ao3 i really prefer to reserve it for more edited, complete works.

_________________

brutim| au where tim never became robin and one day bruce was feeling more pathetic than usual and decided to take a drive past jason's old school. he spots little dark haired and blue eyed timmy drake waiting at the bus stop while it's pouring rain, looking like a drowned rat. 

there's no other cars and bruce knows the bus won't come come for another hour...

bruce's first introduction to tim drake is pulling to the curb, lowering his window, and offering a ride home to this wet child who happily accepts.

maybe bruce should've have been concerned. 

lectured this child about stranger danger and about how bruce could've been a creep wanting to prey on him.

instead bruce is pulled in by this young thing who gushes about how grateful he is and about how good and kind mr. wayne is and...bruce. bruce has been having a hard time. 

mood swings, self hatred, feelings of worthlessness.

it's...nice to have a break from the voice in his head telling him what a piece of shit he is, how stupid, pathetic, and weak he is. how he's disgusting and everyone hates him, how he can never protect the things that matter.

tim drake is sweet and small and his voice is so kind. like an angel's. and he tells bruce about how wonderful and great he is, how he's tim's hero!

it seems a bit excessive for just offering a ride home in a nice warm car safe from the rain. but...bruce isn't in a good place. 

bruce feels horrible and he's been living in a pit of despair for so long and little timothy drake is..so nice.

he doesn't scream abuse at him like his brain and dick do. he doesn't remain so deathly quiet like alfred. he doesn't look at him with wary eyes like the gordons. 

there is no pity in his gaze like when he encounters other capes. he doesn't make bruce want to rip his skin off and yell at him to stop looking at him! stop making him feel like that! he doesn't like it!!

bruce is so inexplicably sad when he drops little timothy drake off. 

timmy lives in a building containing multiple floors of penthouses near the financial district of gotham.

bruce watches him go, watches as he turns back and offers him another wave while dripping water in the lobby.

bruce feels light for a whole hour before the dark returns. 

the next time the weather is bad (which in gotham is every week) bruce drives past the school again. and there little timothy is again.

he must recognize bruce's car because he lights up immediately. despite only meeting one time before, bruce feels similar feelings spark. 

it becomes habit to drive past the school and pick up sweet timothy. bruce starts driving past even when the weather isn't bad.

bruce knows he shouldn't. he's a stranger. he's never even met tim's parents. but he knows they wouldn't be happy to learn that bruce, a grown man they don't know, had taken it upon himself to start driving their son home. some part of bruce justifies it. that if they were good and vigilant parents they'd be able to stop this from happening. if they'd instilled a healthy fear of the unknown in tim he would've never gotten into a car with someone he didn't know. he would've never gotten into a car with bruce who he spoke so heartbreaking kindly to.

who treated bruce more softly than bruce had ever treated himself. who cupped bruce's cheeks and whispered to bruce about how good and wonderful he was. 

who broke bruce down and let him sob and cry into his shoulder as he rutted into a pink little pussy. sweet timmy let bruce spill his grief all the way inside him.

the orgasms helped shield bruce's mind from the dark cloud hanging over him and allowed him to enjoy tim's soft hands and sweet whispers about how bruce was so good and loving and how bruce was not a bad person how he had so much heart.

every day bruce picked little timothy drake up and every day bruce drove them to a different deserted location and crawled into the backseat where his tim would follow him. he'd pull off the sweater vest from his school uniform and unbutton his shirt to reveal little breasts, he'd roll up his skirt and lay on his back so bruce could crouch over him and mouth at his tits.

he would kiss bruce too. 

his sweet candy flavored lipbalm arousing bruce more as they'd sloppily kiss because tim was young and still learning how. when bruce kissed others it was always rushed and frantic and racing the other person to get their clothes off.

with tim it was comforting. reassuring. 

like a hug. bruce would press his body close and nearly sob with relief as tim's arms wrapped around him, stroking the back of his head and murmuring little comforts.

bruce rarely didn't cried when they had sex. when he worked open his belt, the button of his slacks, and fly. 

when he pressed into tim's warm, wet, tight little hole that was just a little too small for someone his size.

they didn't fuck so much as bruce would press his cock inside as just another way to be closer to tim.

sometimes they'd lay there for hours. bruce aroused and hard. 

tim softly hugging and kissing him, pecking away bruce's tears. occasionally tim would clench down on bruce and that would have bruce's hips arching and twitching in deeper.

bruce would cum eventually. not always from the little rutting they'd do when it was just too much. 

sometimes the emotions spilling over in him just pushed him over the edge and he'd grind and grunt and spill into the vice of tim's eager cunt. tim's little pussy always swallowed all of bruce's load, body accepting every bit of bruce's grief and never letting it back out 

so that it could hurt him again.

god bruce loved this little angel so much.

he made sure to make tim feel good, to find the pink little clit that would have tim huffing and panting and red cheeked and making confused little sounds because before he met bruce he hadn't known his body to be capable of feeling so good.

then the hot squirming of tim's insides around bruce's soft cock would arouse him again and the second time around bruce would push hinself up and fuck tim like the adult and equal that bruce knew he deserved to be. 

this wasn't some child preying perversion that bruce was doing. tim was his mental and spiritual equal, bruce's partner even if his body may be young and he didn't wear a cape.

bruce fucked tim like an adult. fast and deep and hard. and tim took it. 

his legs thrown over bruce's shoulder, soft whines muffled from bruce's kisses as bruce fucked him until the head of his cock slammed into a little cervix.

the first time they'd had sex like this it had been too much and tim had stayed home from school with the 'tummy ache' 

bruce had given him. the next time was better so was the one after that until tim's little pink cunt let out nothing but thick wet sounds at every slam of bruce's cock into him.

bruce would bite down on his lower lip, breathe thickly through his nose as he focused on chasing the spine tingling orgasm that was so close bruce could almost taste it.

it had taken awhile and with a lot of help he'd met from a little angel in the rain. but slowly...bruce got...better. the yells from those voice died down, the blame and vitriol they carried faded away. 

until all bruce was left with was a soft, breathless voice telling him how good and loving bruce was. how he was so good, so good, so good.

and eventually bruce believed it. that he wasn't bad. he was good.

he was so good.