#i finally did it !!!! only four chapters to go now!

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter four

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 5.5k

It was the first day of high school and you were in a brand new city with absolutely no friends, your heart racing as you walked through the halls to find your first class, finally stepping into the room and finding your way to an empty desk at the back of the room, sitting next to a boy that was leaned back in his chair, looking down at his fingers that picked at his own skin.

He looks up at you as you sit down and a warm, friendly smile blooms on his face. “Hi,” he says quietly and you smile back at him, bringing up your hand to wave shyly. “Hi,” you respond.

“Nervous?” He asks, and all you do is nod. “Me too, but it’ll be okay. Wanna be friends?” You nod again, this time a little bit more enthusiastically. “Great! I’m Matt.”

You grin and make a mental note of the boy across from you, repeating his name in your head, introducing yourself to him as well.

The class starts and you both become quiet, bringing your attention to the teacher at the front of the room.

As the class ends, Matt stands up and hovers over you, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Meet me at lunch?” He asks.

You look up at him, feeling excited at the fact that you’ve already made a friend and he seemed genuinely interested in being friends back. “Okay,” you agree, and he shoots you a smile before leaving.

Your next class was across the school, and you might have stayed back a little too long in your last one, preferring to be the last one out, but now you found yourself walking a little quicker than usual through the halls.

You glanced down at your schedule for a moment to refresh your memory on where you had to go, and that was when your body slammed into another teenager wandering the halls.

“I’m so sorry!” You tell him, catching your balance and reaching out to make sure you’re okay. “I was looking down and didn’t see where I was going and I have no idea where I am and-“

“It’s okay!” You hear him say and you look up to meet his eyes, and you were instantly confused at the boy in front of you. He looked exactly like your new friend, but he was wearing a completely different outfit.

“Matt?” You question, eyebrows furrowing together.

The boy just laughs and shakes his head. “Wrong one. I’m Nick. Matt and I are identical.” He tells you, and you can’t help but laugh with him.

“Oh! That… makes sense. I’m really sorry for running into you,” you tell him, cheeks blooming a bright shade of red.

Nick just shrugs it off and tells you it’s no big deal, and you thank him, apologizing once more before continuing on to your next class.

Finally, as that class ended, it was time for lunch, and as you made it to the cafeteria, you looked around for Matt, finding him sitting next to the boy you now knew as Nick, and someone else’s back was facing you. You walked over towards them and sat next to the mystery boy, waving at Matt as you did so.

“Hi!” You say, and Matt and Nick wave back at you. You turn to introduce yourself to whoever you’re sat next to, and you’re beyond shocked when you’re met with the same face you’ve already met twice that day. “Another one?!” You exclaim, feeling like you’re in the matrix as you look between all three boys.

Matt and Nick laugh at you, while the third one just looks at you like you’re crazy, and that makes you mutter an apology under your breath, turning your attention to your friends across the table. “Am I dreaming right now?”

Matt shakes his head, still giggling slightly. “We’re triplets. Kinda look the same,” he tells you and you take another glance between the three of them.

“Wow that’s really cool, I’ve never met triplets before,” you tell them. You turn your head towards the new boy again and introduce yourself to him as well.

He meets your eyes and scans your face for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. “Chris,” he says simply, then goes back to eating his food.

As you eat your lunch and chat with the boys for the first time, you’re hoping deep down that you guys stay friends for a long time.

-

You hadn’t really spoken to Chris since the incident last night, making for an awkward dinner with him sat across from you, but with the day quickly passing by and the potential for dressing nice and having access to free food, you decide it’s probably time to go and see if the two of you were actually going to spend the night together.

Chris was sat on his big white couch, slouched in his seat as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone, feet perched up on the coffee table in front of him, paying the world around him no mind as he watched a silly little video of a horse playing piano with his lips when you came down the stairs, emerging from Nick’s room after a few hours of you two hanging out, deciding it was time for you to grab a drink.

You lean in the fridge looking for something you’d want, finally deciding on a Dr. Pepper for yourself, then turn around and make your way to the couch, flopping down on it with one leg tucked under you, facing Chris who still has yet to acknowledge your presence.

“Hey,” you say, and he doesn’t look up, just hums at you as a reply. It’s good enough for you to know that he’s listening, so you continue to speak. “So this… date. Are we going?” You ask.

Chris huffs and puts his phone down, looking over at you who sat in your pajamas, clearly nowhere near ready for a date at a nice restaurant. “I mean, I really don’t want to lose out on my money but I also would rather swallow glass than go on a date with you, so I’m not really sure.”

You cock your head at him in annoyance. “I’m not that bad to be around,” you tell him again, hating that you had to convince a man to spend time with you. “It’s not like I want to hang around with you either but you need pictures and I need free food.”

Chris groans and throws his head back on the couch. “All you want me for is my money,” he sighs dramatically.

“Hey, that’s not true. I literally don’t want you at all, money or no money,” you tease, but it’s the truth. “But…” you drawl. “It just so happens that you have money and I think you should spend it on me tonight.”

Chris swings his head around to look at you, still resting on the back of the couch. “Well not to sound rude but you don’t exactly look ready for a date.” He gestures up to your disheveled state.

You gasp at him in fake shock. “What?! You don’t think I could go to a nice restaurant looking like this?”

“Whatever, dude. The reservation is for seven, and it’s four, so you should probably get home and get ready if you want to go,” Chris tells you and you nod at him, standing up from the couch.

“I’ll go home right now! And you better prepare yourself, date night me is a whole new breed of sexy,” you smirk at him. “Might make your little cool guy act crumble. Just make sure you don’t fall in love with me, okay?”

You walk towards the stairs and descend to the front door, sliding your crocs on. “Not a problem,” he yells from his same location, and you laugh before walking out the door and to your car, heading home.

-

You guys had texted and decided to just meet there since he definitely didn’t want to be picked up by a girl and he wanted to limit his time with you as much as he could, so that’s how you found yourself standing outside the restaurant by yourself wearing a little black dress and a cute pair of black heels, a small clutch in your grasp at your side as you waited for Chris to show up.

You’re not waiting long before he pulls up in an uber, letting himself out of the backseat, thanking the driver before he makes his way towards you. He’s in a pair of dress pants with a plain black button up, and you can’t help but admire his outfit as he walks up to you, gesturing for you to head inside in front of him. So, you turn and enter the restaurant, Chris holding the door open for you like a gentleman, then you both make your way to the host stand, having somebody lead you to your booth that was tucked away in the back corner of the restaurant.

You guys both settled in and got comfortable before looking up at each other, not saying anything, not even shooting a small smile at one another, both of you just grabbing the menu, breaking eye contact, looking at the appetizers on the menu.

It’s silent for a while, neither of you wanting to speak first, until your waiter comes up and introduces himself. “Hey guys! I’m Theo, I’m going to be taking care of you guys today. How are you guys doing?”

You smile up at him, the tall, handsome boy standing in front of you making you feel slightly nervous. “Aw, Theo, I love that name,” you coo. “We’re doing good, yourself?”

Theo grins back at you, placing a glass of water in front of you. “I’m great, thanks for asking. Date night tonight?”

You laugh and shake your head, leaning forward a bit on your elbows that rested on the table. “No, not exactly. Long story.”

Theo chuckles and nods, pulling out his notepad and a pen. “How long you guys been together?” He asks you both, pointing his pen back and forth at you and Chris.

Your eyes widen at the question, not expecting it at all. “Oh! We’re not-“

Chris clears his throat and slaps a hand on the table, signaling his annoyance. “Can we order drinks?” He asks, cutting you off mid sentence. It wasn’t super unlike him to interrupt you while you spoke, but the fact that he did it in such an aggressive way made you more angry than usual.

“Oh yeah, sorry, man, just trying to make conversation,” Theo chuckles awkwardly. “So, uh, what can I get you guys?”

You mouth a quick ‘sorry’ Theo’s way before you tell him what you wanted to drink, followed up by Chris placing his order, prompting him to walk away to put your guys’ order in.

“Chris, what the fuck was that?” You snap at him, voice quiet but still harsh, eyes sending daggers across the table.

Chris scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. “Seriously? He was talking way too much, I want to eat and I want to leave, I don’t want to sit here listening to you chit-chat with our fucking waiter forever.”

You shake your head in disbelief, letting out an annoyed huff of air. “You’re insufferable, Chris. God forbid you chill the fuck out for one night.”

Chris stays silent but still glares across the table at you, though you don’t meet his eyes. His mind is reeling, not even fully understanding what made him so mad in the moment. You were always a talkative person, always kind to customer service workers even when they didn’t deserve that, and Chris knew that, so why did he get so angry at the two of you talking?

He’s not able to process the thought before Theo is coming back and placing your drinks in front of you both. “Here you go,” he says to Chris, setting the drink down. “And the wine for the pretty lady.”

You slide the glass closer to you after it’s set down, beaming up at Theo. “Thanks so much.”

Theo just nods back with a small grin. “No problem, I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your orders.”

You look over at Chris who’s already looking at you, lips pulled into a tight line. “Pretty lady?” He repeats, clearly unhappy.

You frown, looking down at yourself before back up at Chris. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” You ask him, a teasing lilt in your voice. “I got all dressed up for… well, for you.”

Chris would never admit this out loud, but his heart skipped a beat at your words. It was no surprise you looked good, just like you had warned him, but the way you said you got dressed for him specifically made him grateful he wasn’t standing up, afraid his knees might go weak on him.

“Didn’t say you weren’t, just saying this guy’s a little weird,” Chris mumbles, breaking eye contact to look down at the menu he’s barely looked over.

You leaned forward a bit, slightly reminiscent of the first time you guys took photos together, cleavage peeking out sexily. “You jealous?” You ask him, tilting your head. “Jealous that someone that just met me has got the confidence to talk to me like that when you’ve known me for seven years and can’t even tell me you think I look pretty?”

Chris’s mouth falls open, trying to force words to come out, but none do. He’s just sat there looking like a fish out of water as he racks his brain for something to spit out at you.

“That’s what I fucking thought, tough guy. Watch your mouth.” You grab your glass of wine and take a large sip, sitting back in your seat.

There’s silence for a few minutes, both of you looking over the menus without speaking with one another, until Chris breaks the silence, but he’s so quiet that you don’t quite catch what he says, and you look over at him and ask him to repeat himself, feeling like your ears must be betraying you when you finally make out what he says.

“I said… I do think you look pretty.”

It almost sounds like Chris has to force himself to say the words, like they’re so unnatural falling from his lips, even after the kind words he said to you yesterday.

You stare at him, unable to think of a response. You feel like your mind is playing tricks on you, but when you see the look in Chris’s eyes soften, you know you heard him right. “Oh…” you mutter, unsure of what else to say. “I, uh… thank you.”

Chris nods his head and looks back down at the menu, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole, but unfortunately he was forced to stay seated across from you, feeling the awkward tension start to build.

You clear your throat and place the menu down on the table after a few moments of unbearable silence, wanting nothing more than to change the conversation back to something lighthearted and surface level. “I’m surprised you’re drinking,” you tell him, gesturing to the drink in front of him.

Chris scoffs. “Yeah, I’m gonna need it if I have to spend my night with you. You got wine, what’s the difference?” He quickly, and thankfully, slips right back into his normal attitude.

You shrug and go back to looking at the menu. “Just never really see you drink, it’s weird.”

He hums, disinterested in the conversation transpiring. “What are you thinking of ordering?” He asks you.

You think for a moment, eyes still flitting over the menu. “I don’t know…” you start. “Maybe… a steak? Surf and turf?”

Chris’s eyes widen and he picks his head up to look at you, meeting your eyes as you smile up at him shyly. “Just because we’re at a nice restaurant doesn’t mean you have to get the most expensive thing on the menu,” he says worriedly.

You wave your hand at him dismissively, pursing your lips. “It’s not the most expensive thing on there, it’s only like.. sixty six dollars! There’s an entree on here that’s seventy dollars, so… it’s fine, right?”

Chris shakes his head in disbelief. “This might be why you don’t have a boyfriend, you’re too expensive.”

You huff and pout at him, shoulders dropping slightly. “Boys don’t even know I’m expensive, I can’t even get a date. If I could secure a date I’d be happy with a fucking salad.”

“Then why not get a salad now?!” Chris exclaims.

You just smile and point your freshly manicured nail towards him. “Because you told me I’m super sexy and I don’t need to worry about my weight, so I’m indulging and getting something I know I’ll love,” you smirk as you use his words against him, knowing there wasn’t much he could say to that.

“Hold on, I don’t think I called you super sexy, I just said you looked good in that dress.” Chris retorted, holding a finger up at you as if telling you to be quiet.

“You said I looked really good and my body is incredible, so you might as well have called me sexy and fucked me on the bathroom floor,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows in a sassy manner.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” Chris places his elbows on the table and leans in, tilting his head as his eyes bore into your own. “You want me to praise you and fuck you any chance I get?”

Your throat dries up at his words, and you’re trying to think of how to respond, trying to just get the word ‘no’ to fall from your lips, but you’re too in shock at the vulgarity of his words to even come up with a rebuttal.

Thankfully the waiter comes back in that moment, same wide smile plastered on his face. “Are you guys ready to order?” He asks, and you nod happily, ordering the second most expensive meal on the menu despite Chris’s complaints. He places his order as well and Theo grabs your menus from you, telling you both he’ll get your orders put in and have them out as soon as possible. But as he turns to leave, he sends a wink your way, causing your ears to heat up almost instantly.

“Dude,” Chris laughs, annoyed. “Is this guy fucking serious?”

You whip your head back to him, confused. “What?” You ask him.

“He’s winking at you,” Chris responds in an obvious tone. “While we’re on a date. He seriously does not understand bro code at all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Chris, we’re not actually on a date. I told him that.”

“We’re at a nice restaurant spending hundreds of dollars on food and drinks, both of us are dressed up and we’re the only two people here, to him, it should look like a date. How the fuck does he have the balls to wink at somebody else’s girl while he’s at work? I should get his ass fired.” Chris rambles, eyes flitting all over the place as he speaks, not wanting to look at your reaction to his words.

It’s a good thing he’s not looking at you, because the smirk that slowly arises on your face would probably send him into a rage if he saw it. “Chris…” you start, reaching over to brush your fingers along his hand that rested along the table. “Is that jealousy I’m hearing?”

That gets Chris’s attention, turning his head back to you and meeting your eyes. “Jealousy? Jealous of what, someone finally giving your desperate ass attention?”

You tilt your head, noticing he still hasn’t moved his hand away, despite his words. “Jealous that he’s man enough to actually do it.”

Chris’s eyes narrow, your words like a punch to the gut, though he refused to let you see how what you said made him feel. He rips his hands away from you and places them on his lap. “I could have any woman I want, including you, you’re just mad that I don’t actually want you, just like all the other guys you try to fuck with.”

You shake your head and sit back in your seat, breaking eye contact with him and looking around the restaurant, knowing that you’d never be able to break Chris, even if he did have feelings for you. It’s not like it mattered, you just wanted to mess with him anyway. It’s not like you wanted Chris, right?

Right?

Chris takes a small sip of his mixed drink, eyes peering over the rim of the glass to see you looking around the restaurant, avoiding eye contact with him as much as you could.

“I always knew you had a crush on me.”

His words rip you from your nonchalant facade, head whipping back to lock eyes with the boy across the table once more.

“Excuse me?” You scoff back.

“You heard me. You have a crush on me, don’t you?” Chris smirks.

“Honey, if I have a crush on anyone, it’s Matt. He’s way hotter than you.” You tell him confidently.

Chris laughs. “Yeah right. You wouldn’t be so cozied up to someone you had a crush on. You’d act like you didn’t have a crush on them, like you do with me.”

You look at him incredulously, like what he was saying was absolute nonsense. “You mean like how you treat me?”

Chris realizes his analogy has backfired and he instantly gets defensive, cringing at the realization. “No, definitely not. I actually think you’re annoying as fuck and I wish you didn’t practically live at my house, but unfortunately my brothers think you’re enjoyable to be around. I just refuse to pretend like I actually like you, therefore I show my true feelings.”

You pause before speaking, wanting to see if you could break Chris’s shell a little bit since you did already have to spend the night with him. You might as well try to have a real conversation for once.

“Chris… why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you to make you treat me the way that you do?” You ask him carefully, your tone switching from a teasing one to more serious.

Chris is definitely taken aback by your question, not even sure he has an answer for it. He kind of expected the two of you to barely talk, eat your food and go home, but now that you were trying to initiate a serious conversation, he felt like he was at a loss for words.

“Hate is a strong word,” he starts, voice quieter than it was before. “I don’t.. really know. We’ve just always been like that and I guess I never thought to make an effort to change our relationship. You give me shit, I give you shit, you hang around my brothers like a parasite, I’m forced to be around you. I guess I don’t really know how it started, or at least… I don’t want to talk about it.”

You hum at his words, nodding your head slightly. “Is it something I did? Did I ever hurt you?” You ask him, nervous for the answer. “I’m sorry if I ever did something that made you feel this way about me. I never want to think of myself as a mean person and I love your family and I love your brothers and deep inside of me there’s a weird caring for you, too, and… I’m just sorry if all of this is my fault.”

Chris watches you intently as you speak, feeling a pang in his chest as your words rang through his ears. Having a serious conversation was not something the two of you did, so to have two meaningful conversations in two days felt like he was in an alternate universe, not really sure how to feel or how to react.

He breaks eye contact for a moment to look down at his lap where his hands still rested, fingers interlocked with each other, taking a deep breath before he looked back up and met your eyes again. “It’s nothing you did,” he promises. “I just… don’t think we were meant to be friends the way you’re meant to be friends with my brothers.”

You nod at him but stay silent, afraid your voice would betray you if you tried to speak.

Luckily, your food got placed in front of you and you both thanked the waiter before digging in.

There wasn’t a lot of conversation shared while you both ate, just a couple of comments made about the food here and there, and that continued on until both of your plates were empty and your glasses only had ice left in them. “That was so good,” you groan, leaning back into the booth and placing your hands on your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve had a better steak in my life, Chris, I’m so serious.”

Chris laughs at you, taking in the way you almost melted into your side of the booth. “Yeah, mine was pretty good, too. I can’t believe we both finished our food.” He says, a small part of him impressed with how much you were able to eat. He’s never really paid attention before, but you could seriously put down some food if you were feeling it.

“Oh, I can. I wasn’t wasting a single drop of anything,” you laugh, looking over at him while still leaning back into your chair.

Theo comes back over and starts cleaning your plates out of the way, asking you both how you enjoyed the food. “Any desserts tonight?” He asks you, smiling wide.

You look at Chris and then back at him, shaking your head. “I think we’re okay for tonight, thank you so much though.”

He nods and places the check on the table, reminding you guys there’s no rush before he heads off.

Chris immediately grabs the check and flips the book open, nearly choking at the sight of the total, to which you giggle a bit, knowing you weren’t going to cough up a single penny.

You knew Chris would never make you pay even for your portion, whether it was a fake date or not, he just wasn’t raised like that and was always going to pay for the woman he took out, even if it wasn’t ideal to spend over two hundred dollars on a dinner with someone he wasn’t even dating.

“Thanks, Chris,” you tell him sincerely, kicking him lightly under the table. He just grumbles a response and puts his card in the little booklet, setting it back down on the table.

The waiter comes back and grabs the booklet, telling you guys he’ll be right back, and he’s not gone long before he comes back, setting it back down in front of Chris. “Thanks so much guys, I hope you enjoyed your dinner and I’ll see you guys soon.” He turns his attention to you, smiling shyly. “This is for you.” He slides over a small piece of paper on the table, face down.

Chris looks at the piece of paper, then up at you, then up at Theo, all with a straight face. He reaches over and grabs the piece of paper, still holding it face down. “Theo,” he starts, and the waiter turns his head to him, clearly nervous. “If I turn this piece of paper over and there’s a fucking phone number on here, I am going to do irreversible damage to your body. I promise you, you will never be able to have children if that’s what’s on here. So should I turn it over, or would you like to take it back?”

Your eyes widen in shock at how Chris spoke to Theo, never hearing him get quite as aggressive as this before, and you’ve made him angry for the last seven years. “Chris!” You scold him, trying to reach over the table for his hand, but he just pulls it away.

Theo gulps, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. “Uh…” he starts, holding his hand out for the paper. “I’ll just, uh.. I’ll take it back, that’s fine.”

Chris hands it back to him and Theo wishes you both a good night before running to the back of the restaurant, as far away as he could.

“Christopher,” you spit, reaching over to smack him on the head. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

He shakes his head, sliding out of the booth. “Let’s go.”

You watch him start to walk away and let out a groan, getting up to follow after him. “Hey!” You yell once you’re outside, heels clacking loudly as you run after him. You finally catch up to him by your car and you grab his shoulder, shoving him into your passenger door harshly. “What the fuck, Chris?!”

Chris keeps his gaze on the ground, refusing to meet your eyes.

“Why did you do that? He was clearly into me and he was hot! We weren’t even on a real date and you ruined my chances of maybe getting one. Now even if I go back in there he’s going to be too terrified to talk to me out of fear of getting castrated! Why on earth would you do something like that, Chris?” Your voice was angry, loud, at first, but towards the end it faded off into your normal volume, more disappointed than anything.

Chris just shrugged his shoulders, not sure what to say. “He was… he was looking at you like you were a piece of meat. It was gross, I… he clearly only wants you for sex.”

You scoff and run your fingers through your hair, still annoyed. “I like sex, Chris. I’m an adult, don’t you think that’s my choice to make? Maybe I just wanted to have sex with him, too.”

Chris finally looks up and meets your eyes, looking like a little kid getting scolded. “Yeah, well, he’s not good enough for you. End of story.”

That was it. Those were the words that finally set you off. “You don’t even treat me well! You’re always mean to me and hate being around me! How the fuck would you know what’s good for me?! You probably couldn’t even tell me my birthday, my favorite color, you probably couldn’t even tell me my eye color if I closed my eyes for two fucking seconds, so tell me, Chris. How the fuck do you know what’s good for me and what isn’t?”

Chris reaches his hands up to place them both on his head, body sizzling with anger and about to explode. “Because, I-!” He stops himself and drops his hands back to his sides, both clenched into fists. “I just do, okay? Can we leave?”

You laugh, literally laugh in his face. “Fuck no, not until you give me a real reason why you did that.”

You’re still standing relatively close to Chris, close enough to where he can’t really move without bumping into you, so it’s not really a surprise when he reaches out to plant a hand on your waist gently, pushing you to the side as he takes a step away, starting to walk towards the sidewalk. “Chris?” You call, and he ignores you, continuing to walk. You huff in annoyance and walk around towards the driver’s side, getting in and starting your car. You almost want to pick him up and take him home, but you decide against it, since Chris clearly knows everything. You figure you’ll let him walk however long it will take him to get home, and you start the drive towards your own apartment, wondering what the hell even happened tonight.

You think back to the date, the things you talked about and what he had said, until you land on the one comment he had made. ‘You want me to praise you and fuck you any chance I get?’

The words sent a chill down your spine as you revisited them, wondering why he had made you so nervous in that moment. It wasn’t something you had ever thought about, but now that the idea was planted, you couldn’t help but let the image play out in your head. Him ripping the dress off of you, telling you how beautiful you looked, hands running up and down your bare body, lips tracing over your skin. It had your ears burning and your thighs tense, imagining him lowering you to the bathroom floor, kicking the door shut behind him as his fingers trailed towards where you needed him the most, one hand covering your mouth and the other dipping inside of you.

You parked outside your apartment and shook your head to rid yourself of these thoughts. “What the fuck?” You said aloud. You sat there for a couple more moments, collecting yourself before you realized something that made you gasp quietly to yourself.

Chris didn’t even take any pictures.

-

a/n: huge thanks to @lucyluvschriss and @mattsbrat for some inspo on this chapter, the original date I had written was just them eating, grabbing ice cream and arguing and I think this is sooo much better and I wouldn’t have come up with the ideas without them. I’m so glad so many people are enjoying this au, i’m having a blast writing it! next part is probably where things are gonna start getting interesting 👀

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