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070chwe · 2 days ago

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AWKWARD — nicholas a. chavez

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summary — a close friend’s destination wedding turns into an impromptu reunion between you and your all-grown-up college fuck-buddy. old flames reignite and tensions simmer in the italian sun, as you learn some sparks never really snuff out. inspired by awkward by sza.

word count — 25.1k

tags/warnings — feat. joshua hong, kim mingyu, a few other var. idols + ocs. fem!reader. forced proximity(?). eloping. 2 suggestive scenes. alcohol consumption (they’re in italy, it’s a lot of wine but nobody is drunk). best friends to lovers to scorned ex-situationship to friends to ???. angst for like 10 words because i just want everybody to be happy. josh and dae are plotting and scheming.

a/n — this is the longest piece i’ve written in years so i hope that you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. if anyone is interested besides me i may revisit these two in future as i am now Extremely emotionally attached to them. dedicated to my beautiful @titsout4nicholas who beta-read this and helped me flesh it out when i was stuck. please check out her writing at well!

DAY ONE

The cab winds its way up a narrow, cobblestone path, the engine purring as the late afternoon sun bathes the landscape in a golden glow. Between clusters of cypress trees, you catch glimpses of Lake Como shimmering like molten silver. The air feels impossibly clean, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.

Joshua’s family villa looms ahead—a masterpiece of terracotta and ivy, perched like a crown atop the hill. You exhale slowly, the flutter in your stomach intensifying. You’ve travelled halfway across the world for this.

The cab stops in front of the grand iron gates, and you step out, your heels clicking against the stones. The estate is larger than you imagined, almost intimidating in its elegance. Joshua had joked in his messages that his aunt’s villa could host royalty, and now, standing here, you’re beginning to think he wasn’t exaggerating.

You press the buzzer, your nerves prickling as the gate buzzes open. Your suitcase rattles behind you as you make your way up the cobblestone driveway, flanked by gardens bursting with lavender and roses. The door opens before you can knock, and Joshua steps out, a grin already splitting his face.

“You made it!” His voice is warm, just like you remember, and the sight of him is enough to loosen the knot in your chest.

“Barely,” you tease, letting him pull you into a hug. “You didn’t mention how many hills I’d have to climb just to get here.”

He laughs, stepping back to look you over. “Italy suits you. You’re already glowing.”

“Please, I’ve been here for less than an hour,” you say, shaking your head.

“Well, Dae’s going to lose it when she sees you,” he says, ushering you inside.

The entryway is breathtaking—vaulted ceilings, marble floors, and soft sunlight pouring in through tall windows. There’s a faint citrusy smell in the air, mixed with fresh flowers. It’s almost too much to take in all at once.

“Where is Dae?” you ask as you trail behind Joshua.

“Probably trying to micromanage something,” he says with a fond roll of his eyes. “You know how she gets. Let me call her—”

Before he can finish, Dae appears at the top of the sweeping staircase. She practically sprints down, her steps light despite the heels she’s wearing. “You’re finally here!”

She pulls you into a tight hug, her excitement radiating off her in waves. “You look amazing,” she says, holding you at arm’s length for a moment.

“So do you,” you reply, meaning it. Her hair is swept up in a sleek ponytail, and she’s wearing a crisp white blouse that somehow looks effortless and chic.

“We’ve missed you,” she says, looping her arm through yours and steering you toward the living room. “Come on, let’s get you settled. You can tell us all about your flight, work—oh, and your love life.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Please,” Joshua chimes in from behind. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet in the group chat. That usually means something juicy is going on.”

“I’m literally here for your wedding,” you say, trying to deflect.

“And we love that for us,” Dae says with a grin. “But don’t think for a second you’re getting out of story time later.”

Their easy banter pulls you in, warming you from the inside out. For a moment, it’s as though no time has passed since the four of you spent late nights cramming for finals in your college apartment.

But there’s an undercurrent of unease you can’t quite shake. It surfaces when Dae casually mentions that some of their other friends will be arriving later. When you ask who, Joshua cuts in with a teasing, “You’ll see,” before Dae can answer.

The villa’s guest room is as luxurious as you expected, with a high ceiling, a plush king-sized bed, and a balcony that overlooks the lake. You set your suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed and sink onto the mattress, letting out a long breath. The journey here had been a blur of airports, connections, and winding roads, but now, with the late-afternoon sun warming the tiled floor, the reality of being here finally settles in.

The villa hums with quiet life. Somewhere below, you can hear the soft clatter of dishes and distant laughter. Outside, the breeze carries the faint scent of lavender and rosemary, mingling with the warmth of the sun-soaked air.

You had barely finished catching your breath when Dae showed up, practically dragging you out of the room for a whirlwind tour of the estate.

“This place is magic,” she’d said, her excitement infectious as she led you down stone corridors and through hidden courtyards. Every turn revealed something new—a secluded fountain framed by climbing roses, a sun-dappled veranda, a cozy library tucked away on the second floor. “We’re using the garden for the ceremony. Just wait until you see it.”

The tour ended on the dining terrace, overlooking the shimmering lake. A long, rustic table had already been set with crisp linens, flickering candles, and bursts of wildflowers.

“This is where dinner will be,” Dae had said, her voice softer, almost reverent. “We wanted it to feel intimate, you know? Like something you’d do at home, but—”

“Much fancier,” you’d finished for her, smiling.

Now, back in your room, you find yourself lingering on the balcony, taking it all in. The lake stretches out below, its surface catching the last golden rays of sunlight. The moment feels quiet, still, a sharp contrast to the rush of life back home.

You let out a slow breath, resting your hands on the cool stone of the railing. It had been too long since you’d had a moment like this—too long since you’d seen Dae and Joshua, too long since you’d allowed yourself to just stop.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“It’s me!” Dae calls brightly.

You open the door to find her grinning, a whirlwind of energy in an elegant cream dress. “Dinner’s starting soon,” she says, glancing at you from head to toe. “Wow. You look amazing.”

You glance down at your outfit—a deep green dress that hugs your figure in all the right places. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Not bad? Excuse me, I look incredible,” she quips, flipping her hair dramatically before looping her arm through yours. “Come on. We’re sitting together, and you’ll want a drink before Josh starts his toast. He’s been rehearsing.”

The walk to the terrace feels like stepping into another world. The garden glows under strings of fairy lights, the long table a picture of effortless elegance. Music drifts softly in the background, mingling with the sound of laughter as Joshua holds court near the head of the table, gesturing animatedly.

“You did all this?” you ask Dae, marvelling at the details—the flowers, the candles, the cosy but luxurious ambiance.

She gives you a sheepish smile. “I had help, but yeah. It’s what we wanted—something small, personal. Just the people who matter most.”

Her words tug at something in your chest, and you squeeze her arm gently. “It’s perfect.”

As you take your seat, the warmth of the evening wraps around you, the glow of the lights adding a touch of magic to the scene. It feels like the start of something—not just a celebration, but maybe a shift, a moment to breathe and reconnect with the people who shaped the most important parts of your life.

“Breathe it in,” Dae says, nudging you with a grin. “This is just the beginning.”

The conversation around the table is light and easy, buoyed by Joshua’s endless charm and Dae’s quick wit. You find yourself laughing more than you expected, the warmth of the evening sinking into your shoulders and softening the edges of your travel fatigue.

“You two have met, right?” Dae asks suddenly, sliding back into the chair beside you after a round of wine refills.

You shake your head, glancing at the man Dae gestures to, sitting a few seats down. He’s hard to miss—tall, broad-shouldered, and ridiculously good-looking in a crisp white shirt that somehow makes him look even more tanned than he already is.

“Mingyu, this is my friend,” Dae says, leaning forward to catch his attention. “You’ll love her.”

Mingyu looks up, his easy grin spreading as he shifts his chair closer. “Ah, I’ve heard stories. You guys met in high school, right?”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “We did. And you’re…?”

“Mingyu,” he says, his voice smooth and warm. “Friend of Joshua’s. He’s been telling me about you guys for years.” He tilts his head, his dark eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You’re the one who keeps them in check, right?”

You laugh softly. “Someone has to.”

Dae nudges your arm, grinning. “Mingyu’s one of those guys who knows a little about everything. And he’s annoyingly good at all of it.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Mingyu says, leaning back casually. “I’m just here for the wine and the view.” His eyes flick to you for a moment, the faintest hint of flirtation in his tone.

You arch an eyebrow but say nothing, sipping your wine instead.

The conversation flows easily, with Mingyu sliding into the dynamic like he’s always been part of it. He teases Dae relentlessly, compliments her taste in wine, and somehow makes Joshua laugh so hard he has to set down his glass.

It’s almost enough to distract you from the quiet sense of anticipation that’s been building since the moment you arrived.

Almost.

You’re just about to ask Mingyu something about his work—he’s in hospitality, or maybe it was hotels?—when the quiet murmur of someone arriving pulls your attention to the garden gate.

Joshua stands, grinning broadly as he strides toward the gate. “Finally! Look who decided to show up!”

Your stomach twists sharply, and you glance instinctively toward the entrance.

Nicholas stands there, sweater slung over one shoulder, his shirt slightly rumpled as though he’d barely had time to catch his breath before arriving. The warm glow of the garden lights casts soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp cut of his jaw and the familiar intensity in his eyes.

Your fingers tighten around your wine glass.

He scans the group quickly, his expression carefully composed, but when his gaze lands on you, it falters just slightly. His lips part, and for a second, he looks…stunned. Like he hadn’t let himself consider the possibility of seeing you here, even though he should have known.

Then Joshua breaks the spell, clapping Nicholas on the back and pulling him into the fold. “Tough flight?”

“Delayed out of LAX,” Nicholas says simply, his voice as calm and measured as you remember. “But I made it.”

“And just in time,” Dae chimes in, standing to give him a quick hug. “We saved you a seat.”

Your stomach sinks as you realize exactly where that seat is.

Directly across from you.

Nicholas hesitates for the briefest of moments, his eyes flicking back to you as though weighing whether he has a choice. Then he lowers himself into the chair, nodding at the group.

The conversation resumes quickly, Joshua launching into a toast that draws laughter and applause, but you’re hyperaware of Nicholas’s presence, the quiet tension crackling in the air between you.

“Hi,” he says softly, leaning just slightly forward.

You force yourself to meet his gaze, offering a polite smile. “Hi, Nic.”

“Nic?” Mingyu interjects, leaning forward with a curious tilt of his head. “You two know each other?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel Nicholas’s eyes on you, waiting for your response.

“He’s the fourth, in the core four. We went to college together,” you say evenly, keeping your tone light.

“More like survived college together,” Nicholas adds, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of warmth.

Mingyu glances between the two of you, something flickering behind his amused expression, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he leans back in his chair, that easy grin returning. “Must have been some college.”

Nicholas’s jaw tightens slightly, though he doesn’t respond.

You sip your wine, doing your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as the conversation shifts away from you. But every so often, you catch Nicholas watching, his expression unreadable, and you can’t quite shake the feeling that you’ve been pulled into something you’re not ready to navigate.

And when Mingyu leans closer later in the evening, his voice low and teasing as he asks about your plans for the week, you don’t miss the subtle way Nicholas stiffens, his eyes flicking briefly in your direction.

For the first time tonight, you let yourself smile—not for Mingyu, not even for yourself, but for the quiet satisfaction of knowing Nicholas is watching.

The evening stretches on, the laughter around the table mellowing as glasses empty and conversations shift. You’ve managed to find a rhythm, the conversation flowing with Mingyu, Dae, and Joshua, but the tension between you and Nicholas lingers in the background like an uninvited guest.

Mingyu’s presence has certainly helped lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing more easily than you expected, your earlier discomfort slowly melting away. His stories are ridiculous, and his charm is disarming in the best way, but there’s no denying the undercurrent of awareness that pulses through the room whenever your gaze meets Nic’s. It’s like there’s an invisible thread pulling you back to a time that feels both distant and incredibly close.

“Alright, alright,” Joshua finally says, pushing his chair back as the conversation dies down. “We’ll have to call it a night before Mingyu starts telling us about his gym routine again. Believe me, it’s all the same.”

Mingyu laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty. But seriously, you should try it sometime, Joshua. Your abs could use a little work.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Dae interjects with a wink, standing to clear away the empty glasses. “He’s just mad because I won’t let him teach me how to ‘properly’ lift weights.”

You smile at the easy camaraderie between them, but as the evening winds down and the group begins to disband, the weight of the unspoken words between you and Nicholas hangs heavily in the air.

The others drift off in pairs—Joshua playfully nudging Dae as they head toward the kitchen, Mingyu wandering off with a last cheeky grin in your direction. You’re halfway to gathering the last of the plates when Nic’s voice stops you.

“Let me.”

You look up to see him standing there, hands already reaching for the empty bottles on the table. It’s a simple offer, but there’s something in his tone—something softer, unguarded. For a second, you consider brushing him off, but you step back instead, letting him take over.

“Thanks,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended.

Nic glances at you as he sets the bottles down, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough on your plate today.”

The comment feels loaded, though you can’t quite pinpoint why. You don’t respond immediately, instead fiddling with the edge of a napkin. He doesn’t move, lingering just close enough that the air between you seems to buzz with unsaid things.

“Long day,” you finally offer, shrugging, but your voice lacks conviction.

Nic leans his hip against the table, his gaze steady on yours. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.”

Your chest tightens at his words, though you can’t bring yourself to look away. “Like what?”

“Like we’re strangers.” His voice is low, almost tentative.

You laugh softly, but there’s no humor behind it. “Well, isn’t that what we are now?”

The question hangs between you, heavy and sharp. Nic hesitates, his lips parting like he might argue, but then he seems to think better of it. Instead, he shakes his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the weight of whatever he’s feeling.

“Goodnight,” he says finally, his tone quieter now, but there’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe—in his eyes.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat as you watch him step away. The warmth of his presence lingers even after he’s gone, leaving you with a mix of emotions you can’t quite untangle.

By the time you make it to your room, the house is silent, save for the distant murmur of voices from the terrace. You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands resting in your lap, staring at nothing in particular. The weight of the evening settles over you like a thick, heavy fog, leaving your chest tight and your mind racing.

Nic.

You hadn’t let yourself say his name in your head for so long—not like this, not with every syllable feeling like a stone dropped into the still waters of your life. Seeing him again after all these years had cracked something open, something you’d buried deep and refused to examine.

He hadn’t changed much. The sharpness of his features, the confidence in his posture—it was all still there, though tempered now with a quiet weight that hadn’t been there before. And those moments, brief as they were, when his gaze softened on you, when his words carried a tenderness you weren’t prepared for… they left you raw.

The sight of him stirred up so many conflicting emotions, you didn’t know where to start. The anger—oh, the anger—was still there, simmering just below the surface. How could he leave you the way he had, without a word, without a fight? How could he stand here now, acting like he wanted to bridge a gap he created?

But it wasn’t just anger. It was the ache, the longing that twisted in your chest at the sound of his voice saying your name. It was the flood of memories, unbidden and too vivid: his laugh in the dead of night, the way his fingers curled around yours when he thought no one was looking, the warmth of his breath on your skin as he whispered something only meant for you.

It was the bitterness, too, of realizing how deeply you’d missed him, even when you swore you wouldn’t. Even when you swore you couldn’t.

And now he was here, standing just close enough to stir everything up but not close enough to make it okay. You thought you’d prepared yourself for this—Joshua and Dae had warned you, after all—but nothing could have readied you for the reality of facing him again, for the sharp edges of the past cutting into you with every glance, every word.

What did he want from you? What did he expect? And more terrifyingly, what did you want from him?

The questions swirled in your head, unanswered and overwhelming. You stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will the thoughts away, but they wouldn’t go.

Part of you wanted to hate him, to let the bitterness overtake everything else. It would be so much easier than confronting the other part of you—the part that remembered what it felt like to love him, to feel safe in the space you’d carved out together, the part that wondered if he was here now to take that away from you all over again.

As you closed your eyes, exhaustion finally pulling at you, one thought lingered above all the rest, heavy and undeniable: what happens next?

And for the first time in years, you realized you weren’t sure if the answer scared you or thrilled you.

DAY TWO

The kitchen is quiet when you enter, the early morning light streaming through the wide windows, casting golden streaks on the wooden floor. Nic is already there, standing at the counter with a mug in hand, wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. The sight of him is… jarring, yet oddly familiar. For a moment, you pause, unsure if you should turn around and leave or brave the awkwardness.

He looks up just as you step in, his posture stiffening slightly. “Morning,” he says, his voice low, like he’s testing the waters.

“Morning,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you move to the coffee pot. You’re acutely aware of the space between you—too much history to feel natural, not enough familiarity to feel comfortable.

The silence stretches as you pour your coffee, the sound of liquid hitting the ceramic mug louder than it should be. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting him to leave, but he stays rooted in place, fiddling with his mug like he wants to say something.

“You sleep okay?” he asks after a beat, his voice casual but his gaze flickering with something heavier.

You nod, not looking at him. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

The small talk feels unnatural, like both of you are grasping at straws to fill the silence. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth anchor you.

“Well,” you say after a moment, your voice a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. “I’m gonna head out to the terrace.”

Nic nods, stepping aside to give you space as you move past him. The air feels heavy as you walk away, your shoulders tense until you’re outside and the cool morning breeze brushes against your skin.

You settle into one of the cushioned chairs on the terrace, pulling your knees up as you cradle your coffee. The view of the garden below is stunning, but your mind is elsewhere—on the kitchen, on Nic, on the way your chest felt tight just being in the same room as him.

The sliding door creaks open, and a moment later, Dae appears, holding her own mug of tea. She takes one look at you and immediately crosses the terrace to join you, settling into the chair beside yours.

“Stealing my spot already?”

“It’s not your spot. It’s the best spot,” you reply with a faint smile, trying to mask the thoughts spinning in your head.

Dae doesn’t buy it. “You’ve got that look,” she says, tapping her mug against yours. “You’re mulling. Spill it.”

You laugh softly, but there’s no point denying it. “You already know what I’m thinking about,” you say, leaning back in your chair.

“Nic,” Dae states plainly, and you glance away, caught. She leans closer, her smile mischievous. “So, are you going to talk to him? I mean, really talk? Five years is a long time, but… I don’t know. Maybe it’s time.”

You groan, toying with loose thread on your pyjama pants. “Dae, come on. I can barely get through breakfast without feeling like I’m going to drown in all the unresolved… everything. I don’t even know what I’d say to him. It’s not that simple.”

Dae shrugs, her teasing softening into something more thoughtful. “Maybe not, but you two were close once. Really close. And I know what he did was awful, but… he’s different now.”

You narrow your eyes, skeptical. “Different how?”

“I mean, people grow up, you know? They change.” She hesitates, then meets your gaze. “Nic’s talked about it, you know. Over the years. Not all the time, but enough for me to know he regrets it. Deeply. What he did to you.”

You blink, her words hitting harder than you expect. “He… regrets it?”

Dae nods, her expression earnest. “I think he’s always regretted it. He just didn’t know how to fix it—or if he even could. He’s told Josh and me that what he did was the biggest mistake of his life.”

You look away, the weight of her words settling heavily on your chest. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you deserve to know,” she says simply. “And I know you don’t owe him anything. Not your forgiveness, not your time, nothing. But I also know you. You don’t let people in easily, and when you do, it’s because they matter to you. He mattered to you once, and maybe—just maybe—it’s worth figuring out if he still does.” Dae watches as you stew on her words. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say, though you brace yourself.

“Do you still care about him? I don’t mean, like, pine-after-him care. I mean… as a person. As someone who was once really important to you.”

Her words settle over you like the warmth of the sun, and you know the answer without hesitation. “Yes,” you admit. “I’ll probably always care about him. I don’t know what that means, though.”

Dae smiles softly. “That’s something. And I’m not saying you have to figure it out right now. But…” She hesitates, then laughs lightly. “Okay, this is cheesy, but Josh and I have had our disagreements. Big ones. And what’s always worked for us is being honest. Like, painfully honest. Even when it’s uncomfortable.”

You tilt your head, curious. “He’s never hurt you the way Nic hurt me.”

She nods, serious now. “No, he hasn’t. And that’s huge. It’s not the same, I know that. But you’ve always been one of the strongest people I know. I just don’t want you to close a door without looking through it first, you know?”

You look out over the lake, her words echoing in your mind. The idea of rekindling anything with Nicholas feels impossible, and yet… you’ve spent five years trying to bury something that clearly refuses to stay buried.

“I don’t even know if I want the door open,” you say after a moment, and Dae laughs.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to decide today. Just don’t lock it yet. You’ve got a week, give it some time.”

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. Dae reaches over and squeezes your hand, the gesture grounding you. You sit together in companionable silence, the morning sun climbing higher as the day stretches ahead, the uncertainty of the week hanging just out of reach.

The estate had a life of its own, buzzing with the quiet hum of excitement and last-minute wedding plans. Over the next few hours, you spent your time catching up with old friends and new faces alike. Joshua’s cousin Johnny, loud and perpetually armed with a joke, seemed to find you every time you lingered near the sitting room.

“You’ve got to stop hiding in here,” he teased, leaning against the doorway as you gazed out the window, book in hand. “Otherwise, we’re all going to think you’ve turned into a hermit.”

Johnny’s relentless energy was matched only by Dae’s younger cousin Theo, who had arrived with his girlfriend, India—a warm and bubbly presence who made you laugh more than once with her stories about Theo’s less-than-graceful attempts at wedding prep.

And then there was Mingyu, effortlessly charming as always, slipping into every conversation with a wink or a quip that made you wonder if he was born to make people feel special. He had a way of lightening the mood, even when you found yourself retreating into your thoughts.

By the afternoon, the rehearsal ceremony began in the estate’s garden. The celebrant, a kind Italian woman with a melodic accent, guided Dae and Joshua through the motions. You stayed off to the side, a silent observer. Watching the way they looked at each other—full of shared history, love, and promise—made your chest ache. It wasn’t envy, not exactly, but it stirred something deep within you, something unresolved.

Yeri, Dae’s younger sister, took her role as maid of honor seriously, adjusting Dae’s dress and making playful jabs about how Joshua would probably cry during the real ceremony. Johnny, Joshua’s best man, was less focused, cracking jokes and dramatically mimicking the celebrant’s gestures until Dae swatted him on the arm.

You smiled at the scene, grateful to be part of such an intimate moment, even as a quiet observer. It felt like a privilege to witness this chapter of their story unfold.

The rehearsal dinner followed shortly after, hosted in a grand but cozy dining room adorned with soft lighting and fragrant floral arrangements. You were seated a few spots away from Nic, with Dae on one side and Theo across from you, his girlfriend India chatting animatedly with Mingyu. Johnny, ever the life of the party, held court a few seats down, keeping everyone entertained with his endless stream of stories.

“So,” Johnny said, pointing a fork toward you, “I just realized this is the first time I’ve seen you in years.” He turned to Joshua. “Wasn’t it your 21st birthday party when we met?”

You nodded, remembering the lavish house party Joshua had thrown during your junior year of college. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You spent half the night in a heated debate about Australian football with one of the bartenders.”

Johnny grinned. “Good times. But hey, I remember more than just the bartender. You two”—he gestured vaguely between you and Nic—“were definitely sneaking off somewhere that night, weren’t you?”

The table quieted slightly, and you felt your cheeks flush. You glanced at Nic, whose expression was neutral but whose jaw tightened just enough for you to notice.

“I mean, I’m not saying I was spying,” Johnny continued, clearly oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere. “But I remember catching a bit of a moment between you two. By the pool? Or was it the kitchen? Anyway—”

“Johnny,” Joshua interrupted smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice. “Let it go.”

Nic chimed in with a dry tone. “I think your memory’s getting creative.”

Johnny blinked, looking between the two of them, then raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No need to gang up on me. Just saying what I saw.”

“You thought you saw,” Joshua corrected firmly, and Johnny finally seemed to pick up on the fact that the subject was off-limits.

Theo, sensing the tension, jumped in to change the subject. “So, India and I were trying to figure out the best time to visit Florence—any recommendations?”

The conversation shifted to travel plans, and you let out a quiet breath, grateful for the diversion. Still, Johnny’s comment lingered, bringing back flashes of that night—Nic’s hand brushing yours, the way he’d looked at you when he thought no one else was watching.

When dessert was served, you found yourself catching snippets of Nic’s voice as he spoke to Joshua and Mingyu. His laugh was warm, familiar, and it tugged at something deep inside you. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed hearing it.

Every now and then, you felt his gaze drift toward you, but he never let it linger long. It was almost as if he was waiting for the right moment to speak, but the moment never came.

The conversation at the table had settled into a comfortable rhythm after Johnny’s earlier slip-up, everyone enjoying the fine Italian meal and the company. Mingyu, seated just a spot down from Nic, leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as he listened to Nic talk about his work.

“Josh tells me you’re a prosecutor in LA?” Mingyu asked, his eyebrows lifting in interest.

Nic nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. Criminal defense first, but I made the switch to prosecution about a year ago. It’s challenging, but I enjoy it. Keeps me sharp.”

Mingyu tilted his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Man, I don’t know how you deal with all that pressure. I’m just behind a counter, trying to make sure pastries look good enough to eat and that customers leave happy.”

Nic chuckled, a hint of admiration in his tone. “Don’t sell yourself short. Managing a bakery chain sounds like it comes with its own kind of stress. And let’s be honest, no one’s day gets worse because of a croissant.”

Mingyu grinned, leaning forward. “True. But the way some people act when we run out of almond tarts? You’d think I committed a crime. At least you’re dealing with actual criminals.”

Nic laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick with my courtroom drama. Pastry wars sound way too intense for me.”

Mingyu laughed, the sound warm and infectious as he leaned back in his chair. Then his gaze shifted to you, his curiosity genuine. “What about you? What’s your story?”

You took a sip of your wine, smiling. “I’m an oral surgeon.”

Before you could elaborate, Nic’s voice cut in smoothly. “A damn good one, too.”

The unexpected compliment hung in the air, and your cheeks warmed despite yourself. You glanced at Nic, whose expression was sincere, though he quickly looked away, his fingers fidgeting with the stem of his glass.

“Well,” you said with a small shrug, trying to play it off, “he’s not wrong.”

Mingyu grinned, clearly impressed. “Guess I know who to call if I ever need a new jaw.”

You smirked, your response coming easily. “I’m not expecting that call anytime soon. Your jaw looks perfectly fine from where I’m sitting”

The table laughed at your quick retort, and even Nic cracked a smile, though his fingers tightened slightly around his glass. You couldn’t quite tell if it was the flirtation or the ease with which you’d fallen into it that bothered him.

Mingyu leaned in, still grinning. “Good to know I’ve got the expert’s seal of approval.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased lightly, turning your attention back to your plate.

As the conversation shifted again, Nic remained mostly quiet, only chiming in here and there. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was holding back on purpose—or if he was waiting for the right moment to say something more meaningful.

While his praise had flattered you, it also left you feeling a little unsteady. He hadn’t said a word about the way things ended between you, and until he did, it was impossible to tell what his intentions for the week might be.

Still, there was a part of you that wanted to believe the look in his eyes—warm, familiar, and perhaps a little regretful—was a step toward something better, even if you weren’t sure what that better looked like just yet.

The sound of clinking glass and running water draws you toward the kitchen as the evening winds down. Joshua is standing at the sink, rinsing a wine glass with the kind of precision that only he could make look natural. His blazer is draped over the back of a chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“You’re not the help, you know,” you say lightly as you step into the room, leaning against the counter.

Joshua glances at you over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And yet, somehow, I’m always cleaning up after Mingyu. He has this uncanny ability to use three glasses for every drink.”

You laugh softly, crossing your arms as you watch him. There’s a brief silence, the kind that only Joshua could make feel comfortable, before he turns off the faucet and turns to face you fully.

“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice gentle but direct.

You blink at him, caught slightly off guard. “I’m fine. Why?”

“Because I know you better than that.” He leans against the counter opposite you, his gaze steady. “It’s a lot. Him being here.”

You sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of his words. “I don’t even know how I feel, Josh. Every time I see him, it’s like—” You pause, struggling to find the words. “It’s like this hollow drop in my stomach, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m happy to see him or because I’m… angry that he’s here.”

Joshua tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Maybe.” You chew on your bottom lip, the thoughts swirling in your head louder now that you’ve voiced them. “I don’t even know if I should bring it up. What’s the point, you know? It’s been five years. What am I even supposed to say?”

Joshua steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder briefly. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Give it time. You’ve always been the more emotionally mature one between the two of you. I trust you’ll handle it the way you need to.”

His words settle over you like a thin veil of comfort, but the knot in your chest doesn’t entirely loosen.

Without saying anything else, Joshua moves toward the counter and begins brewing you a cup of tea. The soft clink of the kettle and the quiet rustle of the tea bags fill the stillness between you, an unspoken offer of calm in the midst of your swirling thoughts.

He doesn’t need to say much more—his presence alone, steady and unassuming, is enough. As the steam rises from the freshly brewed tea, you take a slow breath, letting the warmth of the moment seep into your bones, even if it doesn’t chase away the uncertainty that lingers.

Joshua sets the mug of tea in front of you, steam curling up into the air between you. The kitchen is quiet now, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as the rest of the house winds down for the night.

“I’m cutting you off for the weekend,” Joshua says with a teasing smile, leaning against the counter. “No more drip-feeding you wine, or you’ll spend every morning with hangxiety and then blame me for it.”

You laugh softly, cradling the mug in your hands. “You’re not wrong. You’re a terrible influence, though.”

“Hey, I’m the voice of reason tonight,” he counters. “Remember this when you wake up feeling human tomorrow.”

The two of you fall into easy small talk after that—light chatter about the rehearsal, the chaos of planning a wedding abroad, and how Dae is likely still tweaking the seating arrangements upstairs. It’s easy, familiar, a welcome distraction.

But eventually, Joshua straightens and grabs his blazer from the back of the chair. “I’m calling it a night. You should, too.”

You hum noncommittally, staring into your tea. “I will. Soon.”

Joshua doesn’t press. He just rests a hand on your shoulder briefly as he passes. “Don’t overthink it, ‘kay. Not all at once, anyway.”

A soft sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupts your thoughts, and you glance up to find Nic descending into the kitchen, his pyjamas a stark contrast to the polished image he usually presents. There’s something strangely domestic about him in this moment—almost familiar. His hair is mussed, his shoulders relaxed, and for a second, he looks like the Nic you used to know, back when things were easy.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, trying to keep things light as he moves toward the counter to fill a glass of water.

He chuckles softly, a hint of weariness in his voice. “Yeah, that or I just didn’t feel like staying in that giant bed all alone. Guess I’m just not used to it.”

The casualness of his tone makes you smile, but there’s a touch of sadness beneath it, something unspoken. He looks over at you, his eyes softer now, not the sharpness from earlier. The room feels smaller, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you two feels less suffocating, almost bearable.

Nic leans against the counter, sipping his water, his gaze flickering toward you with a quiet intensity. “I know things were… complicated, back then,” he starts, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “And I know I left without giving you any real answers.”

You feel a tightness in your chest, the memory of it still fresh, even after all these years. But he doesn’t press further, not yet.

“I don’t expect any huge conversations right now,” Nic adds quickly, his voice taking on a gentler edge. “But if you ever want to talk about… anything, I’m here. I know I screwed up. I just want you to know that.”

The simplicity of it catches you off guard. It’s not a grand gesture or an apology, but it feels like an olive branch, a small offering, an acknowledgment of the past without expecting you to jump right in. There’s a rawness in his words, something real and vulnerable that makes your heart ache, but it doesn’t feel too heavy. Not yet.

He looks at you for a beat longer, as though waiting for something—an answer, maybe, or a sign that you’re willing to meet him halfway. When you don’t immediately respond, he shifts his weight, seeming almost a little self-conscious.

“I mean, you know where I am if you need me,” he adds, his tone lighter, but there’s something there—something sincere. “For whatever it’s worth.”

You can feel the weight of his words, of the quiet truth in them. Maybe it’s nothing more than a flicker of hope, but it feels like a bridge, and you’re not sure what to do with it just yet.

For a moment, you both simply stand there in the kitchen, the sound of the clock ticking the only thing breaking the silence. The tension hasn’t disappeared, not by a long shot, but it feels different now. The air between you isn’t as thick, the distance not quite as vast.

You bring yourself to nod briefly, mustering up a small smile. “Thank you, Nic.”

Nic finishes his water and starts to move toward the stairs, glancing back at you once more. “Well,” he says, with a small, almost reluctant smile, “I’ll be around if you want to talk… whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make you wonder if maybe there’s a chance, however small, to heal what was broken between you.

As he heads upstairs, you stay in the kitchen a little longer, the warmth of the tea in your hands and his words lingering in the quiet. For the first time since you arrived, you wonder if there might be a way forward. Not right now, but maybe someday.

DAY THREE

The sun is high and warm as you join Dae down by the grass near the steps leading to the lake. She’s sprawled out on a blanket, sunglasses perched on her nose, a chilled spritz in hand. You settle beside her, folding your legs under you and squinting out at the scene below: an impromptu volleyball game on the lawn.

Joshua dives for the ball with reckless enthusiasm, sending Mingyu into a fit of laughter as Johnny yells at him for botching the point. Mingyu sets the ball with ease, his towering frame and effortless movements commanding attention. Nic leaps, shirtless, to spike it over the net, his focus sharp, muscles flexing with precision.

Your eyes catch on him.

It’s the first time you’ve seen Nic shirtless since… well, since that night five years ago, the last time you’d touched him in that way. And what you’re seeing now? It’s very different.

He’s taller—or maybe just broader. His shoulders are like carved stone, his waist tapered and solid. His chest is thick with definition, and his arms look like they could snap a volleyball in half if he wanted to. And then there’s the six-pack, glistening slightly in the sun, drawing your gaze lower, entirely against your will.

Your thoughts betray you, running away into dangerous territory. What would those arms feel like now? Stronger, sure, but what about softer moments—hands brushing over your sides, pulling you closer?

Your thighs clench involuntarily, and the heat rising to your cheeks has nothing to do with the sun.

“You’re staring.”

Dae’s voice pulls you back to reality.

“I’m not staring,” you say, too quickly, shifting your sunglasses down to try and hide your expression.

“You are,” she teases, smirking. “I mean, I don’t blame you—look at him.”

You huff, feigning indifference. “When did he get so… big?”

“Josh says he’s been hitting the gym hard in LA,” Dae says, taking a lazy sip of her drink. “Work stress or something. Whatever it is, it’s working for him. And Mingyu too, for that matter.”

Your gaze flickers to Mingyu, who’s equally shirtless and equally distracting. He’s leaner than Nic, but just as tall, his arms roped with muscle, his easy grin radiating confidence.

Dae leans in closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “If things don’t work out with Nic, you could always try your hand at Mingyu. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

“Dae,” you hiss, elbowing her, though you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.

She shrugs, entirely unrepentant, her grin widening. “Just saying. Your options are very tall and very broad right now.”

Before you can respond, the game wraps up with Joshua letting out a triumphant cheer, and Johnny collapses onto the grass in mock defeat. The boys gather near the water, catching their breath.

Josh heads your way, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, babe,” he calls to Dae.

She barely has time to react before he scoops her up, slinging her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing.

“Josh!” she shrieks, laughing as she flails. “Put me down!”

“Nope.” He strides confidently toward the water, ignoring her protests, and wades in until he’s waist-deep before dunking them both under with a laugh.

The others follow, kicking off shoes and tossing towels aside. Nic lingers, glancing up toward you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seems like he’s about to say something.

But Mingyu beats him to it.

“You just gonna sit there admiring the view,” he calls from the bottom of the steps, his grin playful, “or are you actually gonna join us?”

You roll your eyes, pushing to your feet. “Fine.”

You tug off the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on earlier, revealing the bikini you’d chosen—a simple design, but it fits well. Age has been kind to your figure. Your hips and breasts are fuller now, your waist more defined. You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s grin widens as he takes you in, nor the way Nic’s jaw tightens before he quickly turns to Johnny, mumbling something about the water.

As you descend the steps, you stop beside Mingyu, arching a brow. “If you stare any harder you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

His grin turns coy. “Who, me? I’m just appreciating the scenery.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips.

The cool water was a welcome distraction as you waded in, but it didn’t stop your thoughts from wandering. Mingyu’s easy charm was tempting, but it was the weight of Nic’s presence—the unspoken history between you—that lingered at the edges of your mind. As the morning sun blazed overhead, you couldn’t help but wonder which tension would win out by the end of the week.

You leaned back into the cool water, letting it lap against your shoulders as Mingyu floated closer. His easygoing smile was impossible not to return, and his playful energy seemed to dissolve any tension lingering in the air.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head as he treaded water, “I didn’t peg you as the lake-swimming type.”

You raised a brow, matching his grin. “What gave it away?”

“Oh, just the whole polished professional vibe,” he teased. “I figured you’d be more into heated pools or, I don’t know, champagne on yachts.”

You scoffed, splashing a bit of water in his direction. “Wow, way to stereotype.”

Mingyu laughed, dodging the splash dramatically. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s not every day you see someone who can pull off surgeon chic also out here braving the elements.”

“Surgeon chic? Braving the elements?” you repeated, incredulous. “It’s a lake, not the Arctic.”

“Still,” he said, grinning as he swam a slow circle around you. “I’m impressed. Multitalented, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “What about you? Do you always talk this much when you’re swimming?”

“Only when I’m trying to distract myself from how cold the water is,” he admitted, mock-shivering for effect. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, “Or when I’m trying to keep someone’s attention on me.”

You smirked, narrowing your eyes at him. “Subtle.”

“Subtlety is overrated,” he quipped, his grin widening. “But hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You splashed him again, laughing as he yelped in protest. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, blinking water from his eyes with a wide smile, “here we are.”

The sound of laughter carried over from the shore as the others waded back into the lake. Johnny, forever the instigator, suggested a round of shoulder wars, and the idea was immediately met with enthusiasm.

Josh hoisted Dae onto his shoulders with ease, her laugh ringing out as she adjusted herself. Johnny waved Nic over. “C’mon, big guy. You’re carrying me.”

Nic’s eyes widened slightly, but he shrugged, wading over and lifting Johnny onto his shoulders without much effort. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Johnny replied, his arms raised in triumph.

Mingyu turned to you with a playful smirk, extending a hand. “Looks like it’s you and me, princess. Ready?”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. With surprising gentleness, he guided you up, steadying you until you were perched above the water.

“Comfortable?” he asked, glancing up at you.

“Not bad,” you admitted, gripping his shoulders lightly. “Just don’t drop me.”

“Never,” he replied, his tone mockingly gallant.

The game began with Dae and Johnny immediately going after each other, their laughter and taunts echoing over the water. You and Nic locked eyes briefly as you balanced on Mingyu’s shoulders, and something unreadable flickered in his expression before Johnny distracted him with a war cry.

Mingyu’s hands were steady on your calves as he maneuvered you into position. “You’re gonna let them win?” he teased, nodding toward Dae and Josh.

“Not a chance,” you shot back, leaning forward to push against Dae.

For a few moments, it was pure chaos—splashing water, shouted challenges, and laughter ringing out. Mingyu was solid beneath you, matching Josh’s strength easily, but Dae was relentless. She managed to shove you just enough that you wobbled precariously, though Mingyu adjusted quickly, keeping you upright.

“Close one,” he said, grinning up at you.

“Focus,” you shot back, swatting at Dae again.

At some point, Johnny made his move, lunging toward you and Dae simultaneously in a fit of uncoordinated glory. You and Dae both shrieked as the impact sent water flying, and you toppled sideways with a loud splash.

When you surfaced, sputtering, Nic was already helping Johnny back to his feet, shaking his head at his antics. Mingyu appeared beside you a second later, slicking his hair back with a grin.

“Not bad, partner,” he said, his tone teasing. “You’ve got some fight in you.”

You smirked, splashing him lightly. “You were a decent support.”

Across the water, Nic’s gaze flickered your way, his expression unreadable before he turned back to Johnny. The look lingered in your mind longer than you wanted to admit, even as the group dissolved back into casual laughter and chatter.

Mingyu drifted closer, his playful grin firmly in place. “So, do I get points for being the most entertaining person here?”

You snorted, splashing a little water his way. “Is that what this is? A competition?”

“Everything’s a competition,” he teased, brushing water from his face. “And I think I’m winning. You laughed, didn’t you?”

“Oh, please,” you shot back with a smirk. “I laugh at Johnny’s dad jokes, too. Doesn’t mean you’re special.”

Mingyu clutched his chest in mock-offense, a dramatic gasp escaping him. “Wow. Here I thought we were building something. Guess I’ll have to rethink my choices.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Might be a good idea.”

“Noted,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned back in the water. “But for the record, I think I’m still ahead of Johnny.”

“I’ll give you that much,” you conceded, the easy banter making it harder to stay in your own head.

But as you glanced back toward the group, the fleeting weight of Nic’s earlier look was still there, unshakable.

The afternoon unfolds lazily around you as you stretch out on a cane chair, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. The air is rich with the scent of the lake, fresh grass, and the faintest hint of wood smoke. It’s a perfect day, easy and unhurried, with nothing pressing and no rush to be anywhere.

You watch as Joshua and Nic sprawl out on the lawn, deep in conversation. Joshua’s laugh rises above the hum of the world, light and familiar, while Nic listens intently, nodding along with whatever Joshua is saying. There’s something grounding about the way they interact, a friendship that’s built on years of trust. You can almost feel the weight of it, the comfort they’ve always had with one another. Dae’s head rests in Joshua’s lap, her eyes closed as she listens to the conversation lazily, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his jeans. The scene is easy, peaceful, and yet, you can’t escape the undercurrent of tension that pulls at your chest every time your eyes flicker over to Nic.

Mingyu flops down into the chair next to you, pulling your attention away from the group. He stretches, cracking his neck, before settling into a relaxed slouch. His presence is a welcome distraction, a change of pace from the quiet storm brewing in your mind.

“You look like you’re in deep thought,” Mingyu remarks, his voice teasing but with a hint of concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Just… watching everyone,” you reply, settling into the chair more comfortably, one leg draped over the armrest. “Trying to catch my breath, I guess.”

Mingyu tilts his head, glancing over at the group on the lawn, then back to you. “Yeah, it’s a good vibe today,” he agrees. “Everyone looks so relaxed. I like that.” He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Feels like a long time since I’ve had a day like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-smiling at him. “You, taking a break? What do you even do when you’re not working?”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, sinking deeper into his chair. “You know, the usual. Travel, work, annoy people.” He glances over at you. “Like I’m doing right now.”

“Mm, you’re not the worst,” you tease, your smile growing as you let your gaze shift back to the others. Nic is still talking with Joshua, his voice carrying across the lawn, but there’s a softness in his posture now, like he’s more at ease.

Mingyu follows your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “You seem very fond of Nic,” His voice is casual, but you catch the hint of curiosity behind it.

You freeze for a split second, caught off guard by his statement. You hadn’t expected him to notice, or at least not comment on it. But Mingyu is like that—sharp in ways you don’t always expect.

“Yeah,” you say carefully, letting out a slow breath. “We used to be really close in college, but time and life just got in the way. It’s strange seeing him after so long.” You leave it at that, not ready to get into the mess of it all. Not now, anyway.

Mingyu’s eyes soften, though he doesn’t press further. “It’s good to see you looking peaceful,” he says with a gentle smile. “Whatever happened, it’s obvious you’re doing okay now. I respect that.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding, and the conversation shifts away from the past as Mingyu begins to talk about his latest photography project. He shows you a few pictures on his phone, explaining the stories behind them—places he’s traveled, moments he’s captured. He talks about it with such passion that it’s easy to get lost in his words, the way his face lights up as he describes the scenes.

In some ways, it feels like a distraction you didn’t know you needed. But as Mingyu talks, your mind drifts back to Nic—how he looks at you, how he’s always been there, in his own way, even when you both tried to distance yourselves from each other.

“Have you been to Seoul?” Mingyu suddenly asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blink, realizing you’ve missed part of what he’s said. “Sorry, what?”

Mingyu laughs. “I asked if you’ve been to Seoul. I know you’ve traveled a lot. You strike me as someone who would enjoy the culture there.”

“I have, actually,” you reply, smiling softly at the thought. “Joshua roped me into a trip with him and Dae not long before I did my post-grad.”

Mingyu grins. “I’ve got a few spots I need to take you to next time. If you’re up for it, that is.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Are you offering a tour guide service, Mingyu?”

“Absolutely,” he says with mock seriousness, “I’m a professional at it. No one’s better.”

You laugh, the sound light and unburdened for a moment. It feels nice to let go of the tension, even if it’s just for a little while. But as the conversation continues, you can’t ignore the fact that your mind keeps returning to Nic—his presence, his silence, his eyes on you. The knot in your stomach tightens again.

Eventually, Theo and India join the group, and the energy picks up again as everyone starts chatting and laughing. You let yourself relax into the moment, but something still lingers in your chest. You’re starting to feel the weight of the past more and more. And you can’t help but wonder when you’ll be ready to put it down.

After lunch, the sun hangs lazily in the sky, the afternoon heat beginning to soften as the shadows stretch longer across the villa grounds. You find yourself walking slowly, your feet brushing the warm stones as you make your way back down to the water’s edge. The sound of the waves lapping gently against the rocks is soothing, and you sit at the base of the stone steps, letting the cool breeze from the lake wash over you. The world around you feels peaceful, distant, like a moment you could easily lose yourself in if you allowed it.

But you don’t.

Your thoughts keep circling back to Nic—his presence, his silence, the way he’s been watching you from the corners of your vision, like he’s waiting for something. You don’t know what that something is, but you’re starting to feel the weight of it, the heavy undercurrent of a past that won’t let you go.

It’s not long before you hear the soft crunch of footsteps on gravel, and you don’t need to turn to know who it is. Nic’s voice reaches you before he does, low and tentative.

“Mind if I join you?”

You glance over your shoulder, and for a moment, your heart stutters. There’s something in his eyes, a softness that’s hard to place, but you don’t bristle. You nod, shifting slightly to give him space, and he lowers himself onto the step beside you, leaving a small distance between you. The silence settles over the two of you like an old, familiar friend, though it’s different now. More fragile.

Nic watches the lake for a moment before speaking again, his voice quiet. “You and Mingyu seem to be getting along pretty well.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it, his gaze fixed on the water in front of him.

You chuckle, the sound coming out a little bitterer than you intended. “I don’t really know the guy. He’s just a sweet talker.” You glance at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Does it bother you?”

Nic exhales, shifting on the stone. “A little. Yeah.” He pauses, then glances at you, his expression softening. “It reminds me of how we used to be, you know? All the teasing, all the jokes… the way we’d just be there for each other.”

Something flickers in your chest, but you can’t quite place it. You tilt your head, studying him for a moment. “It’s funny, though,” you say, the words tasting dry on your tongue. “That it bothers you now. After all this time.” You turn your gaze back to the water, watching the ripples dance in the fading light. “It’s a little late, don’t you think?”

Nic doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, the only sound is the gentle lapping of the water against the stones. You feel the weight of the conversation hovering, suspended in the air, but there’s no rush to fill it. Not yet.

Finally, he speaks, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it.”

You don’t look at him, but the words settle into you, a reminder of all the things left unsaid. A reminder that maybe, just maybe, he regrets the way things ended between the two of you. You wonder if that’s enough.

It’s not. Not yet.

Instead, you just nod, letting the moment linger, your heart a mix of confusion and something else you can’t quite name.

After a long pause, you let out a breath. “It’s strange, you know. I don’t even know how to talk to you anymore. It’s like we’re strangers, but… not.” You shake your head, frustrated with your own inability to make sense of things.

Nic turns to face you now, his voice low but steady. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, and for a moment, you almost feel the weight of your past self and who you are now collide. It’s uncomfortable, raw, and you don’t know how to move past it. But you also know that this isn’t something you can avoid forever.

“Maybe it’s just the way things are,” you say finally, shrugging. “Maybe we’re just… supposed to be like this. With everything that’s happened.”

Nic’s eyes soften at your words, and he leans back against the step, his arms folded across his chest. “Maybe.”

You sit in the quiet with him, both of you staring at the water as the evening light begins to dim. Neither of you speaks again, but the air between you feels different now—heavier, maybe. But also lighter in a way, as though the words have started to open something that’s been shut for too long.

The silence stretches between you, the water lapping at the stones below. It’s almost like you’re both holding your breath, waiting for the next words to be said.

Finally, you break the quiet, your voice softer now, tinged with something that feels like release. “I don’t want to keep being angry at you, you know? It’s exhausting, and it’s never actually gotten me anywhere.” You shrug, though it’s more of a surrender than an answer. “I guess I just wanted answers. I still do.”

Nic is still for a moment, processing your words, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours. There’s something heavy in his eyes, an apology that seems to be hanging on the edge of his tongue.

When he speaks, it’s almost as though he’s talking to himself more than you. “I’m sorry that I left you to carry that alone. It wasn’t fair. I know that now.” His voice drops a little, quieter, like the weight of the years has finally hit him.

You feel a shift inside, the heaviness of his admission pressing against the tight knot in your chest. It’s not everything, but it’s enough. Enough to make you exhale deeply, to loosen the grip you’ve held on the anger, even if just for a moment.

The soft sound of the water fills the silence again. You turn your gaze toward the lake, letting the words settle. “I don’t know what the right thing to do is… but I don’t want to keep carrying all of this.” You glance at him, your expression guarded but tired. “Maybe… maybe I just need time.”

Nic doesn’t press, doesn’t offer anything more. He just nods slowly, as if he understands that this is only a small step. It’s not forgiveness, not yet, but it’s something. You can feel the weight of the years beginning to lift, if only just a little.

DAY FOUR

The morning unfolds in a haze of sunlight and warmth, the air alive with the scent of coffee and maple syrup. You’re tucked into one of the rattan chairs with Dae and Yeri, your legs curled up beneath you as you cradle a mug of coffee. The villa feels slower today, the kind of quiet that makes you forget the world beyond its stone walls.

The boys are scattered across the terrace—Joshua stretched out on a lounger with a book, Theo and Nic lazing in chairs nearby. Nic’s head is tilted back, his face toward the sun, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed.

Dae glances at you over the rim of her mug, her expression curious. “So… things between you and Nic seem a little less… icy today.”

Your heart skips at the observation, though you try not to show it. “It’s nothing,” you murmur, shrugging as casually as you can manage. “We just… talked a little last night.”

Yeri leans forward, her interest piqued. “Talked? Like, really talked?”

“Not really,” you say quickly, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just enough to make it less weird, I guess.”

Dae hums, clearly unsatisfied. “And?”

You glance toward Nic without meaning to. He’s still lounging, his face unreadable, but the memory of last night lingers—his voice, the softness in his eyes, the way he’d apologized without trying to make excuses. It had felt… different.

“And it’s fine,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “We’re fine.”

Yeri smirks. “Sure you are.”

Before you can protest, Mingyu strides onto the terrace, a triumphant grin plastered across his face. He’s balancing a platter piled high with golden pancakes in one hand and a bowl of syrup in the other. “Breakfast is served,” he declares proudly, setting the food down on the table in the center of the group.

“About time,” Theo groans, already reaching for a plate.

“Hey, perfection takes time,” Mingyu shoots back, snagging a pancake for himself before flopping into a chair.

You grab one as well, drizzling it lightly with syrup. The first bite is warm, fluffy, and just sweet enough to feel indulgent. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” you say, glancing at Mingyu. “These are good.”

He beams. “I accept your praise.”

Even Nic chimes in, his voice filled with rare levity. “I hate to admit it, but these might be the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

Mingyu looks genuinely pleased, throwing an exaggerated bow in Nic’s direction. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”

Nic doesn’t respond, too focused on his plate, but the easy smile on his face is impossible to miss.

Dae nudges you gently with her elbow, her voice low. “Look at him. It’s like pancakes cured his bad mood.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Maybe I should’ve just offered him pancakes five years ago.”

Dae snorts into her coffee, and Yeri joins in, her laugh a bright, unrestrained sound that makes you smile despite yourself.

The rest of the morning is filled with the kind of light, easy chatter that feels like a reprieve. Mingyu laps up the compliments, Joshua ribs him about his “culinary aspirations,” and even Nic seems lighter, his usual edges softened by the warmth of the day. And though you tell yourself you’re not watching him, you catch yourself glancing his way more often than you’d like, your heart tugging in a way you’re not quite ready to admit.

Before long, Dae ushered everyone toward the cars, her excitement contagious. “Alright, folks, next stop: a winery I found just outside of town. Trust me, it’s adorable, and the wine’s supposed to be incredible.”

Mingyu fell into step beside you as you climbed into one of the cars his tone teasing. “You’re not one of those people who pretends to know what ‘hints of oak’ means, are you?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Please, I barely know the difference between red and white.”

He smirked, leaning in just slightly. “Good. That means I get to teach you a thing or two.”

“Lucky me,” you quipped, trying not to notice the way Nic, sitting just behind you, shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

When you arrived at the winery, the view stole your breath. Rolling hills stretched out in every direction, the vines bathed in golden sunlight. The group gathered near the tasting room, Dae already chatting animatedly with one of the hosts.

As the first round of glasses was handed out, Mingyu sidled up to you again, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To learning the fine art of wine tasting. Stick with me, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

“Is that right?” you asked, amused.

“Absolutely,” he said, his grin wide. “Step one: swirl dramatically. Bonus points if you look like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe.”

You laughed, swirling your glass with exaggerated flair. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” he said, tipping his glass toward you.

Nic, who had been standing nearby, cleared his throat lightly, stepping closer to join the conversation. “Or,” he interjected, his tone even, “you could just enjoy it without the theatrics. Not everything needs to be a performance.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s the fun in that?”

The three of you shared a laugh, the moment settling into something easy but charged. You caught Nic’s gaze briefly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you before Mingyu nudged your arm gently, pulling your attention back to him.

The rest of the tasting continued in a similar rhythm—Mingyu’s playful banter, Nic hovering close enough to remind you of his presence, and you, caught somewhere in between, savoring the warmth of the day and the strange comfort of old wounds slowly beginning to heal.

As the tasting wound down, Dae—always a step ahead—waved everyone toward a narrow set of stairs tucked behind the winery. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder, her excitement infectious. “The host said there’s a rooftop up here. Best view of the sunset in the region.”

The group followed, glasses in hand, and you emerged onto a rustic rooftop scattered with mismatched chairs and weathered tables. Above, the sky had begun to glow with shades of gold and blush, casting the surrounding hills in a warm, dreamy light.

As the sun dips lower, bathing the rooftop in a golden glow, you and Dae find yourselves alone again, tucked into the corner of the cushioned bench with the best view of the vineyard. Mingyu’s laughter echoes somewhere off to the side, his voice blending with the others as the group lingers over the last of the wine. You tilt your head back against the seat, staring at the streaks of orange and pink across the sky.

Dae nudges your leg with hers. “So… Mingyu.”

You groan, turning to give her an incredulous look. “Oh, not you too.”

She grins, unfazed. “What? I’m just saying, he’s been glued to your side all day. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “He’s just being friendly. That’s how he is.”

Dae raises an eyebrow, her tone playful but pointed. “Friendly, sure. But come on, he’s keen, and you know it.”

You shake your head, exhaling a long breath. “He doesn’t even know me, Dae. It’s not like that.”

Her expression softens, and she leans back slightly, studying you. “Okay, fine. Then what is it?”

You pause, your gaze drifting toward the group. Mingyu is mid-conversation with Yeri and Theo, his smile as bright and easy as ever. For a moment, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence—the lightness he brings, the ease of being near him.

“He reminds me of… how things were with Nic,” you admit quietly, your voice almost lost in the rustling breeze. “Back when it was simple. Just the two of us, in our little bubble, with no expectations. The stupid jokes, the way he always felt just close enough to put me at ease. It’s like…” You hesitate, trying to find the right words. “It’s like I’m holding on to that feeling through Mingyu. Not on purpose, but—it’s there.”

Dae doesn’t reply right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, more serious. “So what do you actually want?”

The question makes you stiffen, and you glance at her, brow furrowing. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she says patiently, shifting to face you fully. “Let me make it easier for you. If this week ends and you and Nic go back to your separate lives—if you go another five years, or maybe forever, having nothing to do with each other—would that make you happy? Would you be content with that?”

The question hits you like a punch to the stomach, and your breath catches. The thought of never seeing Nic again, of walking away from this week without even a shred of closure or connection, sends a hollow ache through your chest. You swallow hard, staring at your hands.

“No,” you whisper, the word heavier than you expected.

Dae nods, as if she already knew the answer. “Then maybe you need to start building a bridge, rather than burning it.”

Her words settle over you, their weight undeniable. You glance back toward the group, your gaze lingering on Nic. He’s leaning back in his chair, listening to something Joshua’s saying, but there’s a distant tension in his expression that you recognize all too well.

You take a shaky breath, Dae’s advice echoing in your mind. Maybe it’s time to stop running from the past and start figuring out how to face it.

Dae’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, her tone both gentle and insistent. “All you’ve wanted this entire time was some answers, right?”

You nod slowly, the knot in your chest tightening as you glance toward Nic again.

“Then maybe it’s time you go and get them,” she continues, leaning forward slightly. “You might not totally hate what you find, is all I’m saying.”

Her words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, all you can do is sit with them, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You know she’s right. You’ve spent so much time running circles in your own mind, replaying what happened, questioning every moment, every word, every feeling. The answers you’ve been searching for aren’t going to fall into your lap—they’re sitting a few feet away, leaning back in a wicker chair with a glass of wine in hand.

But the idea of crossing that invisible line, of asking Nic to meet you halfway, feels terrifying. What if you don’t like what you find? What if his reasons—his answers—aren’t enough to fill the hollow spaces he left behind?

Still, Dae’s gaze doesn’t waver, her confidence in you steady and unshakable. “You’re not going to figure it out by sitting here, you know,” she says, her voice softer now. “Go talk to him. You’re braver than you think.”

You hesitate, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Finally, you draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you meet her eyes.

“Maybe,” you murmur, a flicker of determination breaking through the uncertainty. “Maybe you’re right.”

Dae smiles, leaning back with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Of course I’m right. Now, go.”

You sigh, dragging your hands down your face in exasperation. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Today has been too long, and I’m tired.”

Dae arches an eyebrow at you, her arms crossing loosely over her chest. “Okay,” she says slowly, the word drawn out like she’s testing it on her tongue. “Do it tomorrow. But you must actually do it. Don’t just say it and then decide you’re better off avoiding it entirely.”

Her tone is firmer now, but it’s not sharp. It’s grounded in a kind of steady care that only Dae can manage. She’s not pushing you for the sake of pushing; she’s doing it because she knows you need it. Because she knows you.

You let out a low groan, tilting your head back to stare at the fading blue of the sky. “Why do you have to be so relentless?”

“Because I know you,” Dae replies, deadpan, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You’ll talk yourself in circles until the week’s over, and then you’ll leave here thinking it’s easier to let it all stay broken. But I also know that’s not what you want.”

She’s right—of course, she’s right—but the idea of acknowledging that aloud makes your stomach twist. “I’m not running for the hills,” you mutter, your tone defensive but lacking bite.

“Not yet,” Dae says with a faint smirk. Then she softens again, her expression gentling. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but you owe it to yourself to at least try. And if you don’t…” She shrugs. “Well, I’ll just keep bugging you about it. Every. Single. Day.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” she quips, a playful grin tugging at her lips before she leans back in her chair.

The thing is, she’s not wrong. You do need someone to keep you grounded, to hold you accountable when your instincts tell you to retreat. And deep down, you know she’s the exact person to do it.

“Alright,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “Tomorrow. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Dae’s grin widens, and she gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. “That’s my girl. Now, drink your wine and relax. You’ve got one more evening to psych yourself up.”

After Dae’s talk, you’d thought maybe you could relax—enjoy the final stretch of the day, give yourself some peace before tomorrow. But instead, you’re stuck in the quicksand of your own thoughts, sinking deeper with every passing minute.

In the shower, you’d mapped it all out: what you’d say, what Nic might say in return. You planned for every possibility, every version of him that could show up. The defensive Nic. The remorseful Nic. The version of him who might even still be indifferent. What would you say to that Nic? You played the scenes in your head on repeat, fine-tuning your retorts, overanalyzing his potential expressions.

By the time you crawl into bed, your chest is tight, your limbs restless. You turn over once, twice, then a dozen times more, trying to find a position that feels less suffocating. The air in the room feels still, like it’s waiting for something, and you hate it.

What if he doesn’t give you the answers you want? Worse, what if he does? What if the things you’ve been holding onto for so long crumble under the weight of an explanation?

The clock on your phone ticks past midnight, and your mind is still racing. You picture Nic as he was this afternoon, stretched out on the grass, laughing at one of Joshua’s jokes. You picture him at the lake, sitting beside you, his voice low and careful as he apologized. You picture him five years ago, standing in the doorway of your shared dorm room for the last time, his silhouette etched into your memory like a scar.

What could he possibly say tomorrow to make any of it make sense?

You flip your pillow over, searching for the cool side, as if that will somehow quiet your thoughts. It doesn’t.

Instead, you start running through scenarios again, like rewinding a tape. Every question you might ask him, every possible answer he could give. How would you react if he said he was scared? If he said he didn’t know what he wanted back then? If he said he still doesn’t know? What would you say if he turned it all back on you?

You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion creeping into the edges of your body but refusing to take hold. You feel like you’re arguing with a ghost in your own head, spiraling until you can’t make sense of anything anymore.

Finally, when the weight of your thoughts becomes too much to bear, your body wins over your mind. The edges of your consciousness blur, your breathing slows, and sleep pulls you under, not gently, but out of sheer necessity.

DAY FIVE

The day begins before you’re ready for it.

Your eyes flutter open, and the weight hits you all at once—the anxiety pooling in your stomach like cold lead. It’s the same feeling you get when you’re preparing to stand on a stage, the audience waiting for you to stumble. The same feeling you get when a patient walks in with a case you know will test every ounce of your skill. Except this time, it’s worse. This time, it’s Nic.

You lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as the early morning light filters through the curtains, feeling every ounce of your unease wrap around your chest like a vice. It takes you right back to college, to that night when everything fell apart. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips brushing your forehead, hear the quiet resignation in his voice as he said goodbye. The memory alone is enough to make you feel hollow.

When you finally get up, you’re quieter than usual. The group gathers for breakfast—coffee brewing, light chatter filling the space—but you barely pick at your toast. You sit on the edge of conversation, offering the occasional hum or nod but contributing little else.

Joshua notices first. He always does.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, startled out of your daze. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you murmur, but even you can hear how unconvincing you sound.

He doesn’t press, but his worry lingers in the way his gaze flickers back to you every few minutes.

By midday, it’s obvious you’re not yourself. At lunch, Joshua tries to pull you into a conversation about an old story from college—something about a prank Dae once pulled on him—but you zone out halfway through, staring into the middle distance. When he calls your name, you blink at him, startled, as if you’ve just surfaced from underwater.

“I’m fine,” you insist again when Joshua frowns at you.

But you’re not fine. You feel like your insides are twisted in knots, your stomach churning with a mix of dread and anticipation. You’re acutely aware of Nic’s presence—how he occasionally glances your way with a furrowed brow, as if he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong but doesn’t know how to ask.

At one point, you start to think you might actually be sick. Your palms are clammy, and your chest feels tight. It’s Dae who pulls you aside after lunch, sensing the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“I found a steakhouse,” she says, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “Josh and I were thinking of taking a few of us there tonight. Theo and India have plans with some friends, so it’ll just be a small group. What do you think?”

You nod automatically, grateful for the distraction.

Dae eyes you for a moment longer, then offers a small smile. “It’ll be fun. You need a good meal—and maybe some wine.”

She doesn’t say it outright, but you know what she’s doing. She’s pulling you out of your own head, giving you something else to focus on. And for the first time all day, the tension in your chest loosens—just a little.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a haze. You busy yourself with menial tasks, anything to keep your hands occupied and your thoughts at bay. But the anxiety never fully leaves, sitting heavy in your stomach like a storm cloud on the horizon.

You’re slouched on the love seat, a book in your lap that you’re not really reading. The pages might as well be blank for all the attention you’re paying them. Your fingers trail idly over the edges, lost in your thoughts, the tension in your body building with each minute that passes. Your stomach churns with the same nervous energy you’ve been battling all day, the anxiety too thick to shake off.

You don’t hear him at first.

It’s not until the soft creak of the door pulls you from your thoughts that you look up and find Joshua standing in the doorway, his arms crossed loosely as he leans against the frame. His brow is furrowed, eyes gentle but with a hint of concern.

“You’ve been on edge all day,” he observes, voice quiet, like he’s trying not to startle you.

You don’t respond immediately, not sure what to say. You can feel the weight of the conversation you know is coming, the one you’ve been dreading, hanging over you.

Joshua steps closer, his voice softening as he drops down to sit on the arm of the love seat, next to you. “Dae mentioned you were planning to talk to Nic… seriously talk to him. How’s that going?”

A sigh slips from your lips, the sound thick with frustration and uncertainty. You’ve barely been able to think about anything else, and now that the time is actually here, your mind feels like it’s running in circles. You’ve prepared a thousand things to say, and yet none of them seem right anymore.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you admit quietly, your fingers tapping against the book absently.

Joshua studies you for a moment, the corner of his mouth turning up in a rueful smile. “I guess I can’t pretend to be Nic,” he says, his voice teasing but warm, as if trying to bring some lightness into the air. “But maybe I can help you figure out what to say.”

You let out a small, dry laugh, shaking your head. “You’re too much of a softie for this to work.”

“I am,” he agrees easily, not offended in the slightest. “But I know both of you. And I care about both of you. I don’t like seeing you two stuck.” He pauses for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. “I just want you to be okay, y’know?”

You look down at your hands, the weight of his sincerity making something heavy shift in your chest. “I know,” you murmur. “I just… I’m not sure I know how to fix any of it. It’s so complicated, Josh.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, I know it is. But maybe the first step is just being honest. With him. With yourself. There’s no easy way to do this, but you’ve got to start somewhere.”

He pauses again, considering you for a long moment before speaking again. “What is it you need from him? What’s the one thing you’ve been waiting to hear from him all these years?”

You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. It’s so straightforward, yet it feels like something you’ve been afraid to admit for a long time.

“I just want to know why he left,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to know why he couldn’t be honest with me. Why he just… shut me out.”

Joshua’s gaze is steady, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Okay. So that’s where you start. You need to say that. Don’t sugarcoat it, don’t try to make it easier for him. Just tell him how it felt. And let him answer.”

You nod slowly, the words hanging in the air between you. For the first time that day, you feel a flicker of clarity, a small shift in your perspective. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be perfect, but maybe it’s enough to begin.

Joshua gives you a small, reassuring smile. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

You manage a tight smile back, the pressure in your chest lightening just a little. “Thanks, Josh. For being here.”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Always, you know that.” Then he stands up, patting you on the shoulder. “I’ll be around if you need me. But you’ve got this.”

You watch him walk away, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You might not have all the answers yet, but you feel a little more ready to face what comes next.

The steakhouse is tucked into a cobblestone corner of the small Italian town, the kind of place that practically begs you to stay awhile. Its warm glow spills out into the narrow streets, blending with the soft hum of a nearby fountain. The scent of garlic and rosemary wafts from the open kitchen, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation and the clink of wine glasses. It’s intimate in the way that wraps around you like a soft blanket, and for a brief moment, it tempers the anxious edge that’s been eating away at you all day.

Joshua and Nic are seated at one end of the long table, across from each other. Joshua is in his element, throwing lighthearted jabs and pulling Nic into a story about some trip they took years ago. You notice that Nic seems… lighter. His laugh comes easier, and there’s a genuine warmth in his eyes that’s been missing for the last few days.

You, however, found yourself quieter than usual. The knot of nerves in your stomach hadn’t left, but the company and setting muted it into a low hum instead of the roaring wave it had been earlier.

Mingyu, ever attuned, seemed to notice your subdued energy. His usual flirtations softened into gentle humor, his tone warm and light when he spoke to you. “You didn’t order the steak well done, did you?” he teased with a faux scandalized expression, earning a small smile from you.

“Don’t worry,” you replied softly, poking at your potatoes. “I know better than to offend the chef’s sensibilities.”

Dae glanced your way a few times throughout dinner, her sharp eyes catching the moments you zoned out or stared a little too long at the flame of the candle in front of you. She didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you was pointed, as if to say: You know what you need to do.

The walk back to the villa was quieter than usual. You stuck close to Dae and Yeri, the three of you a little slower than the rest of the group, who were caught up in banter a few paces ahead.

Dae fell in step beside you, her voice low but direct. “So… are you going to talk to him, or what?”

The question hung in the crisp night air, sharp and slightly challenging.

“I’ll get to it,” you muttered, trying to deflect.

Dae stopped walking, her hand lightly gripping your arm to pause you too. “No, you won’t just ‘get to it.’ You’re going to do it. Tonight. Stop putting it off.”

You swallowed hard, her words piercing through your hesitations like a blade. She wasn’t wrong, and the accountability in her tone forced you to confront the truth: you had been stalling.

By the time you reached the villa, the group began to splinter off, some heading to their rooms, others lingering to chat in the living room. Your heart hammered as you lingered near the staircase, watching Nic head toward the back terrace with a glass of wine in hand.

You took a deep breath, steadied yourself, and followed him.

“Nic?” you called softly, your voice carrying into the quiet.

He turned, surprised to see you there. “Hey,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly as he set his glass down. “What’s up?”

You crossed your arms, the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Can we talk?”

Nic’s expression softened, his head tilting slightly as he took you in. “Of course,” he said gently, motioning to the seating area nearby. “Let’s sit.”

The terrace was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the breeze through the trees and the distant chirp of crickets. The villa lights cast a warm glow over the stone pathways, but you barely noticed any of it as you perched on the edge of the rattan lounger, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Nic sat beside you, his posture more relaxed than yours, though his fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair—an old tell of his own nerves.

You glanced at him briefly before your eyes darted back to your hands, picking at the skin around your nails. The anxious habit was one you’d never quite outgrown, and now, with your pulse hammering in your ears, it was back in full force.

Nic watched you for a moment, his voice breaking the silence. “You look like you’ve been carrying something heavy all day,” he said, softly enough that it didn’t feel like pressure, but firmly enough that you knew he wasn’t going to let you brush it off. “Take your time, though. I’m here.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to exhale slowly. The words were lodged somewhere between your chest and your throat, an awkward lump of anxiety and frustration. You knew what you wanted—closure, answers—but the act of asking for it felt monumental.

“You told me the other night that I could talk to you,” you started, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You cleared your throat and straightened slightly, forcing yourself to look at him. “That if there was something I wanted to say, I could. And… I need to.”

Nic didn’t respond immediately, but he nodded, his dark eyes steady on yours. The openness in his expression—no walls, no defensive edge—made you feel both reassured and exposed.

“I’ve been sitting on these questions for five years, Nic,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Five years of trying to figure out what the hell happened between us. And I—I need to know. I can’t leave here without at least trying to make sense of it.”

You paused, searching his face for reluctance or discomfort, but there was none. His expression remained steady, his head dipping in a subtle nod of encouragement.

“Okay,” he said simply. “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”

You swallowed hard, gripping your hands together to keep them still. The anxious niggle in your stomach was back in full force, sharp and unrelenting.

“Why did you leave?” you asked, the words breaking the silence like a snapped string. “Not just after graduation, but… us. Why did you leave us?”

Nic’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips parting as if to respond, but then he hesitated. You saw the flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret—before he rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t care,” he started, his voice low, steady. “I need you to know that first. I cared so much it scared the hell out of me.”

You swallowed, trying to control the lump that had formed in your throat. “What were you so scared of, Nic?” The words came out almost too quietly, but you couldn’t stop them. “I cared too. It wasn’t just about losing the guy I was sleeping with—I lost my best friend, my confidant. And you—” You stopped yourself, trying to steady your breathing. “You never even tried to reach out. Why? Why didn’t you even try?”

You saw the flicker of regret pass over his face, and your heart sank. You had imagined so many answers, but none of them were quite like this. Still, you pushed on, the hurt and confusion boiling over. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me. I thought I’d just be a nuisance to you.”

Nic’s jaw clenched as he exhaled, eyes dropping briefly to the ground. Then, he looked up, meeting your gaze again with a rawness you hadn’t seen before. “I loved you,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I love you. And that’s exactly why I shut you out. I thought if we got too involved, if I let you get too close, I’d be asking you to take a risk you didn’t deserve. I couldn’t ask you to follow me—couldn’t ask you to uproot your life for me when I wasn’t sure if I could make anything work.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath you, the air sucked out of your lungs as you processed what he’d just said. The weight of it settled in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt trapped in your chest.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you exhaled slowly, as if trying to catch your breath. “You loved me,” you whispered, almost too quietly to hear yourself. “You loved me, and you just… walked away?”

Nic’s eyes searched yours, desperate for understanding. “I never wanted to hurt you, not like that. I was trying to protect you from something I wasn’t sure I could give you. And that just made everything worse.”

“So I deserved to be shunned, instead?” Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, a mix of frustration and hurt. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Nic.” You take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you never said until now. “I was grown then, and I’m grown now. I would’ve fought for you. We would’ve worked it out.”

Nic’s face tightens with frustration, but there’s something softer beneath it. He runs a hand through his hair, gaze turning away for a moment. When he speaks again, it’s a near whisper. “I don’t know what else I can say, okay? I can’t take it back, and God knows if I could, I would. If we could go back, and you told me you loved me, I would’ve said I loved you too, and you’re right—we would’ve worked it out.”

The weight of his words presses down on you like a boulder, but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s too late for anything to change. You rise from your seat, feeling the impulse to put distance between you and him, as if the cold night air could somehow steady your racing heart. Each step toward the edge of the terrace feels like a small attempt to escape, to regain some control.

The wind brushes against your skin, cold and biting, but it does little to quell the heat of the tears that are falling down your cheeks, each one stinging more than the last. You wipe them away, but they keep coming, and the cool air only makes it worse, as if everything inside you is unraveling in front of him.

Nic doesn’t follow you right away. He stays where he is, giving you space, yet you feel the heaviness of his stare on your back, a silent plea for you to turn around and speak, to say something more.

The silence between you stretches on. The words you’re both avoiding hang thick in the air. It’s suffocating, unbearable.

Finally, you turn back toward him, your voice quiet but firm, almost like a challenge. “What do you want, Nic?”

The question lingers in the air, sharp and direct. You’ve asked yourself that question a thousand times, but now, finally, you’re asking him. You want to know if this is just a moment of guilt, a fleeting regret, or if there’s something more. Something real. Something that could make everything worth it.

There’s a pause—a moment where the only sound is the faint hum of the villa settling in the night.

“I don’t know,” he says softly at first, the words unsure, as though he’s still grappling with his own heart, trying to understand the depth of what he’s feeling. But then, his chest rises with a slow, deliberate breath. His eyes lock onto yours, steady and raw. “No, that’s not true.”

Your heart beats faster, and in the weight of the silence, you can feel the shift. It’s as though he’s finally letting go of whatever wall he’d been holding up all this time.

“I want you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I want another chance. I want us. And I’m not gonna back out again. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m in this for the long haul. I won’t run when it gets hard. Not this time.”

The words hit you like a gust of wind, each one pulling you deeper into the current of everything you’d once wanted. But a part of you—an aching, cautious part—hesitates.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. You want to believe him. You want to let yourself go, to believe in the possibility of something real again. But you’re not sure. Not yet.

“Why does it matter, Nic?” Your voice cracks, the frustration spilling over, mixing with the raw ache in your chest. “At the end of the week, you’ll go back to LA and I’ll go back to New York. And we’ll both be in fucking shambles again for no good reason. I’m buying into the practice next year. I’m not gonna follow you this time.”

Your words echo between you, the raw truth hanging in the air. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re scared. You’re scared of doing this again, of letting yourself fall for him only for him to leave again. You don’t know if you can risk that.

He’s silent for a moment, his face unreadable. But then, out of nowhere, he blurts it out, his voice rushing forward like it’s been desperate to escape.

“I’m moving back.”

The words are out before he can fully process them. His eyes widen with the weight of what he’s said, and the air grows heavier, the silence thickening between you. It’s like the ground beneath you both has shifted, and neither of you knows exactly what to do with the revelation.

You blink, your mind struggling to catch up. “What?” Your voice shakes, both in disbelief and the sudden hope that flickers to life, only to be quickly masked by fear.

“My firm is opening another branch in Manhattan.” Nic sits straighter, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, almost as if the weight of his words is finally catching up with him. “I put my hand up to get it up and running. I get back next month.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Nic stands, his voice steady but softer now as he searched your face. “Because I need you to know I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Whatever that looks like for you—taking it slow, starting over… I’ll even let you beat the brakes off me in Central Park, if that’s what you need.”

His jaw tightened, and his gaze softened as he added, “It’s not about what I want anymore. It’s about what you need—what you want. I just want the chance to try, to prove I can be better for you.”

You stared at Nic, his words hitting you like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from your chest. He was standing so close, the intensity in his eyes almost too much to bear.

“I can’t,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is too much. I just… I can’t deal with this right now.”

Nic’s face fell, but he didn’t try to stop you as you stepped back, putting space between the two of you. “I understand,” he said quietly, his tone steady but tinged with sadness.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on your shoulders. You made your way back to your room, closing the door softly behind you before sinking onto the edge of the bed. The air in the room felt too still, too suffocating, as your mind raced with questions and emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

How could you trust him again? Could you even let yourself hope that things might be different this time?

The questions circled in your mind as you curled up on the bed, your thoughts too loud to allow for any real clarity.

A quiet knock at the door pulled you from your spiral, and before you could respond, the door creaked open. Dae peeked in, her warm, familiar smile softening as she took in your state. “Hey,” she said gently. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, too drained to say much. She slipped into the room and crossed over to you, settling beside you on the bed. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you, and you leaned into her, letting the tears that had been building all day finally fall.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “This was supposed to be your week, and I feel like I’m ruining it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dae said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re not ruining anything. You’ve been carrying a lot for a long time, and it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. That’s what friends are for.”

You wiped at your face, exhaling shakily. “Nic said he’s moving back to New York. And that he still loves me. I don’t know what to do, Dae. What if he runs again? What if I let myself hope, and he just breaks me all over again?”

Dae’s expression softened further, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I need to tell you something. I overheard Nic and Joshua on the phone a few months ago. Joshua was helping him find a place in Manhattan because he knew Nic was planning to move back. He didn’t want to say anything until it was certain, but Nic’s been serious about coming back for a while now.”

You blinked at her, processing her words. “You knew?”

“I didn’t want to pressure you or plant any ideas in your head,” Dae admitted. “But for what it’s worth, I think he means it. He’s always regretted how things ended with you, and I really believe he’s willing to try this time.”

You sighed, your heart aching with the weight of your indecision. “What if it’s not enough? What if I let myself believe in him again, and it just falls apart?”

Dae squeezed your hand, her gaze steady. “Baby, I don’t have a crystal ball. I can’t answer that for you. But I do know that you’ve always been strong, and whatever you decide, you’ll be okay. If you’re willing to take the chance, though… maybe it’s worth it.”

Her words lingered as you sat together in the quiet, her arms a steady comfort as you tried to make sense of your tangled emotions.

Joshua’s entrance broke the stillness, his familiar warmth filling the room as he set a glass of water on the nightstand. He eased into the chair beside the bed, leaning back in that effortlessly casual way he always did, though his eyes flicked between you and Dae with quiet concern.

“Alright,” he began lightly, breaking the tension. “Which one of you do I have to yell at first?”

A small laugh escaped you, watery but genuine. “Definitely me. I’ve been the walking definition of a mess.”

Dae rolled her eyes, her arm still draped around your shoulders. “Don’t listen to her, Josh. She actually apologised to me for ruining our wedding week.”

Joshua’s head snapped toward you in mock offense. “You what?” he said, his voice exaggeratedly incredulous. “You think you could ruin this week? Please. It would take something a lot more catastrophic than your emotions for that to happen.”

“I mean it,” you muttered, heat creeping into your face. “I feel like I’ve been dragging all my baggage in here when this is supposed to be your time.”

“First of all,” Joshua said, holding up a finger, “you’re family, and family gets to bring their baggage—especially when it’s that guy,” he added with a sly smirk. “Second, you think Dae and I don’t love you, flaws and all? You’re practically my younger sister. Trust me, this week is better with you here, even if you’re crying in my guest room.”

The words, and the easy affection behind them, hit you square in the chest. Your lips twitched into a small smile despite yourself. “You guys are way too nice to me.”

“Absolutely not,” Dae interjected, squeezing your hand. “We love you. No qualifiers, no conditions. And you apologising? That just makes me want to shake you, but like, in a very loving way.”

Joshua grinned, clearly relieved to see a hint of your usual spark. “Yeah, you’re banned from apologising from now on, okay? Especially when it’s my fault for inviting Nic’s dumbass in the first place.”

You laughed, the sound rough but genuine. “You two make it sound so simple.”

“It’s because we’re geniuses,” Joshua deadpanned, leaning forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “But seriously, we’ve got you. No matter what. If you need a moment, take it. If you want to talk, yell, cry—whatever—you’re not going to scare us off. And Nic? He’s not going anywhere either.”

Dae gave an approving nod. “We’ve got your back, whatever you decide. But if it helps, we both think Nic is serious this time. He’s never stopped caring about you, and we’ve seen him wrestle with how badly he screwed up. He knows what he lost.”

Joshua’s voice softened, though it retained its teasing edge. “I mean, it’s hard not to love you. Even when you’re being dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your heart warm at their combined support. “I don’t know what I want yet,” you admitted, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle over you again.

“You’ll figure it out,” Joshua said simply, standing and ruffling your hair lightly as he passed. “But just so we’re clear—you can take all the time you need, and we’re not letting you off the hook for being in our lives. Got it?”

The tenderness in his voice, mixed with his usual humor, steadied you. Dae’s arm tightened around you, and for the first time in days, the knot in your chest loosened just a little. You didn’t have all the answers, but for now, you had them. And that was enough.

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

The dental lab was a ghost town at this hour, the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the quiet buzz of the sterilizers the only signs of life. Everyone else had long since packed up, leaving you and Nic alone amidst the neatly arranged tools and rows of workstations. The air was crisp, almost too cool, but you didn’t mind; the silence felt like a cocoon.

You were bent over a set of mock impressions, the tiny details demanding all of your focus. Or at least, they should have. Instead, your attention kept slipping every time you caught Nic watching you from across the room. He’d been “studying” for the past hour, but the way his chair creaked as he shifted, the way his pen twirled lazily between his fingers—it was clear his focus was anywhere but his notes.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that thing,” he finally said, his voice low and teasing.

You glanced up, your heart giving a small, familiar flutter at the sight of him leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out, his dark eyes heavy-lidded but alert. “Maybe if someone actually studied, they’d have less time to critique my technique.”

“Maybe,” he said, standing and stretching in one fluid motion, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach. “Or maybe,” he continued, making his way over to you, “someone needs to be reminded to take a break.”

“Nic…” You meant it as a warning, but it came out breathless, your voice betraying you before he even reached your workstation.

He didn’t stop. He stepped behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hands found the edge of the desk, caging you in, and his breath skimmed the shell of your ear.

“Take a break,” he murmured, his voice rough and coaxing, as if it wasn’t a suggestion but a plea.

Your fingers froze over the plaster mold in your hands. You could feel him everywhere—his presence, his warmth, his scent. He leaned in closer, just enough to let his lips graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and your grip faltered.

“Nic…” This time it was less of a warning and more of a surrender.

He turned your chair toward him, his hands firm but not rough, and knelt slightly, bringing his face level with yours. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might say something. Instead, he just kissed you—slow at first, but with a mounting desperation that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands flew to his chest, not to push him away but to anchor yourself. He kissed you like he couldn’t help himself, like he’d been holding back all evening and had finally given in. His tongue brushed against yours, and a soft sound escaped you, making him groan low in his throat.

“I can’t focus when you’re around,” he admitted against your lips, his hands sliding up to cup your face. “Scrub pants do you wonders, you know that?”

“If you get my after hours access revoked, you’ll be a dead man,” you muttered, but your words lacked any real bite, especially when he kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, as though he was savoring the moment.

Before you knew it, you were standing, the chair pushed back and forgotten. He guided you to the edge of the desk, lifting you effortlessly onto it, his hands firm on your thighs. The cool metal against your skin was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressing against yours.

You tilted your head back, letting him trail kisses down your neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was something in the way he touched you, kissed you—like he couldn’t get enough, like he was memorizing every inch of you for a moment when he might not have the chance again.

“Nic,” you whispered, your voice catching as his lips found the hollow of your throat.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like yearning. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you pulled him back to you, letting the kiss deepen, letting it drown out the world. The lab, the tools, the looming exams—they all fell away. All that mattered was him, the way his hands framed your face, the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing he could remember.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The warm light of the setting sun filtered through the cracked dorm window, casting golden streaks across the rumpled sheets. The faint chatter of students outside was barely audible over the hum of the fan, and the air was heavy with the scent of summer and sweat.

Nic lay sprawled on his back, his arm tucked beneath his head, his other hand tracing idle circles on your thigh. He was relaxed, his breathing steady, his dark hair still damp from exertion. You lay beside him, your heart still racing—not just from what you’d just done, but from the way he looked. The lazy smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth, the sharp angles of his jawline softened by the golden hour light, the slight sheen of his skin.

God, he was beautiful.

Your eyes lingered on the slope of his nose, the way his lashes fanned across his cheek as he blinked slowly. It wasn’t just his looks, though; it was everything about him. The way he teased you endlessly but always had your back. The way his laugh made your chest feel like it might explode. The way he touched you, like you were something precious.

The thought consumed you, spreading like a wildfire through your chest. You loved him. You didn’t know when it had happened—maybe it had been gradual, or maybe it had been all at once—but you loved him, wholly and irrevocably.

And the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I love you.”

The room seemed to still. The lazy patterns Nic had been tracing froze, and his head turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“What?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the admission crashing down on you. There was no taking it back now. “I said I love you,” you repeated, softer this time.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her stared at you, totally blank for a few beats. “You… You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

Your stomach twisted, and you pushed yourself up to meet his gaze. “Yes, I do. How could I not?”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something guarded. “Come on,” he said lightly, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “We’re just… having fun, right? Blowing off some steam before everything changes.”

The casualness in his tone hit you like a punch to the gut. “Just having fun?” you echoed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Nic rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I mean, we’re good at this, you know? No complications, no expectations.”

The ache in your chest deepened, but you forced yourself to nod, the pain silent and all-consuming. How could he not see it? you thought. How could he not feel it?

You wanted to argue, to tell him that it already was more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Instead, you turned away from him, staring out the window. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Nic sighed softly behind you, but he didn’t say anything else. Eventually, his breathing evened out, and you knew he’d fallen asleep. But you lay awake, the ache in your chest growing with every passing moment.

When he woke hours later, the tension still hung thick in the air. Nic moved around the room quietly, gathering his things. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “See you later,” he murmured, and then he was gone.

Three days later, you walked into the library, the strap of your backpack digging into your shoulder. The quiet hum of hushed conversations and the rustle of pages greeted you as you made your way to your usual table. Joshua and Dae were already there, heads bent over their notes, but your heart sank when you saw Nic seated across from them, headphones in place.

He didn’t look up when you approached, but his posture stiffened ever so slightly.

“Hey!” Dae greeted you with her usual cheerfulness, sliding a chair out for you. “You’re late.”

“Got caught up,” you said shortly, avoiding Nic’s gaze as you sat down.

Joshua looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Nic said at the same time you mumbled, “Yeah.”

The awkwardness was palpable. Dae’s smile faltered, and Joshua raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension.

Nic, seemingly determined to avoid any meaningful interaction, adjusted his headphones and focused on his laptop. You busied yourself with your notes, the silence between you louder than any words could have been.

The interaction that broke the tension was small, almost insignificant. Nic reached for a book that was just out of his reach, and his fingers brushed yours as you instinctively handed it to him. The contact was brief, but it was enough to make your stomach flip and your heart ache all over again.

“Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

Dae, who had been watching the exchange with growing concern, leaned in closer to you. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on?” she whispered.

You shook your head. “Not now,” you whispered back, your voice tight.

You and Dae lingered behind in the library, packing up your things in a heavy silence. Joshua and Nic had left a few minutes earlier, their quiet conversation trailing off as the door swung shut behind them.

Dae studied you carefully, her lips pursed in thought. “Okay, what is going on?”

You blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes, closing her laptop firmly. “You know exactly what I mean. You and Nic. A week ago, you were practically joined at the hip, and now you’re treating each other like strangers. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

Your stomach churned at the mention of his name, and you ducked your head, fiddling with the corner of one of your cue cards. “It’s nothing, Dae.”

“You’re such a shit liar,” she said, exasperated. “Josh and I aren’t blind, you know. We’ve noticed the way you’ve been avoiding each other, and it’s weird. You two were always… good to each other.”

Your chest tightened at her words, the memories flooding back unbidden. The way Nic used to pick up your favorite lunch without being asked. How he’d stay late at the lab just to be your volunteer when you needed someone for a prac exam. The way his hand always found the small of your back when you walked side by side.

“You were so good together,” Dae continued, her voice softening. “I mean, Josh and I worked it out ages ago that you were… you know.”

Your head snapped up, your heart pounding. “You knew?”

“Of course, we knew,” she said, smirking a little. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it. The way you’d look at each other, how you’d always find some excuse to sit next to him or how he’d hang on your every word. It was kind of sweet, actually. So we decided to let you guys have your thing. But now…” Her smile faded, replaced by concern. “Now it feels like you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him, and I have no idea why.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. For a moment, you considered brushing it off again, but the knot in your chest tightened. You couldn’t keep this bottled up anymore.

“I told him I loved him,” you said quietly, the words barely above a whisper.

Dae froze, her eyes widening. “You what?”

You shifted uncomfortably, your voice trembling. “It just came out. We were in my dorm, and it was so… comfortable, you know? I wasn’t planning to say it, but I did. And he—” You broke off, your throat tightening.

Dae’s hands found yours, her brow furrowing. “And he what?”

“He brushed it off,” you said bitterly. “Said we were just friends blowing off steam. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like I didn’t mean anything.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “It’s been eating me alive all week, Dae. I thought… I thought we were more than that. It always felt like more. And now he’s just… gone. Like he doesn’t care at all.”

Dae was silent for a moment, her expression shifting between shock and anger. Finally, she let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand over her face. “That idiot.”

You blinked at her, startled by the venom in her tone.

“I mean it,” she said firmly. “Nic’s an idiot. Because there’s no way he didn’t care about you. Not with the way he looked at you. And now he’s just throwing it all away because… what? He’s scared?”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t even know. He hasn’t said a word to me since that night. He just… shut down.”

Dae’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could fix this for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Dae.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “There’s something else,” she said carefully.

Your stomach sank. “What?”

“I overheard him and Josh talking a while ago,” she admitted. “Nic got offered an internship in L.A., some big shot criminal defense firm.”

The room seemed to tilt for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. “He’s leaving?”

“I think that’s why he’s been so distant,” she said quickly, her tone apologetic. “He probably didn’t know how to tell you.”

You stared at her, the weight of her words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “So he was just going to leave,” you said hollowly. “Without saying anything. Without… anything.”

Dae squeezed your hand tighter, her eyes brimming with sympathy. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but I do know this: Nic is an idiot, but he’s not heartless. He’s just… scared. Of what, I don’t know. But this doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. He made his choice.”

Dae hesitated, then pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need. And for the record, you didn’t deserve this. Not even a little.”

You buried your face in her shoulder, the tears finally spilling over. For the first time, you let yourself grieve the weight of what you’d lost—and the realization of what you might never have again.

After that day, everything changed. Nic stopped showing up to your study sessions altogether, leaving his usual spot at the table empty and the air heavier than it had ever been. Whenever Joshua invited him somewhere and Nic caught wind that you’d be there, he suddenly had plans he couldn’t cancel, excuses that sounded thinner each time they were shared.

The last time you saw him was at a graduation party a few weeks later. He’d stayed on the opposite side of the room the entire night, never once meeting your gaze. No apology. No explanation. Not even a simple well-wish. And just like that, he was gone.

Life moved on, as it always does. Joshua and Dae stayed in New York after graduation, rooting themselves in the city that had always felt like home to all of you. They kept their ties to Nic and to you, carefully navigating the distance and emotions that neither of you seemed ready to face.

They watched as you buried yourself in your studies, earning a coveted spot in a prestigious postgraduate program. They celebrated with you when you joined a prolific practice, one that would eventually make you one of the most sought-after specialists in the city.

And through it all, they watched you heal. Slowly, painfully, but bit by bit. They saw you piece yourself back together—brighter, sharper, stronger than before. But even as the years passed, the cracks remained, faint but unyielding, a quiet reminder of the part of yourself you’d once handed over to someone who hadn’t known how to hold it.

DAY SIX

The next morning, Mingyu found himself lingering by the villa’s breakfast table, his thoughts far from the casual chatter around him. He couldn’t shake the tension that had simmered between Nic and you the night before. It was clear that something more than just playful flirting had been behind your exchange, and he hadn’t fully understood the depth of the storm that had been brewing between you.

Josh, who had been quietly sipping his coffee, noticed Mingyu’s brooding expression and raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, man,” he commented, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “What’s going on?”

Mingyu stews for a few moments before sighing. “I overheard [Y/N] and Nic on the terrace last night. I didn’t realise how serious it was to them. She’s so lovely and he’s…I don’t know. He seems to care for her a lot, and I’m worried I might have made it worse.”

Joshua tilted his head, a sympathetic smile softening his expression. “There’s a lot to it, but trust me, it’s not your fault. You weren’t to know, and honestly? They probably needed a shove in the right direction.”

Mingyu frowned, leaning back in his seat as if trying to make sense of the tension he’d witnessed. “What happened between them, if you don’t mind me asking? I feel like I’m missing pieces.”

Josh hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting as if replaying memories in his mind. “Nic and I went to high school together, as you know. They met through me in college when Dae and I started seeing each other. The four of us were inseparable and Nic and her became close fast, and by senior year, they were basically best friends who happened to be sleeping together.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, surprised by how casually he mentioned it. Joshua caught his look and let out a dry laugh. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was obvious to everyone but them that it wasn’t just casual. The way they were together—it ran so much deeper than friends with benefits. I think they both knew it, but they were too scared to admit it.”

His voice softened, and a faint trace of sadness crept into his tone. “Then Nic got offered an internship in Los Angeles. It was a huge deal for him, but he didn’t know how to tell her. And before he could figure it out, she told him she loved him.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up. “What did he do?”

Josh sighed, his lips pressing into a tight line. “He iced her out. Completely shut her down. I think he panicked—he was so scared of trying to rearrange his life for her that he just decided it’d be better to throw the towel in. We used to study together every Thursday, without fail and at some point he stopped showing up. If I invited him somewhere and he knew she would be there, suddenly he had other plans.”

Mingyu nodded slowly, piecing together the fragments of the story. “They seriously haven’t spoken since then?”

Josh shook his head, his expression pained. “No. And the worst part? Nic told me after he moved that he loved her too. He admitted it was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, but by then, the damage was done. She worked so hard to rebuild herself after he left. Dae made Nic promise not to reach out because she knew she needed time to heal. And she did heal, in her own way, but Nic broke her in ways that I don’t think even she could fully explain.”

Mingyu exhaled, his chest heavy with the weight of their history. “That’s… brutal.”

“It was,” Joshua agreed softly, his gaze distant. “And I don’t think she was just upset that he left. She was angry because he didn’t give her a choice. She would’ve fought for him if he’d made even the smallest effort to keep her in his life. But he didn’t. He ran.”

“And now?” Mingyu asked, his voice cautious.

Josh’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “Now, they’re grown up. They’re different people with the same wounds. If they want to fix it, they’re the only ones who can.”

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully, his mind whirring as he connected the dots. “You don’t think I made it worse?”

Joshua’s gaze snapped back to him, his smile warm and reassuring. “Please don’t feel responsible for their quarrels, Gyu. This isn’t on you. It’s their responsibility to fix what’s broken. You just got caught in the crossfire.”

“I still feel like I should apologise to her,” he said, his tone laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to stir anything up.”

Josh tilted his head, considering him for a moment. “I don’t think it’ll hurt, but I promise, she won’t blame you. She’s very reasonable—when people deserve it.” His smile turned playful, teasing him just enough to ease the tension in his shoulders. “And you definitely deserve it.”

Mingyu chuckled softly, though his expression grew serious again. “She’s been through a lot, huh?”

Josh nodded. “She has. But she’s also strong, and she knows what she wants. If you do talk to her, just be honest. She’ll appreciate it.”

Later that morning, Mingyu finds you stretched out on the lawn with a book in hand, the golden light of the late morning sun casting a warm glow over the villa grounds. A slight breeze ruffles the pages of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, and you pause to smooth them out, your gaze focused but peaceful. The serene moment is a stark contrast to the charged energy of the past few days.

Mingyu approaches cautiously, hands stuffed into his pockets as if he’s unsure of how to start. “That’s pretty heavy reading for a vacation,” he says lightly, nodding toward the book as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

You glance up at him and offer a small smile. “Sometimes you need something grounding. Keeps your mind clear when things get… complicated.”

Mingyu winces, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, about that…” He hesitates, clearly weighing his words. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you.”

Setting the book aside, you sit up and gesture for him to take a seat on the grass beside you. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

He lowers himself down, resting his elbows on his knees. For a moment, he just stares out at the horizon, gathering his thoughts. “I wanted to apologise. For… well, for anything I said or did that might’ve made things more tense between you and Nic. I honestly had no idea about your history, and if I’d known…” He shakes his head. “I just feel like I might’ve put you in an uncomfortable position.”

You study him for a moment, then shake your head with a gentle smile. “Mingyu, you didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have known, and honestly, it’s not your responsibility to tiptoe around our mess. That’s on Nic and me to figure out.”

His expression softens, though the guilt lingers in his eyes. “Josh told me a bit more about what happened. I just feel like I walked into the middle of something that’s been brewing for years and accidentally stirred the pot.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe you did stir it a little, but sometimes things need to be stirred. It’s not like we were doing a great job of dealing with it on our own.” Your gaze drifts to the villa, where the weight of the past few days still lingers. “If anything, I should thank you. You’ve been nothing but kind and genuine, even when things got messy.”

Mingyu relaxes slightly, though his expression remains serious. “I mean it, though. I really respect you. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to even be here, let alone handle everything as gracefully as you have.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “Gracefully? I’m pretty sure half the villa heard me crying last night.”

“Maybe,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But honestly? You’re handling it. You’re facing it head-on, even if it’s messy. That takes guts.”

His words catch you off guard, and you blink, letting them settle. “Thanks, Mingyu,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”

He nods, a warm sincerity in his gaze. “For what it’s worth, I think you should do whatever feels right for you. Whether that’s giving him another chance or walking away for good. Just… make sure it’s what you want, not what you think you’re supposed to do.”

You consider his words carefully, feeling a mix of gratitude and clarity. “That’s good advice,” you admit, your voice thoughtful. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, the weight of the conversation lifting slightly. Eventually, Mingyu stands, brushing grass off his pants. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to your heavy Roman philosophy. But if you ever need to vent—or just a distraction—you know where to find me.”

You smile up at him, genuinely touched by his support. “Thanks, Mingyu. Really.”

As he walks back toward the villa, you pick up your book again, but your mind lingers on his words. The clarity they bring feels like the first piece of calm amidst the chaos, and for the first time in days, you feel like you’re starting to figure out what you truly want.

After Mingyu’s apology, a sense of relief settles over you, but it doesn’t erase the questions or the lingering confusion. You spent the morning with Dae, trying to keep your mind occupied with light conversation, but your thoughts keep drifting back to everything that’s happened. The answers you’ve gained are helpful, but they don’t completely solve the storm raging inside of you. You’ve gained some closure, but there’s still so much you’re trying to process, especially now that you know Nic wants another chance. You’re unsure if you’re ready to give it, or if you even want to.

Looking for solitude, you escape to the garden, where the tranquil beauty of the estate contrasts sharply with the turmoil inside. Surrounded by the calm lake and vibrant flowers, you try to make sense of your emotions. The stillness around you feels like a reflection of what you want—peace and clarity—but it’s hard to silence the unease. You’ve been holding onto so much—anger, regret, and fear. Nic’s confession that he loves you, and his desire to try again, makes it all more complicated. Can you trust him again? Can you trust yourself?

The midday sun cast its warmth across the rippling lake, the golden light reflecting off the water like scattered diamonds. The air smelled faintly of wildflowers and pine, a comforting mix that you’d come to associate with this place. You were stretched out on a towel on the grass, letting the sun kiss your skin, trying to soak in the quiet and keep your thoughts at bay.

A soft rustle of gravel caught your attention, followed by the unmistakable weight of his presence. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Nicholas. Even after all these years, you could still feel him before you saw him.

When you did glance up, he stood a few feet away, one hand playing with a ring on his other, his gaze flickering between you and the lake. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and in his hand was a folded piece of paper.

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You sat up, shielding your eyes from the sun. “Hey.”

He shifted, his thumb brushing over the edge of the paper. “I, uh…wanted to give you this.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at the paper. “What is it?”

“A letter,” he admitted, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance. “I wrote it after college. It’s…it’s everything I couldn’t say back then.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Why didn’t you send it?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he sighed. “Dae made me promise not to. She thought it would hurt you more than it would help.” His voice softened. “She was probably right.”

Your fingers itched to take the letter, but your chest tightened. “Why now?”

He crouched down, placing the letter on the towel beside you, his gaze steady and purposeful. “I want you to have this,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect anything from it, or from you. I just think it’s important for you to know the truth. When you’re ready, read it. I’ll be here, but… take your time.”

You stared at the letter, a wave of conflicting emotions rushing through you—curiosity, fear, and something deeper, more vulnerable that you couldn’t yet name. By the time you looked up, Nic was already walking away, his footsteps soft against the gravel path.

Before he disappeared into the distance, he turned back, his voice low as he spoke again. “I’m not running away this time,” he said, a hint of finality in his words. “Whatever happens next, I’m staying.” His eyes held yours for a long moment, before he gave a small nod and left you alone with the letter.

You sat there, the peaceful sounds of the lake and the distant wedding preparations surrounding you, but you could feel the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. The letter before you seemed to hold the answer to questions you hadn’t known how to ask, and now it was up to you to decide whether to open it, to face whatever truths it might bring.

Hey,

I don’t know where to start, so I guess I’ll just say I’m sorry.

Dae told me how bad things have been for you. I can’t stop hearing her voice, the way she said it. You don’t deserve any of this. You never did. I’ve been trying to convince myself that this is what I wanted—that running to L.A. was the right thing to do, that leaving everything behind was the only way to get where I’m going. But every day, I wake up and realize how hollow that is.

You told me you loved me. God, I already knew. I’ve known for a long time—probably longer than you did. You didn’t say anything I hadn’t already felt in the way you looked at me, laughed with me, or trusted me when no one else could. I don’t know why I let you say it first. Maybe I was waiting for the courage to admit that I felt the same way.

I didn’t handle it the way I should have. I should’ve told you how scared I was—scared of messing this up, scared of failing, scared of how much you already meant to me. Instead, I just ran. Because running was easier than staying and facing the possibility that I might not be enough for you, that this thing between us could break under the weight of my fear and ambition.

But it broke anyway, didn’t it?

Josh told me to write this down. He said it didn’t matter if it was stupid or if you’d never even read it—just that I needed to get it out of my head. I didn’t believe him at first, but he was right. I’ve been carrying this around like a weight tied to my chest, and I need you to know that leaving you wasn’t what I wanted. Not really.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to fix this. I don’t know if I deserve that chance. But if I do—if somehow you find a way to let me back into your life—I promise I’ll fight for you this time. I won’t run. I’ll prove that I’m not the same stupid, confused kid who thought a job in L.A. was more important than the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

I don’t expect forgiveness. I just needed you to know.

I miss you. More than I thought was possible.

Love, always

Nic

The letter trembled in your hands as you finished reading, your vision blurred by unshed tears. You folded it carefully, your chest tightening as you placed it back on the towel beside you.

It didn’t erase the hurt—nothing could—but it filled in the gaps. It explained the silence, the retreat, the way he’d pulled away when you needed him most. It didn’t justify it, but it made it human.

And as much as it stung to relive those memories, something in you softened. The vulnerability in his words, the raw sincerity—they weren’t things you’d ever expected from Nicholas. He wasn’t just apologizing; he was baring himself in a way he never had before.

For the first time, you believed he truly regretted what happened. And maybe, just maybe, you believed he was capable of change.

You found him in the villa’s garden, sitting on a low stone bench beneath the shade of a sprawling olive tree. His shoulders were hunched, hands clasped between his knees as he stared at the cobblestone path. The rustling leaves and distant hum of cicadas filled the silence until your footsteps broke through.

He looked up, and his eyes searched yours. There was a flicker of hope in them, but it was tentative, cautious. You could see the way he braced himself, as if ready for whatever blow might come next.

“I read it,” you said, stopping a few steps away.

He stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets, then took a hesitant step closer. “And?”

You exhaled, shaking your head softly as you perched on the edge of the bench. “It doesn’t fix everything, Nic. It doesn’t take away the pain. But… I think I get it now. Why you left. Why you didn’t say goodbye.”

Nic sat beside you, not interrupting, just listening. His eyes were focused on the ground, his posture tense but patient, as though he was waiting for you to continue.

You glanced at him briefly, your voice quieter but steady. “I’ve spent so long wondering if I’d done something wrong. If I wasn’t enough. But seeing it, reading it… it makes it more real, I guess. You’re not a villain. You’re not just someone who walked away. You had your reasons. I can see that now.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t speak. His eyes searched yours for any sign of anger or resentment, but you felt only a quiet acceptance—your thoughts still swirling, but clearer than before.

“I won’t pretend this makes everything okay. It doesn’t erase how it felt, or how I felt. But it’s real, Nic. You’re not the guy I thought you were. It makes it… human.” You paused, looking away, unable to keep the tears in check for much longer. “But I can… understand. Finally.”

Nic’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back. His expression softened, and though he didn’t speak, there was an understanding between you now—a fragile crack in the wall that had been between you both for so long.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He let you breathe, let you feel it, without rushing in to explain or fix. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like you were beginning to make peace with the past.

Nic broke the silence, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “I’d like a chance to try again. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’ve changed.”

You studied him for a moment, his expression open, unguarded. For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t just offering you words—he was offering you a piece of himself.

“And now?” you asked, your voice careful, cautious.

“I’m moving back to New York in a month,” he said simply. “I’ve already taken the job. I’ll be there full-time, and when I am, I want to prove to you that I’ve learned from my mistakes. That I can do better.”

Your lips quirked into a faint, skeptical smile. “What makes you so sure I’ll let you?”

“I’m not,” he admitted, a flicker of a smile breaking through his seriousness. “But I’m willing to try. You’ve always been worth it, even if I didn’t have the sense to see it back then.” He paused, his tone softening. “And I know if I screw up again, Joshua and Dae will drown me in the Hudson before you even get the chance.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking some of the tension. “That’s probably true.”

“I mean it,” he said, leaning slightly toward you, his voice lowering. “I’ve spent years thinking about this. About you. And I know now that nothing I say will ever be enough unless I show you. So this is me, showing you. I’m here. And I’m ready to put in the work, no matter how long it takes.”

The sincerity in his words tugged at something deep inside you, though your heart remained guarded. “It’s not just about making promises, Nic,” you said softly. “It’s about proving you can stay. That you won’t disappear when things get hard again.”

“I know,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “And I will. One day at a time. One step at a time. I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I just want a chance to earn it.”

You studied him for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a quiet determination in his expression, a sincerity that felt unshakable. For the first time, you believed he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he meant every word.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice soft but resolute. “Baby steps.”

A faint, relieved smile spread across his face, one that reached his eyes. “Baby steps,” he echoed.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t fix everything. But for the first time in years, you felt the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. Together.

You looked at him for a long moment, letting his words settle over you like the warm Italian breeze. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, no mistaking the quiet resolve in his eyes. This was Nicholas—not the man who ran away, but the one who was willing to stay and fight for you now.

And yet, the hurt was still there, a lingering ache you couldn’t shake. But so was the memory of what it felt like to be with him—the safety, the warmth, the certainty that no one else could ever occupy the space he had carved out in your heart.

Before you could overthink it, you shifted closer on the bench.

Nic’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as you closed the distance between you. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

For a moment, he froze, like he couldn’t believe it was happening. But then he turned slightly and arms came around you, holding you tightly, and he let out a shaky exhale against your hair.

His heart was pounding beneath your ear, so fast and so loud you were certain he could feel it, too. It was such a familiar rhythm, one you hadn’t realized you’d missed until now.

Neither of you spoke, but there was no need to. The hug wasn’t just an embrace; it was a beginning. The first crack in the walls you’d spent years building, the first tentative step toward letting him back in.

His hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, his touch achingly gentle, and you felt his lips press softly against your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, so quiet you barely heard it.

You didn’t respond right away, letting yourself sink into the moment—the feeling of being back in his arms, of being home in a way you hadn’t been in a long time.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your arms still looped loosely around his midriff. “Don’t make me regret this, Nic,” you murmured, your voice low but steady.

His gaze met yours, unwavering. “I won’t,” he promised.

And for the first time in years, you thought maybe—just maybe—you could believe him.

DAY SEVEN

The garden was alive with warmth and laughter, the gentle hum of conversation mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. A few rows of chairs were set out neatly in front of an archway draped in delicate linen and wildflowers, the blooms swaying lazily in the afternoon sun. Everything about the scene felt intimate and magical, the perfect backdrop for the day’s promises.

On the lawn just off to the side, Joshua and Nic were with Nabi—Dae’s niece, her joyful giggles carrying through the air as they took turns chasing her in playful circles. Joshua lifted her high in the air with ease, spinning her around before setting her down so Nic could crouch to her level and join in her antics. There was something achingly tender about the scene—Nic’s easy smile, the way he cradled her like she was the most precious thing in the world. It made your chest tighten and your knees feel a little weak. He looked completely at ease, his sharp features softened by the pure affection shining in his eyes.

You lingered near the garden entrance, letting the moment unfold, but Nic caught sight of you almost immediately. He froze mid-movement, his smile faltering for just a second before returning, this time softer, as his eyes stayed locked on you. Joshua noticed, his gaze darting between you and Nic before a knowing grin spread across his face. Nudging Nic lightly with his elbow, he murmured something you couldn’t hear, then patted Nabi’s shoulder as if signaling her to join in.

“Take Nabi with you,” Joshua said, his voice just audible now. “As backup.”

Nic gave him a look but obliged, standing and brushing off his trousers. As he made his way toward you, Nabi clung to his hand, bouncing excitedly on her toes.

“Auntie!” Nabi squealed, breaking free from Nic’s grip and running the last few steps to throw her arms around you. You laughed, stooping slightly to meet her hug, the warmth of her energy infectious.

“Oh, beautiful girl, I missed y,” you cooed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You’ve grown so much!”

She stepped back just enough to get a full look at you, her big eyes going wide as she gasped dramatically. “You look so pretty, like a princess!”

You chuckled, smoothing the fabric of your dress. “That’s sweet of you to say, Nabi. But I think the real princess here is you. Have you seen your flower crown? It’s gorgeous.”

Nabi, ever observant, turned her attention to Nic, tugging on his sleeve to pull him into the conversation. “Uncle Nic, don’t you think she looks like a princess?”

Nic’s blush rose immediately, a soft pink coloring his cheeks as his gaze darted between you and Nabi. He cleared his throat, his usual confidence taking a backseat to something tender and vulnerable. “I do,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “She looks beautiful.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on you like you were the only person in the world. Nabi seemed pleased with his response, clapping her hands before Joshua called her name from across the lawn.

“Nabi-ya!” Joshua beckoned, his voice light with laughter. He crouched down the ground, saying something in Korean that you didn’t understand.

But Nabi did, and she squealed again, running off toward Joshua without a second thought. He gave you a quick wink before turning his full attention back to entertaining Nabi, leaving you alone with Nic.

“She’s exactly how I picture Dae was as a kid,” Nic said, watching them go with a faint smile.

“Causing trouble between unwitting adults? Pretty much,” you replied, glancing up at him with a grin. “You’re really good with her. It’s sweet to see.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the blush still faintly there. “She was easy to befriend. I just had to give her a piggyback and promise ice cream later on.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, the weight of the moment settling between you. “I stopped by Dae’s suite earlier. She’s excited, but you know how she gets before big moments.”

“She’ll be fine,” Nic said, his smile warming at the mention of her.

“I don’t doubt it,” you said, your voice taking on a gentle fondness. “Josh is going to be a wreck, though. He’s going to cry the second he sees her.”

Nic chuckled at that, glancing over to where Joshua was fussing with Nabi’s flower crown again. “You’re probably right. He’ll deny it, but I give it two minutes before the waterworks start.”

“Two? That’s gracious,” you teased, shaking your head. “But, honestly? I’ll probably cry too. It’s hard not to with these two.”

Nic hummed in agreement, but you noticed his tie was slightly off—crooked and loosely knotted, the way it always was when he attempted it himself. Without thinking, your hand reached out, instinct taking over as you caught the fabric in your fingers.

“You never could do this right,” you murmured, stepping closer as your fingers caught the fabric of his crooked tie.

Nic stilled but didn’t move away, his eyes dropping to watch as you carefully loosened the knot.

“All these years of being a big-shot lawyer and prosecutor,” you teased lightly, your voice soft but steady, “and you still can’t figure this out?”

His lips twitched, the corner tugging up in a faint smirk. “Guess some things never change.”

“Clearly,” you replied, tugging the tie into a perfect knot and smoothing it down against his chest. You lingered for a brief second, the faint impression of taut muscle below your fingertips prompting a tingle in your knees before you stepped back.

“There,” you said, finally looking up at him. “That’s better.”

When your eyes met his, you found him already watching you, his gaze warm and unreadable, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I don’t know,” Nic said, his voice quieter now. “I think it looks better when you do it.”

Your cheeks warmed at his tone, but you gave him a half-smile, trying to keep the moment light. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

Nic’s gaze softened as he looked at you, something unspoken passing between you as the celebrant called for everyone to take their seats. The air between you felt lighter—less burdened by the years of distance and hurt. It wasn’t everything, but it was something, and maybe, for now, that was enough. Together, you made your way to the front row, sitting side by side as the atmosphere shifted, the ceremony moments away. The weight of being at a wedding settled over you both, not heavy or suffocating, but warm and reflective, a reminder of the beauty in love and commitment. Nic’s hand rested on his knee, his fingers brushing yours for just a second before pulling away. It was a quiet gesture, but it said everything neither of you could in that moment.

The ceremony had been intimate, full of raw emotion and quiet vows shared under the archway of wildflowers and linen. After the applause and congratulations faded, Josh and Dae pulled everyone into the garden for photos. They made a point to gather everyone close for group shots, but it wasn’t long before the focus turned to the two of you—Nic, and you.

“Come on,” Dae urged, tugging at your hand with an almost childlike excitement. “Just one with the original crew. For old times’ sake.”

Josh beamed as he pulled Nic closer, the four of you automatically falling into place the way you had so many times before. Nic’s arm settled around your waist like a second nature, his hand gripping your hip gently as the photographer guided you all, and you found yourself smiling more naturally than you had in years.

As the camera clicked, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you, bittersweet and warm all at once. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was like no time had passed at all. These three had been your family once—Josh’s steady encouragement, Dae’s infectious laughter, and Nic’s quiet, unwavering presence. And now, standing there again, you realized they still were.

“Just one more,” Josh said, his voice light but fond as he glanced at Dae. “For the wedding album.”

Dae laughed, slipping her arm around his waist. “Fine, but I get to pick which one we print.”

As the session wound down, Josh and Dae were swept away for more couple’s photos, leaving the rest of you to wander back toward the villa. Nic fell into step beside you, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“That felt…a little like old times, didn’t it?” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, his profile softened by the golden hour light. “It did. Almost made me forget how long it’s been.”

Nic smiled faintly, his gaze fixed ahead as he said, “Doesn’t feel that long when we’re all together like that. Like…nothing’s really changed.”

You wanted to say that some things had changed—everything had, really—but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just nodded, your footsteps falling into an easy rhythm with his.

By the time you reached the terrace, the space had been transformed for the reception. Strings of lights hung overhead, and the scent of wildflowers lingered in the air. The warmth of the garden gave way to a deeper kind of intimacy, the soft hum of conversation weaving through the evening as you and Nic sat side by side, the laughter and love surrounding you like a bubble that left just the two of you to your thoughts.

You couldn’t help but glance at him when he wasn’t looking, taking in the way the warm light caught the angles of his face, the faint lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Those years apart had added something to him—maturity, maybe, or weariness—but not enough to bury the man you’d fallen for all those years ago. It wasn’t the tailored suit or the polished smile or the gold plaque with his name on it that stayed with you now; it was the way he’d looked at Nabi earlier, the way he’d watched Josh and Dae exchange their vows with such a quiet intensity.

He caught you staring and smiled faintly, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to gauge where your thoughts had gone. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were suspended in time, the weight of everything unspoken between you making the air thicker.

The terrace fell silent as Josh rose to speak, his voice steady but rich with emotion. He spoke about Dae with the kind of reverence that only deep, abiding love could inspire, sharing stories that earned both laughter and tears from the small gathering. Dae followed with her own words, her usual confidence softened by the rawness of her affection for Josh.

The speeches struck a chord in you, each word a gentle nudge toward memories you thought you’d buried. You felt Nic shift beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned forward, his attention fixed on the couple at the head of the table. You knew he was thinking about them—about what they had—but you also knew he was thinking about you.

Then, Dae turned her attention to you, her smile mischievous as she raised her glass. “I think it’s only fair,” she said, her voice light and teasing, “that someone else says something too.” She pointed a perfectly manicured nail directly at you. “You’ve known both Josh and me longer than almost anyone here. You should say a few words.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, and you shook your head quickly. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“You absolutely could,” Josh interrupted with a grin, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, don’t leave us hanging.”

The guests clapped lightly, encouraging you, and with a deep breath, you rose to your feet. Your mind raced for something to say, the weight of everyone’s eyes on you making it harder to focus. Then your gaze landed on Josh and Dae, their fingers interlaced, their smiles soft and knowing, and you felt a calm settle over you.

“I’m, uh, not great at speeches,” you started, earning a few chuckles. “But I guess the thing about love is that it doesn’t really need perfect words, does it? Love is messy and complicated and…sometimes really painful. It’s not always easy to let people in, or to hold on when things get hard.”

Your voice softened, and you glanced briefly at Nic before continuing. “But when it’s real, when it’s worth it, it finds a way. Time, distance…even mistakes don’t make it disappear. It lingers. It’s patient, even when we aren’t.”

You swallowed hard, emotion creeping into your voice as you looked at Josh and Dae. “What you two have…it’s special. It’s not just about the big moments—it’s in the little ones, too. The way you look at each other when you think no one’s watching, the way you hold onto each other even when things aren’t perfect.”

Your lips curved into a small smile as your gaze softened. “You remind all of us what it means to love fully, without holding back. And I think that’s the most beautiful thing any of us could hope for.”

The applause that followed was warm and heartfelt, but you barely registered it. Your heart was pounding as you sat back down, your eyes meeting Nic’s for just a second too long. His expression was unreadable at first, his gaze fixed on you like he was trying to memorize every word you’d just said.

“That was…” Nic started, his voice lower than usual. He paused, shaking his head slightly as a small smile tugged at his lips. “You always have a way of saying exactly what people need to hear.”

His hand brushed against yours under the table, not quite a touch, but enough to make you feel the weight of it. It was in that moment you realized: you hadn’t just been talking about Josh and Dae. You’d been talking about him. About you.

And he knew it.

The first dance was everything you’d expect from Josh and Dae: sweet, understated, and full of a love that seemed to glow brighter than the candles flickering on the tables. The soft strains of their song floated through the terrace, weaving around the small, intimate gathering like a spell.

You and Nic stood off to the side, watching as they swayed together under the string lights. Dae’s head rested against Josh’s shoulder, her gown trailing elegantly behind her as they moved in perfect sync, lost in their little world.

“She looks so happy,” Nic murmured beside you, his voice low enough that it almost blended into the music.

You glanced at him, catching the softened lines of his expression, the way his gaze lingered on the couple with quiet admiration. “They both do,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.

Watching them, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of reflection—a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and possibility. You thought about the version of yourself from five years ago, so tangled up in your feelings for Nic that it had felt impossible to move forward without him. And now here you were, standing beside him, watching someone else’s love story unfold.

Your mind wandered, drifting back through your memories of him—the late nights in college, the laughter, the arguments, the moments when everything felt so sure and others when it all seemed to slip away. And yet, even through the years apart, that same pull lingered. The question wasn’t whether you still loved him—you knew you did. It was whether the future could hold something more than the past.

Josh spun Dae out and brought her back into his arms, drawing a round of applause from the small crowd as their song came to an end. They beamed at each other, sharing a quick kiss before the music shifted to something more upbeat, signaling the start of the reception.

As the evening unfolded, the terrace came alive with chatter, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses. Nic had stepped away briefly to grab a drink, leaving you to mingle with the others, but it wasn’t long before Dae sidled up to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So,” she started, dragging out the word as she nudged your arm. “Progress report, please.”

You blinked at her, feigning innocence. “Progress on what?”

Dae rolled her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms. “Don’t play dumb with me. You and Nic.”

Your face immediately warmed, and you glanced around as if someone might overhear. “Dae…”

“What?” she teased, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “It’s a legitimate question. I mean, you’ve barely taken your eyes off each other all day.”

“I—” you started to protest, but the words faltered when Nic reappeared at your side, holding out a glass of champagne for you.

“What did I miss?” he asked casually, though the slight furrow in his brow betrayed his curiosity.

“Oh, nothing much,” Dae said airily, clearly enjoying herself. “Just checking in on you two. Josh has been taking bets on when you’re getting back together, by the way.”

Nic nearly choked on his drink, his ears tinting red as he looked at Dae with wide eyes. “He what?”

“He’s your biggest shipper, you know,” she continued, completely undeterred by the embarrassment she was causing. “He’s been rooting for this since forever. Honestly, I think it’s half the reason he wanted the two of you here together.”

You covered your face with your hand, half laughing, half mortified. “Dae, stop.”

“Why? It’s true!” she said, throwing up her hands innocently. “He even said at one point that if he had to, he’d lock you two in a room until you sorted it out. But hey, it looks like I don’t have to intervene, so… progress!”

Nic shook his head, his blush spreading to his neck as he avoided meeting your gaze. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Dae gave you both a smug little grin, clearly pleased with herself. “Just saying what everyone’s thinking. Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone. But don’t make me wait for updates—I’m invested.”

With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you and Nic standing there, equally flustered.

You finally dared to glance at him, catching the faint sheepish smile he was trying to hide. “Well, that was subtle,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face.

Nic let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… subtle has never really been her thing.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the music and laughter from the reception wrapping around you like a cocoon. And despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you felt a quiet warmth settle between you—something unspoken, but understood all the same.

You and Nic were tucked off to the side, your chairs angled just enough to give you a view of the lake as the night settled in. His hand rested lightly on the back of your chair, his body angled toward yours, the conversation between you easy and natural for the first time in years.

The moment was interrupted by the smooth arrival of Mingyu, his usual grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, well,” he said, gesturing between the two of you, “I’m glad to see the two of you have worked things out. Not gonna lie, I was rooting for you.”

Nic stiffened slightly beside you, though his expression remained neutral. “Yeah, we’ve been…talking,” he replied carefully, his hand slipping from the back of your chair to his lap.

Mingyu’s grin softened, turning almost sheepish. “Listen, man,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to, you know, step on your toes this week. I didn’t know the history, and once I did, well…” He looked between the two of you. “I just want to say I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

Nic glanced at you, then back at Mingyu, clearly caught off guard. He shifted in his chair, a flush creeping up his neck. “You didn’t owe me anything,” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “But…I appreciate it. And, uh, sorry if I was…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

“Possessive?” Mingyu offered with a teasing glint in his eye.

Nic sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Yeah. That.”

Mingyu laughed, holding out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

Nic hesitated for only a moment before taking it, shaking firmly. “No hard feelings,” he echoed, though his embarrassment lingered in the faint pink of his cheeks.

As Mingyu walked away, you glanced at Nic, your eyebrow raised. “Possessive, huh?”

He groaned, leaning back in his chair with a wry smile. “Don’t start.”

You laughed softly, leaning closer. “It’s okay,” you teased. “I think it’s kind of sweet.”

Nic gave you a look, somewhere between exasperation and affection, before shaking his head. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The reception had dwindled to a quiet hum, the terrace now lit only by the soft glow of fairy lights and the lingering warmth of a celebration well-lived. Guests were beginning to disperse, gathering their things, exchanging hugs and goodbyes. Dae and Josh stood at the entrance of the villa, looking every bit the newlyweds—radiant, a little tipsy, and blissfully in love.

“Alright, you two,” Dae said, pulling you and Nic in for a hug. “Promise me you’ll send updates. I need to know every detail of your progress.”

Josh chuckled, resting an arm around her waist. “She’s not kidding, by the way. You’re going to regret letting her have your number.”

Nic smirked, shaking Josh’s hand. “I’ll take my chances.”

Dae grinned but her tone softened as she squeezed your hand. “We’re so proud of you both. Really. It’s been amazing having you here this week. Seeing you together…” She trailed off, her eyes glassy with emotion.

Josh picked up where she left off. “It meant a lot. And not just for us. You two being here—it feels like something’s come full circle.”

“Alright, enough sentimentality,” Dae said, wiping at her cheek with a laugh. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

They were heading to Santorini for their honeymoon—classy, romantic, and quintessentially them. The group gathered outside the villa to wave them off, cheering as their car disappeared down the drive.

As the crowd thinned and everyone started for their hotels or Airbnbs, Nic lingered by your side. He looked at you with a familiar warmth that made your chest tighten, a quiet confidence in the way he stood close, just shy of brushing your arm.

“So,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you say we find somewhere to grab dinner? Nothing fancy. We’ll just see where the night takes us.”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

You ended up at a small, tucked-away trattoria on one of Bellagio’s cobblestone streets. The kind of place where the servers knew every regular by name and the scent of garlic and herbs lingered in the air. It wasn’t planned, but it was perfect.

Over plates of fresh pasta and glasses of wine, the conversation flowed easily, loosened by the champagne and the natural rhythm you and Nic had always had. It felt almost like old times—like those late-night dinners during college when it was just the two of you, talking about anything and everything.

Nic leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “So,” he began, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Are you going to tell me what happened with buying into your practice? You mentioned it earlier this week, but you never really talked about it.”

You swirled the wine in your glass thoughtfully. “I’m supposed to be, early next year. But… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like something I want to commit to just yet.”

He frowned slightly, intrigued. “Why not? You’d be great at it. Dae couldn’t stop raving about how great you are after you took out her wisdom teeth. And—” he paused, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I may have read some of your practice’s Google reviews.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Oh my god. You’re a stalker!”

He laughed, holding his hands up defensively. “I was curious, alright? But seriously, you’re a great surgeon. Why not take the next step?”

You shrugged, resting your chin on your hand. “Maybe I’m too young to be running a business. Or maybe I just want a change of scenery. I’ve been thinking about going back to the public sector for a while now.”

Nic tilted his head, considering your words. “You want my thoughts?” You nod eagerly, eyes glassy. “I think you should do what feels right for you. Whatever you decide, you’ll be amazing. You always are.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten, and you looked away, focusing on the last of the wine in your glass. The warmth between you felt almost tangible, a fragile, growing thing that neither of you wanted to disturb.

The walk back to Nic’s Airbnb began with an invitation over the last sips of wine at the restaurant.

The two of you had been lingering long after your plates were cleared, the conversation meandering between work, college memories, and everything in between. Nic leaned back in his chair, his tie slightly loosened, his hand absently turning the stem of his glass.

“I don’t want this to end yet,” he admitted suddenly, his tone light but honest. “There’s too much I still want to catch up on. Come back to my Airbnb? We can keep talking.”

The offer was casual, no hidden agenda—just Nic being Nic. And yet, the way he looked at you, his brown eyes warm and steady, made something in your chest tighten.

You hesitated for only a moment, your inhibitions softened by the wine and the comfort of the evening. “Sure,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “Why not?”

His relief was subtle, but you caught it—a small exhale, a quick grin. “Good,” he said, setting his glass down and standing. “Let’s go.”

The walk back was steeped in an easy, wine-laced warmth. Bellagio’s quiet streets were lit only by the occasional glow of a streetlamp, the lake shimmering softly in the distance. Nic walked close beside you, hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed for the first time in what felt like years.

“I just—” he began, glancing at you before looking back ahead, “I didn’t want the night to end yet. It feels like we’ve only just started catching up.”

You felt your stomach flutter, a mix of the wine and the way he said it—earnest and almost boyish. “I get it,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It feels like there’s too much to fit into one dinner.”

He grinned, looking down at you briefly. “Exactly. So… thanks for coming with me. Even if it’s just to hear me ramble a little more.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “You? Ramble? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Oh, I do. Just ask Josh,” he teased, and the two of you slipped back into a conversation about work and life.

Somewhere along the way, he asked, carefully, “So… anyone back in New York? You know, in the last five years?”

The question caught you off guard, but the curiosity in his tone wasn’t intrusive—it was tentative, like he was almost afraid of the answer. You shook your head, smiling wryly. “Not seriously. Just a few failed Hinge dates here and there. I’m married to my loupes and luxators, apparently.”

Nic chuckled, shaking his head. “That tracks.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And what about you? Mr. Los Angeles?”

“Pretty much the same,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I tried dating—key word: tried. But nothing stuck. Guess I’ve been married to my caseload.”

His honesty surprised you, though it shouldn’t have. Nic was always like that—direct, but in a way that felt safe. And now, as you walked beside him, it struck you how little had changed in some ways. The years apart hadn’t dulled the pull you felt toward him, the way his presence seemed to make everything else fade into the background.

When you reached his Airbnb, a modest but cozy villa tucked into a quiet corner of town, he held the door open for you, letting you slip off your heels with a sigh of relief. “God, I think these shoes are trying to kill me,” you muttered.

Nic smirked, setting his keys on the counter. “Well, you survived. That’s what matters.”

He reached for a bottle of red from the kitchen counter, pouring two glasses and handing one to you before settling onto the couch. “One last glass?”

“Twist my arm,” you teased, sinking into the cushions beside him.

The atmosphere was easy, relaxed, but the wine added a subtle haze to the air. Nic leaned back, his shirt slightly untucked, his tie loosened from the long day. The disheveled look suited him too well, and you found your gaze lingering more than you meant to.

The low lighting softened his features, but the sharpness of his jawline, the curve of his mouth, were impossible to ignore. And it wasn’t just how he looked—it was how he made you feel. That giddy, nervous energy you hadn’t felt in years, the kind you used to feel back in college when he would smile at you in just the right way.

Your thoughts drifted. You were reminded of late-night study sessions, sitting shoulder to shoulder, the proximity enough to set your pulse racing. The way he’d brush his hand against yours when passing you a pen. The stolen glances that made you wonder if he felt it, too.

And now, here you were again, sitting beside him like no time had passed, even though it had. The tension was there, just under the surface—a hum of possibility neither of you seemed ready to act on, but both of you felt.

Nic glanced over at you, catching your gaze. “What?” he asked softly, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, looking down at your glass. “Just… you look relaxed. It’s nice.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You do, too.”

The air between you shifted, quieter now but charged. And as the conversation resumed—stories about work, the moments you’d missed—you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was where you were always meant to be. With him. Here.

The warmth of the red wine lingered, like a soft haze wrapping around the two of you as the evening stretched into something quieter, something slower. You and Nic had settled into a comfortable rhythm, trading stories and laughter, the conversation ebbing and flowing like it always had. But now, as the hour grew late, the air between you felt heavier—charged with something unspoken, yet deeply understood.

Nic set his empty glass on the coffee table, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. You looked down at the fleeting contact, your pulse skipping in response.

“I missed this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, pulling your attention back to him.

“This?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

He smiled, his brown eyes catching the faint glow of the lamp. “You. Us. Talking like this.”

His words struck something deep, and before you could respond, he shifted slightly, leaning closer—not too much, just enough that the space between you felt almost non-existent.

“I need to ask you something,” he said quietly, his voice threading through the stillness.

Your heart stumbled, but you nodded, trying to keep your voice calm. “What is it?”

Nic’s gaze flickered down to your lips, lingering for just a beat before returning to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

The question was so tender, so deliberate, that it almost unraveled you. He didn’t rush the moment, didn’t move until you answered. But the intensity in his gaze left no doubt about what he wanted—and what you did, too.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.

Nic’s lips curved into the faintest smile, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for your permission. Slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing along your jaw, his touch feather-light as if testing the waters.

And then he closed the distance.

The first press of his lips against yours was soft, tentative, a question in itself. He didn’t rush, didn’t push. His hand moved to cup your cheek, anchoring you to him as the kiss deepened ever so slightly, a slow, languid exploration that felt like coming home.

You melted into him, your hand finding its way to his chest, where you could feel the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. It matched your own, as if the two of you were syncing after years of being out of tune.

The kiss grew heavier—not rushed, but more certain, as though every lingering doubt or hesitation was being stripped away with every gentle pull of his lips. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, grounding you in the moment, and you responded in kind, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a reclamation of everything you’d lost, a connection you thought you’d never have again. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the years apart, not the mistakes or misunderstandings—just him, and you, and the way he made you feel like you belonged.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you opened your eyes to find him watching you, his gaze soft but searching.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a slow, steady smile spreading across your lips. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Nic’s own smile mirrored yours, his hand still cradling your face like he was afraid to let go. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I can stop now.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension just enough to make the moment feel light again, but the undercurrent of emotion remained. This was Nic—your Nic—and for the first time in years, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

Nic kissed you like he was trying to etch the moment into memory, his lips slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that made the world tilt just slightly on its axis. Your arms looped around his shoulders as his hands anchored themselves at your waist, fingers curling like he was afraid to let you go.

Before you even realized it, you’d shifted closer, settling into his lap like you belonged there—because, God, didn’t it feel like you did? His hands slid up your back, pulling you firmly against him as your heart pounded in time with his.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths mingling in the stillness, Nic’s hands stayed exactly where they were, holding you in place as though releasing you would undo everything. His head dropped to your shoulder, and for a moment, he just held you, his chest heaving with something that felt almost like relief.

Then he let out a soft laugh, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His grin was boyish, a little crooked, and entirely unguarded. “You know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “for the first time in a long time, it feels like the world’s finally spinning the right way.”

You blinked, your chest tightening with an ache so sweet it almost hurt. “Yeah?” you managed, the word coming out a little breathless.

He nodded, his expression softening as his hands squeezed your sides. “Yeah. And you… you’re right at the center of it.”

Your laugh came out shaky, barely masking the tears threatening to spill. But they weren’t tears of sadness—not this time. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, though your voice betrayed how much his words had wrecked you in the best way.

Nic grinned wider, leaning in until his forehead touched yours. “You like it,” he murmured, his tone playful but sure.

“I do,” you admitted, your smile widening even as your heart soared. “God help me, I really do.”

For a while, you just sat there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of everything unspoken melting into the comfort of his arms around you. The quiet between you wasn’t empty—it was full of possibility, of shared breaths and unspoken promises.

Eventually, Nic tilted his head, brushing his lips against your temple. “This… this isn’t just a moment, right?” he asked softly, his voice uncertain for the first time that night.

You cupped his cheek, your thumb grazing his skin as you smiled. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His eyes searched yours, and whatever he saw there seemed to settle something deep inside him. He let out a long breath, pulling you even closer, his arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let go.

And as you sat there, wrapped in each other on that worn, comfortable couch in a quiet little Airbnb, it hit you—you didn’t need grand gestures or perfect timing. You just needed this. Him.

Because in Nic’s arms, the past didn’t matter, and the future didn’t feel so daunting. There was just now—just you and him, finally back where you belonged.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez x you #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #writing #nicholas chavez #grotesquerie #monsters: the lyle and erik menendez story #elle’s worx

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joelsgoldrush · 4 months ago

Text

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 1 month ago

Text

Through Their Eyes ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Summary: lando and yn’s relationship through other people’s eyes

𝄞 ln x reader 𓇢𓆸

𝄞 fluff 𓇢𓆸

masterlist ☾☼

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

carlos

carlos had known lando since he was nineteen. being teammates with him made carlos realise that they had a lot of common interests, and their sense of humour matched, and in the blink of an eye, lando had become one of carlos' best friends. there wasn't a day that went by without carlos or lando talking to each other, and there wasn't a day that went by without the two learning something new about each other.

carlos prided himself on the fact that he could read lando pretty well. y/n was lando's age and had joined mclaren as part of their hospitality intern. she was not supposed to have much interaction with the drivers, especially considering that she was an intern. her main jobs on some days was to make coffee runs.

fortunately, the coffee runs were what brought lando and y/n closer.

"coffee for you, mr sainz, and coffee for you, mr norris," she had said when she put two cups down in front of them.

carlos had watched as lando was about to make a joke but seemed lost as he stared at the woman and then back at the cup, and back at the woman.

he decided to be a good friend in that moment and save the awestruck boy, "unfortunately, lando doesn't have coffee. he only likes milk. he's still a little boy,"

y/n had laughed, and carlos had watched again with a smirk as lando stared at her with the biggest smile on his face. "i'll be back with a glass of milk then,"

it had become a running joke between the three of them, and soon she had started accompanying them to races as well. in the two years that she had interned with mclaren, she had spoken to almost driver on the grid, and carlos had watched how y/n and lando had slowly become friends. though, friends would be a more appropriate word instead of saying 'lando followed her around and just stood behind her, lost in his daydreams while she spoke to the drivers'.

carlos had watched how lando was always including her in conversations where she stood near the wall, how he pushed her to give her opinion. he had watched how lando slowly helped her build her confidence as she began to become more sure of herself and her abilities.

carlos had also watched how she was always the first one to tell lando that he had done a good job. she sat with him whenever he reviewed all the places he went wrong and had to be better at. she helped him understand the right places for making jokes, and the kind of jokes. he had watched how y/n had slowly helped build lando's confidence.

carlos and lando had a similar humour, but he found very quickly that lando and y/n's humour were exactly the same. they had inside jokes and eyes that laughed every time they looked at each other. they had soft touches and fingers that always grasped the air in the end.

the night of one of the races, when people had left, and only a few were remaining, carlos had been looking for lando to tell him about the golfing range that they could try out during the two weekends they had free. he had walked around looking his friend, even calling out his name. eventually, he found him sitting on the curb of the track with y/n.

they had their masks off, and were sitting close to each other. considering that they were the only two people around, carlos had not reminded the two to wear their masks.

the two had been laughing and giggling and leaning, and carlos walked a little closer to listen to what they were talking about.

"what'cha gonna do for the next two weeks?" lando had asked. it was quiet, and they were quieter, but carlos could still hear them.

"actually, i've been so excited to tell you about it! so, you know how i joined mclaren as an intern, and well, i'm still at a beginner level because i told you that i didn't want to do this forever?" she had seemed excited.

lando had only nodded, still staring at her. it made carlos wonder if lando was actually listening to what was being said.

"so, i've been doing some research, because i finally figured out what i'm going to do with my life. my parents only let me do this because i was interested in formula one, and i wanted a break after high school. though, admittedly, the break was supposed to be just a gap year, ended up being two-three years, but that's fine-"

y/n was cut off, because lando had finally gotten the courage and kissed her. carlos' mouth fell open. lando had confided in him about his crush on y/n, but carlos knew long before that. hell, carlos had known from the very first moment possible.

she had kissed him back, and carlos turned around with a smile on his face as he gave them some privacy.

just as he was leaving, he heard y/n's voice sounding heartbroken, and stopped short.

"lan, i'm going back to university. that's what i wanted to tell you."

"what?"

"i was talking to the drivers the other day about their childhood and what they faced, what you went through. max with his dad, lewis with the bullying, all of that. i realised then that i wanted to study child psychology. i want to be a child psychologist."

"oh. so, when are you leaving?"

"i gave my resignation letter this morning. i found a good university in london too. i applied a while back, and i got in."

"you got in."

"i got in, lan!" she was trying to be excited, carlos knew.

"that's amazing, y/n, congratulations,"

carlos turned around to peek, just a little bit, and saw the two embracing. he watched as lando tried to hide his tears, and y/n, who couldn't stop smiling. he watched as lando found his eyes, and carlos didn't know what to do in that moment.

"it doesn't have to change anything. i mean, i know i won't be there for race weekends and at the mtc and stuff, but i'm here for you." y/n said.

the two pulled back. y/n frowned at the tears on lando's face, and gently wiped them off. carlos feared what was going to happen to their friendship now.

"and, i mean, if the kiss wasn't a fluke, i'd like it again. and maybe every time i see you next?" y/n said, smiling, hoping, and carlos sighed in relief. yeah, the kids were going to be okay.

he could hear lando laughing as he walked back inside. lando was going to marry y/n, carlos could bet his life on it.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

daniel

when daniel had joined mclaren, there was one thing that he saw and was sure of right from the first day: no one could handle lando norris like y/n y/l/n.

he had spoken to her, and was good acquaintances with her. he knew that she had been working with mclaren for a year. lando and y/n seemed to be better friends than lando and carlos were, and that was a tough duo to break.

daniel felt awkward with lando at first. the two had barely anything in common, and combine it with their ten year age gap, it felt almost impossible to bond with the boy over something. both of them felt awkward at first, and both of them knew it.

y/n was perceptive, though, daniel had to agree. she had forced lando and daniel into a room and gave them an hour. that did wonders for the new teammates, because by the end of it, they had become so much more comfortable with each other and just couldn't stop laughing.

that was when daniel started noticing more about lando and y/n's friendship. the way that she was always the first one there to congratulate him, and the last person he saw before he left the garage for a race. the way that he always looked for her, even when he was working.

at first, daniel couldn't understand the impact that a young 20 year old woman could have on a young 20 year old man. their lives were just starting, yet somehow, with them, it felt like their lives had reached the stage of contentment with each other.

when lando first launched quadrant, daniel had watched how y/n had surprised him with wearing the merch and proudly showing it off. he had watched and smiled at how lando had gotten so excited, he had picked her up as he cheered, "you're wearing quadrant! you're wearing my merch!"

she was there for all of the races at first, in the mclaren uniform. daniel had watched how she would talk to him before every race. daniel didn't know what they were talking about, but it always had a laugh and it always ended up with a hug. he honestly thought that y/n was a witch, with the way she could calm down the hyperactive boy. no one that daniel had seen had that effect on lando the way y/n did.

and then, after a point, y/n stopped coming to races. and, daniel wondered if lando and her had had a falling out. he didn't know if he should approach his teammate about it, because it could be a sensitive topic.

two races gone by, and y/n hadn't come. lando had looked upset during those weekends, and he always disappeared right before the race and right after. after one particular race, daniel decided to suck it up and ask.

"why doesn't y/n come anymore?" he blurted out. it wasn't the way he wanted to go about it.

lando smiled softly, and daniel wasn't sure what that smile meant, "she quit. she went back to studying. goes to a university in london."

daniel didn't know that.

"are you guys still in touch?" daniel tried to be as casual as possible, but he wasn't sure if he was doing a good job.

lando's smile got bigger, and daniel took it as a good sign, "yeah, we're in touch. we talk before and after races, and pretty much any time that we're free,"

"that's good to hear," the conversation had ended there.

daniel now knew what his teammate did before and after races when he disappeared.

the silverstone race was when he had finally seen y/n again. lando hadn't seen her yet, and y/n had looked jittery. spotting her, daniel approached her.

"hey, i haven't seen you in so long!" daniel exclaimed.

the two hugged briefly, "oh my god, it's so good to see you! i've just been so busy with uni. finally a race that i could attend,"

"missed us, did you?" daniel teased.

"so so so much," y/n said, and the two laughed.

daniel watched from over y/n's head as lando, who had initially been talking to one of his mechanics pause and turn around, as if he had heard her laugh. daniel continued his conversation with y/n, while also watching lando's reaction. he was looking around, a frown on his face. if daniel had to compare lando's reaction to something, it would be to a dog who could suddenly sniff his favourite treat from somewhere.

just as y/n was about to say something, daniel watched lando finally spotting her in her ln4 merch, before practically screaming, "y/n!"

y/n turned, her eyes lighting up, and lando ran from the other side, dodging people. daniel took a few steps back, wanting to give the two friends some space.

lando's arms had immediately wrapped around her waist, and he picked her up. his face was buried in her neck, and all he said was her name. okay, friends definitely did not hug like that.

pulling back from the hug, lando kissed her. daniel's mouth fell open in shock. y/n had kissed him back, before she pulled away, laughing. lando put her down on the floor again, and pressed kisses all over her face, whispering in between, "you're here, you're here, you're actually here, i'm so happy right now,"

noticing a cameraman approaching, daniel softly said, "cameras, guys,"

taking a deep breath, lando took a step back, folding his arms, "thanks, dan,"

"no problem. now, wanna tell me what's going on here?" his teasing tone only made the two grin bigger.

"we started dating my last night in mclaren," y/n said softly.

"i bet lando cried. finally kissed a girl, didn't you?"

"i did actually cry," lando said, and the three laughed.

kyle, lando's mechanic called out, and daniel bid goodbyes to lando and y/n. he turned heading back, looking back just once to see lando's arm across y/n's shoulders, and y/n's arm circling his waist as they walked to where kyle was.

daniel hadn't seen lando look that happy since y/n had stopped coming for races. something about him had changed. he looked more confident and pleased. he looked as if he could hold the world on his shoulders if he wanted to.

his confidence was seen on the track as well. despite losing two places, lando was happier than most, and daniel knew that just the presence of y/n could have that effect on him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

max f

max remembered the day lando had called him, excited to tell him about a girl he had met and how carlos, she, and lando had joked around, and how beautiful her laugh was.

he remembered the blush on lando's cheeks and how excited he was. he denied liking her at that time, but no one ever called their best friend to talk about a woman for forty five minutes just to later claim that he didn't have a crush on her.

max had been apprehensive of the woman at first. lando was new to formula one, and he was bound to get famous. from what lando had told max, she was an intern, the same age as them. lando was a trusting fellow, and max felt the need to look out for his friend.

the first time lando had introduced y/n and max to each other, the two were just friends. though, the first meeting proved that max had no reason to be worried. y/n was quick with her witty responses like lando always was. she put up a good fight every time. their banter was entertaining, and y/n knew just how to keep lando on his toes.

they understood each other quite well too. max remembered when after a particularly bad race, the two were on a facetime call, where lando was explaining all that he could have done better, and max giving his inputs. their conversation had been interrupted when a knock on lando's hotel room was heard.

"might be carlos," lando had mumbled, before leaving max on his bed, staring at the ceiling. max could still hear everything, though.

"carlos, i don't feel like-" he heard lando's voice cut off.

"surprise!" a woman's voice, y/n's, was heard.

"what are you doing here?" lando had asked.

"well, i read somewhere that cookies and brownies fixed everything. but, i couldn't find enough ingredients for one particular thing, so i made brookies!" her voice was louder, and max assumed that she had entered the room.

suddenly he saw her face pop up on the phone, "hi max!"

"hey, y/n!" max waved at her.

"you baked me something?"

"uh huh. your flight isn't till nine, and i thought that i could help you pack since you're terrible at it, and max, you and me could listen to music and dance around and eat brookies!"

they had done exactly that, y/n and lando trying their best to include max in all their conversations as well. they jumped around, laughed, and ate brookies throughout. max yelled at lando to save some for him, but lando had pretended to not hear, and then y/n had promised to make more for him. lando was smiling again, and even though max knew that he still felt bitter about the race, it had distracted him.

it was silent for a few seconds, only the music playing, when max checked what was going on. he stopped himself from saying anything when he saw lando and y/n locked in a hug. his face was buried in her neck, and her fingers were in his hair. max didn't know what either of them were saying, but lando had a tight grip on her, his knuckles turning white, and y/n just held him.

max knew their relationship would change soon.

and it had.

after the two had gotten together, lando began coming to london more often, even if it was to spend time with y/n. he invited y/n everywhere, whether they went for quadrant shoots, or meeting new people for new business partnerships.

she would come with her textbooks and her laptop, insisting on studying while they did their thing. for the most part, she did study. during the plane ride to wherever they were going, lando and y/n would sit side by side, sharing wired earphones, listening to music while y/n studied. lando would usually stare at her, or play with her hair. during shoots, y/n would be just as enthusiastic as lando, always pushing him for new ideas.

she trusted him insanely too. any time he would drive at a speed that even scared him, max had seen the way y/n would be carefree, throwing her arms in the air and enjoying the wind.

y/n would even help out with designing lando's helmets. the two had a connection that max didn't understand that well. they brought out the best in each other and knew just how to handle the worst too.

max had seen lando more worried about whether y/n had eaten during exam season than he generally was about himself. max had seen lando care for something other than racing and quadrant. it was new and refreshing, and max knew it was a forever kind of deal.

it always was a forever kind of deal with lando and y/n.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

alex and george

alex and george had sort-of grown up with lando. they had raced each other in f2, and had become quick friends. lando used to look upto alex and george, and the boys knew about it.

they had known lando well when he was a young boy, had seen the way he drove, the way he acted, the way he was in general. they had seen his cocky attitude, and as much of a show he put up in front of the media, they knew that he looked upto almost driver that were on the grid as he tried to make a place for himself in between them.

they had seen how low his confidence was, despite being outgoing and getting along with almost everyone he met. he had been their topic of conversation many times, with the two trying to figure out how they could be there for their friend.

it had helped that lando had found a true friend in carlos, and then daniel. it had changed lando, a positive change that both, alex and george were incredibly happy to see. he still blamed himself after races, but carlos, a veteran, reassuring lando had had a greater effect than george and alex. the two men understood why. they had the same amount of experience in formula one as lando, so trying to convince him that he had done a good job wasn't as effective.

lando had really changed, though, after he met y/n. y/n was outgoing, like lando, and she could talk a mile a minute. she seemed to really give max competition when it came to yapping. but, the best thing that she ever did was make lando smile more often. george and alex were grateful for that.

y/n had a way of correcting lando or telling him new information without making him feel dumb. george and alex knew how insecure lando was for never finishing his schooling, unlike oscar. it was a shock to alex and george when lando told them random facts throughout the day. it was a good kind of shock, but a shock nonetheless. they knew almost immediately that it was the work of y/n.

lando had always been humble. online, he was arrogant. but, he knew what he needed to work on, he knew everything he could about his, and he always wanted to know more. george and alex had often teased him about leaving the last on saturdays after the qualifying session.

but, y/n had stayed with him, had encouraged him, and had showed him that even if he failed, he was still good enough. y/n showed him that even if he lost ten positions, he was still good enough as a driver, and as a racer. he deserved to be in f1, something that a lot of people, including george and alex agreed on.

over the years, lando had gotten good at saying what was expected of him. it was often things that he would go and directly tell people to their faces, but always play it off with the media. lando never forgot to remind alex and george how much he respected them, even if they told them in private. they knew that that was lando's way of making sure that they knew he was being sincere.

the world didn't understand it as much, and the media loved to twist all of their words. so, y/n helped him understand. and, y/n helped him grow. and, even though lando was always a good person, y/n made him better everyday.

alex and george often spoke about the difference five years, six years had made in lando. and they could agree that lando was still the same person, but just a little more grown up and a little more focused. it was his own doing, with some help from y/n.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

max v

padel with lando was one of his favourite things to do. lando was competitive, and he made jokes, and he was arrogant and deprecating, and somehow all of it just fit well.

they had a weekend free before the next race, and what better way could there have been than to participate in another sport with the same person who was the contender for the world driver's championship?

they had played for hours, and after the two had completely exhausted themselves, lando invited max over to his apartment for lunch. agreeing, max texted kelly about his lunch plans with lando, and the two drove to lando's apartment their individual cars.

parking, the two went up the elevator, laughing and giggling and gossiping on their way over. just as lando was about to unlock his front door, he paused and turned to max.

"my girlfriend is a little mad at me right now. i kinda paid off part of her university tuition and i didn't tell her, and now she found out, and i'm basically-"

"-fucked. you're basically fucked."

lando opened his mouth to retaliate, but agreed with max. he was fucked.

unlocking the door, lando called out, "babe, we're home!"

y/n appeared from the hallway, "hi, max! how was padel?"

max watched as lando moved towards her with his arms open, almost like a routine of when he comes back home, but y/n dodged his hands and stepped away. lando looked like a puppy who had gotten kicked, and as much as max wanted to laugh at the expression, he did feel a little bad for his friend.

"hey! um, padel was good. i beat lando, 5 games out of 8," he said.

y/n laughed, "that's wonderful. i'll get your lunch set up, so why don't you relax?"

she still hadn't said a word to lando, and as she turned to head towards the kitchen, he watched as lando followed her like a dog on a leash.

max settled on the couch, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. he tried not to listen, to not eavesdrop on his friend's very private conversation. but they were loud, so technically, it wasn't his fault.

"baby, i'm sorry, i was trying to help!" lando's urgent voice could be heard. he was speaking softly, but in the quiet house, it was still loud enough for max to hear.

"helping means washing the dishes or getting me supplies for my exams! helping does not mean paying off my tuition!" y/n's hushed whisper came next. she was angry.

"but, why can't i just pay for the tuition? i've got the money, you and i are going to end up married anyways! what's mine is yours!" max had to admit, this was probably the first time he had heard lando so sure on marrying someone.

"exactly! you've got the money. not me. lando, i need to be able to survive on my own, and my tuition is my problem. not yours."

"you are surviving on your own! just 'cause i'm here doesn't mean that you can't lean on me for stuff!"

max heard y/n let out a groan of frustration, "i'm not as rich as you are, lando. i'm not a celebrity or a model, i don't have the money. i'm studying to be a child psychologist. this is my future, and my college, including my tuition fees, is my responsibility."

"yeah, well, you are my future. so, you're my responsibility, and that includes your college and your tuition fees and literally everything else in the world." max smiled. maybe lando would not have to sleep on the couch tonight.

it was quiet for a few seconds, the only sound came from the sizzling of the pan.

"darling, i'm sorry i paid your tuition fees without asking or telling you first. you were stressed out about it the other day, and you were telling me how you would have to take extra shifts at the diner, and i just thought that if i have the money for it, why can't i just get rid of that stress of yours? i really just wanted to help, nothing else." lando's voice was soft, and max strained his ears to listen.

"i feel like i'm taking advantage of you," y/n whispered softly. why were they talking so quietly? max couldn't hear a thing properly.

"advantage of me? love, no. you deserve so much more than what i can offer you. i hate that i have to be away for so long because of my job, but you've never complained and you've always supported me. sometimes i'm scared that i'm not showing you just how much i love you,"

"that's why you paid off my tuition. 'cause you wanted to prove that you love me, but you couldn't figure out how to open your mouth and say it to me,"

lando laughed. that was a good sign. it was silent again. maybe they were hugging? max wished he had a visual as well. and some popcorn.

"forgive me?" lando asked softly.

"only if you have ramen with me tonight, and watch tangled with me again,"

he expected lando to groan. he had listened to lando rant about how the movie was ingrained in his brain and how the songs were stuck in his head constantly because of his girlfriend's obsession with the movie.

"deal. i love you," lando said.

"i love you more,"

"not possible,"

"watch me,"

max smiled. lando was not sleeping on the couch tonight, that's for sure.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

oscar

there was time before the first practice race was supposed to start. oscar sat on his side of the garage, but was quickly getting bored. the mechanics and the race engineers were talking and discussing, and oscar really tried to listen to them and participate in the conversation, but all he wanted to do was go out and drive.

sighing, oscar decided to find lando. if there was anyone who could distract him, it was lando. moving over to his garage, oscar looked for lando, and found him standing with his race engineer, will. the two were in deep conversation about something. lando's shoulders were tense, and his fingers were digging into his arms as he had them crossed across his chest.

oscar sighed. he probably shouldn't disturb him, then. it looked like they were talking about something important, and it's not like oscar had anything specific in mind when he came to find lando. he just wanted a distraction and laugh about something, anything.

just as he turned to go back to his side of the garage again, oscar saw y/n. he smiled, and was about to walk over to her so that he could at least strike a conversation with her.

oscar and y/n were good friends. they had a lot of similar interests and often spoke or hung out outside of lando. lily and y/n also got along really well, and that was just another pro in his list.

just as he was about to go talk to y/n, he stopped short, as he watched her open her bag and rummage through it. the paddock pass was hanging from her neck, and the orange cap she wore almost made her invisible to the media.

finally pulling out, what he assumed was a fan, he watched as y/n weaved her way through the crowd and stood behind lando, who was still in a deep conversation with will.

oscar worried for a second. he knew lando well, and he knew y/n well. he knew that lando hated to be disturbed when he was working or when he was focused on something, especially if it was related to improving his performance. he also knew that while y/n always meant well, sometimes, she couldn't figure out the right timings for things. while oscar knew that lando would not yell at her or anything, he still worried that lando would accidentally say something in the heat of the moment that he would regret later, but it would inevitably hurt y/n. she was sensitive and she felt too much for everyone. he didn't want y/n to be hurt.

he stayed still, though. he wasn't sure if it was his place to interfere. it wasn't his relationship, and he was friends with both of them. so, he stayed where he was, and he watched.

he watched as y/n stood behind lando. he watched as will noticed her, smiling just slightly, before turning his attention back to lando. he watched as lando didn't seem to notice that.

he moved a little closer, just so he could make out a little bit of what they were saying.

he watched as y/n started fanning lando, a mischievous grin on her face. he watched as lando's shoulders sagged in relief from the cool air, and then watched him tense up. he watched as lando turned around, wanting to find out where the cool air was coming from, and was met with y/n and her fan.

the couple were laughing now, and lando hooked an arm around her waist and trapped her against him. oscar could see both of y/n's arms against lando's chest as she leaned back to look at him, her hand still clutching the fan.

he watched as the two spoke, far too softly for oscar to hear them. but he saw the smiles on their faces, and the love in their eyes. the fans called him oscar "heart eyes" piastri whenever he looked at lando. if the fans saw lando and y/n right now, "heart eyes" would be an understatement.

he watched as lando pressed a kiss to her lips, and he watched as y/n tucked herself against his chest. he watched as lando and will got back to their conversation. lando's hands were running up and down her back, and oscar watched as lando's shoulders relaxed, and how he wasn't grinding his teeth anymore, and how all the tension that he seemed to keep in his body almost all the time melted away.

in that moment, oscar realised that the things he knew about his teammate/friend and his friend, they knew it better. they knew each other better, and they were stronger like that.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

i may have messed up the timeline a bit somewhere in the start. but, this is one of my favourites that i've ever written! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #formula one #ln4 #max verstappen #carlos sainz #oscar piastri #daniel ricciardo #alex albon #george russell #max fewtrell #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you

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