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yetanothersparrowofthedawn · 10 months ago

Text

The Way I Loved You

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 9k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake

Context: YN has some big news. Chaos ensues, as per usual.

Disclaimer: THIS IS UNEDITED, this chapter has been driving me insane and I just wanted to get it out of my drafts. Also, English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come. Also, I guess this fic could be triggering for some because it’s kind of sad and angsty.

Previous Track: Style

Chapter soundtrack: That’s the way I loved you – Taylor Swift

(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)

He is sensible and so incredible

He opens up my door and I get into his car

And he says, "You look beautiful tonight"

And I feel perfectly fine.

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain,

And It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name.

So in love that you act insane,

And that's the way I loved you.

Breaking down and coming undone,

It's a roller coaster kind of rush.

I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you.

Alright, let’s get into this.

The plane cut through the clouds, having left the US behind as YN and the band embarked on a journey together. YN couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia mixed with anticipation as the Paris skyline unfolded beneath them.

The past six months had been quite a personal success. A mosaic of regular shared experiences had broken down any residual tension that might’ve lingered between her and Jake. Their casual encounters at shows, festivals, and birthdays-alike had served as genuine moments of connection, reforging the group dynamic they had all missed.

YN’s relationship with Harry, on the other hand, had blossomed into a real spectacle that constantly adorned the front pages of tabloids. This, of course, earned her a lot of suffocating attention, but amidst the whirlwind of it all, she managed to find refuge in the simplicity of the few moments she spent with the band.

The purpose of their Parisian escapade was twofold — YN was set to attend the art exhibit opening of an old friend of hers, while the band sought out some specific piece of music equipment that Sam had simply refused to order online.

It was a perfect opportunity to blend business with pleasure.

The jet touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport and as they stepped onto the tarmac, the crisp Parisian air infused the atmosphere with a sense of adventure.

As the day unfolded, the city of lights revealed its magic. Goofing around in a place where no one paid attention to them was exactly what they’d needed. It felt just like old times.

They explored hidden corners and indulged in local delicacies until the jet lag simply became too much to bear. With tired but cheerful eyes, they returned to the hotel as the city lights began to shimmer.

__________

The lobby buzzed with the chatter of a day well-spent. YN got off the elevator on her floor, wishing the boys a good night with a smile.

As she stepped into her hotel room, her gaze wandered across the space. The muted ambiance contrasted sharply with the vibrant memories of the day.

The blinking light on the telephone caught her attention, and curiosity compelled her to check the answering machine.

With the press of a button, none other than her fiancé's voice resonated in the room, a familiar warmth despite the miles that separated them.

"Hi, love, hope you're havin' a good time with the guys. Wish I could be there with you, but I'm still in London.” She smiled softly as his words wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Listen, I just wanted to let you know I just got off the phone with the jeweler,” a pause hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the unspoken, “they said they're done."

YN fell back onto the bed with a huff, the mattress embracing her in its soft contours. Stretched out on the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, the weight of the secret she’d been keeping pressed on her conscience.

Harry’s voice, a distant echo, continued to fill the room, “The ring should fit perfectly now."

The next day arrived, and jet lag had firmly taken hold, but YN shook off its drowsy grip to join Josh, Jake, and Danny in the hotel's dining room for some brunch.

The fatigue was evident on everyone's faces. She inquired about their plans for the day.

"Well, we have an appointment at the music store in an hour," Danny replied.

Josh scoffed, "If Sam ever decides to—"

"If Sam ever decides to what?" Sam's challenging voice cut in as he strolled over, taking a seat at their table.

"Samuel, how nice of you to join us," Jake teased.

"You know I need my beauty sleep, brother. Don't be jealous," Sam retorted. YN chuckled at the banter, enjoying the familiar dynamic.

As the conversation continued, Danny, with a raised eyebrow, steered the discussion back to the important topic, “As I was saying,” he resumed, “we have an appointment at the music store in an hour. How long do you reckon that will last?” he asked.

Sam, with his typical nonchalance, replied, “Not sure; the call was all in French. Might be ten minutes, could also be ten hours.”

The eye rolls from Josh and Jake were nearly audible, a synchronized response to their younger brother’s signature unpreparedness.

“Alright, we should probably head out right about now,” Jake declared, scanning the surroundings. He sighed in anticipation, “For all we know Sam may have gotten the address wrong as well.”

The youngest, catching wind of the ribbing, protested with a whine, “Hey now, that’s not fair,” as the group headed out through the bustling lobby.

__________

Once they stood outside the hotel, Danny turned to YN, “Are you heading to your friend’s thing?”

One of YN’s old friends was having the opening night of her new art exhibit, an event which they were all planning on attending later that evening, and YN had mentioned the possibility of going early to lend a hand.

“Yeah,” she replied absent-mindedly, “I’ll see if she needs anything.” She looked away in apprehension.

“Alright then,” Sam said, “we’ll see you later.”

As they were about to part ways, YN nervously blurted out, “Do you all need to be at that appointment thing?” She paused, turning to Josh, “I mean… the equipment is just for the players, isn’t it?”

Josh instantly scoffed, feigning an offended expression, “Well, I happen to play something called the vocals, YN, thank you very much.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” she insisted, an unusually tense expression on her face, “please?”

Sam was about to retort with a whole bunch of technical issues but Josh, catching on to his friend’s unspoken plea, quickly intervened, "Uh, you know what, guys? I think I'll stick around with YN for a bit. I can catch up with you later."

The others, slightly taken aback, glanced at each other, then at Josh and YN.

“Sure, no problem,” Danny smiled.

YN grabbed Josh and the pair strode away, arm in arm, leaving the others slightly dumbfounded.

Josh couldn't help but shoot YN a puzzled look, to which she responded with a silent gratitude that spoke volumes.

The rhythm of their footsteps echoed a subtle tension in the air. After twenty minutes, Josh, usually the easygoing one, couldn't help but enquire, "So, what was that about?"

She glanced at him, her expression a mix of urgency and hesitation. "It’s nothing, let’s keep going we’re almost there.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, “come on, there clearly is something,” he stated, crossing his arms, “and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

She stared at him, tempted to call out his bluff, but decided against it, knowing it was only a matter of minutes anyway.

“Alright,” she sighed nervously, “I have some news.”

___________

The air hung heavy with the weight of revelation. YN's eyes, now wide with anticipation, searched Josh's face for a reaction, a sign that he had processed the bombshell she had just dropped. The silence echoed like a distant melody, the street a quiet stage for the unfolding drama.

YN finally broke through the deafening quiet. "Aren’t you going to say anything?" her voice carried a mix of vulnerability and desperation, a plea for connection.

Josh, still processing, stared into the distance as if searching for answers among the unseen horizons. The creases on his forehead deepened, and the corners of his lips twitched with unspoken thoughts. "I just—” he finally uttered, “this- it’s is a lot to take in."

"I know, I'm sorry to spring this on you like that," YN said, her words softening the room's tension. She continued, "I've been dying to tell you- or anyone for that matter, but- with the boys and other people always around, I was afraid it would turn into a big thing, and the news would get out."

Josh remained silent; his eyes still locked on some distant point.

"So..?" YN pressed on. She needed a reaction, a response, anything to bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

"So..." Josh hesitated, choosing his words with measured precision, "we're not heading to your friend's exhibit, are we?" he finally inquired, his question cutting through the haze with unexpected clarity.

"Well,” YN couldn't help but let a smirk play on her lips, “remember we always said you'd have dibs on giving your- style opinion if I ever tied the knot?" she teased, the corners of her lips curling with a hint of mischief.

Josh’s eyes widened with surprise, "Hold on, what?" he exclaimed. The tempo of the conversation had, once again, caught him off guard. "Didn't you just get engaged?"

"I know, it's all going a bit fast," she admitted with an excited sigh. "But Harry and I were at this Westwood show a week ago and the bridal look was just exquisite," she paused, “one thing led to another and we just- booked an appointment.”

Josh returned to his silence; surprise still etched on his face.

"Come on, don't be mad," she implored, her tone softening. "You know you love a private fitting," she added, attempting to inject a bit of lightness into the atmosphere, to soften the edges of the unexpected news.

After a while, Josh looked up, meeting her eyes. "There’d better be a lot of champagne involved," he finally quipped.

She smirked, a sense of relief washing over her. Finally, a normal reaction from her friend. "And only the best,” she assured, “this is Paris, after all."

_____________

The boutique, nestled in the heart of the 7th arrondissement, exuded an air of exclusivity that transcended the ordinary. As YN and Josh stepped into its realm, they were greeted by the hushed whispers of luxury. The walls, adorned with mirrors, reflected the rare creations that hung elegantly on display.

An impeccably dressed man emerged to welcome them with a pronounced French accent. Every detail of his attire spoke of an innate understanding of elegance, a testament to the boutique's commitment to excellence.

It was the kind of boutique that dealt exclusively in one-of-a-kind couture looks, each piece meticulously curated through age-old relationships with some of the most illustrious maisons in the world. It housed creations that transcended mere garments; they were wearable art, destined for the most exclusive clientele.

Led by the man, Josh and YN were ushered into a private fitting room. A sanctuary of privacy, it was adorned with soft, indirect lighting and the air was filled with a faint scent of peonies.

With a polite nod, the man assured them that he would return shortly with the dress YN had come to try on. As he exited the room, Josh couldn't resist calling after him, sending a playful reminder to bring in the champagne.

The leather sofa cradled them in its plush embrace as a delicate silence lingered, both YN and Josh settling into a cocoon of thoughts.

Josh, breaking the quietude, voiced the question that hovered between them. "So, you're really engaged, then?" His words hung in the air.

“Yeah,” a wistful smile played on YN's lips at the surreal nature of her situation. "I guess I am."

"How did it happen?" Josh asked, the question laced with genuine curiosity and a hint of brotherly concern. Her eyes sparkled as she recounted the proposal.

Josh listened attentively, a complex array of emotions crossing his features. He wanted to be solely happy for her, to share in the joy of her new life, but the reality of the situation still needed time to settle.

"It's all moving so fast, isn't it?" he mused, a thoughtful expression clouding his features. YN nodded in acknowledgement.

The atmosphere shifted as Josh leaned back against the velvety cushions, his eyes fixed on a distant point. "On the bright side of things,” he suddenly stated, “Sam owes everyone twenty bucks.”

She looked at him with a confused smile, “What?”

Josh sighed, memories flashing through his eyes. “About four years ago, the guys and I made this whole wedding bet thing” he giggled, “Sam, of course, bet the first marriage among all of us would be him and Carole King,” they both laughed, “guess that’s not happening.”

“Did you bet on anyone?” YN asked playfully.

Josh nodded silently, a serious expression quietly returning to his face. “Yeah," he finally admitted, a veil of nostalgia covering his eyes. YN's smile softened, a hint of understanding in her eyes. Of course, Josh would’ve bet on her and Jake.

"Life takes unexpected turns," she gently stated as she leaned back into the sofa. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Yep,” he mirrored her words, “who would’ve thought?”

As the minutes passed, the pair found solace in the shared silence.

The man finally returned with a garment bag that made YN’s eyes sparkle in excitement. Josh, taking charge of the celebratory mood, promptly popped the bottle of champagne, the effervescent bubbles escaping with a soft hiss.

He poured the bubbly liquid into two crystal flutes, the delicate clink resonating in the air as a toast to the unfolding moment.

_____________

As YN disappeared into the changing area, Josh took a seat, sipping the effervescent liquid and allowing its crisp taste to dance on his palate.

Amid the subtle symphony of sips and the rustle of fabric, Josh suddenly heard some noise emanating from the main area of the boutique. Curiosity piqued, Josh set down his glass and ventured toward the source of the commotion.

“I don’t think this is the place, it’s all clothes in here.”

Josh closed his eyes as he recognized the all too familiar voice. Sammy. He sighed, recognizing the imminent chaos that his baby brother, in all his oblivious glory, was probably about to unleash upon the sophisticated boutique.

Josh let out an exasperated breath, mentally preparing for hurricane Sammy. As the chaos drew nearer, he glanced toward the main area.

« Puis-je vous aider? » the owner inquired, attempting to bring order to the unfolding comedy.

“Oh, um, oui, oui, oui, Bonjourrrr Monsieurrrrr, ” Sam stammered in response, « nous, uh- ouch! Daniel, my foot!” he whined.

Danny interrupted, mercifully ending the linguistic massacre, “I’m sorry, do you speak English?” The owner nodded in response. “Great, um, I don’t suppose this building is also an art gallery by any chance? We’re looking for our friends.”

“I’m afraid not. Who are your—” the manager began before being cut off.

“It’s okay,” Josh interjected, stepping out from the doorway to the fitting room with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation, “they’re mine.”

“There he is!” Sam exclaimed before turning back to the owner, “merci very much, pal,” he said, tapping the flabbergasted-looking man on the shoulder.

As Sam and Danny approached, Josh wasted no time addressing the impending chaos. "How did you even find us her—” he interrupted himself, “Danny, how many times do I have to tell you to stop tracking my phone?"

Danny, caught off guard, stammered, his ears turning red, "I don’t know what you’re talking ab—"

"I swear to G—" Josh began, frustration evident in his tone.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sammy interjected, nonchalantly dismissing the potential drama. “Weren’t you going to some gallery?”

“It’s- a long story, not really mine to tell,” Josh replied, visibly nervous, “weren’t you going to the music store?”

“Well, we did go,” Danny rolled his eyes, “only someone apparently booked an appointment for the year 2032-”

“Here we go again!” Sam groaned, throwing his arms up, in the air “I already said it was my bad, what more do you want from m-”

“Alright,” Josh sighed, his patience wearing thin, “you guys should head out, like, right now. Where’s Jake?”

“Jesus, chill out, he’s just outside, on the phone with Ma’,” Sam informed, attempting to diffuse the tension.

Danny, with his signature grin, couldn’t resist adding his two cents. "You know," he said, "if you guys wanted to go shopping, you could’ve just said so."

"That’s- not it," Josh retorted, his tone carrying a mix of irritation and urgency. "Will you please just listen to me and go before—"

“Hey!” Jake suddenly appeared from behind the other two, “Ma’ says hello,” he slowly looked up from his phone. “What are we doing here?” He took a moment to assess his surroundings, “Are we going shopping?”

“No, we were just about to leave, actually,” Josh replied nervously, his words rushing out. “Y/N will meet us later.” The air seemed to tense with an unspoken secret, the ambiance of the couture boutique now a battleground for conflicting interests.

"Is she not here?" Sam asked, glancing around the shop.

"No, she’s—" Josh began, but he was suddenly cut off by a voice from behind him.

“Alright, I’m coming out…” a voice range out.

Lord, help us all.

“…but I swear to God if you start crying, I will kick your—" YN’s figure materialized from the fitting room, and instantly froze. Her eyes widened, and her words hung in the air as she recognized the crumpling faces in front of her.

The four guys, equally dumbfounded, if not more so, slowly took in the sight of their friend wearing, what very much appeared to be a wedding gown.

Sammy was the first to break the silence, “What the—”

Fuck.

___________

"So… now you know," Josh announced, absurdly loud, attempting to divert attention, "This year’s MET Gala theme is all-things-white, I know, I know, controversial, but, uh—"

“Josh,” YN cut in. She was thankful for her friend’s futile attempt to cover for her, but it was time to be honest. She turned to the boys.

“So…” She sighed hesitantly, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag, then. I’m kind of—" she paused, the word struggling to come out, “engaged?”

“You’re joking,” Sam blurted out.

“I don’t have my ring,” she clarified, “It’s getting resized, but—”

“Are you for real?” Danny interrupted.

There was a moment of palpable silence, and then YN timidly confirmed, “Y-yeah.” She wore a shy smile, and they scanned her face for any sign of dishonesty, finding nothing but sincerity. The realization hit them like a freight train.

“When’s the due date?” Sam couldn't resist adding.

“I’m not pregnant, Sam,” she snapped back, her eyes rolling with annoyance.

“Holy shit,” Danny exclaimed, rushing towards her and spinning her around. She laughed, feeling the tension dissipate.

“Someone’s making an honest woman out of YN, that certainly wasn’t on my bingo card” Sam teased, earning a look from YN, a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Alright, come here,” he opened his arms, and she gladly stepped into the embrace. “Congrats, superstar,” he mumbled into her scalp.

YN’s eyes finally landed on the one person who had yet to say a word.

Jake stood there, completely still. His gaze remained fixed on YN, an array of emotions flickering across his face. Surprise, disbelief, and perhaps a touch of realization danced in his eyes as he took in the sight of YN in a wedding dress.

In that moment of stillness, Jake's mind raced. The news of YN's engagement hit him with an unexpected force. Despite knowing that they had both moved on, seeing his ex-girlfriend on the verge of marriage obviously stirred something within.

He watched as YN stood before him. She radiated excitement, yet looked at him with nervous doe eyes, as though seeking approval. Jake's features softened into a faint smile and he finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so happy for you.”

She instinctively wrapped him in a soft embrace. Taken aback, he eventually wrapped his arms around her waist. “Thank you” she mumbled against his chest, “that means the world.”

“Okay,” Sam’s voice interrupted the moment of tenderness, “now that this is out of the way, let’s talk about this” he said, motioning to the dress she was wearing with an expression of disgust.

The atmosphere lightened as the group transitioned seamlessly from the weight of the revelation to their usual playful banter. "You don't like it?" YN inquired with genuine surprise, her eyes flickering from Sam to Josh, seeking confirmation.

Josh’s mirrored expression conveyed that his baby brother may have had a point, the unison hinting at a rare consensus. YN sighed with playful resignation, a mischievous grin creeping across her face as she hatched a plan to address the situation.

"Alright,” she announced, the glint of mischief in her eyes, “you know what we have to do, then." The boys, catching on to her playful intent, mirrored her smirk in anticipation.

"Fitting Frenzy!" they chanted with a jump, as Danny and Jake shook their head with both amusement and despair. The impromptu decision dispelling any lingering tension as they embraced the whimsical spirit of the moment.

____________

The boutique transformed into a whirlwind of shades, fabrics, and laughter as said fitting frenzy ensued. Each member of the group contributed their unique flair to the impromptu dress-hunt, turning what was initially a stressful situation into a memorable experience.

"Eggshell, Daniel?" Josh's voice echoed through the boutique, a mock sense of outrage coloring his words. "Have you gone mad? Do you think our Y/N will have some barn wedding?"

Danny, unfazed, shot back with playful defiance, "Well, I'd rather have her in an eggshell gown than that horrendous bedazzled mess you suggested." Their banter echoed through the fitting rooms, punctuated by bursts of laughter that drew bewildered glances from the boutique staff.

YN, caught in the middle of the sartorial crossfire, couldn't help but chuckle at the playful antics of her friends.

Amidst the banter, Sam emerged from a changing room, strutting down the shop in a princess ballgown layered over his shirt. "You know, this is actually much more fun than what we had planned for today," he declared, twirling around.

The boutique's managing director, growing increasingly concerned with the boys' chaotic energy which clashed with the usual etiquette of his establishment, observed the spectacle with a mix of confusion and disapproval.

As the afternoon continued, YN found herself submerged in a sea of fabrics and styles. The excitement that had initially fueled the endeavor was now tinged with a hint of desperation as she tried on dress after dress, searching for the perfect one. Despite the growing frustration, she maintained a sense of fun, laughing at the playful banter of her friends.

Throughout the disorder, Jake moved around the boutique, occasionally offering suggestions but seemingly preoccupied with his own thoughts. His attention wavered here and there.

“Hey how about this one?” Sam interrupted his brother’s train of thoughts holding up a dress to him, but Jake wasn’t paying attention, his gaze seemingly stuck on something. “Jake?” Sam inquired.

Breaking from his distracted reverie, Jake finally voiced his suggestion, pointing at the specific garment that had captured his attention. "No," he said definitively, "She should try this one."

The owner's enthusiasm echoed through the opulent boutique, his thick French accent lending an air of sophistication to his words. "Aaaah, I see you have the American eye, don't you? We curate very few pieces of American design, but this one," he declared, his fingers delicately grazing the luxurious fabric of the dress in contemplation, "yes, it is… quite delectable, is it not? Tom Ford, 1986. A good year."

As he held the dress with a certain reverence, Sam eagerly announced, "We'll take it," seizing the hanger from the poor man's hands and dashing toward the fitting room. "YN, look what we found!" he gleefully shouted through the boutique, the proclamation carrying a hint of mischief that made the owner flinch.

Apologizing once again for his brother's exuberance, Jake offered a sincere "Sorry about that" to the slightly rattled proprietor. The old man, despite the chaos Sam had caused, chuckled halfheartedly as he returned to the meticulous task of sorting the upscale garments.

After a pause, he turned back to Jake, his eyes holding a glint of appreciation. "If I may," he said with a knowing smile, "you have a good eye. She will look exquisite in it."

Jake nodded in acknowledgment, a sense of satisfaction warming his chest.

__________

As he headed back towards the fitting room. A chorus of oohs and aahs reached Jake’s ears.

There she was, YN, adorned in the dress he had chosen just moments ago, the sleek and elegant silk hugging her frame in a way that seemed tailor-made for her. The dress accentuated YN's beauty in a way that left him momentarily breathless.

Caught in the moment, YN looked around the room and inquired, "What do you think?" A chorus of enthusiastic responses filled the air.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Sam chimed in, eliciting a genuine smile from YN.

Turning to Josh for his opinion, YN received a heartfelt compliment that seemed to catch her off guard. "You look really beautiful," Josh admitted, his voice slightly breaking with emotion.

"Gosh, stop it,” she playfully remarked, attempting to lighten the mood, “You're going to make me cry, and I haven't even seen it."

“Well go on, then,” with a helpful hand from Danny, YN was guided onto the small platform, facing the grand mirror. Taking a deep breath, she finally looked up at her reflection, and the room held its breath in anticipation.

Her eyes began to glisten as she took in her own reflection. The dress reflected Jake’s taste for the understated, emphasizing the beauty of simplicity and allowing YN's natural grace to shine through. It was a creation of plain elegance, a sleek masterpiece crafted from immaculate porcelain silk that draped effortlessly on her frame.

A soft smile played on YN's lips as she stood there, momentarily rendered speechless by the sight before her. "It's-” she eventually said struggling to find the right words as emotions bubbled to the surface. “It’s so…"

"…you," Josh finished the sentence for her, “it’s so you.” The collective affirmation in the room conveyed a shared understanding—the dress wasn't just an exquisite garment; it seemed to be an embodiment of YN's essence, a celebration of her being.

The owner, with an air of grace, stepped forward, breaking the tender moment. He inquired, "Now, what are we thinking in terms of hair?"

"Up," Jake and Josh said in unison. Jake glanced down, slight embarrassment coloring his expression.

YN nodded with a radiant smile, "Up it is."

"Would you like to see our collection of hair accessories? Just to get an idea." the owner offered, leading to an affirmative nod from YN. A skilled stylist promptly approached, delicately crafting an elegant updo, revealing YN's delicate collarbones.

As she perused the display case of accessories, YN settled on a sophisticated white gold pin adorned a single pearl. The owner, appreciating her choice, carefully retrieved the accessory.

However, the pin slipped through the owner's fingers, hitting the floor with a delicate clink. Before anyone registered the mishap, Jake had descended to one knee. He delicately picked it up, his movements fluid and confident, as if the gesture had been rehearsed a thousand times before. The boutique seemed to hold its breath as Jake rose to his feet. Sam and Danny exchanged a knowing glance.

The clearing of Jake's throat pierced through the stillness, drawing attention from the clandestine intensity of the scene. His eyes met YN’s through the mirror, seeking permission.

A nod from her, gentle yet affirmative, signaled her consent, along with a soft flutter of her eyelashes. With a deliberate step, Jake closed the distance between them, the air charged with unspoken anticipation.

He extended his hand, gently placing the pin in her hair. In a moment suspended in time, his fingertips accidentally brushed against the nape of her neck. A feathery touch that let an electric current pass between them.

As the two stood side by side, the lavish Parisian boutique provided a glamorous backdrop to a silent interlude. YN, adorned in the white gown, and Jake beside her, found themselves momentarily immersed in the alternate reality painted in the mirrors. The soft ambient lights seemed to cast an otherworldly glow.

In that suspended moment, their reflection seemed to carry whispers of the 'what-ifs' and the divergent narratives that fate had penned for them.

As their gazes met in the mirrored picture, an unspoken understanding lingered in the air—a shared acknowledgment of a parallel universe where the threads of destiny had woven a different tapestry.

The boutique owner, sensing the shift in dynamics, played the role of an artful conductor, steering the ensemble away from treacherous territories. "Beautiful!" he exclaimed, his voice serving as a gentle reminder of the present moment. “Isn’t it?”

The spell broken, Jake and YN found themselves back in the shared reality of the Parisian boutique. The moment dissipated, leaving behind a trace of wistfulness and a shared understanding that some paths, no matter how enticing, were to remain veiled in the realm of what might have been.

In that fleeting moment, Josh and Sam exchanged another knowing look. They understood the silent undercurrents that had rippled through the room, visible only to those attuned to the intricacies of their story.

"Yeah,” echoed Jake softly, a touch of unease in his voice “Beautiful."

Suddenly, a voice breaks the contemplative atmosphere, announcing, "Hope I’m not interrupting." To everyone's surprise, the figure standing at the door is none other than that of YN’s fiancé.

Harry’s entrance cut through the atmosphere like a gentle disruption, eliciting a swift reaction from the gathered ensemble. In the blink of an eye, Jake stepped away from YN, creating a visible distance as the unexpected visitor approached.

The shift in dynamics was palpable, the subtle recalibration of postures a silent acknowledgment of unspoken boundaries.

"Oh my god,” the surprise painted across YN's face turned into sheer joy as she hopped off the platform, and sprinted towards Harry, her hand tenderly finding its place on his neck. In an impulsive burst of delight, she planted a kiss on his lips, an expression of unrestrained affection that spoke volumes to those around. “What are you doing here?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

Harry, with a casual charm, explained, "Just landed an hour ago, thought I’d surprise you." His eyes then shifted to greet the boys, who still bore the remnants of surprise on their faces. As the initial shock settled, YN, still wrapped in the delight of the moment, turned to Harry with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

"Are you coming to the opening tonight?" she asked, anticipation of his response lingering in the air.

“No, I’m flying back as soon as I’m done with my interview,” he said, “Actually, I have to run right now, I’ll make sure to send Camille flowers though, tell her congrats for me, will you?”

Camille, Jake thought reluctantly. Harry knew YN’s other friends. How come Harry already knew her other friends? How come he’d never heard of Camille before?”

“Are you sure you can’t stay just a little while longer?” she pleaded.

“Sorry, my manager’s expecting me back in London by tonight,” he said, prompting a subtle pout from YN. “Aw, come on, don’t make that face, love. Here, I have something that’ll cheer you up.” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a small leather box and Josh cast a quick glance at his twin brother, who observed the scene. “I swung by Cartier on the way here,” Harry opened it to reveal a dazzling engagement ring. “There,” with gentle precision, he slid the ring onto YN's finger, “fits like a glove.”

"Thank you," YN smiled, her words accompanied by a tender kiss Harry planted on her hand.

“I left a little something at your hotel as well” he murmured, and she smirked sheepishly in response. She, by nature, may not have been driven by material gifts, but she knew how excited Harry always got.

“You’re the sweetest” she said softly.

“You are,” he retorted, “and would you look at you!” he exclaimed, eyes dancing with admiration as he twirled his fiancée around, reveling in the enchanting vision she presented. The moment, however, took an unexpected turn as he took a closer look at what she was wearing, “Hey, this isn’t the dress we’d talked about,” he questioned.

“Yeah, the Westwood didn’t exactly pan out,” Sam interjected, before YN could respond “that’s on us, mate.”

“Is this the one, then?” he said, gesturing to the gown she had on.

The room seemed to hold its breath as his question lingered. A wave of discomfort washed over YN. The very thought of walking down the aisle to Harry in the dress felt terribly inadequate for some reason.

“Uh, no,” she gently admitted after a pause, "I think I'll keep looking,” she shrugged. Her words prompted groans of disapproval from Sam and Danny. "It should be perfect for us," she insisted with a smile, though in truth, she was uncertain whose feelings she was trying to spare.

"Whatever feels right for you," Harry said, "I’ve got to run. It was nice seeing you all," and with one last peck on her lips, he exited the room.

Harry's departure left the boutique enveloped in a subtle sense of relief as Jake grappled with an internal turmoil that mirrored the brewing storm outside.

Irritation, disguised beneath a veneer of nonchalance, slowly began seeping through his veins.

Suppressing the inconvenient truth that lay dormant within him, Jake found himself grappling with an internal struggle between acknowledging the depth of his feelings and maintaining the carefully constructed walls he had erected around his heart.

YN silently turned back to the boys, casting a quick glance at Jake. The subtle creases of his brow, a silent acknowledgment of a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“I think we’re done for today,” she declared, as she fumbled with the ring on her finger. “We don’t want be late.”

______________

As the day melted into the evening, YN's wardrobe transitioned from the sleek ivory gowns of the boutique to a fun silver dress that shimmered with each step she took. The metallic fabric reflected the neon lights that illuminated the night, outside of the art gallery they were heading towards.

Adorning her ears were emerald earrings, thoughtful gift left by Harry at the hotel, glinting subtly as they caught the sporadic flashes of the vibrant light.

The anticipation of the evening's celebration seemed to clash with the subdued mood that had settled among the group as they approached the venue,

YN, still tense after the afternoon's emotional rollercoaster, maintained a dignified composure, though the echoes of her emotional turmoil lingered beneath the surface.

Jake, who hadn't uttered a word, let alone glanced in YN’s direction since their departure from the boutique, appeared increasingly tired as resentment simmered beneath the surface.

The vibrant energy that had characterized their friendship now hung in a delicate balance, disrupted by the unexpected currents set in motion. YN, though saddened and upset by the palpable shift in dynamics, chose to endure the silent treatment. It was true that she could have handled things with more thoughtfulness earlier.

They were welcomed into the space by the sound of music and sight of a decent crowd, a mix of art enthusiasts and socialites, swirling around the vibrant works of art.

Camille, with cheeks flushed and a self-soothed confidence fueled by a few drinks, spotted YN from across the room. "Oh my God, you're here!" she exclaimed, rushing towards her old friend with genuine excitement. She enveloped YN in a warm hug, her voice reflecting both joy and intoxication. "How have you been?" The two of them chatted for a minute.

The attention then shifted to the Greta boys, looking as handsome as ever. Camille, her eyes gleaming with mischief, greeted the boys with a seductive charm. "Well, bonsoir, gentlemen," she cooed, extending her hand with theatrical elegance, "Enchantée."

Seizing the opportunity for a flirtatious exchange, Sam pushed his brothers aside, positioning himself at the forefront. With a confident flair, he lay a delicate kiss on Camille's hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said, prompting the others to roll their eyes.

________

As the evening unfolded within the pulsating confines of the neon-lit gallery, Jake sought refuge at the bar, carefully avoiding any contact with YN like a sailor steering clear of a storm. His deliberate avoidance, a self-imposed exile, left her feeling adrift amidst the swirling currents of tension.

Distressed by the unspoken chasm between them, YN ended up seeking solace on the terrace, where the crisp night air provided a temporary respite from the stifling atmosphere inside. Her eyes were fixed on the ring on her finger, it glistened delicately in the light, yet felt heavier than ever on her finger.

“What are you doing out here?” Danny's voice interrupted the solitude, breaking the quietude of the night. He approached YN, his breath forming visible puffs in the chilly air.

"Is that a cigarette I see in your hand?" he asked, genuine surprise coloring his words.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," YN responded with a wry smirk. She wasn’t a regular smoker, but when days were high in stress, she sometimes found comfort in the smell and taste of tobacco, a weakness from years past. She took one last drag before moving to put out the cigarette.

"No need to put it out," Danny reassured her.

"It's okay, I don't mind," YN replied, extinguishing the cigarette with a flick of her fingers. The cool night air seemed to match the tense atmosphere lingering between them. Danny, breaking the silence, finally broached the sensitive topic that loomed over the night like a specter.

"So…" he began, his words hesitant.

"So…" she echoed, her eyes teasing him.

"Marriage, huh?" Danny eventually voiced, the question lingering in the air like an uncharted path in the dark.

"Yep," she replied, a soft smile playing on her lips. Danny and YN shared a glance that conveyed an unspoken acknowledgment — a few years back, the notion of YN embracing matrimony was nothing short of an absurdity. She and Jake had broached the topic once or twice, but it simply wasn’t her style. Not at the time, at least.

As her short response hung in the cold night air, Danny's eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern. "Are you happy?" he gently probed.

"You know…?" she paused, the words carrying the weight of introspection, "I think I am." As she spoke, the echoes of her own journey reverberated through her voice.

There was a time, not too long ago, when the prospect of happiness felt elusive, hidden in the shadows of heartbreak. After Jake, she had wandered through life with difficulty. The idea of happy-ever-after had seemed like a distant dream, an illusion shattered by the echoes of what had been.

Yet, Harry had entered her life like a gentle force, a subtle breeze that whispered promises of new beginnings. It wasn't the same love, nor did it intend to be. The edges were softer, the hues more muted, but it felt right, it felt- sensible.

She had once believed that devotion could only wear the guise of what she had known with Jake, but life had a way of rewriting its own narratives.

Danny, leaning against the cold metal railing of the terrace, absorbed YN's words with a thoughtful expression. "You've come a long way," he remarked, his voice gentle, “Both of you.”

"Yeah," YN responded, her gaze momentarily drifting to the city skyline. “He hasn’t said a word to me all afternoon, though.”

Danny nodded, understanding the weight of unspoken words. "You know him, better than most. It doesn't mean he's not happy for you; he’s just never good with change."

Amid the day's tumultuous atmosphere, Danny once again stepped into his role as the voice of reason. His words carried a soothing reassurance, a balm to the unease that had settled over YN.

She sighed, the night air carrying a hint of hesitation, "I hope so.”

A gust of wind swept through, eliciting a shiver from YN.

“You should go back inside,” Danny said with a gentle nudge, “Wouldn’t want you to catch death before you make it down the aisle.”

“Yeah,” YN chuckled back, “that would not be a good look.”

_______

As YN walked back inside, her eyes locked onto Jake, who, upon meeting her gaze, promptly diverted his course, striding purposefully in the opposite direction and disappearing into the men's room. The continuous avoidance and unspoken tension had reached its breaking point, and Danny’s reasonable words seemed like no more than a distant echo.

Fuck it.

Fed up with the unspoken rift, YN briskly followed the guitarist, determined to confront the lingering unease that had shadowed them throughout the day. With each step, her resolve strengthened. The hallway echoed with the clicking of her heels, a stark contrast to the lively hum emanating from the exhibit area behind her.

The door to the men's room swung open, revealing the dimly lit space within, and YN was met with the sight of Jake standing near the row of sinks. His posture, while seemingly casual, hinted at an anticipation that sent a ripple through the charged atmosphere.

She tried to hold onto her tenacity before it inevitably slipped away. "Can we talk?" she ventured, unnecessary loudly.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Jake's downturned gaze as he replied, "This is hardly the place."

"Since when has that been a problem?" she retorted, frustration seeping into the words. Jake's silence, an unnerving response, hung between them like an unspoken challenge. "We need to talk; you've been avoiding me all day," she continued, the weight of the unsaid pressing down on the confined space. “See? You won’t even look at me.”

"Alright," Jake finally shrugged, looking up at her, "Get on with it."

Caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, YN hesitated for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked, concern evident in the furrow of her brow and the subtle quiver in her voice.

Jake scoffed, turning away. "What do you think?" he spat, his words cutting through the air with a sharp edge.

"You said you were happy for me," she countered, a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

"Yeah, well, what the hell d'you expect me to do?” he shot back, “I wasn't exactly about to make a scene in front of everyone."

"Jake,” she sighed, her voice softening in the face of his evident frustration, “I'm sor—"

"And to find out about it like that?" he interrupted, hurt evident in his eyes. "I mean, I know we've had our ups and downs, but Jesus, I thought we still had some respect for each other."

"I'm sorry," she offered sincerely, "this— it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I wasn't—"

"Sure,” he pressed, his voice carrying a bitter edge, “and when exactly were you going to tell me, huh?"

"I— I don't know—" she stammered, her words an acknowledgment of the disarray surrounding the situation, a vulnerability laid bare.

"Were you just going to wait until paps got a shot of that huge rock you carry on your finger?" he continued, and YN wished she could sink into the ground. The rapid clenching and unclenching of Jake’s fists revealed the intensity of his emotional turmoil. "Or better yet, wait for me to see photos of your fucking honeymoon in the press—"

"Stop it, you know I'd never do that," she interjected defensively.

"Actually, I'm not sure I know anything about you right now," he retorted.

"And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" she demanded, her voice tinged with defiance.

Jake looked at her for a moment, his own frustration simmering beneath the surface. "You're seriously going to make me say it?" he shot back.

"Well, I'm not a fucking mind-reader!" she roared.

"Come on, YN” he rolled his eyes, “Marriage? Mrs. Styles?" he mocked, his words carrying a weight of disbelief as if grappling with an inconceivable reality.

"Yeah, well, what about it?" she spat, attempting to conceal the hurt that flickered in her eyes.

"Please," he shook his head dismissively, as if challenging the very essence of the decision she'd made. “That's not you."

"And what do you know, huh?" she said, the echoes of her frustration reverberating off the restroom walls. "We haven't been together in years; what makes you think you know what I want for my life?"

"Because I know you!" he yelled, the force behind his words revealing a desperation to be understood. Silence hung in the air, a palpable tension between them before Jake pressed on, "and better than that jackass does, apparently,"

"You don't even know him!" she shot back, her defenses rising.

"See, that's the thing," he scoffed, a bitterness underlying his tone, "I don't need to know him. I know your taste in men."

Her eyes flickered with pain, a wounded expression betraying the impact of his words. "That's a low blow," she eventually said, a mix of hurt and indignation coloring her response, "even from you."

"Yeah, well, only the truth hurts, I guess," he mumbled, a bitter acknowledgment hanging in the air as he walked past her and headed towards the exit.

"So what?" she called out, the desperation evident in her voice. "Was I supposed to stay single for the rest of my life?" He turned around, his heart breaking as he met her sad eyes. She continued, "I—After everything- do I not deserve a chance?"

"No, that’s not-" an instinctive pull drawing him closer to her. His hand gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You know all I want is for you to be happy."

"Well, I am. For maybe the first time in years, I am," she whispered, nuzzling her cheek into the palm of his hand. "Harry, he's good, he makes me feel- safe."

He felt a pang in his chest at her words. "I'm sure he does," he said sadly, his words weighted with an unspoken ache. "That— that's not the problem."

"Well, then, what is it?" she searched his eyes, desperate for understanding.

"It's just— " he hesitated, the words burning in his throat, unwilling to ever come out. His fingers delicately brushed her hair behind her ear, and his gaze lingered on the emerald earring that dangled from her lobe. "He’s-” Jake continued, his eyelids flickering, “he's got good taste."

With those words, he walked out, leaving YN behind, paralyzed, the weight of the unspoken lingering in the air.

________

YN found herself back in the exhibition area, but the vibrant artwork was a blur as her mind wrestled with her recent exchange with Jake. The odd thrill of their heated encounter served as an unsettling reminder of what she’d left behind.

She’d messed up and he’d messed up, a pattern that seemed to keep on haunting the both of them, even in friendship.

Truth was, he’d probably been right. She wouldn’t have had the guts to tell him about her engagement.

Why, though, was a question she couldn’t quite answer. Perhaps she’d enjoyed that in-between. On some level. Perhaps she’d wanted to witness his unfiltered reaction, or she’d been curious as to what might happen if she let the news come out on its own. Perhaps she’d simply been bored out of her mind.

Her songwriting had seemed to have run dry recently. The more time passed, the more she found that ‘happiness’, whatever that was, presented a ridiculously uneventful subject. After all, there would be no grand choirs to sing, no chorus could come in about two people sitting doing nothing.

Perhaps Patty had been right when she’d said YN had always needed to go to war to find material to sing. But it was a dangerous game, one she’d renounced a long time ago. Too much of her blood had been shed. She had let the sword fall to the floor, only to be replaced by the ring on her finger.

Immobilized by a sea of emotion, YN suddenly felt a comforting presence beside her. Josh's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Don't worry about him,” he offered, “he'll come around eventually. It's just a lot to process."

"I know," she replied with uncertainty, her eyes still fixed on the artwork as if seeking solace in its silent forms.

"One of you was gonna end up getting married someday," Josh continued, "you just happened to be the first. That's nothing to apologize for." His hand found hers, the silent gesture conveying a silent promise of support.

_________

The following day unfurled with an air of quiet tension. It was YN’s turn to deliberately avoid Jake as they moved through the day's activities. However, the serendipity of travel arrangements had a laid out different plans for them.

As they boarded the plane, YN's eyes darted across the cabin in search of her seat, her desire to maintain distance palpable. Yet, the universe seemed intent on weaving a narrative of its own.

There, in the vast expanse of plane seats, she had apparently been expected to sit next to none other than the very person she’d been trying to avoid.

A flicker of reluctance crossed YN's face as she hesitated near the row, contemplating her options.

Just as she decided to retreat, Jake's hand gently reached out, “YN, come on,” a silent plea evident in his touch, "please?" His words hung in the air, soft yet compelling. It seemed he had renounced his fighting mood from the day before. She relented, sinking into the seat beside him.

The hum of the plane engines served as the backdrop to a charged silence, unspoken tension echoing in the space that stretched between their bodies.

Once takeoff was done, Jake hesitated, glancing towards YN with a contemplative expression. Breaking the uneasy silence, he began, "About yesterday..."

She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions, a silent invitation for him to continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," Jake admitted, his voice carrying a blend of regret and vulnerability. " It's just... it all caught me off guard."

YN, too, felt the weight of remorse settling in. "I should've told you. I should've found a way to tell you before,” she looked down at her hands, “but everything happened so fast, and I-I didn't know how…"

He nodded, a mix of regret and understanding in his eyes. "Still, I was an ass.”

"I get it," YN replied softly, meeting his gaze. "It's a big change. I never intended for you to feel blindsided."

He sighed in acknowledgment, "I guess we both have a lot to process. I never expected- I mean, I didn't think it would hit me that hard."

She met his gaze, a shared understanding passing between them. "To be fair, I never expected to find myself here either," she admitted, her voice soft. "But things change, I suppose."

"Yeah," he whispered, "they do."

The tension that had gripped the air between them began to slowly dissipate as YN chose to inject a much-needed dose of levity into the confined space of the plane.

"If that makes you feel better," she remarked with a gentle smile, "I’ll make sure to have a full-on meltdown when you get married, that way we’re even."

“Deal,” Jake chuckled, a warmth spreading through him, "just make it memorable, okay? Maybe hire a choir or something."

"Oh, absolutely," she nodded with mock seriousness, "I'm thinking fireworks, synchronized swimmers, the whole shebang. It's going to be an event."

“And of course, you'll need a soundtrack.” He mused, “Maybe something like ‘I Will Survive’ or ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’?"

"Solid choices," she laughed, "but I was thinking more along the lines of Cryingby Aerosmith. Really amp it up, you know?"

"Ah, a woman of refined taste," he quipped, "I'll be sure to add it to the playlist.”

She nodded, playing along, "And a fog machine as well, for my dramatic entrance.

"Well, naturally," Jake responded, “Can't forget the fog.”

The banter continued, a familiar cadence of playful exchanges that danced on the edge of shared memories. YN, feeling a sense of relief, leaned into the easy camaraderie they had always shared.

"So," Jake eventually needled, a curious glint dancing in his eyes, "have you set a date?"

“No, not yet" she responded with a casual shrug. "But knowing us, it's probably going to be a while. We're constantly swamped with work. You know how it is.”

“Too busy to plan your special day?” he smirked, “I don’t believe it, you were already picking your dress, weren’t you?”

“Well, I do have my priorities straight,” YN laughed. “But seriously, though,” she insisted, “I swear you might end up tying the knot before I do.”

Jake chuckled in response.

__________

He would contemplate the conversation in the following weeks, assuming the wedding talk had merely been banter. The idea of YN getting married seemed like a distant future, perhaps years away.

Little did he know that merely a month later, a small, elegant envelope would arrive in the mail, bearing news that would unknowingly alter the course of their fate.

Miss YN YLN and Mr Harry Styles Request the pleasure of your company at their Wedding Save the Date

Next Track : St Jude

Series Masterlist

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

@aintthatapity

@sinarainbows

@vanfleeter

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foggy2109 · 4 months ago

Text

Analysing A&W because its my fav LDR song

Also this is my first ever post so idk wtf im doing lol

Also also tw for: rape ig and other mature and generally sad topics

Lana has this special ability where her lyrics seem to be from both the first and third person at the same time. Her descriptions are specific, but not obvious, it creates this unique duality in a way. And its what i love most abt her writing. Its so specific, but not obvious.

Part 1 (American Whore):

“I haven't done a cartwheel since i was nine”

Lana starts of the song by commenting on the premature loss of innocence in young girls (loss of innocence is a big theme throughout the song, just in different ways). Doing cartwheels is just kids being kids and goofing off, so by lana saying she hasn’t done one since she was nine (which i don’t think is necessarily meant in a literal sense), she’s saying that maybe she had to grow up too fast. Which is a very common experience among young girls (the whole ”girls mature faster than boys” thing).

There could also be a far more sinister ig connotation in that line, with girls especially being sexualized from a very young age. Themes of sexualization, esp of women, are present throughout the whole song, so it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what she meant.

"I haven't seen my mother in a long, long time"

This can be linked to the loss of innocence thing. The absence of a mother figure probably leads to feelings if abandonment and such, which could lead people to look to external sources, like men to fill that void.

"I mean, look at me, look at the length of my hair"

"My face, the shape of my body"

"Do you really think I give a damn what I do"

"After years of just hearing them talking?"

This, i think, is obvious abt the focus society places on womens appearance. This obsession with looks overshadows everything else in a way (lana also talks abt this in black bathing suit, another incredible song).

"I say I live in Rosemead"

"Really, I'm at the Ramada"

"It doesn't really matter"

"Doesn't really, really matter"

More LA references lol (very typical of lana). So from what i know, rosemead is a nice, smaller neighborhood in la, while ramada is a chain of budget hotels. So, she says she is in this nice neighborhood when really she's hooking up with people in a motel. I love the way she says it doesn't matter, when you can clearly tell through the song that it does matter, and it does effect her.

"Call him up, come into my bedroom"

"Ended up, we fuck on the hotel floor"

"It's not about havin' someone to love me anymore"

This feels like sex as a coping mechanism (in the same way gods and monsters does). It also delves into the loss of innocence from the very first line, exept instead of loosing childhood innocence its where sex has transitioned from being an intimate act between two people who love each other vety very much into just an addiction or coping mechanism (also could tie back to ocean blvd with the “fuck me to death” line).

"This is the experience of bein' an American whore"

"Called up one drunk, called up another"

"Forensic Files wasn't on"

Forensic files is a true crime show i think (i haven't watched it). I get the sense from this that she knows what she is doing is self-destructive and dangerous; she has self-awareness, yet continues down this path. Unlike in “gods and monsters,” she’s not even in denial anymore, she’s not telling herself that “this is what she really wants.” Which i think is even sadder, like there is no delusion, she consciously doing this FULLY aware that its bad and dangerous.

Like this is not casual sex for fun.

"Watching Teenage Diary of a Girl"

"Wondering what went wrong"

"I'm a princess, I'm divisive"

The princess reference is juxtaposed to being divisive; to be perfect and passive yet also judged and divided.

I dont really know what “teenage diary of a girl.” Apparently its abt a girl starting a relationship with her mum’s boyfriend (??). I can only imagine this is supposed to abt the mother line from the begging.

"Ask me why, why, why I'm like this"

"Maybe I'm just kinda like this"

"I don't know, maybe I just like this"

It's clear why she is like this; society. The way society treats women, or "whores," the way society treats young girls, and the way society has treated lana specifically.

They judge womens bodies until they end up seeking validation from men, then judge them even more for being whores. Like it's crazy.

The "Maybe I'm just kinda like this ... I don't know, maybe I just like this" are probably the saddest lines in the whole song.

"I say I live in Rosemead"

"Really, I'm at the Ramada"

"It doesn't really matter"

"Doesn't really, really matter"

"Call him up, he comes over again"

"Yeah, I know I'm over my head, but, oh"

"It's not about havin' someone to love me anymore"

"No, this is the experience of bein' an American whore"

"I mean, look at my hair"

"Look at the length of it and the shape of my body"

"If I told you that I was raped"

"Do you really think that anybody would think I didn't ask for it?"

"I didn't ask for it"

Lana contrasts being raped with the fact that she enjoys casual sex. People see a “whore” and just assume they asked for it. After being sexually abused, the guilt and shame can be immense. You can feel dirty, and the world will call you a whore because of it.

Sex addiction is often a response to sexual abuse.

"I won't testify, I already fucked up my story"

This is def commentary on society’s ingrained misogyny and rape culture. The "didn’t testify, already fucked up my story" makes me think of the perfect/imperfect victim concept.

"On top of this, so many other things you can't believe"

The "can’t believe" bit also makes me think of how dismissive society is to women who come forward (like when the 97% figures were going around and a lot if men dismissed, or refused to acknowledge it).

"Did you know a singer can still be"

"Lookin' like a side piece at thirty-three?"

Women's value is often tied to youth and beauty. Despite being a successful singer, lana can still be reduced to just a "side piece." Society views her as past her prime.

When she's a side piece, she's having sex, but not a real, true emotional connection. As she's already stated, she doesn't care about "love" anymore, which is a really dark, and scary place to be mentally. She has given up on being valued for anything other than just her body (also loosing innocence in what “love” is).

"God's a charlatan, don't look back, babe"

"Puts the shower on while he calls me"

"Slips out the back door to talk to me"

These lines are obviously about how this man is hiding his relationship with lana from whoever he is actually with.

"I'm invisible, look how you hold me"

"I'm invisible, I'm invisible"

"I'm a ghost now, look how you hold me now"

Despite their apparent physical closeness, she feels invisible and unseen in their relationship.

The more she is giving into these loveless relatioships the more she's disappearing in a way. This was also the theme in the song "How to Dissapear" of NFR.

This whole section also taps into the complicated-ness of being the “other woman” or “side piece” in a relationship. This part of the song forces us to confront this moral ambiguity.

Part 2 (Jimmy):

This part of the song, with the production feels like Lana playing up the part of the "whore."

"It's not about havin' someone to love me anymore (oh, okay)"

"No, this is the experience of bein' an American whore"

"It's not about havin' someone to love me anymore"

"No, this is the experience of bein' an American whore"

"This is the experience of bein' an American whore"

"Jimmy, Jimmy, cocoa puff, Jimmy, Jimmy ride"

"Jimmy, Jimmy, cocoa puff, Jimmy, get me high (oh, my God)"

"Love me, if you love enough, you can be my light"

"Jimmy only love me when he wanna get high"

According to genius: “Her delivery of these lines interpolates the 1959 song “Shimmy Shimmy KO KO Bop” which is about a man being entranced by an exotic woman (and her dancing). This is most likely meant as innuendo given the sexual themes that are discussed in “A&W.”

It’s also apparently an old children’s clapp-along game, which takes us back to the very beginning of the song, with the loss of innocence, and the sexualization of young girls.

I think jimmy just represents all these men who she's hooking up with (could also be a tie back to ultraviolence). Also a “coacoa puff is a cigarette laced with cocaine lol.

"Jimmy only love me when he wanna get high"

"Your mom called, I told her you're fucking up big time"

The repetition of Jimmy only loving her when he wants to get high shows that these relationships are transactional in nature and devoid of real affection or connection.

After this part, in the rest of the song, lana's voice goes in and out, it becomes distorted, and the beat becomes heavier. Maybe it's the drugs, or maybe it's meant to represent her giving up.

We know from earlier in the song that she knows this is bad for her so... maybe this is her way of ignoring how bad it actually is, just giving into it.

#lana del rey #lana is god #analysis #lyrics #lyric analysis

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