#oh god he’s basically a shorter version of Alex | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clumsyclifford · 3 years ago

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hello bella i am here for the fanfic ask game and i am going to use the letters of my name to pick questions. B E L A R. actually wait not A because pretty much all your fic titles are song lyrics which is pretty self explanatory. for E hmm… where would you take t-shirt ‘verse jalex next. that series was some of the first fics of yours i read and immediately fell in love. anyways hi! - bella

would you believe my first thought was "oh she's spelling belarus" hope it's okay that i just assume your full name is belarus from now on

this is once again So So Long so here's a read more

fanfic ask games

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience? oh boy. well the short answer is a capital-Y Yes. we were just speaking about emo lashton! the third one, aka i know that you're so afraid, was written after i had a really really awful day and pretty much embodies how i was feeling that day (the screaming/crying/destruction of property bit), though i did not do any of those things. also acappella 'verse (excluding the merrikat fic unfortunately) is HEAVILY influenced by personal experience in fact probably moreso than most of my other fics - the second one where they drop a single was written literally the night that my acappella group released our first single so it is like. Extremely Real Life. obviously jewish cake aka ha'ahava hazot shelanu is Very Very inspired by my personal experience, some chapters more than others, by which i mean the ones with the families lmao. brazil fic is inspired by personal experience though that one is a lot more "inspired by" than "taken directly from" because i lived there i wasn't just a visitor and also i never went to maracanã or like. did most of this stuff. but the location of the hotel is on a road i have actually been on many times and the pizza place they go to was one of my favorite places to eat so there's that. and the lashton sequel of brazil fic (you should have seen that sunrise) is based on a time when i actually went to pedra do arpoador and watched the sunrise, though for me it was with my family and it was on rosh hashanah hdflkgjdlksj.

i wrote this fic you should know i'll be there for you for jess where ashton misses his siblings and more specifically laments not being there for his sister when her gerbils die which was like a canon divergent version of me actually being present for when my sister's gerbils died. that's one. also wrote a cashton prompt fic where, again, ashton misses his siblings, are you detecting a theme here? i project basically all of my homesickness onto ashton because he's the only one with younger siblings. but those feelings are very personal and authentic. AND LASTLY: this jalex prompt fic where jack drives the wrong way on clara barton parkway is directly inspired by a time when i drove the wrong way on clara barton parkway and it was, in fact, one of the most terrifying moments of my life. okay i have to stop now because i've basically written you a novel answering this question and i could probably keep going. in short (lmao): yes. many.

E: If you wrote a sequel to t-shirt jalex, what would it be about? i actually know the answer to this!! the plan for the next t-shirt jalex fic, god willing lmao, is to write one where jack meets some of alex's students. i just really wanna see it happen. also, one day maybe i'll write their wedding, but like...that's a big Maybe since i have never been to a wedding that i remember well enough to write and i don't know shit about them especially non-jewish ones lol

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting? i saw taylor answer this and i agreed very strongly with what they said. for shorter fics, especially when they're written on a whim (which i haven't done in a long time, excluding halloween fic event for which that was not supposed to happen), i'll read over it once or twice when it's done and do final edits and then just post it. for longer fics, like for example so damn familiar, i reread it almost every time i opened the doc, and whenever i'd finish a scene i'd go back and reread it and then probably reread it again. this serves a dual purpose though, because while it is good for editing, i also just...really enjoy my own writing lmao. and i will also add that i have not finished editing so damn familiar like before i post every chapter i go back and reread it and make small final changes so i can be sure that when i'm rereading it after it's posted there's nothing that makes me think "damn it i wish i had changed that before i posted it." so for short fics, very few, and for long fics, Very Many. i remember when i was writing hello hello i reached a point where i wanted to be done writing it so bad but i had to reread the entire thing every time i wanted to continue writing it, to get the vibe, and i was soooo sick of reading it. which is a difficult point for me to reach considering how much i like my own writing so do with that information what you will.

A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]? okay i know you said not to answer this one and it's not like i need reason to say MORE but i just wanna put it out there that i do in fact have a google doc entitled "good lyrics for titles" and if i hear a good lyric i throw it in the doc and when i need a title, especially for something short and spontaneous like a prompt fic, that's the first place i look. also on occasion i do listen to music when i write so i can get a title from a song i've heard while writing but a lot of the time i do not just because it's harder for me to concentrate or maintain a vibe while listening to music and in those cases it's convenient to have a doc full of potential titles so i don't have to go hunt down an appropriate song and scour the lyrics. ok that's all.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence? whew i did answer this one here also will add miss sam @tirednotflirting to the list because i've said it before and i'll say it again she is exceptionally good at writing description and that is Not My Forte! i make an active effort to include any bits and pieces of environmental description/imagery in my fics most of the time and she just. Does That. which i really admire and try to emulate with ~word pictures~ as much as i can.

#this is SO unnecessarily long #im so sorry belarus #bellarus #sdflhkgjsdflj #ask #anonymous #cubs anon #every time i type that tag i lose years of my life #i should go to bed #tshirt jalex are so cute i love them so much #sure do hope to write more of them or anyone at all soon #sure do hope to uh. write soon #lmao #sigh #fic talk

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alltheloveflowerh · 5 years ago

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A Darker Blue

There aren’t many times where Y/N thought how proud she was of herself; not because she liked to put herself down but simply because a lot of things weren’t that big of a deal to her. Sure, her family and friends never stopped telling her that, but she never felt like it.

But this time it was different, because certainly having an exhibition in quite a known art gallery with her own art had to be something she could be very proud of. Especially seeing it completely organised in this magnificent gallery, filled with people she loved the most and just simply people who actually came for her art. It was something she hadn’t felt in a long time, it was something like a dream yet so true that the words ‘’I did this, and I am proud of myself’’ kept circling around her brain waiting for the exhibition to finally be opened.

Standing there as the owner of the gallery spoke to all the guests, introducing Y/N and her work felt unreal, even to her best friend who was standing right next to her and pinching her palm every five seconds.

‘‘Stop that, would you!’’, Y/N quietly hissed at Alex who just couldn’t stop pinching her, ‘‘Gonna kick you in the balls if you don’t stop.’‘

‘‘Sorry sorry, just- I’m really happy for you.’‘ He said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it lightly with a proud smile on his face.

‘‘Me too.’‘ She whispered.

A lot of people approached her, saying their praises for her work and its beauty, each telling their own version of the story behind the art and what it evoked in them. It was refreshing hearing so many people say positive critics rather than hearing how broken and painful her art was.

In the first few hours Y/N even managed to sell some of her art, well not Y/N exactly but a lovely couple actually asking how much it was even though she never had the intentions to sell it; not because she wanted to keep it but rather because she didn’t think someone would ask to buy it from her. So you could say the whole evening was going quite well until an unexpected guest showed up suddenly, storming her evening as he usually would.

He just stood there, unbothered by anyone, looking at each piece carefully while Y/N watched him wide eyed from across the room. He didn’t look like Y/N used to remember him; his hair was shorter, but not too short, his barely grown facial hair he could never manage was there as well. A white shirt with little flowers hanging loosely on his body while a leather jacked draped his shoulders.

Y/N wanted to believe it wasn’t him. She really wanted to believe that she was wrong and that it was someone else, because if he had the audacity to show up after-

‘‘Wait, s’that Harry?’‘ Her thoughts were interrupted with a very confused Divya hovering over Y/N’s shoulder.

‘‘It better not be.’‘

‘‘But I mean, he looks exactly like him so it must-’‘

‘‘Di.’‘ Y/N said in a warning tone.

‘‘No but seriously, look at his hands. Either that’s your ring on his finger or someone else has the exact same one, which is qui-’‘

‘‘Or you’re just blind and that’s not Harry.’‘ Y/N turned to face her best friend, looking quite pissed, ‘‘I mean you did forget your glasses at home, so.’‘

‘‘Oh go ahead, humour me.’‘ Divya huffed in annoyance; yes, she maybe was the clumsiest of them all, but she did not need to be remained of that.

Before Y/N could say anything else, Divya’s eyes widened in terror making Y/N turn around to meet someone’s gaze who was standing right in front of her. Di quickly took Y/N’s hand into her own before coming to stand between the two in a very protective manner.

‘‘It’s fine Di, you don’t need to protect me.’‘ Y/N chuckled at her friend, squeezing her hand.

‘‘I’m staying right. Not moving.’‘ Di stared into Harry’s eyes trying to act very tough, but her baby face did not help her one bit. ‘‘Not even an inch.’‘

‘‘Hi.’‘ It was the first thing he said after years. A certain kind of light filled his eyes, as he moved his head a little to look at Y/N.

‘‘Nah, man, you should really go.’‘ Di followed Harry’s movements not allowing him to glance at her friend, causing Harry to laugh softly at how protective she always was.

‘‘Di, love, it’s okay. You really can let go of my hand. I’ll manage him on my own.’‘ Y/N leaned in and whispered into Divya’s ear. ‘‘I promise, if I don’t, I give you permission to kick his ass.’‘ She added, making Di smirk in victory before leaving the two alone.

‘‘What are you doing here?’‘ Y/N didn’t hesitate to become snappy, because she really did not want to waste another second since he really had no business being there.

‘‘I-um, I’ve read in the papers about your exhibition, so I decided to see it myself.’‘ Harry answered nervously, fidgeting with his fingers.

‘‘You hate the papers.’‘ She said, not breaking eye contact for a second. ‘‘They remind you of tabloids and you hate them.’‘ Her stare became more firm.

‘‘R-Right...’‘ He looked down at his hands, ‘‘I’ve seen.. on your Instagram.. about it and then.. on-on Di’s stories ..’‘ He was noticeably nervous, considering that the once well spoken and calm boy kept stuttering and making no sense in his sentences. ‘‘And then on the Instagram of the gallery, I saw the other... informations and yeah..’‘

‘‘So basically, you’ve stalked me.’‘

‘‘What?’‘ He quickly looked up, ‘‘No, no! I swear I wasn’t, you just popped up and I just wanted to see what you were up to and.. I-I saw all that..’‘ He tried to defend himself but it wasn’t really helping his case.

‘‘Ah I see, because everybody tries to keep up with their fuck buddy after they’ve dumped them.’‘ Y/N kept nodding with a sarcastic smile on her face, ‘‘Totally makes sense now.’‘

‘‘That’s not-’‘ Harry wanted to argue with her, and tell her how wrong she was, but he knew she wouldn’t have it. ‘‘You know I’m really proud of you, right?’‘ He looked up meeting her stern gaze, tilting his head a little, ‘‘And I-um, I’ve missed you.’‘ A small but hopeful smile on his face, trying to find something, anything in her eyes.

‘‘You really should leave, Harry.’‘ Y/N looked down at her feet, taking a step back from him. ‘‘I never asked you to be here.’‘ Looking back into his eyes with pain filling her own. ‘‘I never wanted you here.’‘

‘‘I know I’ve fucked up Y/N, but please-’‘ Taking a step closer, he tried to reach her hand but she just jerked it away and moved back from him again.

‘‘Hi there, I don’t think we’ve met before.’‘ Someone behind Y/N came into view, extending his hand to introduce himself.

‘‘Yeah, we haven’t.’‘ Taking has hand for a light shake, Harry added. ‘‘I’m Harry, and you are?’‘

‘‘This is my boyfriend,’‘ Y/N quickly jumped in, panicking inside her. ‘‘Alex. This is an old friend, Harry.’‘ She put her arm around Alex’s pulling him closer to her while he gave Y/N a very confused look.

‘‘O-Oh, I see. Well I’ll leave you two alone.’‘ Harry pursed his lips giving them a light nod before looking at Y/N one last time, ‘‘It was nice seeing you, Y/N’‘, and turning around to leave.

‘‘Wanna tell me what was that about?’‘ Alex asked after both him and Y/N watched Harry get lost in the crowd of people.

‘‘I-I.. I’m not sure.’‘ Y/N turned and looked at him, confused as ever.

‘‘I mean, I’m flattered, love, but wasn’t aware we were an item.’‘ He smirked at her, knowing well how to poke fun at her. ‘’Didn’t know you’ve promoted yourself.’‘

‘‘Oh my God, please.’‘ She lightly pushed him away from her in embarrassment. ‘‘He’s...He’s just someone from the past.’‘ She added quietly.

‘‘Why haven’t you ever mentioned him or even, how come we’ve never met?’‘

‘‘Oh because Harry and I met before I even knew you. And I didn’t really feel the need to mention him...’‘

‘‘Because it hurts too much?’‘ Alex asked carefully, knowing how fragile Y/N could be and how hurt she was back when they actually first met.

Y/N didn’t exactly answer him, but simply gave him a small nod. But in the end it was a great evening and an even better night despite the awkward encounter. Some of the art was sold, some of it was gifted but nevertheless, Y/N and her art have been praised not only by the people but the media who came to capture it all as well.

At the end of the night, as they were locking up the gallery and saying goodbye to each others. Y/N one last time hugged her friends and family before stay with Alex, looking proudly back at the gallery with dimmed lights and her art inside.

‘‘You did good, tiny one.’‘ Alex said proudly pulling Y/N into a tight hug. ‘‘We all are very proud of you, you know that right?’‘ Y/N just nodded against his chest.

‘‘We’re gonna have a proper celebration some day after this. We lot are gonna get so fucking drunk.’‘ Both of the started chuckling at that thought of all of them drunk in someones apartment.

‘‘Gonna record it for sure.’‘ Y/N joked, ‘‘Sure is gonna be something to look back to.’‘

Little did Y/N know that Harry hadn’t left when he was told to and little did he know that the sight he was going to see was gonna make him vomit.

Simply seeing Y/N in another man’s arms made him sick, it made him jealous. Even after years of not seeing her, not being with her, she still possessed a certain part of his heart, and quite literally possessed because she could do anything with it and he would still be back for her.

His plans were to talk to her, approach her and apologise. Not necessarily forgive him because she had obviously moved on, but maybe just maybe he had hoped that seeing him would evoke some kinds of feelings to come back, no matter wrong of him that was to think. But little did he know that he was absolutely right, but he was never going to know that.

Early in the morning when everyone was home asleep, Harry or Y/N were wide awake in their own beds and it would have been a lie to say that neither fell asleep with the thought of each other in their minds, reliving every moment they had spent with one another; from to strangers to lovers, from joy to pain, from love to heartbreak.

Running fashionably late was something Y/N was best at, especially when it came to University. This time though, it ended up being quite the... experience. As Y/N rushed towards the door, she didn’t really look around to notice some guys playing around and she definitely didn’t notice the two ones who were having a water fight. Well, she didn’t until one of the guys ducked and the water splattered her soaking the front of her white tee and her jacket.

So not only was she late to hand over her assignment but she was completely wet while one of them was laughing his ass off. Y/N wasn’t exactly mad, she certainly was annoyed mostly because of the other guy approaching her with a huge smile on his face, probably trying to contain his laughter.

‘‘I’m so sorry. Are you alright? I am so incredibly sorry.’‘ His voice was low yet harsh enough to sound like the one you get after waking up. Noticing her wet shirt, he add ‘‘Fuck, your shirt is soaked. I-, fuck, I’m sorry.’‘ His hand ran through his long hair pushing it away from his forehead.

‘‘It’s fine, I just really have to go, so please just-’‘ Y/N quickly said, trying to bypass him.

‘‘No no please it’s not fine.’‘ The boy moved quickly not letting her pass, ‘‘Let me give you a shirt or something, it is my fault after all.’‘

‘‘No seriously, I’m running really late and the longer I wait-’‘ She had to stop herself because she would end up snapping at him, and he obviously didn’t mean it, ‘‘Please, just, let me leave. It’s all fine, I swear.’‘

Y/N gave him a tight-lipped smile before quickly moving past him and running towards the office to hand in her assignment obviously not caring about the state she was in.

‘‘Mr. Davies I am so sorry for being late, there was this thing and then something else came up and then-’‘ She stopped her rambling, trying to catch her breath looking at a bewildered professor.

‘‘Should I even ask?’‘ Mr. Davies nodded towards her wet shirt with a concerned look, reaching a hand to take her assignment.

‘‘Please don’t.’‘

‘‘Alright. Well thank you for handing it in.’‘ He skimmed quickly over the photographs in the envelope, ‘‘You didn’t write the name.’‘ Mr. Davies added.

‘‘The name?’‘

‘‘Yes, the name. Each student named their projects, and yours is missing that.’‘

‘‘Oh right, that. Okay, um, the name for it is No better Love.’‘ The first thing she thought of was one of Hozier’s song she loved, so she used that.

Mr. Davies simply nodded at her dismissing her from his office. Leaving the office, Y/N let a shaky breath still a bit under the influence of running and rushing around. But of course she couldn’t leave Uni without encountering the guy that literally emptied a bottle of water on her.

‘‘Hey, hey! Hi!’‘ A familiar voice could be heard behind it, getting closer with each second, ‘’Wait! Hi sorry!’‘ finally catching up with her, he touched her elbow slowly turning Y/N around. ‘‘Hiiii.’’

‘‘Urm, hey.’‘ Y/N raised her hand in a smile wave.

‘‘Look I know you said it’s fine, but I know it’s not and so please let me get you another shirt because you are gonna catch a cold because of me.’‘ The boy explained himself, obviously sorry for the accident. ‘‘Plus it’s a great shirt; The Rolling Stones? I myself, love them.’‘

‘‘Yeah, um, they’re great, yea’. I’m sure I’ll just be fine, no cold and all that.’‘ It’s not that she was mad, she really was going to be fine, it’s simply just a wet shirt.

‘’No, none of that.’’ The boy said, taking his jacket and hoodie off revealing a plain grey tee with a little pocket on the left side of his chest. ‘‘I’ll just give you this one,’‘ dropping his clothes on the floor he took his shirt of as well, ‘‘I swear it’s clean, put it on just this morning.’‘

‘‘Wha-Wait, no, no-’‘ Y/N wanted to stop him from taking his clothes off, but he was already putting his hoodie back on and offering Y/N his grey shirt. ‘‘It’s really not necessary.’‘

‘‘Just take it, yea’? At least it’s gonna make me feel better.’’ A kind smile was on his face, and Y/N observed him for a few seconds, looking at each inch of his face. ‘’I’m Harry, by the way.’’ He added, offering her a hand shake.

‘‘Well, um, thank you, Harry. I’m Y/N.’‘ She smiled back at him, shaking his hand.

‘‘Do you wanna go to a cafe and grab a coffee maybe, or tea? And you should change your shirt in their bathroom as well.’‘

‘‘I suppose we could go for a cuppa.’‘ She answered after thinking for a few seconds, but then nothing could go bad so she accepted his offer.

Little did she know.

Going back to the memories, Y/N thought to herself that maybe she shouldn’t have spent the next 6 hours talking to a complete but very handsome stranger. And maybe then he wouldn’t have fucked her over and maybe she still wouldn’t be heart broken over someone from years ago.

The restlessness wouldn’t let Y/N sleep, so she had to get up and make herself some black tea and simply let her thoughts wonder a tad more while sitting on a balcony cuddled up with a blanket.

Needless to say that Harry was spending his night the same way; but instead of the balcony Harry was sitting on the floor of his bedroom looking out of the window and thinking of that one time he had visited Y/N’s atelier for the first time.

It’s been a couple of months since Harry and Y/N first met, and it was safe to say that their little friendship-but-looking-more-like-a-relationship grew a lot as they spent more time with one another with each week passing. But that day, it was getting quite late when Y/N decided to take Harry to her atelier simply because he was nagging her about not painting enough and giving it easily up.

Upon arriving to the building, they walked inside of a loft apartment that was turned into an atelier for Y/N’s uses. Harry observed each corner looking around and admiring it. Taking a few steps around it and simply enjoying the smell of paint as well as the displayed art that he knew belonged to Y/N.

‘‘So from what I’ve gathered, you certainly are talented, you have so to say your own safe space to paint in, but what I don’t really get is, why did you stop?’’ Harry turned around facing her, ‘’I mean, I just don’t see it why, so please do explain.’’ He added, crossing his arms over and walking towards her slowly.

‘‘Well I just did..’‘ Y/N avoided eye contact by looking around the room.

‘‘So an art major, might I add, just stopped painting?’‘ Coming even closer to her, he gently turned her head and lifted her chin.

‘‘Yes.’‘ It was her turn to cross her arms, while looking sternly but deeply in Harry’s very green eyes.

‘‘Well, I just wanna know. How come.’‘ Their faces were only inches apart, while the tension between the two bodies grew with each second.

‘‘But maybe that’s really none of your business?’‘

‘‘Weird, considering I’ve asked that question over hundred times till now,’‘ he moved his hand gently, making his from her wrist up to her shoulders. ‘‘And we’re quite close friends if I dare say so myself.’’ It came out as almost a whisper.

‘‘Fair enough,’‘ deciding to play along, Y/N moved her head so close to his that their lips were only half an inch apart, but quickly moving her lips to his ear adding, ‘‘but I mean, we’re not really that close now, are we?’‘

Before she had the chance to walk away from him, Harry quickly grabbed her waist turning her around making her quite literally fall against his body.

‘‘I’d like to think we’re..’‘ he placed his lips just almost against hers, ‘‘pretty close.’‘ He mumbled finally pressing his lips against hers.

Her lips were as soft as they looked, rosy and sweet; the warmth of her cheeks quickly took over Harry’s semi-cold palms as their kissed deepened with whatever energy they had left in them. Soon the warmth from her lips and cheeks, took over his whole body as the coolness, caused by the silkiness of her hair (a feeling that simply wasn’t possible yet it became physical), fought with the radiating warmth.

And the whole night turned exactly into that, sweetness and warmth, as they laid upon the white spread out sheets over the wooden floor making love to one another, as yet there have been no strings clarified. Then it turned into soft smiles and little shared kisses as very personal stories and feelings got out with the late hours each night would usually bring. That night, they showed each other their sweet and soft yet vulnerable sides but still refused to admit to themselves that perhaps there were strings and feelings.

It was something like the smallest confession that would save you the trouble, if only you could say it. But then you don’t, because it would show even more off of your vulnerable side which was something you just could not afford. Since vulnerability was something people were most scared of in this world.

It was one of those nights that Harry kept coming back to with each time he had slept with another woman, and wishing it was Y/N instead no matter how wrong of him that was. Y/N was simply someone Harry could not forgive himself for losing and hurting. There wasn’t much he could do now, although it didn’t mean he would stop trying.

A long while after their last encounter had passed, even though Y/N would argue and say ‘’Not long enough’’ but it’s still been over two weeks, she found herself in her atelier at 1am sitting on a pile of pillows on the floor while looking through the latest photos she took and observing them closely.

She had just finished talking to Alex about the whole Harry situation that had started back in the gallery; Alex who couldn’t help but be curious and Y/N who just didn’t want to talk about him but did nevertheless since Alex was one of her closest friends and he kind of did deserve to know. What Y/N wasn’t aware of was that speaking of the devil, he would come knocking on the door.

The same knock that startled Y/N to death because one, it was 2pm, second, no one had business even coming there and three, she was a very easy person to scare especially late at night. So imagine her surprise after looking through the peephole only to see a mop of perfectly brown little locks who belonged to no other than Harry himself. Debating whether to even open the door, she unlocked the door twisting the door handle.

‘‘What the hell are you doing here?’‘ Her voice was low since it was quite late, but it came out as a hiss since she was getting irritated by him.

‘‘I was walking around because I couldn’t sleep, and somehow I found myself in the neighbourhood,’‘ Harry explained himself, trying not to sound as nervous as he was, ‘‘and so I was your light was on, so I, um, here I am.’‘

‘‘You were in the neighbourhood, really.’‘ She raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes at him; for some reason not believing him, ‘‘You know that you lost the right to be here a very long time ago.’‘

‘‘And you know I am the reason you continued to do art and now get where you are.’‘ He snapped back at her, before he could even think of what was going to say.

‘‘Now that’s just a really low blow.’‘ She couldn’t lie and say that that didn’t hit too close to home, ‘‘And untrue.’‘ She added, straightening her posture and crossing her arms over her chest. Taking a step backwards, she placed a hand on the door trying to close it on him, but before Y/N could do that Harry stopped her by putting his palm over the doorknob.

‘‘Wait, I am sorry, that.. that really was rude of me.’‘ Pushing the door back a little he slipped through now having the door behind him. ‘‘Can we just,’’ he moved her hand from the handle and closed the door, ‘‘can we just talk, please?’‘

‘‘No! No, you don’t get to do that.’‘ Y/N jerked her hand away from him, completely mad, ‘‘You can’t just waltz in here like nothing had ever happened, demanding we do whatever you say.’‘ It seemed that whether she was talking to him or simply thinking of him, in the back of her throat she felt like crying.

‘‘That’s not what I’m doing.’‘

‘‘That’s exactly what you’re doing, Harry!’‘ Y/N waved her hands around, ‘‘It’s what you’ve always done!’‘ she argued, ‘’You think you can waltz into my life just like that, make it a fucking mess and simply leave because you felt like it!’’

‘‘Y/N, ple-’‘

‘‘No! You can’t, you can’t make me feel everything all at once and then just fucking drop me like a piece of garbage, because-because you got bored.’‘ Anger filled her veins but tears were just about to form in her eyes, ‘‘And now, after years of not even speaking to me, even a fuck you would have been appreciated more than silence by the way, so now you decided to come back! Come back into my life and ask we talk.’‘ Not a single tear rolled down her cheek but her eyes became red as she was holding them back.

‘’Hell, even I wouldn’t have the audacity to show up to an exhibition of someone heartlessly dropped like shit.’‘ Y/N added quickly, jabbing at Harry’s heart with each word she spoke as he stood there in silence.

‘‘It’s not what I did, Y/N’‘ his head was hung low, and his voice small, ‘‘It’s not what I’ve wanted to do, and you know it, my love.’‘ Daring to look up,he looked at her glossy eyes feeling sick in the pit of his stomach.

‘‘Don’t you dare call me that.’‘ She bit back, ‘‘You’ve lost the right to call me that.’‘

‘‘Right, now only your pretentious boyfriend Alex gets to call you that.’‘ He said in a mocking manner.

‘‘Oh please, you’re the one to say that.’‘ A humours laugh escaped her lips as she added, ‘‘Only you can be called pretentious after everything.’’

‘‘Does he,’‘ Harry paused for a second, ‘‘does he love you the way I do?’‘ he spat the words filled with a sense of anger.

‘‘But that’s the thing, Harry,’‘ Y/N laughed ironically, ‘‘You never really loved me,’‘ containing the tears back in her throat again, she continued, ‘‘so why argue with me. Why bother coming to my exhibition? Why even come here, to my atelier, when you know I do not want you here. Why bother, Harry, when you never really loved me.’‘ It was hard to have this fight again, it was hard remembering it let along having it over and over again.

‘‘I fucking loved you with everything I had! The problem was it was never enough! Wasn’t fucking enough for you!’‘ Harry knew that wasn’t the case and yet he said it; he knew that it was his fault their relationship fell apart.

‘‘It wasn’t enough for me?!’‘ Y/N yelled back at him, ‘‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’‘ She added pushing hard at his chest.

‘‘That’s just utter bullshit, Harold,’‘ slamming her fists against his chest again with almost no power, she continued, ‘‘that’s not what happened and you fucking know it.’‘ Slamming once more against his chest before her forehead fell onto it, ‘‘you fucking know it.’‘ she added with a whisper.

‘‘I’m so so sorry.’‘ Was the only thing he could say, before putting his hand on the back of her head, stroking it lightly while pressing his lips on her temple.

The night wasn’t the worst night of their lives, but it was a close second or third. Their argument had been coming up for a while now, but neither really wanted to talk about it fearing with it might bring. But it simply couldn’t have been avoided, actually it could have if only they had talked when things were easier.

‘‘We-, I just, you can’t keep doing this to me, Harry.’‘ Her eyes were sad, trying to look at him only to have him turn his head away. ‘’It hurts, okay?’‘ Y/N felt small and weak, and it wasn’t something she wanted to feel.

‘‘C’mon Y/N-’‘

‘‘No, but Harry it does.’‘

‘‘I’m not doing anything, Y/N.’‘ Harry ran his hand through his messy hair, letting a breath of frustration out.

‘‘That’s exactly my point!’‘ Standing up, she came closer to him, ‘‘We’ve been doing this for seven months now,’‘ she waved her hands gesturing the space between them,’‘and even though I am all for not labelling people or myself, this has to be something more than just..’‘

‘‘Just what, Y/N?’‘ He dared to look her in the eyes.

‘‘I don’t know, fuck buddies, or whatever you call us.’‘

‘‘For fuck’s sake, Y/N, not this again.’‘ He slipped off of the chair, walking a few steps away from her.

‘‘Yes this again Harry. I get that you don’t feel... as much as I do, but if this is just us fucking, then,’‘ swallowing hard, she barely could continue but Y/N knew she had to, ‘‘then I don’t want it, Harry.’‘

‘‘But it is just that Y/N,’‘ Harry angrily said turning around to face her, ‘‘I mean it’s not just fucking, we do have some fun apart from that but that’s all it is Y/N.’‘ Lie.

‘‘So what, you never thought that this could be something more?’‘ Tears were forming in her eyes as she was listening to their conversations.

‘‘I mean, no not really.’‘ Lie number two.

‘‘So you never felt a single thing for me, not even the smallest one, for the whole seven months we’ve been,’‘ the first tear ran down her cheek, ‘‘fucking?’‘ she added with disgust.

‘‘Of course I did, I’m not that heartless, Jesus.’‘ He became more frustrated with himself and the whole situation, ‘‘But I just didn’t really think too much into it.’‘ He hung his head low in shame, mostly because he knew he was lying. They were all fucking lies.

‘‘And while I spent the last few months showing and telling you how much,’‘ she had to stop and brush away a few tears away, ‘‘how much I love you, you never gave it a fucking thought.’‘ With that more tears started to fall down, and her heart slowly started to break.

‘‘I care about you, okay?’‘ Harry tried to come closer and brush the tears away himself, but she just slapped his hands away, ‘‘I really do, but maybe you’re right. We should keep doing this, since I’m hurting you.’‘

‘‘No! Don’t try and turn this back at me, I do not want this to end. Hell, Harry I fucking love you, but I cannot keep letting myself get shattered by you because you want us to go back to fuck buddies!’‘

‘‘But that’s what we’ve always been!’‘ He argued back, ‘‘I mean, like I said, I deeply care for you but that what you and I are! Ever since the beginning I reckon.’‘ Fucking bullshit Harold, he thought to himself.

‘‘Fuck buddies.’‘ Y/N wasn’t asking, simply saying it as a statement.

‘‘Yes.’’ He would hurt her eventually, he just knew that, and this was a right thing to do, Harry tried to convince himself. ‘’But I’m sorry for hurting you, and I won’t do it again, Y/N, I promise.’’

‘‘You aren’t just hurting me Harry, you’re quite literally breaking me.’‘ The look she gave him after that sentence felt like the biggest punch to the face. Her sad eyes looking up at him while tears slowly fell down her cheeks broke him.

‘’I know baby, I swear I will make it up to you if you choose to be mine, and believe me when I say that I will make it up to you.’‘ Was something he was supposed to say, but instead this came out, ‘’I-I am so sorry, lovely, tha-that’s all I can say.’’ before turning around and quickly walking out of her apartment and with that her life as well.

‘‘No, don’t touch me.’‘ Y/N pushed herself away from him, knowing well that she was the one to approach him but not because she wanted to, but because she literally felt weak. ‘‘Leave, Harry.’‘

‘‘I can’t.’‘

‘‘Yes, you fucking can. It’s exactly what you did years ago, didn’t seem to bother you then.’‘ She swallowed the hard lump she felt in her throat, pointing her finger at the door. ‘‘Leave.’‘

‘‘You don’t understand. I can’t, okay?!’‘ He pushed himself off of the wall walking slowly towards her, ‘‘The last time I did that I regretted it more than anything else in my life, and you wanna know why? Because I’ve lost the greatest thing ever, why? Because I was so fucking stupid and scared.’‘ He waved his hands around nervously, trying to take her hand or just get closer to her but she kept moving away from him.

‘‘Aw, isn’t that sweet of you?’‘ Her voice filled with sarcasm, sounding almost evil. ‘‘But s’a tad late, don’t you think?’‘ Suddenly a wave of confidence hit her as Harry’s vulnerability wall was collapsing. ‘’What exactly were you scared of? Me not loving you? Because I surely remember saying it quite a lot to you.’’

‘‘Of commitment.’‘ Admitting it to himself and her for the first time felt a like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but it wasn’t because Y/N made sure to put it back where it belong.

‘‘Well that certainly is a shame, Harry. And I’m sorry to tell this to you, but you have to leave.’‘

‘‘Do you really love him, your boyfriend?’‘ He ignored her statement, ‘‘Like you loved me?’‘ He kept pushing her buttons, but Y/N wouldn’t let him as she would push back.

‘‘Harry, I will not repeat myself again, leave.’‘

‘‘I’m not leaving. So just tell me, do you love him, like you love me?’‘

‘‘If you’re not, then I am.’‘ With that she picked up her jacket before Harry could stop her.

‘‘What? No, Y/N, stop-’‘

‘‘Leave the key under the doormat or in the mailbox under my last name.’‘

‘’Y/N, no, please just don’t leave, okay, I’ll-’‘

But before he could finish his sentence, Y/N was out of the door and the building in a matter of seconds, disappearing into the night leaving Harry with nothing, just like he left her feeling years ago, hopeless and broken.

----

hii i really hope you liked this. do let me know what you think of it or didn’t like in it. i do apologise for any grammar mistakes or misspellings. well i really hope you liked it. :)

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry #styles #harry styles imagines #harry x reader

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karterh-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Levi 1

Levi

This is stupid.

What am I doing?

Nothing odd.

Just a tall teen, buying packaged cookies.

And that’s it.

Watching that movie was a bad idea. Why did I let Nic talk me into watching it? They were so persistent. The movie was good. It made me feel less alien. The worst part was the partial I got from the watching the kiss at the end. I had to hide it behind my letterman’s jacket when we left the theater.

Maybe it’s a good thing. No other on-screen romance has gotten that much of a rise out of me. Fuck. Even my thoughts are getting corny.

“Young man register 15 is available,” the yellow-vested Walmart employee startled me out of my inner turmoil. I looked up at her, she looked tired, unkempt, as my mother would say. She gave me an impatient nod to herd me along to the self-checkout kiosk.

I quickly scanned my purchase and selected the pay option. Fumbling with my wallet I tried to rush the machine into taking my five-dollar bill. The stubborn thing spat it back at me. Infuriatingly, I snatched it back, worked out a barely bent corner and forced the note back into the payment slot. This argument went on for a few more rounds. I felt the stares of the moms waiting in the line. Believe me ladies, I want to get out of here as much as you do. After a fifth attempt it finally accepts my payment and spits my change and receipt at me. I shove it into my jeans pocket, grab my purchase and head for the doors.

“I need to see your receipt, young man,” drawls the exasperated looking man at the greeter post.

I attempt to extract it from my pocket without showering my feet with pennies and dimes. I failed.

“It’s a new policy.”

“It’s fine,” I say and as I hand him the small slip, I see that my hands are shaking.

My hands don’t shake. I scored the winning net in or hockey game against Gillette Saturday night. They’re our biggest competition this season, not to mention our biggest rival. “What is wrong with me.”

“Thank you, have a nice night,” he utters in monotone. he so doesn’t care.

I’m in the clear. Not even close, Pearson.

I make it to the second set of doors and forget how hard it’s snowing. I hate driving around town in snow. I’m not a terrible driver for a 17-year-old. I get carried away after a big win on the ice or a movie with good chase scenes, but generally I keep it in my pants. But other people act like they haven’t lived here for decades and either slide through the intersections or drive half the speed limit.

Crap, am I really doing this?

At the beginning of Christmas break Nic begged me to go see a movie about some gay kid. It didn’t play here in Sheridan. There is no way it would play here. It might turn us impressionable youths into the gays!! Too late. Anyway, Nic convinced my mom that she would likely get a better present if I were allowed to drive up to Billings, Montana to do my holiday shopping. Nic is basically an only child. They know how to manipulate parents. They are my best friend, but I wouldn’t say that to the guys on the team. The guys already give me a hard time for hanging out with them and some of their “freaky” friends. I just feel so comfortable around them.

Unlike now. My socks are wet from slopping to my car. Chucks are not good winter shoes. I jam the key into the door handle to unlock the car. No fancy fob for this ride. Hell, it doesn’t even have cruise control. Gotta love hand-me-downs. Now that Jess is working a job and going to school (Sheridan College, fancy) he was able to buy a better vehicle. So, I get the old Honda my parents bought used ten years ago. The hinges creak as I open the door and slouch into the driver’s seat.

After shoving my backpack into the floor, I set the package of Oreos on the passenger seat. They’re the holiday ones with the red filling. Not really like the movie said, but close.

The car squeals to life with a good forceful turn of the ignition. I should get my friend Joey to change that belt. It’s getting really bad. I carefully make my way out of the packed parking lot as my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket. I know it’s Nic, so I don’t even look.

“Hi.”

“Hey babe?” They sound unsure. Great.

“Why do you call me that? Don’t you’ll make me more nervous?”

“Lee, it’s going to be great! I’m so excited for you. I wish I could watch from your backseat.” Nic ignored my question. Typical.

“God you’re creepy.”

“Yeah. But you love me.”

“Uhhh....” I let silence hang in the chilly air.

“Levi Pearson, you go give that boy his cookies and make his year!”

“How are you cockier than me? Do you think he’ll even get the reference? This is pretty out there.”

“I know he saw the movie, Sarah Riley showed me his secret Instagram post about seeing it and then journaling at City Brew for hours afterward!”

“How do you know it was actually his post?”

“Babe, the freaks know all the best gossip.”

“Seriously? The babe thing?”

“What about it?”

“Even your friends think we’re together!”

“That’s impossible Lee. They all know I’m a demi/panromantic asexual genderqueer!”

“Nic. No one in this county knows what that means, except for you.”

“You’re totally not my type.”

“You mean you’re not my type?”

“Right. Not everyone can be born with genitalia that you are disturbingly focused on. But you are so stoic that no one knows what your type is, other than maybe cheerleader or volleyball player. I’m the only one who sees you. Well until tonight. Then Patrick will see you. Hopefully more of you than I’ve seen.”

“Hey.” I listen to Nic’s peeling cackle for two traffic lights.

“Holy shit. Aren’t you almost there?”

“Just turning off 5th street.”

“Ok. Ok. Ok. I love you! You’ve got this!” With that she hangs up.

I shift into park and look up at the brick house. The lights in the living room shine through the curtains. A big pine tree blocks the only other window facing the street. That’s probably his parents’ room though. That’s how I remember the house when Brad Warren lived there. We used to hang out in grade school, and we’ve been on the same hockey team for two years. I’d ride my bike over here when mom and dad were both at work in the summer.

God. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m mostly just trying to not picture and also hope for the opportunity to see Patrick’s smile. I think a lot about that smile. I didn’t really notice it until he got his braces off last year. It seemed like he smiled for weeks. He was unfortunately outed by some football players in a pretty brutal manner. He hasn't smiled much since then. Nic says he’s been out to his friends for years, which makes us the only two queer guys in the 11th grade, as far as I can tell.

A shadow passes by the window and I jump. Crap. I probably look like a stalker sitting out here.

I grab my backpack off the floor and chuck a couple of textbooks out, so I can fit in the treat I have for Patrick.

The characters in the movie bond over Oreos. And I figured if I showed up and offered them to him, it could be easier than walking up to him at school and saying something dreadfully embarrassing for both of us.

Pearson. You got this.

I wrench my door open and trudge to the Williams’ front door. I can tell by the blue light that the tv is on and I can faintly hear the sounds of Wheel of Fortune. That show is banned in our house. We watch Jeopardy! and no other game shows.

The chime of the doorbell makes me jump. Breathe. In. Out. Hurried little footsteps come toward me. This must be his little brother. I’ve seen him at school functions with his parents. The knob jiggles as he attempts to open the heavy door.

“No! I got it!” The small voice protests. And lights blind me for a second as he stares up at me. I’m already six-one. He must think I’m a giant, as he stands there with his mouth open and his eye wide before squinting at me. “Who are you? Are you Thor?”

“Uhhh, Levi Pearson?” Wow Pearson intimidated by a juvenile.

“Who’s at the door, Alex?” His voice is clear and sharp and makes shiver run down my spine. And then he fills the crack in the doorway standing behind the shorter version of the same person. His bristly dark blonde curls are cropped short. And his light blue eyes look into my soul.

“Levi?”

“Uhh, hey.”

“Why are you at my house?”

“Can we talk?”

“This couldn’t wait until school in the morning?”

“Please?”

“We won’t get very far if you keep answering questions with questions.��

“Boys, shut the door! You’re letting all the heat out.” Their dad has an intimidating presence. He’s big and muscular, and always has a shadow of coal and grease on his skin.

Patrick eyes me wearily.

“Well come in.”

“Thanks.”

The front door leads straight into the living room. They must have painted when they bought the house. It looks totally different. Wow. How does anyone really think I am hetero? I choose to blame my mother and her HGTV habit.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh sorry. Ummm. Did you get Speiker’s assignment from yesterday? I didn’t have a chance to see him before we left for the game.” He glares at me. This was a stretch. We have one class together. Algebra II. I’m decent at it. I mean I’m holding steady to my A-, but I can play dumb.

He looks unconvinced.

“You have friends in that class, why ask me?”

I’ve got to bullshit fast. Mini-Patrick has grown bored of me and now that the door is shut their dad is back in a recliner studying the next word puzzle.

“Well, I was on my way home, and your place is on the way–”

“Are you stalking me?”

“What!?” I try to wipe my now sweaty shaking hands on front of my hoodie. It’s wetter than my hands. This is going great!

“How do you know where I live?” He looks nervous and skeptical.

“Oh. Uhh. Brad used to live here before you.”

“Ooookaaay.”

“Anyway. Your place was on my way home and I need to keep my B in Algebra to stay on the active hockey roster.

“Boys, quit flapping your gums or get out of the living room, you’re interrupting the puzzle,” his dad said while waving us to the kitchen or some other part of the house.

“Fine. Come with me.”

Patrick lead me into the house, cautiously monitoring my every move.

“Patrick. Tell your friend shoes stay at the door.” I was so busy watching Patrick watch me that I didn’t even notice his mom perched at the kitchen counter. She scrutinized me over the top of red-framed reading glasses like a mean librarian, if librarians wore paint splotched bibs. She likes to call herself an artist, but Mom says she’s just crafty with too much free time. I don’t really know what that means but I’ve seen her name on fundraiser auction items.

Patrick clears his throat to get my attention.

“Oh god,” I jump, “sorry.” I dig my toe into the heal of my right shoe popping it off and then do the same with the left. I pick up my sneakers and trudge them back to the front door and take a big deep breath before rejoining Patrick in the kitchen. He leads me down a set of stairs into another living area. It’s basically just an older version of the one upstairs. The couch is more worn, and the recliner looks nonfunctional, but cozy.

“Wait here” he leaves me in the comfy room and my eyes wonder to a wall covered in family photos. I resist the urge to memorize every one of them. Geez. I am a stalker. To calm my fidgeting, I perch on the arm of the couch and stare at the ceiling. I slide my backpack off my shoulders and hold it by the loop at the top.

“Do you have your book with you?” I look down and he’s standing in front of me, still glaring.

“Oh, uh, I don’t really need the homework. I got it from Nic. I just–”

“Dude. What’s going on here? Why the fuck are you at my house then?” His voice is icy and cuts through my small shred of confidence.

“Pat. Calm down.”

“It’s Patrick.”

“Sorry. Patrick.”

“Is this some sort of hazing, jock bet? Infiltrate to home of the homo?”

My stomach had been trying to climb out of my chest and these words drop it to the floor. I slump forward and look at my wet pack and socks. The zipper is partially open, and I can see the bright blue package. I don’t know what to say to him. Of course, that is what this looks like.

“I just wanted to give you something.” I reach into my bag and wrestle to cookie package free. I drop it onto the seat of the battered chair and head quickly back up the stairs. I jam my soggy feet into my shoes, shoulder my bad and leave the warm house without looking at any of the Williams family.

Back in the Civic, I see that I have missed 10 calls and 20 texts. I have one voicemail from home. I opt for that first knowing that all the other communications are from Nic. Mom says dinner is ready and mine will be cold by 7. I check the phone’s screen. It’s just after 7. I’ll make something up. It’ll be fine.

Nic texts again as I close the voicemail window.

Nic: Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.

Nic: <3 <3 <3 <3

Instead of trying to type out my humiliation, I opt for a call instead. I hold the phone with my shoulder as I make a U-turn and drive the five blocks home. It doesn’t take that long for me to spew my rejection and humiliation. I park behind Dad’s old beat up truck and rest my head on my steering wheel as Nic attempts to construct further plans. They seem way more invested in my love life than I am right now. I’m half listening to Nic and half listening to my stomach growling. Tall athletes should not miss meals. But despite its protests I don’t think I can keep anything down.

“Lee!”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening to me or wallowing?”

“Definitely wallowing,” I huff. My breath is starting to fog up my windows.

“Babe, remember when you tripped on your own stick while skating toward the undefended goal in the game against Casper?”

“Wow. As if I didn’t feel shitty enough, thanks Nic.”

“Did you give up hockey after that game?”

“No, but that’s different.”

“You’re right it’s a different kind of match between boys playing with stick.”

“Cute.”

“The cutest enby you know.”

“You’re the only enbee I know.”

“Babe, I can hear you shivering. Go inside. Can me later.”

“Sure.”

I lift my head and realize I have sat here long enough for the snow to coat it windshield. And I think my socks are starting to freeze to my shoes.

#lgbtya #writingprocess #early draft

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