#pink anon I do not know who u are but ur comments on my fics are so nice to me!!!

[perseusofjackson]

Basically my mc and Ronin’s dynamic (ao3 comment from an anon named pink)

Also also also I made my guy into a lil chibi like the guys on the discord :3

Woaw the guy seperated

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (21) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: omg i’m emotional. guys, welcome to the last chapter of n19f. this fic has been the absolute best fun to write and i truly love these girls and the journey they’ve been on so much. big big huge thanks and love to every single person that’s ever left a note, hit reblog or left me lovely anons, DMs, comments or tags, they’ve all meant the absolute world to me and i love u so much. obviously i can’t let things go, so keep an eye out for some form of sequel coming in the next few months or so (patience is a virtue xo). for one last time…….let’s go, lesbians!!!!!!!

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

tw: bit of weed in this one. no zoos, dw xo

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: the girls all went to the beach, Scarlet and Yvie made plans for after uni, and Scarlet got the degree classification she so desperately wanted.

this chapter: it’s Brooke’s graduation day.

***

Brooke looked around at the chaos that was their kitchen. The kitchen utensils (which were all Nina’s that she and Yvie had shamelessly used as if they were their own over the 2 years they’d lived together) were wrapped up in bubble wrap and packed neatly into cardboard boxes which sat on top of the dining table. Yvie’s kitchenware- a blue bowl with a chip out of it, a huge white plate, a Tigger mug, and a mismatched fork, knife and spoon- had been inelegantly packed into an orange Sainsbury’s bag and left on the counter. Brooke had already packed up her own belongings and had moved them into a corner of her room so they wouldn’t take up space in the already-tiny kitchen. All their store cupboard food was in the process of being packed up for the foodbank, which was inevitably going to be flooded with the discarded super noodles, tinned soups and flavoured teas of the migrating tenants of student flats.

Yvie let out a snort from her position in front of their food cupboards, and Brooke’s heart gave a twinge at seeing them so empty. Top shelf had been hers: pasta, rice, stock cubes, and emergency maple syrup tin. The middle shelf was Nina’s: loaf of white bread, tins of tuna, ryvita, breadsticks, crisps. And Yvie’s food had occupied the bottom shelf: chocolate digestives, Ainsely Harriott cous cous, peanut butter, and sour patch kids. All gone. Except, Brooke noticed, for a jar of Marmite which had sat on the middle shelf and that Yvie was holding in her hand.

“Whose was the Marmite?” she asked, an amused tone to her voice. Nina shrugged from her position on the sofa.

“I’ve never once eaten Marmite.”

“It’s on your shelf, girl,” Yvie shrugged, her eyebrows questioning. Nina gave another shrug.

“I know. It’s always lived there. I swear to God it just turned up one day and I left it there. Thought it was one of yours because Christ knows you’re both too lazy to put it on your own damn shelves,” Nina reprimanded them both. Brooke laughed.

“You know you’re going to regret being so mean to us when you don’t live with us any more and we’re adults and it takes 9 months to clear our schedules for one singular coffee,” she raised her eyebrows at her flatmate as Nina pouted and let out a groan, held out her arms for a hug which Brooke fell into.

“Don’t! This is already too heartbreaking, I can’t believe we only have two days left here.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually organised with this moving out process.”

“I can’t believe we have a phantom jar of Marmite that nobody’s claiming,” Yvie piped up, peering at the jar with interest. “Brooke, you like this shit, right?”

“Marmite is Satan’s black fecal matter and I’m offended you think I eat it,” she deadpanned, shifting to get comfy in Nina’s lap whilst attempting to be as inconvenient as possible to her friend.

“Get the hell off me. Only my girlfriend is allowed to sit on me for so long that I lose feeling in my legs,” Nina huffed, shoving at Brooke until she relented and sat beside her. It didn’t stop her from putting her cold feet on her bare thigh though, and Nina hissed and jumped away. “I take it all back. I’m not going to miss either of you idiots at all.”

“You’re a crap liar,” Yvie smiled smugly, binning the Marmite and joining the two girls on the sofa, squeezing in between them both. “Awh, guys…it’s the end of an era.”

Brooke suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes out of nowhere. “Shut up. We’ve still got tomorrow and the next day.”

“Yeah, but tomorrow you’re gonna be doing graduation-y shit and then it’s moving day!” Nina protested. Her voice grew small, dropping to a murmur. “It’s kind of like it’s our last day.”

The girls fell silent. Yvie let out a huge puff of air from her lungs. “Don’t tell anyone I said this but I’m gonna miss you girls so fucking much.”

“Awh, Yves. I’ll miss you too,” Nina sighed, burying her face into Yvie’s shoulder and curling her arms around one of Yvie’s. “But this is good! Change is good, even if it’s scary and different. And you’re gonna be living with Scarlet! That’s exciting!”

“How’s the flat hunting going?” Brooke asked Yvie, who had a little smile on her face. Brooke didn’t know if Yvie knew that she always began to smile a little whenever Scarlet was mentioned. She wasn’t going to mention it to her. She would maybe mention it to Scarlet.

“Like I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” Yvie groaned, running her hands down her face. “It’ll be fine, though. We’ve got a while. Her lease isn’t up until August so we’ve got a few weeks to keep looking and in the meantime I’ll just stay with her in that Dickensian death trap she calls a flat.”

The girls let out a laugh, Brooke resting her head on Yvie’s shoulder too. There was a small silence.

“At least you and Monet are sorted,” Yvie spoke again, Nina nodding in agreement. Buoyed by how well Yvie’s suggestion to Scarlet had been received, Nina had been determined not to fuck up another relationship milestone with Monet and had asked her to move in with her as well. The answer had been an emphatic yes, and the pair of them had used their terrifying teacher-levels of organisation skills to find a cute two-bed flat in a nicer, only slightly more expensive part of the city. They both knew their relationship was still new and fragile, so they’d agreed a room each was a good idea to give them their space when they each needed to work or wanted a bit of time on their own to simply do nothing. Brooke knew the two girls were joined at the hip though so they probably didn’t need that sort of contingency plan, but it was a sensible decision nonetheless.

“I can’t wait to get the keys and just vomit up a bunch of fairy lights and candles in every possible room,” she beamed, excitement radiating out of every pore. “It’s going to be so fun- we’re going to take turns cooking, and build pillow forts, and blast our songs on a Sunday morning and clean the whole place-”

“Fuck. Adulthood’s fully got you. Brooke, quick, if we run we can still save ourselves,” Yvie deadpanned, Nina giving her a whack as Brooke laughed.

“I personally can’t wait to go round and visit at every available opportunity. I’m going to move in,” Brooke smiled, and Nina gave another sad kicked-puppy pout.

“I wish. Canada is so far away,” she sighed, a little knife going through Brooke’s heart at the thought of moving back. She didn’t want to think about it, but it was just inevitable. It was happening, and it was fact. She was going back to Canada. She didn’t really know what she was doing, she hadn’t found herself a flat, and she didn’t have a job to earn money and pay the rent with even if she had, so she was flying home.

She really didn’t want to think about leaving. She didn’t want to think about leaving the city, constantly busy with tourists and families and drunk students and Very Important Working Adults. She didn’t want to think about leaving the park, with the cherry blossom trees that lined every path and fond memories of barbecues and picnics and drinking in the sun with the girls. She didn’t want to think about leaving uni- because as stressful as all hell her degree had been, she’d loved studying fashion design, loved making prototypes, loved learning about something she loved, even though her degree was fuck all use to her trying to get an actual job. She didn’t want to think about leaving the flat: the shower with its drippy head, the hob with the one gas burner that didn’t work, the carpet in her room with the incongruous red faded stain, the fucking Sports Direct mug. The girls that she loved so much her heart felt sore if she thought too much about it: Nina singing obnoxiously early as she got ready for placement, Yvie making the kitchen into a war zone trying new recipes, the ridiculous squabbles they got into about the washing up, pre-pre-drinks where they shared a bottle of pink Gordon’s and splashed mixers into their mismatched glasses and sang along to Ariana Grande at the top of their lungs.

Tears stung at her eyes again, and she swallowed the big lump in her throat to shoo them away. It was too late though, as Nina had seen her glassy eyes and reached over to hug her. Her own voice was thick with tears as she spoke.

“Oh, girls,” she let out a shaky breath, Brooke giving up the fight as she felt her own tears drop down onto her hoodie. “Change is good…but it’s shit.”

“Fuck you both, I’m not crying,” Yvie said, her breathing all shuddery and letting them both know that was a lie. The girls all sat and held each other as they wept quietly, mourning the death of their student careers and this life they’d lived for three years that they’d all too often taken for granted.

Brooke was the first to dry her tears, giving one decisive sniff and sweeping under both her eyes with determination. “Right. I’m putting a stop to this, we’re not spending our kind-of last night in the flat sitting crying like a bunch of babies. We’re going to order food, get high as St Peter’s balls and watch shitty game shows that make us yell at the TV. Okay?”

She was happy that Yvie and Nina both snorted a weepy laugh and nodded at her. “Okay.”

And the three girls did just what Brooke had suggested. There was, however, bickering about where they should order from. Yvie wanted sushi from the tiny little place tucked away in a back street that did bento boxes with prawn katsu and salmon maki which were like little rice parcels of heaven. Nina wanted Chinese from their favourite takeaway that delivered from out in the suburbs and where, for about fifteen points all in, you could get a banquet of sweet and sour chicken in sticky red sauce, crispy golden salt and chilli chips with huge red jewels of chilli and slices of garlic, chicken fried rice in a rich Cantonese gravy which bound everything together and chow mein with soft spring onion slices and huge chunks of onions all tossed in soy sauce. Brooke’s selection won in the end though as her argument was the strongest- “I might not taste any of this again, Canada is a long fucking journey, okay?!”- so they ordered burritos and chips and salsa from the incredibly-overpriced-but-worth-it burrito bar on campus. They finished the last of the weed that had been wrapped in tin foil and cling film and shoved to the back of the broom cupboard along with the bong, and they made horrifying cocktails from the dregs of their leftover spirits and mixers. The burritos arrived and they stuck Challenge TV on and shouted at the Catchphrase contestants who couldn’t get the most obvious fucking catchphrases Brooke had ever seen in her life.

The evening was perfect.

They talked about Brooke’s graduation tomorrow, Nina and Yvie both saying how proud they were of her. Brooke was glad she had the girls, since her Mum’s flight over to see her graduate had been cancelled because of freak winds back in Canada. Brooke had already cried to her over facetime about it, but Yvie had managed to find the link to the livestream that was only meant to be shown on campus, and she’d sent Brooke’s Mum the link so Brooke knew she would be watching even if she couldn’t properly be there. As soon as they’d heard the news, the girls had all agreed on the group chat to set up camp in the union and watch the livestream (as Brooke and Plastique would be graduating at the same ceremony) and then take photos with them both afterwards outside the great hall as if they were a gaggle of proud Mums. Even though it wouldn’t be what she’d planned, Brooke was still looking forward to it.

It was around midnight before Brooke took herself off to bed, and just as she got cosy underneath the duvet her phone lit up with a notification. She couldn’t help the smile that involuntarily shot to her face when she realised it was Vanessa.

V: hey what’s ya fav Kanye West album mine is GRADUATION!!!!!!! How you feelin about tomorrow boo? xxxxxx

Brooke let out a laugh, muffling it too late with her hand when it came out louder than expected. Christ, she loved the girl so much.

B: Kanye West is a misogynist pig and i won’t stand for him xxxxxx

B: Stronger is a bop though xxxxxx

V: You got that one right xxxxxx

B: And I’m good! Big jumble of feelings. Big happy/sad vibes xxxxxx

V: I know it’s bittersweet af xxxxxx

V: Me n Scar just held each other and cried once the ceremony was over xxxxxx

Vanessa and Scarlet had graduated last week, as had their other friends. Brooke and Plastique’s graduation date was the latest and so they were graduating last. She didn’t mind that, though. The longer she could stay being a student the better.

B: Lol we just had a big cry as a full flat xxxxxx

V: Don’t lmao idk what we gonna be like when our lease is up xxxxxx

Brooke scrolled up and looked at all the texts they’d exchanged from the past two months, the same signature of six kisses at the end of them all. They hadn’t really spoken about where they were relationship-wise since the night in the library. Maybe Vanessa didn’t want to. Maybe it was for the best. Brooke’s heart hurt as she realised she was going to be on the other side of the world in a matter of days, and maybe Vanessa didn’t want to see her ever again. She frowned at her own thoughts before tears had a chance to start welling in her eyes again. It had been good to truly get back to where she’d been before with Vanessa- just texting random garbage, having deep chats about the future, being ever-so-slightly flirty with each other. She thought about confronting the issue head on over text, but it wasn’t the medium through which to have that kind of conversation.

As if Vanessa could read her mind, however, another text came through.

V: When do you fly back again? 20th? xxxxxx

Brooke’s heart felt sore.

B: 12th xxxxxx

V: oh right

Brooke’s pulse froze at the lack of kisses. Her fingers ghosted over her screen, trying to figure out what to type. Vanessa sorted the problem for her.

V: fuck I wish you weren’t leaving xxxxxx

Brooke’s heart swelled up then popped. Was this the time? No. But their time was running out, she knew that much. Maybe she could see her before she left. She’d see her after her graduation anyway.

B: I wish I wasn’t either xxxxxx

B: But you’re coming tomorrow yeah? Xxxxxx

V: Wouldn’t miss it for the world baby xxxxxx

Fuck, she would miss her so much. She’d already told Vanessa how much she meant to her, just how fucking incredible she was in every way, and yet Brooke felt like doing it again.

She didn’t, because it would be too weird. But she wanted to more than anything.

V: You gonna look so beautiful and clever tomorrow I just know it xxxxxx

Brooke smiled to herself, blushing on her own at the compliment. Vanessa seemed to be firing risky texts to her left right and centre, so Brooke took a risk of her own.

B: Not as beautiful as you xxxxxx

She almost threw her phone away once she’d sent it. A reply came back almost instantly.

V: Stop with the lies xxxxxx

She was leaving in two days so she sent another risky one, caution truly pissed into the wind.

B: You’re honestly the most beautiful girl in the world xxxxxx

At that point Brooke put her phone face down on her bedside table and decided to sleep, her heart full of butterflies and her thoughts filled with the ridiculously massive crush she had on the girl she’d been idiotic enough to let go the first time.

When Brooke woke up, her phone was blowing up with messages. The one she checked first was from Vanessa in reply to the one she’d sent last night, and was simply a series of heart eye emojis. The next one she opened was a text from her Mum, paragraphs of pride and love for her daughter that made Brooke want to cry already. The others were all from the chat- Silky, Akeria, Vanessa, Scarlet, Yvie and Nina all spamming it with messages of luck and love for her and Plastique, and promising they’d be watching the screen and waiting outside for them when the ceremony was done.

Brooke got ready in a dream-like haze. She took her smart black tailored dress out of the cupboard where it had been hanging for the past month, the garment more ready for graduating than she was. She showered then dried her hair, curling it and brushing out so it made waves down her back. She put on her makeup- browns and nudes with only the tiniest bit of highlight. When she stepped into her dress and heels and looked at herself in front of the mirror, she hardly recognised herself.

She looked like an adult. A woman with her life stretching out in front of her, ready to be whatever she made of it.

Brooke phoned a taxi- it was raining just a little, even though it was already July- and pulled on a smart black coat when she saw it pull up outside, dashing carefully down the steps of the stairwell and out into the new day.

Graduation wasn’t til 11, but Brooke had arranged to meet up with Plastique beforehand anyway, just so they could be excited together. When Brooke pulled up at the taxi rank outside the square and the huge ceremony hall, she could see Plastique and her Mum there already, standing bickering amongst the growing gaggle of students and families. The sight only hurt Brooke a bit, until she remembered the girls would all be watching, and her Mum would be watching too no matter how far away. It would, after all, be about one and a half hours of waiting for Brooke to walk across the stage, take a scroll and shake a hand, and then it would all be over.

It was scary to think that that was all that was separating her and the adult world.

Trying not to get too deep and to instead just enjoy the day, Brooke excitedly paid the driver and dashed out of the taxi, Plastique spotting her running towards her and giving an excited squeal. She opened her arms out for a hug which Brooke crashed into.

“Bitch! How are you!” Plastique cried, Brooke only squeezing her tightly in response. “I’m so excited! And sad. And excited! And emotional.”

“Yeah, I can tell!” Brooke teased, Plastique laughing as she stepped out of the hug and gestured to her Mum, dressed very glamorously in a blue dress, blue heels and a pink fascinator. The occasion didn’t really call for it but Plastique’s Mum was always one to embrace the potential glamour in every situation, and so she had gone all out.

“You’ve met my Mum, right?” Plastique smiled. Brooke nodded and waved her a hello. She’d met her once at their second year showcase, the woman keeping her in stitches with her hilarious stories.

“I have! Nice to see you again, Alyssa.”

Alyssa, throwing formalities out of the window, instead pulled Brooke into a crushing hug. “And you too, my angel! Awh, Lord, ‘Tique told me all about your Mama’s flight. My heart is absolutely breakin’ for you, honey. I would’ve sent a plane over for her but nobody’s flying out of there come hell or high water.”

Brooke suppressed a laugh, finding it unbelievable that “I’ll just get her a plane” was on Alyssa’s list of options. “It’s okay Alyssa. Thank you, though. She’s going to watch the live stream, Yvie hooked her up with a link.”

“Well I’ll be your Mama just for today, girl. I am so proud of you both!” Alyssa cried, putting both her hands on Plastique’s shoulders and sighing. “Look at my intelligent daughter, out here gettin’ degrees and lookin’ so beautiful at the same time.”

Plastique smiled at her Mum lovingly, the two of them sharing one last hug before she and Brooke took themselves off to pick up their robes. It was surreal actually wearing the gown, all billowing and black, and helping each other fix their hoods, light blue with fringes of pink. They went to get their graduation photos taken, Brooke surprised that they were given a prop degree to hold as she’d always thought it was her actual degree she’d be holding. She laughed as Plastique moaned to her about not being able to see the photo until it got mailed to her, and the fact that her Mum ordered about twenty four copies so even if it was horrible she wouldn’t ever be able to escape it. Alyssa texted Plastique to tell her she’d gone into the hall to get a good seat, so her and Brooke decided to just go and sit ready anyway. They had to say goodbye to each other briefly until the end of the ceremony, as everyone had to sit in alphabetical order. As she waited for the ceremony to begin, Brooke scanned the huge crowds all seated in the hall’s three tiered levels. Her eyes fell on each empty seat and her heart broke a little more each time she saw one.

Nobody she truly loved would see her graduate in person. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t absolutely gutted. But at least she had Plastique, and of course, Alyssa.

Before she knew it, the ceremony had begun. She tried to pay attention to the Dean’s address and the chamber choir singing in Latin but she couldn’t help feeling like a 16-year-old in her school assembly, bored and just full of anticipation. Eventually, the awards began. Brooke clapped for all the other students crossing the stage, her eyes trained on the way they walked. She swallowed down the panic she felt, banished the thought of tripping over to the back of her mind. It reached Plastique’s turn, and she gave a huge cheer as her friend walked across the stage with all the grace and poise of a supermodel. She could hear Alyssa’s voice shouting from the balcony- “That’s my baby! That’s my girl!”- and, for a moment, she thought she heard the yell of a voice she knew all too well.

No. That was crazy. She must have imagined it.

E in the alphabet turned to F, then G, and eventually, H. Brooke didn’t have many others to sit through, and eventually there was only one girl separating her and her degree. The moment these three years had led up to, finally being lived out.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes.”

She heard her name and smiled as she walked carefully across the stage, shaking the Dean’s hand tightly and collecting her scroll all wrapped up in its little embossed tube. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she walked to the other side, heard the claps, heard the cheers, and heard…

“Love you, Brooke Lynn!”

Stop.

“Go Brooke! Love you, girl!”

It was her. It was actually her. Vanessa’s voice, soaring above the crowd and reaching Brooke like an arrow.

What the fuck was she doing here, at her actual graduation ceremony? As Brooke dismounted the stage she scanned the room like a meerkat, the place far too packed to distinguish Vanessa from any other of the little blobs of people sitting in each row. But she knew it was her. Vanessa had seen her graduate, had seen her collect her degree and had cheered for her.

Brooke didn’t know how she’d managed to get a ticket - they were all reserved for families- but she suddenly couldn’t wait for the ceremony to end.

She didn’t have long to wait, as time flew by and everything was over before it could all sink in. Brooke and Plastique emerged from the hall to the crowds outside and, just as they had promised, the girls all rushed forward to crush them in ridiculously tight hugs, Silky yelling at the top of her lungs how proud she was of them both and Akeria shaking a bottle of five pound cava until the cork opened easily and sprayed the fizz all over the two girls. Brooke clung to Plastique and laughed, unable to stop the smile that was plastered on her face.

“I can’t believe it! You both did it, congratulations!” Scarlet cried cheerfully, Brooke pulling her into another hug.

“Did you see me shaking when I walked across the stage? I thought I was going to trip and fall off the damn thing!” Brooke laughed, the other girls all laughing too.

“You looked like a confident, graceful, successful queen,” Nina told her, Brooke wanting to cry at her friend’s compliment. “And you are all of those things! Fuck, I can’t believe we’ve all graduated now. What the hell are we going to do?!”

“Aw, let’s not think about that,” Akeria shushed her, a proud smile on her face. “Well done, ladies. We’re all proud of you. You did that shit.”

Plastique hugged and thanked them all again before making her excuses, saying she’d be right back, and dashing off to Alyssa. As she left, Yvie took Brooke’s hand and squeezed it.

“So, have you not got some big, teen-movie speech to make, or something?” she quipped. Brooke frowned, looking at her with confusion. The rest of the girls all waited for the penny to drop excitedly, and Brooke saw Akeria’s eyes land on someone just over her shoulder. Brooke turned around and, through the crowd, saw Vanessa waiting beside the hall. Their eyes met, and Brooke could see her try and then fail to suppress the smile on her face. Brooke turned back to the girls, pointing over her shoulder at the girl waiting for her.

“How did…you were all-”

Akeria rolled her eyes, gave her a gentle shove. “Go get your fuckin’ girl, idiot.”

Brooke hardly had to be told twice. She turned around, took two steps, then three, then four, until she realised she was almost jogging over to where Vanessa stood. And suddenly she was in front of her- her hair wavy and falling over her shoulders, her outfit exactly what any graduation guest would be wearing- a smart red dress that accentuated Vanessa’s collarbones and dark eyes and the bright white of the smile she was flashing Brooke’s way.

“Hey,” Brooke began, faltering slightly. She didn’t know where to start, so she chose the obvious. “You were there.”

“Yep!” Vanessa smiled at her proudly.

“How did…how?” Brooke stuttered out, still completely at a loss. Vanessa let out a laugh, charming beyond anything Brooke had heard before.

“I messaged your Mama. Got her number off Yvie after she sent her the link for the livestream. Basically said “hey Ms Hytes…can I grab your ticket and see your daughter graduate so I can surprise her”?” Vanessa grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Brooke couldn’t believe it. Her own Mum had been in on the whole thing and hadn’t let on. She was going to kill the woman the moment she touched down in Toronto.

“Oh my God. You’re amazing,” Brooke gasped, taking a little step forward so they were closer. She felt like crying. Vanessa was here, in front of her for what was maybe the last time. She had to do something. She couldn’t lose her. Not again.

“Amazing, huh?” Vanessa asked shyly, looking to the ground. They both knew the question meant so much more than simply what it was, and Brooke, without knowing where her confidence had emerged from, took both of Vanessa’s hands in hers. Vanessa’s gaze shot up, and their eyes met.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, please.”

Without waiting a second longer, Brooke tipped her head down and met Vanessa’s lips. It was somehow just like the first time, even though in many ways it wasn’t at all. This time, Brooke knew every single inch of Vanessa’s body, she knew her ambitions, her fears, she knew what it was like to have almost lost her and be lucky enough to have her come back again. But most of all, Brooke knew that she was in love with her, so fucking in love with her, this one of a kind girl who she was desperate to keep in her life no matter if Vanessa chose her to be hers or not. Their kiss was gentle and urgent and passionate all at once, and Brooke wanted to hold onto the moment forever. When Vanessa’s lips were gone and Brooke was all at once looking at her again, she had tears in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, ‘Ness. Come on, this isn’t…don’t be upset.”

“I am, though! I’m an idiot. These past two months we could’ve been kissing like that and going on cute dates and planning the future and having fuckin’ insane levels of sex but I left you hanging like boo boo the fuckin’ fool when I knew what my decision was the moment we had that conversation in the library, because it’s you, Brooke, fuck, it’s always been you. I love you so much,” Vanessa sniffed, frantically wiping her tears away as Brooke pulled her against her chest. Vanessa’s voice murmured against her, the most hopeful, plaintive question. “Do you still love me?”

“Fuck, Vanessa, of course I love you. You’re just…the person I was meant to meet, you’re the person I’m meant to have in my life. I love you so much.”

Brooke felt like an idiot as tears began to well up in her own eyes. She looked down at Vanessa and she looked back up at her.

“You’re leaving,” Vanessa let out a tiny sob, her forehead hitting Brooke’s chest again.

“I’ll come back,” Brooke said immediately, meaning it. “Honestly, I will. I’ll book my flights as soon as I’m home. I’ll look for flats and jobs and we can start again. We’ll make it work. I want to be with you.”

Vanessa looked up at her, her happy, grateful smile at Brooke’s words all she needed. She let out a tearful laugh. “Brooke Lynn, will you be my girlfriend?”

Brooke laughed too, taking her both her hands and squeezing them. “Hey, fuck you, I wanted to ask first!”

They both laughed then leaned in for another kiss. Brooke didn’t need to answer. Vanessa hadn’t needed to ask.

As they broke away and wrapped their arms around each other, Brooke felt the tears spring up in her eyes as she looked over at the girls. There was Akeria, making some quip about something, and Silky howling at whatever it was she’d said. Monet had joined them all and was swigging the cava out of the bottle, an arm around Nina who was looking at her with adoration. Scarlet and Yvie were telling them both a story, their hands intertwined and their bodies close. Plastique had dragged her Mum over to meet them all and her face was animated as she spoke to her, so full of happiness and excitement.

“Fuck, Vanessa, I can’t believe it’s all over,” Brooke let out a small sob. Vanessa reached up, swept her tears away with a gentle finger.

“Hey. Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

Brooke smiled down at her girlfriend. Her girlfriend. There was nobody she’d rather have spent the past three years with.

“You wanna go steal that cava back from Monet?”

Brooke giggled and nodded. Joining their hands together and giving them a little squeeze, they walked back over to be with their family.

[velvetgons]

junkyu as your boyfriend

junkyu x reader

warnings; don’t think so!!, maybe some swearing

a/n; :(( i’m really sorry for the slow updates on the two fics i have in my list!! i’m just a lil bit of a slow writer with full fics! sorry again :) 

requested; yes!! thank you anon :) 

word count; 3.2k :))

gif credit; virgojunkyu on tumblr!! ((if tumblr removes it again nvonv) as always, please let me know if you’d like it removed at any point!! :) 

ok so! as always, first of all: how did you and this overgrown child meet?

well, well, i have a Different Trope to offer you all today!

so i genuinely think that getting to know junkyu wouldn’t actually be a romantic thing at first?

as in, you’d probably meet him through having multiple mutual friends and you’d go to a lil get together with your friendship group and it’s just like:

ur friend would walk you over to junkyu and some more friends and is just: “oh by the way this is the junkyu i mention a lot!!”

and so you say hello and have a conversation with him and the group of people around you and it’s just very casual

but you end up really liking junkyu because!! he’s so funny and has a bunch of lil endearing habits and so – entirely platonically!!! – you’d ask for his number so you could talk more

and junkyu would be really excited and probably say something like “omg yes!! i can’t wait to hang out :)) see you soon!!!!”

which, to be honest, was super cute and maybe you blushed but you honestly weren’t seeing it as any form of romance

and from then you’d talk a lot, probably lowkey every day, and it’d just be a really fun friendship that you’d formed out of nowhere!!

he’d call you randomly throughout the day to talk about weird things he’d been thinking about (example: “ok just another quick question but how can we be sure that dinosaurs don’t just live underwater now? the ocean is so unexplored and there’s rising sea levels, and we just. we have no idea. oh my god, do i tell a scientist about this?? have i Done Something??”)

you’d always go out for lunches and late breakfasts and coffee meetings together and just joke around :(( n he’s definitely the type to wanna get like. four different foods for the two of you and just share them so he can have a bit of everything

will make you go to the park with him and push him on the swings. no exceptions and no excuses it’s a Must in this friendship

and omg you’d just be really close and you’d spend so much time with one another that you could watch movies and chill out and when something you wanted to comment on happened in the movie neither of you would have to say it you’d just do The Look and he’d KNOW

you’d also sleepover at each other’s quite a lot and it would be entirely normal,, like he’s just gonna fall asleep on ur bed wrapped up in a blanket and ur gonna fall asleep minutes later under ur duvet

or you’d take naps together because he’d get real clingy n just kinda. lay on you. and fall asleep. and i mean, he’s just so warm and soft you can’t help but fall asleep with him

affection would also be a completely normal thing too!! pretty early on into the friendship he’d just say, “to warn u i am a very cuddly person so if that’s not ok with you please tell me now !!” and you’d tell him it’s ok bc uwu he’s still the cute lil friend you met recently and that’s an adorable habit

but oh boy do you regret that now. he will just. cling to you. all the time. he’d lift your arm to curl underneath it n snuggle into you. he’d hold ur hand 24/7. when he’d get sleepy and you’d be moving around he’d back-hug you and be leaning almost all of his weight against you. he’d fidget a lot when you sat to watch things until he was pretty much either spooning you or he’d be leant with his back against your chest.

and lowkey you’d think it was such a cute thing because :(( he’s so precious and he genuinely doesn’t seem aware that he’s doing it most of the time

oof he’d probably give you lil kisses sometimes too? and he seriously wouldn’t think of it as anything other than like ‘smooching ur friends is completely normal ! normalise platonic affection !’ so when he’s leaving he’s gonna give you a lil forehead kiss. he’d give you a lil cheek kiss when you hugged sometimes

and it’d become a habit that you’d probably pick up on too like? if he’s sat within smooching distance when ur quietly watching something together: （￣ε￣ʃƪ）if he’s smiling real big and his cheeks look kissable:（￣ε￣ʃƪ）

and junkyu seriously just thinks all of his feelings for you are completely platonic like?? he thinks that he wants to kiss you all the time because you’re his bestest bud. and he’s always so clingy with you because he’s got big appreciation for you and your friendship with him !

you’re kind of in the same position with it too, u know, because like. junkyu is super cute and he’s handsome and nice and you wanna mwah but?? you’ve also seen this boy trip over air on multiple occasions and he’s held your hair back for you when you’ve been sick and seen you ugly cry before so you assume it’s just because ur super close

but then…one day…he’s just kinda sprawled out across your bed while you get snacks from downstairs and it’s the day you’ve mentioned ((very passingly like: “oh, he’s cute”)) that a waiter at a café you go to a lot is kinda cute

and he’s laying there. and his mind is just spinning?? he’s created this whole picture in his head that: cute waiter boy will give you his number, you’ll go on dates with him, you’ll start to call him your boyfriend, all those long phone conversations and movie marathons and cuddle sessions will be transferred onto this new boyfriend, you’ll stop giving junkyu lil kisses because now you’ll wanna kiss your boyfriend, you’ll end marrying this boyfriend and junkyu will only see you twice a year at mutual friend parties like he used to

which leads him to picturing his life without your presence in it anymore and he’s convinced that he can feel genuine pain in his chest at the idea?? who’s he gonna order too much food with, who’s he gonna watch dumb movies with, who’s gonna tell jokes that make him laugh so much his stomach hurts, who’s gonna have #deep conversations with him??

and then he’s thinking about you doing all that with someone else…and thinking of someone else holding your hair back for you when you’re sick, and someone else knowing your different orders off by heart, and someone else getting to see you ugly cry and hear about your problems and…….he HATES it

by the time he hears you coming back upstairs he’d rush off into your bathroom because he hates to admit it but he’s crying a lil bit and his face is all scrunched up in disgust at the ideas in his head

and you arrive back to ur room to find no junkyu :(( so you go to your bathroom (best guess which was indeed: correct) and you knock a lil bit and hear junkyu cough really inconspicuously before mumbling a, “yeah, just a minute.”

which obviously worries you because that’s your best friend and he sounds upset and the idea of him upset has your heart doing a sad keyboard smash. but you respect that it could be literally anything by this point so you go to ur room and wait there

and junkyu comes back after a lil bit and he’s like “i :(( need to talk to you about something kinda serious” because he’s a lil bit angry with himself because?? a: how did he not realise the feelings he has for you are not platonic at all and, b: he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship

which makes you nervous but you’re like… “ok.. i’m listening and supporting you :)”

and then he doesn’t really know what to say so he just, “please don’t date the waiter boy!! or anyone else!!” and so you kinda recoil because ?? hmmm when did you say you wanted to date the waiter and hmmm why does he care

but then he goes “please don’t date anyone but me…”

and you’re ?? because now that you’re thinking about it properly maybe you do like him romantically? but you’re just so confused because you honestly don’t know what you’re thinking

so you’re kinda like, “can i,, think about this?? i don’t really know what i’m uh feeling right now!!”

and he’s like, “yeah, yeah of course omg i’m sorry!! just….let me know??” n he’d probably leave you too it then instead of liking. hanging around after he’d said that

so you’d spend some time thinking it through you know like,, oh damn…maybe i do like him a little more than i thought huh…

by the time you told junkyu you felt the same he’d have been having four (4) heart-attacks a day waiting for your answer and he’d probably be like “aha! that’s so great! can i come see you,, right now… i’ve been missing you a whole bunch” but on the inside he’s having his fifth (5th!) heart-attack of the day

and so whoosh! now you’re overgrown child friend is your boyfriend :) lucky you

his clinginess? intensified! now he’d feel like there wasn’t the line between ‘they’re just my friend and friends do Not do that kind of affection!’

whenever you walk into a room with him to sit down now, you’re being pulled to sit right on his lap so he can cuddle you more!! his hand is in yours 24/7!!

but…now that you’re dating…he’s too shy to show public affection bc like…now it Means More

i mean people that saw you on the street previously would’ve assumed you were already dating but junkyu doesn’t know that

so no more lil smooches in public!! now it’s strictly hand holding, having his arm around your waist or shoulders, occasionally he’ll just hug you in the middle of a street (you’d be like “i thought you said toning it down….bro i…”)

not much would change but!! he’d love to have proper kisses now :)) kissing junkyu would be super gentle n sweet bc omg !! you’re his baby !! he wants to: love and protect !

let’s you borrow his berets as a sign of love…but he won’t hesitate to steal your clothes either like…

you got oversized sweats that he likes? claimed! you got a cute pink hoodie he just knows he’d look great in? taken! by the time you get the clothes back they’re just slightly stretched out at the arms because he’s long….and you’re begging him to not steal clothes that he must already know won’t fit him but he’s just “:DD they’re cute on me!”

but sadly this is correct. and you always forget not to flatter him because he tells you every time: “it makes me blush too much!! if you compliment me i’ll just die…i can’t handle it!”

this is especially an issue when you go shopping with him to get clothes because every clothing item he tries on you’d be like: “a king!! no one else could ever!! look how great you look!! excuse me while i: scream” and he’d just. squeal. and hide in a changing room because his whole face is boutta go red

having said that, he is your biggest fan! you wear a dress? he’ll scream and twist himself into ungodly angles to get good quality pictures of you. you wear sweats? he thinks you look so warm and cuddly you’re never leaving his arms again.

he’d compliment you all the time and half the time he wouldn’t have to think about it? like, he sees you and his first reaction is to just: “xvonbosab you’re so cute omg i’m in Love”

junkyu is also a firm believe in lowkey matching your outfits: same shirts but in different colours, same coloured different shirts and trousers, etc.

his headass would probably get you friendship bracelets back before he confessed and gets you an extra lil charm when you finally start dating :((

he’s also so caring !! if you told him you hadn’t eaten and it’d gotten to like 5pm he’d freak out because ?? you need to be healthy ! every time he moves to go get something for himself he, “do YOU want anything?”

will tell you to put a jacket on before you leave the house on a cold day ((you don’t because it’d ruin your outfit)) and later,, when you got cold,, he’d passively aggressively wrap you up in his jacket

full offence junkyu carries a candid of you and mashiho round his wallet and will Never remove it

on this topic! whenever you’re around his friends his heart just….beats so much faster…he thought there was something wrong with him at first but after turning to yedam and being like, “my hearts beating out of my chest dndobc” when you did something nice for mashiho, yedam was just like “well yeah it’s bc you love her lol”

and like?? junkyu just kinda. like yeah. he does. indeed. he uh um loves you.

and realistically he knows it wouldn’t be a big deal to say it because he’s said it a thousand times to you when you were friends but now that you’re dating it seems like such a big thing

but boy oh boy once he’s said it,,, it’s gonna be added onto the end of almost every single sentence

you know like the old “breathe in: boi” meme….yeah it’s that except it’s just a loop of junkyu telling you he loves you in the space of an hour

has to say i love you especially (along with a lil mwah) before he goes to bed so he can “have good dreams!!” but like he doesn’t have to lie you’d kiss him anyway ://

would try to make you breakfast but he can never make good quality ones so he just gets you cereal and brings it to you in bed while he does a lil breathy laugh like “it’s your boyfriend, the chef, here with your gourmet breakfast”

i just, i have a Thing, with junkyu, where i firmly believe he just doesn’t really like pet-names?? they’re just not really his kind of style when it comes to dating,, except there’s like one or two that he will. always. use instead of your name

he loves calling you like “angel” because uwu!! that’s you to him!! his aNgEl

he’d do this so often that he’d have your name saved in his phone as ‘my angel’ with a thousand hearts next to it, and his friends would tease him RELENTLESSLY about him but :]]] he doesn’t mind !

and! he has a soft spot for the classic,,, the iconic,, the overused, “baby” bc uhhh you’re His BabyTM? not clickbait?

he also loves doing dumb childish things with you. watching cartoons while eating candy in matching pyjamas? big yes from him! building forts and then sleeping in them? even bigger yes!

if you have drama to tell him about or a secret you have to go under a big blanket with a torch and set in the middle of you two while you tell him in a whisper so no one ((even though you’re literally alone)) will hear

((hehe………is this uhh how do you say…..a Teaser?))

if you watch a show you’ve been watching together without him he will genuinely be so hurt like. “that was a personal thing we were sharing!!! how could you betray me????”

but on a real level. i just cannot see junkyu as someone that does well in arguments.

if you were arguing back and forth and it got mean at all he’d be so upset?? he’d definitely cry no matter what in arguments but if he ever felt that hurt you or if he felt hurt by something you said he’d be such a mess :(

but i also don’t think he’d actually ever have very much to argue about like?? he doesn’t get jealous very easily after a while because he knows you love him and wouldn’t do that to him, he doesn’t get angry very easily, and he just like. completely understands what it is that you want and need?

you were really close friends before so you two would’ve told each other things that wouldn’t come up in day to day discussions with your s/o? like, “omg what’s your biggest pet peeve in a partner!” or even just saying things like, “i think, in that situation, i’m the type of person to…”

because from those conversations you both got to know the things you liked and disliked and what kind of person you both were, u know?

so if by some magic an argument occurred. it’d end quickly. because, a: junkyu would get upset and take some time to himself to calm himself down, or b: junkyu just :(( gives up and stops responding because he genuinely doesn’t want to feed into the argument anyway

he’s much more of a “calmly discuss your issues and find a good solution!!” type of person so he always tries to do that instead of even beginning to argue

n from what we’ve seen so far he’s a lot more of a sad stressed n tired so i think if he found himself feeling like that he isn’t gonna snap at you? he’d probably just want you to cuddle him and play with his hair so he can relax again

junkyu is also fully the type of boyfriend to do ur shoe-laces for you if they come undone you know he wouldn’t think about the ‘omg cute couple things’ he’s just “xocvbov you’re shoe-laces are undone ! you’re a walking hazard this is so unsafe !”

full offence but now that you’re dating junkyu takes you back to that café where you said the waiter was cute and is like “:D finally i can eat here again without feeling nervous!”

which is, to the friends he took to lunch with you and who were not there to witness his confession or that whole day, very confusing and just slightly worrying

but to you it’s like ‘:(( wowie he’s really my baby huh’

but overall i feel like honestly nothing would change after you started dating junkyu? you two would still be best friends and act just like you did before

except! now that you’re dating junkyu gets to kiss you on the Lips! and he gets to cuddle you while you sleep for the whole night too! and he gets to introduce you to people as ‘mY gIrLfRiEnD’

but he’s just such a warm and nice presence to have in your life that when you’d look back on it now like ?? how could you not tell he was gonna be the boy you fell completely in love with

and he honestly thinks exactly the same thing omg he’d think back to things he used to say/do with you or things he’d think about you and be like ‘how did i not realise those are in no way platonic things to think about your platonic friend What?’

but overall i think dating junkyu would seriously just be like being around your best friend 24/7 !!!

[yourprayer]

occulous repairo

merry christmas ya filthy animals!!! it is finally time to reveal myself to my it secret santa recipient!!!! this fic is for the lovely @wyttolff (big thanks for helping organize this whole shebang!! i hope u love ur gift dear <3 i sent u anons lmao i wasn’t slick)

occulous repairo, a losers club hp au 

pairings: reddie (for now, tbh i might turn this into a full-blown Thing)

word count: 6.1k 

warnings: mildly graphic depictions of a broken arm?? General Wizarding Buffoonery 

“God- damn- shit-”

“Rich, calm down, jesus christ. You’re not gonna get it if you keep pressuring yourself. Relax.”

“I am fucking relaxed Eds, it’s just not working-”

“It’ll work if you stop clenching your fist, for starters.” Eddie sighed, reaching over and forcing Richie to loosen his grip on his wand. Richie tried not to notice how gentle Eddie’s guidance was, or his perfectly kept nails, or his soft-

He tried not to notice.

“Now, when you say the incantation, let it flow instead of spitting it out. And maybe don’t say fuck so much.” Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him, which took him a second to catch as his gaze lingered on Eddie’s hands.

“Thanks, professor, any other tips you got?” He said defensively. He knew Eddie was just trying to help him, but he couldn’t help his tone. He’d been trying his accio charm for half an hour to no avail, and he was pissed. Charms was his best course, and he’d never struggled with something so much in all his years of schooling. His pride was wounded, and he wasn’t prepared to receive advice.

Eddie blanched, before his expression turned sour. “Fine, be that way. I hope you fail your Runes test.” Eddie grumbled, before casting a perfect Summoning spell on Richie’s Runes book. It sailed so close to Richie’s face he thought it might smack his glasses clean off, but thankfully it only knocked them askew.

“Bitch.” Richie glared at him, reaching up to fix his spectacles. Eddie only responded with a flat glare and a wordless repetition of the charm, causing Richie’s glasses to soar off his face and into Eddie’s waiting hand.

“Hey, give those back!” Richie blinked against the sudden blurriness and wildly reached out for Eddie’s hands. Eddie snorted and held the glasses out of Richie’s reach.

“Not until you stop being an asshole. I’m just trying to help you.”

“I’m sorry, okay, Jesus-”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m sorry, princess-”

“Not in the fucking voice Rich, and don’t call me princess-”

“Look, I’m sorry, seriously, Eds.” Richie’s hands dropped to his lap as he looked dejectedly down at them. “I’m just… really frustrated with myself.”

“I know.” Suddenly his glasses were being placed gingerly across the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna get it, okay?” Eddie gave him a tender, serious look. “Don’t knock me for helping you.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for your advice.”

“What, ya gonna braid his hair?” Bev’s voice cut through their reverie, causing Eddie to realize that the hands he’d just used to replace Richie’s glaces were practically tangled in the other boy’s hair. He pulled them back to his lap, his face flushing. Bev laughed at the action.

“You know you’ve got first dibs on these curls, love.” Richie threw over his shoulder at her with a smirk.

“Class!” Their professor rapped his wand on the podium in front of him, shooting a glare at Richie, who was his frequent Problem Student. Most teachers tended to assume that if someone was talking out of turn in class, it was Richie. They tended to be right. “Focus up; we’re shifting to our second spell of the day.”

“Goodie me.” Richie mumbled under his breath, sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed. He was still chuffed about the last spell; he didn’t want another one to muck up.

“I think you’ll find this one quite useful, Mr. Tozier.” His teacher gave him a hard look. “Turn to page twenty-seven. Let’s work on occulous reparo.”

Eddie did his best to hide a laugh as Richie flipped open his book to the page of the glasses-repairing spell. Richie’s ears went red as many of his other classmates began to laugh too, realizing the diss from their teacher. This redness stayed on his ears throughout the duration of the lesson, hiding his face in shame as their professor went through the steps. When they were left to attempt the spell on their own, however, his mood was quick to change.

“Having some trouble there, Eds?” Richie found himself smirking over at a frustrated Eddie, who had failed to fix the crack in the pair of practice readers they had been provided for the twentieth time.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t say fuck so much.”

Richie looked at Eddie with his biggest shit eating grin. He also thanked his stars Eddie wasn’t a dementor; otherwise he’d be getting his soul sucked by now.

It’d be worth it for the kiss, though.

Richie pushed the thought away immediately.

“I’m gonna-” Eddie’s face of rage faltered, changing to confusion. “I’m- I’m too flustered to come up with a threat right now, but just know you’re gonna regret that comment later.”

“I’m quakin’ in my boots!”

“Beep beep.” Eddie huffed, turning back to his spectacles. Richie watched him attempt the spell a few times before Eddie’s cheeks began to tinge pink. “Are you staring for a reason, trashmouth?”

Richie faltered. “Uh- no. No, nothing.” He pushed his curls back nervously, before turning to his practice glasses and performing the spell perfectly on the first try, as per his usual. He sighed, feeling relief that his mojo was back. Eddie eyed his glasses with jealousy before dejectedly attempting the spell one more time.

“Here-” Richie said after a pause, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s wand hand. “Try gripping it like this.” He helped Eddie adjust his hold on the wand. “And uh… try flicking with a little bit more force.” Richie chanced a glance at the smaller boy’s face; he was looking at their tangled hands with his mouth slightly agape, his expression strange. Richie swallowed and let go with hesitation.

He also tried not to notice the snickers of Bill and Bev, the next table over.

Well, he tried to.

________________________________________________________________

“Jesus Billiam, and you shit on me for overeating.”

“Sh-shut up Tozier. I e-e-eat a lot at m-meals, sure, b-but you eat like a c-cow. All d-d-damn day.”

“Touche.” Richie shrugged, taking a massive bite out of his sandwich as he reached across Bev’s plate for another.

“You know you could just ask me to pass you one.” She griped.

“It’s my only stretch for the day, just let me have it.” Richie said around a mouthful of food.

“Sexy.” Bev scrunched her nose and gave him a disgusted look. He smiled wide, revealing bread-and-meat filled teeth. She lightly punched his shoulder. “Ugh, that’s fucking nasty. You know that may work on Eddie but it’s not gonna charm me.”

Richie furrowed his brow, swallowing his food. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse you! I saw you two in Charms. The tension was practically rolling off of you guys in waves.”

“What! There was no- there wasn’t tension, Bev, we were just-”

“Just doing what you always do, tragically pining over each other with no hope of requisition.” Bev sighed dramatically. “It’s saddening, really.”

Richie glared at her through squinted eyes and coke-bottle glasses. “I do not pine.”

“Yes you do.” Bill said nonchalantly through a mouthful of chicken.

Richie huffed, turning back to his plate. “I do not pine!” His following dramatic gesture was cut short by a flying piece of treacle, which hit him squarely in the forehead. He flinched, shocked by the contact, then glanced around the Great Hall to see where the projectile originated from. Near the end of their table, a certain Mr. Bowers and his cronies were sniggering. Richie went red and turned back to his friends.

“Shit Rich, you okay?” Bev asked in a concerned tone as Richie pulled off his glasses to inspect them for debris.

“‘M fine.” He griped. “It’s assholes like Bowers that give our house such a bad name. I don’t want people to think of me in the same class as that.” He gestured towards Bowers, who was currently trying (and hilariously failing) to change his cider into rum.

“T-technically you’re not.” Bill said. “He is a c-couple classes ab-bove us.”

Richie gave him a flat look. “He’s still a Slytherin.”

“You’re twice the Slytherin he’ll ever be.” Bev said with a wink.

Bill and Richie both smiled at her. “You’re darn right I am.” Richie beamed, hitching up his robes on his shoulders.

That time Richie didn’t notice Eddie’s small face, peeking over Mike’s shoulder across the way at the Hufflepuff table, a small blush on his cheeks as he watched Richie preen.

Richie didn’t notice, but Eddie did.

________________________________________________________________

“C’mon Eddie, I thought you’d done this before.” Ben was still laughing, though on his behalf he was making at least some semblance of an attempt at disguising it. Richie did nothing to hide his guffaws as he watched Eddie try to right himself.

“Yeah, once! That doesn’t mean I’m a fucking pro at it!”

“Language, Mr. Kaspbrak. One point from Hufflepuff.” Their professor uttered boredly as she passed them, on her way to assist another student.

“Sorry Professor.” Eddie grumbled from his current position, which happened to be hanging completely upside down from a broom that was floating about six feet off the ground. The only thing keeping him from meeting it was his death grip with all of his limbs around the handle.

“You look like a koala!” Richie cried through his laughter, complete with actual tears.

“A very unhappy one.” Ben added lightly, sending Richie into another peal of laughter that caused him to nearly fall over.

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” Eddie screeched down at them, desperately making an attempt to flip over to the topside of his broom.

“Would you like some help?” Ben asked cautiously.

“No, Benjamin, I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.” Eddie snapped, carefully shimmying with his feet.

“Oh my God, where’s Bill, I’ve gotta get a picture of this-” Richie finally managed when he regained control of his laughter.

“YOU WILL NOT.” Eddie called down, taking a second too long to glare down at Richie. His loss of focus caused a loss of footing, and before he knew it he was dangling from the end of his broom, his grip reduced to his bare hands around where the base met the bristles. He let out a shriek as he fumbled; he was still a good couple of feet from the ground.

And rising.

“Ben- Ben! BEN IT’S GOING UP WHAT DO I DO-”

“Let go of it, Eddie!” Ben watched in shock as Eddie’s broom steadily began to climb. Richie instantly ceased his giggling, his expression turning serious.

“WHY IS IT DOING THIS BEN HELP-”

“Eddie you have to let go! It won’t stop until you stop touching it!” Ben called up to him, looking around for their professor.

“I can’t! I can’t, I’m too high!”

“Eddie just let go, I’ll catch you!” Richie yelled, moving to stand underneath the floating boy.

“I can’t! I could crush you!” He looked pleadingly up at the broom, but for all he was concerned, it was on a path of its own, its mind unknowable to him. He could almost feel the rate of his ascent increasing along with his rapid heartbeat.

Mike came jogging across the pitch, their professor in tow.

“Dear God, what’s going on with him?” Mike asked incredulously, craning his neck to squint up at Eddie against the glaring sun.

“His broom’s being fussy.” Ben sighed. “He won’t let go.”

“That’s the only way you’re gonna get down!” Mike yelled up to the frightened boy.

“That’s what I told him.” Ben said.

“Eds, c’mon, I said I’d catch you!” Richie yelled again, trying to persuade him with a smile. He was only met with a squeak as the broom above them pitched wildly, causing Eddie to loosen his grip. He righted himself, but his hold was only tenuous.

“Eddie, come on, you have to let go!” Mike pressed, pulling his yellow striped scarf and rolling up his sleeves. He moved to stand next to Richie.

“I CAN’T!”

“Rich and I will catch you, if you don’t let go now it’s gonna pitch you!”

“I’M TOO HIGH UP!”

“Well it’s not gonna come back down when you’re worked up like that!” Ben huffed, growing frustrated with Eddie’s stubbornness. Bill and Bev finally made their way to the front of the small crowd of students that had gathered to spectate, their faces painted with worry.

“Mr. Kaspbrak, you need to listen to Mr. Hanlon. It’s the only way we’re going to get you down.” Their professor said calmly from her place next to Ben. “Mr. Hanscom, will you go get the nurse’s team, please. I suspect he’ll have a rough fall from this height.” She said quietly to Ben. He nodded and pushed through the crowd, headed back towards the castle.

“Eddie, please, come down.” Richie pleaded, his fear growing more and more palpable. Richie had already hit a good five-eleven in height, and by his measurement he thought it likely he could fit another one of himself between him and Eddie. The turf on the pitch was meant to soften the blow from a fall, and many a student had been pitched off of brooms and onto the grass from greater heights before. But Eddie had never been more than Richie’s height off of the ground before, and this was only because of all the times the trashmouth himself had hoisted Eddie over his shoulder for a joke. It was no secret to anyone that Eddie was fragile, either; the boy was on more magical medicine than Richie’d ever heard of, and spent at least a quarter of his time in the hospital wing for various injuries over their five years at Hogwarts so far. This fall was shaping up to be a rough one indeed, and growing prospectively worse by the second.

Eddie’s wild eyes caught Richie’s as he looked down in panic. Richie responded with raised eyebrows and a nod, gently encouraging Eddie down. Eddie’s eyes then caught Mike’s, who’s arms were out and ready to catch Eddie on his way down. Richie mimicked his position, his feet shoulder-width apart. They both looked to Eddie again, but instead of his agreement of readiness, they were met with fearful eyes that soon disappeared into the blur of a shaking head.

“No! No, I can’t do it!” Eddie was doing a fairly good job of hiding it, but Richie could tell the small boy was damn near close to tears as he clung desperately to the end of the broomstick.

“Yes, you can, Ed-”

Mike’s words were lost as the broom gave another violent jerk, and Eddie was yanked dangerously to the left. The movement caught him off guard, and his threadbare grip was rendered moot at the wood slipped from beneath his hands. Richie saw a wild flailing of limbs eclipse the sun in his gaze, and heard a cry of fear the likes of which he’d never heard from his closest friend.

And then Eddie was falling.

To him, it wasn’t like he’d heard described from Ben about his Quidditch games or how he’d seen it in the movies. There was no slow-motion rendering, no recollection of his life in a succinct flash, no endless churning through open air. Maybe it was because the fall wasn’t from nearly as high as Ben had come down from before, or because he was so unused to the feeling, but instead of a weightless, floating, gradual fall, it happened and was over faster than anything he’d ever experience. He was in the air, and then he wasn’t. Like that. Like lightning.

For Richie, however, there was slow-motion. Eddie’s broom had positioned him directly above Richie’s head, instead of neatly poised above he and Mike’s waiting arms. Neither of them had enough time to adjust their positions in reality, but to Richie it seemed as though he’d had time enough to move out of the way. He watched, as if through lens, as his best friend plummeted through the air, expression aghast and limbs askew, directly towards his face.

Crunch.

There was an audible gasp from the spectating students.

“Oh fuck…”

A groan from Eddie.

“I second that.”

Richie’s gruff reply.

“Guys?”

Then Mike was above them, their professor and Bill, even Beverly’s curl-framed face all swimming through Richie’s vision. After a couple of blinks they came sharper into focus; after a couple more it became apparent that his glasses had an exceptionally gnarly fracture in them.

“Did I catch him?” Richie mumbled up at them through a crooked smile. He felt a hot, wet splotch forming on his upper lip.

“Yeah, with your f-face.”

“Enough, Mr. Denbrough, make space.” Bill’s and Beverly’s faces disappeared. “Mr. Kaspbrak, can you hear me?”

Something stirred on top of Richie’s chest. He looked down the best he could, his head not wanting to bear much weight.

His heart couldn’t really bear the sight of it, either.

A quick tally told him all limbs were accounted for; four for him, four for Eddie, all easily visible. His were thankfully laid out the way they were supposed to be. He had been knocked flat, but thankfully nothing had folded or crumpled. His ass hurt from where it hit the ground, and he was fairly certain the wetness on his face was from a bloody nose. By his worst estimate he had a mild concussion, at his best a few bruises. Definitively he was okay. But the weight on top of him was another story.

Eddie had all four of his limbs alright, but as Richie realized with growing horror, one of them was very nearly facing the wrong way.

Eddie slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Richie’s over Eddie’s twisted and mangled arm between them. His gaze quickly left the other boys and settled on what hardly resembled his right arm. Richie watched as the color drained instantly from his face. He’d never seen Eddie look so upset before.

“Mr. Kaspbrak-” Their teacher repeated, before Eddie let out a moan.

“Oh- oh god…” He wretched, making Richie genuinely worried the smaller boy would throw up on him.

Mike’s hands were suddenly on Eddie’s shoulders, guiding him up enough to get Richie out from underneath him. They got Eddie back into a sitting position, and Richie able to kneel in front of him.

“Mr. Hanlon, please escort Mr. Kaspbrak to the infirmary. Mr Hanscom should intercept you on the way with aid. Mr. Denbrough, please accompany Mr. Tozier.”

“I don’t need attention, I’m okay.” Richie said quickly, eyes not leaving Eddie’s face. He could already see a bruise forming high on Eddie’s cheekbone. His face must have been what collided with Richie’s nose. “I’ll help take Eddie up.”

“Alright, alright, disperse then.” The professor said in a huff to the surrounding crowd of students. Most of them departed, but Bill and Bev stayed on, observing worriedly. They had to be dismissed again at the threat of house point deduction, which even then barely worked. All that got them to leave was a non-verbal agreement between the four of them that Eddie would be okay in the hands of Mike and Richie.

“C’mon daredevil, lets go get you cleaned up.” Richie muttered quietly in Eddie’s ear as he and Mike hoisted Eddie up from the ground.

“Oh- oh god I’m gonna hurl.” Eddie said feebly, his steps uneven and wobbly.

“Be sick to the left, then, can’t have you staining my fresh laundry now.” He joked, though it sounded nervous even to his own ears. He felt nearly as shaky as the smaller boy, his thoughts swimming with worry. He was concerned Eddie could pass out before they got him up to the infirmary.

“You got him, Rich?” Mike said calmly.

“Yeah.” Richie said, slinging Eddie’s unbroken arm over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna run ahead and see if they’ve got a stretcher.”

“Good on, mate.” Richie nodded at him as he turned and sprinted in the direction of the school. “Okay, Eds, just you and me now. I need you to do your best to stay upright, okay? Don’t worry about going too fast or anything, just stayin’ afloat, okay?”

“M sorry…” Came Eddie’s slurred response. His head was hanging, and Richie could feel his skin growing clammy from the hand he had clasped in his. The smaller boy was too white, and too wobbly.

“Nothing to be sorry for Spaghetti.” He had to bend over quite a bit to accommodate their height difference, and the awkward position was starting to belabor him. “Not your fault you got tossed around by a stick.”

“Shoulda.. Tried harder…”

“Shoulda let go sooner is what you shoulda. You really scared me there, love.”

Both of them pretended not to notice the pet name.

They did.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t ‘sorry’. Just don’t do it again.”

Part of Richie hoped Eddie didn’t notice the gentle way he was stroking his thumb across the hand he had in his, his small attempt at comforting the immense pain he knew the other boy must be in. His small attempt at comforting himself that Eddie would be okay.

The other part of Richie really, really hoped he did.

_______________________________________________________________

“I mean Christ Staniel, it was practically backwards.” Richie whispered hurriedly, pushing his newly fractured glasses up the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time. He’d broken into quite a sweat hauling Eddie across the grounds, and his glasses now refused to stay on a face slick with sweat.

“I’m only sad I missed it.” Stan deadpanned, his gaze never leaving his parchment. “I’ve always wanted to see Eddie hit you in the face.”

“With his whole body?” Richie whisper-yelled incredulously. Their Runes professor shot them a dirty look over his shoulder before continuing. Stan waited for the teacher to turn away before speaking again.

“Of course not.” Stan gave Richie The Look; the one that told him Stan was switching out of sarcasm. “They said he’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah, the nurse already has him set.”

“Fuck, you watched that?”

“They had me do it. Eddie was screaming at everyone; he didn’t want them to touch him at all.”

“Jesus.” Stan breathed, chancing another glance at the professor. They remained undetected. “I’m just glad you’re both okay...ish. You could’ve been a lot worse off.”

“Me too.” Richie glanced guiltily down at his arms. His right was slightly bruised and sore from where Eddie’s weight had landed on it, and he new his nose was quite the sight. “I’m just so fucking pissed he got hurt instead of me.”

Stan gave him a knowing look.

“Finally.”

Richie looked up at him, eyebrows knitted.

“Come again for big fudge?”

Stan cocked an eyebrow. “Just… finally.”

“Mr. Uris!” Their teacher suddenly interrupted, causing the two of them to jump slightly. “Something to share with the class?”

“No, sir.” Stan mumbled.

“Then can you at least share with me what…” He paused as he drew a series of symbols on the board. “...This means?”

Stan took a moment to squint at the figures. He could only state with confidence about half.

“I cannot, sir.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when my star student couldn’t answer a simple question. Five points from Ravenclaw. You and mister Tozier here better focus up or I might just deduct from Slytherin as well.”

Richie and Stan gave him twin death glares as he turned back to the board.

________________________________________________________________

“Finally what?”

Stanley nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus FUCK, Richie.”

“Finally what?”

“Were you fucking hiding behind that suit of armor waiting for me?”

“Only for like an hour, anyways finally what?”

“You’re hyper-fixating again.” Stan muttered bitterly as he straightened his tie (and attempted to quell his fluttering heart rate).

“ADHD, sue me. Finally what?”

“Christ Rich, let it go.” Stan hitched his book bag strap further up his shoulder, checking his special wand pocket to ensure the instrument was still safely tucked in after his scare.

“Well tell me what the fuck you meant then!” Richie flapped his arms frustratedly, his loosely worn green striped tie following suit.

“I have to meet Bill for our study session-”

“You’re not going anywhere, Stan-The-Man,” Richie pulled his wand from his back pocket (where he foolishly kept it, in Stan’s opinion) and dramatically jumped into a dueling stance. “Before goin’ through me.”

“I’m not fighting you over it, asshole-”

“Then tell meeeeeee.” Richie whined, dropping his shoulders and hands flamboyantly. A group of second year girls scurrying past watched him in confusion.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Stan snorted, watching as Richie gestured crudely at the girls.

“Try me.” Richie folded his arms.

Stan mirrored his position.

“I only meant your little pity party there in Runes was an admission. One I’ve been waiting on. Hence, finally.”

Richie drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Admission of what? That I felt bad? That’s no secret, wouldn’t you-”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Of course you are. You haven’t had pre-dinner yet.”

“Which I’m skipping right now to interrogate you, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry my minding of my own business between classes has disrupted your thievery of the kitchens.”

“Okay first of all, it’s not thievery if the house elves have given up on fighting me over it. Secondly, what the fuck are you talking about.”

Richie was using his pleading voice, the one that got Stan every time.

They locked eyes in a stare down.

Stan lost.

“You’re in love with Eddie.”

“I am?”

Stan blanched. “Yes, Richie.”

“And why is this news to me? Shouldn’t this be something I’m aware of-?” Richie trailed off.

“Yeah, it fucking should.” Stan put his face in his hand. “Look, Richie, seriously, you need to take some time to address your feelings. What you said in class? About feeling guilty? That was some cheesy shit. I’m talking grade-a Debbie Macomber novel. Maybe you should sit with that for a bit.”

Richie gave him a blank look.

“You think I have feelings for Eddie.”

“I know you do.”

“Okay, and how do I not know this?”

“Because you’re blind as a bat.”

Richie crossed his eyes to look at the break in his thick lenses. “Touche.” He looked back at Stan, and paused.

“I don’t have feelings for Eddie.”

“Really? Prove it.”

“Prove it? How?!”  

“Get through one whole day without telling me how cute his hair is.”

“Well that’s impossible Staniel, you know I love his-”

Richie suddenly dropped the end of his sentence.

“Fuck.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow.

“I have feelings for Eddie.”

Stan nodded, much like a babysitter to a three year old who’d finally gotten the hint.

“Fuck.”

________________________________________________________________

“Mr. Kaspbrak, you have a visitor.” Eddie heard the nurse say quietly through the drapes thrown round his hospital bed.

“I’m not-” He croaked, before being cut off.

“Eds, it’s me.”

The curtains slowly pulled back to reveal a pale and drawn looking Eddie, his right arm currently obscured from view.

“Hi, Rich.”

He nodded at the nurse, who turned and left. Eddie stepped back to let Richie into the enclosed space, swinging the curtains closed behind them. Eddie sat gingerly on the bed, cradling his arm close to his chest. It was bound in bandages and hung in a white sling, which had been admonished with a scrawling rendition of the word “loser” in all capital letters.

Richie had spent the last god-knows-how-many minutes on his way to the hospital wing (which, despite his multitude of trips to meet Eddie there, he still never seemed to find in a reasonable amount of time) mulling over in his head what the fuck he should say. He’d start by voicing his concern, follow it up with a joke that will do nothing to dispel either of their discomfort, maybe throw in a couple of anecdotes about the rest of his classes with Stan for extra stalling time, but then inevitably reach the point where he’d spill his guts because Lord (and every one of his friends, for that matter) knew he couldn’t keep a thought in once he’d had it, and say the damned words that could very well cost him one of his closest friends. Or perhaps bring them much, much closer, a hopeful voice had quietly persisted in his head, though he tried not to give it much notice.

He did.

He also very, very much noticed the damn sling.

“The fuck is that?” He asked, perplexed, drawing his brows together as he gestured at the word.

Eddie flushed, looking down at his feet. “Fucking Greta is the nurses aid today. She was supposed to just change my bandages and leave, but… We started talking and she asked if she could sign it and I said yes and... “ Eddie took a breath, exhaling deeply. “It’s charmed on there, I’ve spent the last hour trying to get it off.”

“That fucking bitch…” Richie muttered, sitting down next to Eddie.

“It’s okay.” Eddie looked smaller than Richie had seen in a long time. “It’s what I am.”

“Darn right you are!” Richie said indignantly, clapping Eddie gently on the back. “King of the losers.”

“That’s actually Bill, but thanks.” Eddie gave a small laugh, relaxing into Richie’s touch. He left his hand on Eddie’s back.

“Whatever. Big Bill can step down for a bit. You deserve the crown for getting through today.” Richie smiled, lightly beginning to massage the smaller boy’s spine.

“It certainly has been one, hasn’t it.”

The two spent a moment sat in comfortable silence, Richie slowly working out a knot in the center of Eddie’s back. The comfort soon turned charged however, as both boys sucked in a breath to speak.

“Eds-”

“Rich- Oh, sorry, you go first.”

“No, no, you go.” Richie shook his head fervently, his heart rate jumping.

“I just- I’m sorry. I’m really embarrassed. I should have listened when you guys told me to let go. I made us all look like dumbasses, me falling on you like that.” Richie quirked an eyebrow, nearly letting out a laugh. “I’m also sorry for falling on you.”

Richie did laugh at that. “And I’m sorry for not scooting to the left. The impact really hurt my ass, I’ll have you know.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“Doc says I can’t sit for a week.”

“You’re sitting right now, asshole.”

“Yeah, and it’s hurting my asshole, so maybe think about that before you judge me.”

Eddie gave a real laugh then, his face crinkling up happily, his freckles stretched across his nose in a smattering of stardust.

Richie fucking noticed.

“Eddie.”

Eddie looked up at Richie, surprised by the serious tone in his voice.

“Yeah..?”

“I- I think I like you.”

Eddie gave him a flat look. “Well, I would sure hope you do. We’ve only been friends for years.”

“No, Eds, I- like you. As in- I’d like to kiss you.”

Eddie’s face froze. “Oh.” His brain caught up with the moment. “Oh.”

“Can I?” Richie’s voice was barely a whisper. “Kiss you, I mean.”

Eddie just stared blankly at him, all conscious thought flying right out of his mind.

“Richie-”

“Shit.” Suddenly Richie’s hands were scraping over his face. “That was way too forward, fuck, I’m sorry-”

“No, no Richie, you’re fine.” Eddie laughed nervously. “I just.. Wasn’t prepared for that is all.”

Richie’s face burned behind his hands.

“I would like that.”

Richie peeked through new cracks between his fingers.

“You would?”

Eddie smiled and nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Richie dropped his hands in awe, leaning towards his friend.

“I just-” Richie nearly groaned in frustration as he was stopped short. “..don’t see how you would wanna kiss a loser.” Eddie gestured at the broken arm tucked between them. If Richie was suddenly, magically doing everything Eddie wanted, he might as well charm him into a little removal spell.

What could he say? He knew how to play Richie like a fiddle.

Contrary to Eddie’s, however, Richie was struck with his own idea.

Whipping his wand out of his back pocket, he sat cross-legged on the bed facing Eddie, his concentration face on. Eddie raised a brow but followed suit, mirroring his position.

“You still keep your wand in your back pocket?” Eddie gave him a disgusted look. “That’s so fucking dangerous, Richie-”

“Shut up.” Richie mumbled, beginning to mutter an incantation under his breath.

“The fuck are you-”

“Shut up.” He resumed his spell, concentrating sharply as he drew a concise “v” through the air.

“Rich-”

“There.” Richie straightened up, tucking his wand back into the pocket, warning (as usual) unheeded. He smiled at his work, satisfied.

“What’d you-” Eddie’s words left him as he looked at the sling. Shining brightly over the “s” was a red letter “v”, transforming the insult into a title (he was certainly not over-proud to wear, no sir) on his arm, a very unexpected response.

“That better?” Richie was smiling at him, his usual, every day Richie smile, the one he had when he beat Mike at chess or when his Christmas gift to Bev went over well, or when he got a higher grade than Stan in a Runes essay. It was pride, for sure, but on Richie it was never cocky or obnoxious (though they all loved to tease him as though it was). It was always a smile of accomplishment, from a boy told frequently by the world that he was incapable. It was a smile of achievement, victory; it was infectious. It was one of Eddie’s favorite things about Richie.

His Richie, who he’d always known, always been aware of loving.

Eddie surged forward unexpectedly, sealing their lips in a clumsy kiss, one that seemed to sing through the air on the sigh of Stan’s finally.

“Better.” Eddie mumbled as they shakily pulled apart, both breathless and dizzy. It took all of two milliseconds before Richie was cupping Eddie’s face in his hands, kissing with a power he didn’t know he had. Eddie did his best to reciprocate, tangling his left hand in Richie’s curls (another finally drifting through the cosmos) with his limp right arm still tucked between them. Their knees knocked together awkwardly, and the leaning over was putting painful pressure on Richie’s ribs (he realized dimly that they might not be in the best shape after the fall), but the kiss was soft and meaningful and right.

Through the haze, Eddie noticed one more thing.

“Rich-” He pulled out of their kiss, nose hovering just in front of the others. “Your glasses are still  broken, the glass is scratching my face.” He giggled a bit, Richie pulling a face at being interrupted.

“Fuck, I don’t care-” He went to throw them off, pulling Eddie closer again.

“Let me fix them.” He laughed, grabbing them away from Richie and setting them on his leg. He leaned around to grab his wand from the bedside table.

Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow, remembering Eddie’s many failed attempts, and dreading just how long this would take.

Eddie balanced the glasses before taking his wand into his non-dominant hand (a recipe for disaster; Richie braced himself) and swished-

“Occulous repairo.”

A quiet woosh surrounded the glass as the fragments popped back into place and seamlessly wove back together. Both watched in awe as the whole set repaired itself.

“Wow, Eds.” Richie whispered in quiet reverence as Eddie replaced his wand on the table, before turning around and attempting to deposit Richie’s glasses back on his face one-handedly.

“Whoa whoa whoa, let me help you with that, you already fucked up my ass, I don’t want you to do the same to my eye.” Richie quipped as he put the specs on himself.

Eddie half-heartedly rolled his eyes. “I spent all day learning that spell for you, and this is the thanks I get.”

Richie got that devilish twinkle in his eye.

“Oh I’ll give you a good thanks.” He smirked before scooping Eddie up into his arms, kissing wildly all over the other boys face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He exclaimed between Eddie’s laughs.

“You’re welcome, Rich.” Eddie managed through his giggles, as Richie’s kisses slowed. They shared a deep look before kissing again.

They stayed that way, laughing and kissing and joking and being, and all afternoon Eddie couldn't stop thinking about the way Richie looked at him after he successfully completed the spell; that same, wonderful, proud-of-you smile that he’d always wanted to be on the receiving end of.

He hadn’t noticed it all those times before, but thinking back on it as he did now, he realized just how many times he had.

He hadn’t noticed, not before, but this time, he finally did.

[artificialqueens]

Paper Rings (Witney) - opalescentcheetah

A/N: To the anon who requested a fic with “Paper Rings” by Taylor Swift in it: here you go! This was so much fun to write, and I hope it was worth the wait! 

Summary: “Courtney giggles quietly to herself, tucking the slip of paper into her pocket. There must be more of them hidden somewhere… Willam’s playing a game, and Courtney’s going to win it.”

Willam, 5:51 pm: play this song on ur way home xx

Courtney smiles to herself, sliding into the driver’s seat and hitting play. A steady beat fills the car, and she finds herself bobbing her head, humming wordlessly along as the second chorus starts playing.

“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this…”

                                                                ~               

            Courtney is surprised to find the apartment empty when she arrives, the hallways eerily quiet and dark. She flicks a switch, flooding the entryway with golden light, and calls out for Willam.

The only reply she gets is the echo of her own tired voice.

            She pulls out her phone, intending to text Willam, but finding instead that she received a message while she was driving home.

            Willam, 6:04 pm: Out running errands. I left some stuff around the house that u should go look for ;)

            Stuff? Courtney isn’t sure she has the patience for this, but she can’t say no to Willam.

            Courtney, 6:08 pm: Ok. See you soon <3

            If she can’t have a greeting kiss from Willam, then Courtney wants a drink. There’s a clear, empty glass on the bench that, curiously, doesn’t even seem to have been used – there aren’t any lipstick stains on the rim.

            It takes her a moment to notice the small white object curled in the bottom of the glass. Tipping it into her palm, she finds a slip of paper, rolled and twisted into the shape of a ring.

            Paper rings.

            Courtney has known Willam long enough to know she’s planning something. She feels a small spark of excitement building in her chest, her exhaustion forgotten as she unravels the paper ring. Willam’s rough, quick letters are cramped into the small space, smudges of blue ink peppering the edge of the paper.

            Remember that night when we first met? I was high as fuck and you were so unimpressed. Well, look where we are now!

            ~

            She’s sixteen, in a foreign country, lost and alone in a world of people that already seem to know each other.

She misses Vanity. She misses Lisa and Jess, and even all the others that she didn’t know quite so well. At least she knew their names; here, she knows nothing about no-one.

            That is, except for Alaska. Courtney’s not sure where she’d be without her. Alaska is like her Northern Star, guiding her through all the ins and outs of American high school.

            “You’re still coming tonight, right?” Alaska drawls, rocking back in her chair. Courtney watches as she blows a blossom-pink bubble, hears the satisfying snap as it pops again.

            “Yeah,” is all she manages.

            “Are you nervous?”

            It’s only been a week and Alaska already seems to know her inside-out. She shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

            “I mean, a little bit, I guess… But it’s an opportunity to meet new people, so of course I’m going.”

            “Good.” Alaska smiles at her, and Courtney feels a little more relaxed. “I want you to meet some of my other friends, and then we can all hang out together.”

            The bell rings a moment later, and Alaska is the first to stand. “I’ll see you there!” she calls, waving cheerfully as she disappears into the swarm of unfamiliar faces.

            Courtney waits outside, tugging nervously at her skirt as she waits for Alaska. She arrives in a whirlwind, linking her arm with Courtney’s and dragging her through the gate into the noise and electric lights. Courtney stumbles along, not quite sure where they’re going, but content to simply trail behind her.

            “Sharon! Willam!” Alaska calls out over the din of other partygoers. Courtney follows her gaze to see two girls leaning languidly against a nearby wall. One raises her arm in a casual wave whilst the other stares lazily onwards, hardly moving a muscle. Alaska pulls Courtney to a halt before them, grinning brightly.

            “You guys, meet Courtney. She’s new, from Australia. Courtney, this is Willam, and Sharon.” Alaska points to them in turn, and Courtney can only nod dizzily.

            “From down undah, hey?” Willam queries, putting on a false, over-exaggerated Australian accent. “What’s it like coming from nowhere land?”

            “Willam!” Sharon hisses, elbowing her sharply. “Don’t be rude.”

            Willam just laughs, her movements slow and lethargic. Courtney doesn’t even need to look at the joint she raises to her lips to know she’s high. She chooses to ignore Willam, instead extending her hand to Sharon to shake.

            “Don’t wanna pay me any attention, princess?” Willam asks, when it becomes clear Courtney isn’t going to offer her the same formality. She sticks her arm out, waggling her fingers in Courtney’s face.

            Courtney bats her away, slightly exasperated. “Definitely not after that awful Australian accent,” she quips, feeling pleased when Alaska and Sharon promptly burst out laughing. Willam frowns, something flashing strangely in her eyes. Courtney looks away from the streaks of colour in her hair, watching as the smoke spirals up towards the moon.

~

            Courtney giggles quietly to herself, tucking the slip of paper into her pocket. There must be more of them hidden somewhere… Willam’s playing a game, and Courtney’s going to win it.

            She downs a glass of water as she considers where to look. Their apartment isn’t large, but there are countless nooks and crannies Willam could hide an inconspicuous paper ring in.

            It takes several moments of drumming her fingers against the glass for her to realise that she’s still wearing her work clothes, her collar done up tight and stockings itchy against her legs. Upon deciding that a treasure hunt would be much more enjoyable in pajamas, Courtney wanders down the hall into the bedroom.

            The sheets are immaculately made, and there’s a small pile of clothes sitting on the edge that Courtney soon realises are her pajamas. Usually, she’d leave them in a haphazard mess somewhere on the ground or on her pillow, and they would still be there when she returned home. Her heart fizzles with warmth when she realises Willam took the time to carefully fold each garment, creating a neat stack at the foot of the bed.

            And, alas, there is the second paper ring, the crowning glory of the pajama pile. Courtney sinks onto the mattress, muscles relaxing as she unravels the second note.

            Remember when I made you jump in the pool with me in the middle of winter? Alaska said it was cause you were so stupidly in love with me that you’d do anything I asked you to. I think I was a little bit stupidly in love with you, too.

~

            Willam’s explosive splash sends water surging over the edge of the pool, spraying the cold stone and wetting Courtney’s feet. She shivers, standing in the brisk wintry breeze, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders.

            It’s her first American winter, and Courtney is struggling to acclimate. She’s used to the warmer Australian weather, when she could wander around the school grounds with nothing but a jumper over her stiff school dress.

            And yet, here’s Willam, leaping into her backyard pool in late November, when the trees have shed their leaves and the sky is crisp and cold. Courtney watches as her head breaks the water, the edges of her eyes crinkling in laughter. She looks gorgeous with her hair fanning out behind her, strands of blonde and pink and blue like the arms of a jellyfish.

            “You two should come in!” Willam calls out, failing to hide how her teeth are chattering. “It’s real nice!”

            Alaska scoffs beside Courtney, shooting Willam a withering look. “I wouldn’t trust you to run a business,” she comments, covering her smile with one hand. “You’d never sell anything when you’re that unconvincing.”

            “You bitch,” Willam gasps, disappearing under the water again. Its surface ripples in the breeze, distorting the shape of her slender figure as she paddles to the pool’s edge. Courtney doesn’t take her eyes off of her as she surges up again, spraying water across the stone as she shakes her sodden hair out of her face.  

            “I’m convincing,” Willam promises, eyes darting over to meet Courtney’s. “You’ll come in, won’t you, Court? Show Alaska how nice it is for me.” She shoots her a winning smile, perfect teeth flashing in the winter sun, and Courtney forgets how to say no.

            She can’t resist Willam. She hasn’t been able to for months now; seeing her always sends a rush of warmth through Courtney’s chest, like a swarm of butterflies with delicate wings tickling her ribcage. It makes her crazy, makes her want to see and touch and just be near Willam whenever she can. She’s not sure whether she loves or hates it; whether she wants to hug or to slap Alaska for forcing them to become friends.

            Her body seems to move without command, stripping her of her jacket, her shirt, and her skin-tight blue jeans. She sees Alaska’s jaw drop, watches as Willam’s eyes light up in triumphant delight.

            “Court…” Alaska’s voice is slow, the hint of a warning lacing her words. “Don’t be dumb… You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

            Courtney’s standing at the edge of the pool now, icy water lapping at her bare toes. “Willam seems fine,” she replies simply, not giving herself a moment to reconsider before she plunges into the cold, blue depths.

            ‘Cold’ is an understatement, as Courtney soon discovers. The water is frigid, chilling her straight to her bones. Her limbs stiffen, momentarily frozen in shock, leaving her drifting deeper in a cloud of bubbles.

            And then she sees a dark shape floating closer, a halo of gold hair around gaunt, elegant cheekbones.

            Willam grabs Courtney’s hand in the water, sending that familiar rush of warmth through her body, and suddenly she remembers how to move. They kick upwards together, breaking into the crisp, clear air, and Courtney can breathe again. She feels a laugh bubble up inside her, giddy and warm despite the blueness of her lips. 

            “You’re both stupid,” Alaska tells them, shaking her head exasperatedly. “So, so stupid.”

            And Courtney just giggles, happy to be here with her best friends, Willam’s arm pressed lightly against hers.

~

            The next ring is in the bathroom.

            Courtney finds it coiled around the faucet when she goes to use the toilet. Too excited to dry her hands properly, she unravels the slip of paper with damp fingers, smudges of blue coming away on her skin.

            Remember our stupid fight? You were nice enough to take me home despite everything. I wanted to kiss you that night, but I was a pussy.

~

            Courtney hasn’t talked to Willam in months.

            She sees her at play rehearsal and in passing in the halls, but Willam never looks back. Her stormy eyes are always as cold and hard as steel, drilling holes in the ground with her gaze whenever Courtney is in her vicinity.

            Watching Willam drift away was like losing a limb. The ghost sensation of her body beside Courtney’s was always there, pulling her deeper into its ethereal embrace and whispering cruel things in her ear. She can still feel it now, in the pounding of her heart whenever she sees Willam and the prickling of her skin when she brushes past.

            Courtney would be a fool to pretend she didn’t know what was wrong. The musical the school had chosen to put on this year was one of Willam’s favourites, and when Courtney had snagged the lead role, Willam stormed off to wallow in her own jealousy. Courtney couldn’t believe Willam was stubborn enough to let such a meaningless situation worry her for so long, but at the same time, she herself didn’t know what to do about it. Willam wouldn’t do so much as look at her, not even when they were side-by-side on the stage, shivering under the scrutinising glare of their drama teacher. 

            “There,” Courtney gasps, pushing the last set board into the storage room. “That’s all of them, right?”

            “Yep.” Bianca wipes her palms on her paint-splattered jeans. “Thanks for helping out.”

            “My pleasure.” Courtney pauses, meeting Bianca’s hazelnut eyes. “How did you like the show?”

            “How did I find it? Well, from the perspective of a crew member sitting backstage most of the time, you all sounded pretty good.”

            Courtney visibly flushes, heat flooding her cheeks. “Shit, sorry. Stupid question.”

            “Yeah, it was,” Bianca laughs, flashing her dimples. “Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

            Courtney waves as Bianca disappears through the backstage door. The auditorium is eerily quiet now that she’s the only one there; the shadows beneath the seats seem darker, the fluorescent lights too bright. She throws on her jacket as she exits out the front of the school, the cool air immediately brushing goosebumps over her skin. A flash of movement catches her attention, and she’s shocked to find Willam there, leaning casually against the school gate as she waits in the dark. She doesn’t acknowledge Courtney, staring resolutely out into the night instead.

            Courtney decides that it can’t hurt to at least try at conversation. She sidles up next to Willam, struggling to keep a cool façade. Sometimes she wonders how Willam does it.

            “What are you still doing here?” Courtney’s voice hardly sounds like her own, delicate and soft, as though Willam’s a wild animal she’s scared of chasing off. She wonders, briefly, if Willam will even respond.

            “I could ask you the same thing.” Willam shrugs briskly, eyes looking anywhere but at Courtney.

            “My parents couldn’t come ’til a little later, so I helped the crew pack up.”

            “Good for you,” Willam snaps, crossing her arms. Courtney doesn’t miss the goosebumps crawling across her skin or the way she shivers, curling in closer to herself. “My folks forgot about me.”

            Pity pierces Courtney’s heart like a knife, and the words spill out before she can stop them. “Come home with me,” she blurts out, immediately wishing she hadn’t said anything. “I-I mean, it’s probably easier, since – since you live so far away and all. I, uh… you look cold.” She finishes lamely, twisting the hem of her jacket in her fingers.

            It feels like an eternity before Willam finally replies. Courtney’s heart skips a beat when Willam looks at her again, meeting her eyes for the first time in months. “Are you sure?” is all she says, and Courtney’s immediately nodding, hardly able to believe what’s happening.

            “I… uh, thanks.” Willam drops her gaze again and Courtney wants nothing more than to tilt her chin up, stare into those stormcloud eyes and tell her it’s all okay. But she keeps her words to herself instead, letting herself wonder what Willam might say if she told her how much she missed her.

~

            Willam, 6:26 pm: You see a pattern yet? ;) ;)

            A pattern? Courtney’s already noticed how the stories have been in chronological order, but she thought it might’ve just been coincidence.

            Wait. No.

            Willam’s trail of paper rings has followed her usual post-work routine. Get a drink. Get changed, use the bathroom.

            Eat dinner.

            The next ring is in the kitchen.

            Courtney dashes down the hall as fast as her tired legs will allow, nearly slipping on the polished wood floors. She scans the countertop and their small dining table, even going so far as to check every chair, but there is no sign of a small white ring. The seconds tick by as she stands alone, breathing quietly in the wash of artificial gold light.

            Think, Courtney. Dinner. Dinner…

            “The fridge!” she gasps aloud, nearly knocking her hip on the counter in her haste to get there. Last night’s leftover Chinese is still stashed away, ready to be reheated and eaten again.

            Sure enough, the ring is there, perched atop the Tupperware container. Courtney feels a spark of triumph when she sees it. She’s getting the hang of Willam’s little game, unspoken rules cementing themselves in her mind.

            Remember that game of Spin the Bottle, when we accidentally went from friends to this? Fate knew what it was doing when it put you in my lap.

~

            The music pounds through Courtney’s bones, tremors in the ground sending shivers of adrenaline through her veins. The empty bottle glints in the dim light, beckoning her, and she closes her fingers around it.

            The exhilaration is palpable, burning through every fibre of her body and fizzling in the air. It might just be a stupid party game, but it feels to Courtney like a time of exploration. Like this might be a little taste of freedom.

            “Spin it! Spin it!” Alaska starts a low chant, and soon the others are joining in until there is a chorus of voices pressing in on Courtney’s skin.

            She spins, and the room falls silent, everyone’s eyes on the whirling bottle. Courtney waits with bated breath as it slows, and stops, the narrow end pointing like a compass needle straight at…

            Willam.

            Courtney’s breath hitches in her throat, heart pounding at her ribs as though it wants to be set free. Willam beckons her over, eyebrows quirked playfully, and Courtney wonders how she looks so calm. Every inch of her skin feels like it’s burning as she crawls across the circle to sit beside her, just close enough for their skin to brush.

            “What, are you scared?” Willam teases, and Courtney hears someone snicker.

            “O-Of course not.” She’s struggling to keep her voice steady, gaze flickering from Willam’s face to the ground and back again.

            “Pussy,” Willam whispers as she leans in, and Courtney shivers despite Willam’s hot breath on her skin, every touch burning through Courtney’s flesh.

            And then their lips are meeting, and Courtney forgets how to think. She can’t remember how long she’s wanted this for – this moment, with Willam’s fingertips lightly tracing her jawline and her mouth against Courtney’s, is the only thing that’s ever seemed to matter.

            All too soon they’re breaking apart. Willam’s leaning back again, pressing her palms to the floor as she smirks at Courtney. “How was that?”

            Courtney doesn’t know how to speak, her heart in her throat as she replays the kiss over and over again in her mind. “Good,” she manages, voice quiet, hardly able to meet Willam’s eyes. She feels like she might be dreaming.

            “You suck, Willam,” Bianca laughs, snapping Courtney back to reality. “She’s not impressed at all!”

            Willam scowls. “She said it was good, you bitch!”

            “Yeah, ’cause she’s too nice to tell you otherwise!”

            The rest of the circle erupts into shrieks of laughter, and Courtney feels her cheeks burn. She feels sorry for Willam, but she doesn’t have the words to tell her that it was probably one of the best things to ever happen to her.

            So she says nothing at all, slinking wordlessly back to her side of the circle instead.

            Courtney drives Willam home that night. Willam is uncharacteristically quiet, sitting with her arms folded as she stares out the window.

            “Willam,” Courtney finally says, eyes still on the road. “Are you okay?”

            She catches Willam’s shrug in her peripheral vision. A moment’s silence passes between them, Willam shifting quietly in her seat.

            “Yeah,” she finally says. “I was just… thinking.”

            “About what?” Courtney prompts her, pulling the car into a right-hand turn.

            “The kiss. I… was it really that bad?”

            Courtney is so startled she nearly swerves into the gutter. Swallowing back a gasp, she pulls over to park, twisting around to give Willam her full attention.

Willam’s frowning, toying with the hem of her skirt. “Wow. Way to say yes, Courtney.”

“I – no, I – uh, that’s not what I meant,” she stammers, hating to see Willam like this. “It was… it was actually really good. Like… really good.” She falters. Her words aren’t coming to her, slipping away like sand through her fingers. The truth feels like too much, but saying anything else doesn’t feel like enough.

She’s right – Willam hardly looks convinced. “You don’t need to lie, Courtney, I can take it,” she says, voice harder now, and Courtney worries she’s offended.

“Yeah, but, that’s the thing. I’m not lying,” Courtney insists. Why does this have to be so difficult?

            She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she’s about to do. You can do this. You’re brave enough. She repeats the words over and over in her head, leaning across the console to take Willam’s hand. Blood is pounding in her ears as she rests her other hand against Willam’s neck, pulling her closer. Willam’s eyes flash in realisation and she leans closer without prompting, letting Courtney press their lips together again. This kiss is soft and careful, as fragile and delicate as a butterfly’s wing. Willam seems to melt into Courtney’s touch, muscles relaxing beneath warm, tanned skin.

“I love your kisses the most,” Courtney whispers against Willam’s mouth as they pull apart to breathe. She feels Willam draw back slightly, her fingers still absentmindedly tracing Courtney’s jawline.

            “Then why were you so weird about it at the party?” Willam’s eyes are downcast, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

            Guilt stabs at Courtney’s chest. She fumbles for her words, the silence pressing heavily in on her. “I…” She doesn’t know how to say it, but knows that she should. “I really, really like you, Willam.”

            She’s settled for something simple, and it does the job. Willam rears backwards as though she’s been slapped, her eyes flaring wide open in surprise. “Really?”

            “Yeah, really really really,” Courtney manages to giggle despite her thundering heart.

            “No, I mean, I – are you serious?”

            “Of course I’m serious, you idiot.” Courtney’s gaze is locked on Willam’s, her fingers tangling gently in Willam’s cascading curls. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

            Willam just shakes her head, and Courtney doesn’t miss the wonder in her eyes. “Can… can I kiss you again?” she whispers, pulling Courtney closer before she even gets the chance to nod. Their lips collide roughly, teeth clicking together, but Courtney thinks it’s perfect.

            “I really like you, too,” Willam gasps between kisses. “Really, really, really.”

            Courtney’s silent, too caught up in Willam’s lips to respond. She lets months of desperate, bottled-up feeling release themselves against Willam’s touch, wordlessly showing Willam how her confession made her heart skip faster, heat spreading through her skin like honey.  

            She doesn’t know how long they sit there for, tangled up in each other. Courtney feels warm and soft, like kissing Willam has washed her clean, made her new.

            “Will you be my girlfriend?” Willam asks softly against her cheek, and Courtney wonders how she ever got to be so lucky.

~

Remember the road trip we went on, when I asked if we might be forever? I’m no poet, but I remember how the setting sun turned your hair to fire and I wondered how someone could look so beautiful.

~

            They’re sitting on the roof of the car, fingers interlocked as they stare out over the ocean. The trees whisper in the twilight breeze, cicadas chirping from their branches, but Courtney hardly notices. She only wants to think about Willam, sitting comfortably beside her, her head resting on Courtney’s shoulder.

            The sun is casting orange streaks across the water and turning the clouds to wisps of flame. This sunset feels different somehow; more special. Maybe it’s the endless tangerine sky. Maybe it’s Willam.

            “Courtney,” Willam murmurs suddenly, “do you think we could last forever?”

            Courtney, taken aback by her unusual softness, twists around to face her. Willam pulls herself upright, eyes on Courtney’s face.

            “I…” Courtney takes a moment, sifting carefully through her words. “I’d like us to.”

            “So would I,” Willam agrees quietly.

            A beat of silence hovers between them. Courtney traces her thumb over Willam’s knuckles.

            “I love you, Willam,” she says finally.

            It’s a gentle confession, as light as a butterfly landing on Willam’s nose. She smiles like Courtney’s just kissed her, eyes lighting up like a torch in the dark.

            “I love you too, Courtney.”

~

            Remember when we first moved in and you made me breakfast? It was perfect, and that Monday felt a little less awful.

~

            Courtney’s awake with the sunrise, standing in the dove-grey light of the kitchen as breakfast fizzles on the stove. The morning is dreamy and soft, and the house is warm despite the frost bordering the windowpanes. The kitchen still feels homely, and the silence is heavy and comfortable despite her lack of company. She knows Willam is just down the hall, rolled up in a nest of blankets with her hair spilling out in golden waves onto her pillow.

            The image makes Courtney smile as she cooks the bacon. She’s not used to preparing meat, as she never eats it, but Willam makes strange things worth it.

            The calm that surrounds her is immediately shattered by a series of crashing sounds followed by a chain of expletives. Courtney whirls around in time to see Willam staggering down the hallway, her pajama shirt sliding down one shoulder.

            “Fucking hell. Courtney? …Oh, there you are.” Wandering closer, Willam wraps her arms around Courtney’s waist, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck.

“What just happened?” Courtney asks, running delicate fingers through Willam’s messy curls.

            “I fell off the fucking bed.” Willam’s voice is still thick and raspy with sleep. “Right before my alarm was gonna go off.”

            “Oh my god, you’re so stupid.”

            “You’re stupid,” Willam retorts affectionately, pulling herself back upright. “What were you doing, anyways?”

            “Making breakfast.” The bacon’s done now; Courtney shuts the flame off, piling the strips of meat onto a plate. “There. For you.”  

            The smile that lights up Willam’s eyes sends warm honey flowing through Courtney’s veins. She presses a kiss to Willam’s cheek before handing her a set of cutlery. “Enjoy. Coffee’ll be ready in a tick.”

            Willam doesn’t move for several moments, standing in the kitchen watching Courtney work. “You’re amazing,” she finally says, sounding awestruck. “So fucking amazing.”

            Courtney giggles as a rosy blush tints her cheeks. “Just go eat,” she says, pouring the coffee. She adds the milk carefully, determined to make this exactly the way Willam likes it.

            “Is it okay?” she asks tentatively as she sets the coffee down. The bacon isn’t perfect, and she knows it – it’s a little crisp and burnt around the edges. She just needs to know if it’s edible.

            “I love it,” Willam replies, her tired eyes bright, and Courtney’s face relaxes into a smile.

~

            The next ring is a command.

            There aren’t any more memories of their early days together. Instead, there are six short words.

Go back to where we confessed.

~

Courtney steps outside and the light flickers on, casting the shadows of distracted moths across the stone. The car is hardly more than a silhouette in the driveway, lumpy and distorted and strange. Upbeat music starts playing as she waits, briefly, for her eyes to adjust.

“The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I’ve read all of the books beside your bed…”

The song is familiar, the ride home from work echoing back in Courtney’s mind as she approaches the car.

And there’s Willam, sitting cross-legged on the roof. She looks gorgeous in the moonlight, her skin lit up with silver, and Courtney’s breath hitches in her throat. She’s stunning, and Courtney’s overjoyed to see her. Willam fiddles with her hands in her lap, reaching up to gingerly tuck a strand of starlit hair behind her ear.

“Hey, Courtney.” She slides off the car, heels clicking gently on the stone as she stands and presses a gentle kiss to Courtney’s cheek. “Did you like the rings?” Her grin is playful, but Courtney doesn’t miss the nervousness in her eyes.

“Loved them,” Courtney replies, sliding her arms around Willam’s waist and pulling her close. “But I still love you more.” Her lips graze the edge of Willam’s mouth, and she feels Willam’s breathy sigh on her skin, her back stiffening beneath Courtney’s touch. Standing straight again, Courtney meets Willam’s eyes, holding her gaze for a moment. “What are we doing out here, anyways?” she asks, poking Willam’s cheek. “I know you’re planning something.”

“You’re so daft,” Willam tells her, arms around her shoulders. “I thought it would be obvious.”

“You brought me back through memories that defined our relationship,” Courtney murmurs wistfully, eyes darting towards the car. “Are you going to take me back to all the special places too?”

“I mean, that’s a good idea, but – Courtney, did you even listen to the song?”

Courtney pouts. “You know I suck at remembering lyrics.”

“Okay, yeah, not gonna lie – you really do.” Willam lets out a fraught giggle, and Courtney wonders why she’s acting so strange. She seems stiff, worried – not quite the easygoing person Courtney’s come to love. They stand quietly for a moment, and Courtney hunts for clues in Willam’s features, surrounded only by Taylor Swift’s light, cheerful voice reaching the song’s chorus.

“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want…”

It hits her just as Willam steps back and drops to one knee. There’s a small, black box in her palm, and she opens it as she raises it towards Courtney.

“Let me make tonight the next step for us,” she begins, and Courtney can only stand and stare at her through blurring eyes, her mind struggling to process what’s happening.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Willam continues, her voice choking up with emotion, and Courtney can see the tears glistening silver at the corners of her eyes. “I want to go through the rest of my life with you beside me. I want this to be our symbol of forever. Will you marry me, Courtney?”

Courtney’s voice is shaky, throat rasping with emotion as she responds. “Yes,” she gasps, smiling so wide her cheeks start to ache. Cool silver brushes her skin as Willam slides the ring onto her finger, and then she’s squealing in delight as Willam tackles her, picking her up and spinning her around.

            “I love you, Willam,” Courtney whispers as Willam puts her down again, their bodies close as they stand, entangled in the moonlight. “I love you so, so much.”

            Willam doesn’t respond, instead pressing her lips to Courtney’s. The kiss is salty with joyous tears, and Courtney feels electric, her body warm despite the cool breeze. The music is still playing in the background, steady rhythms humming through the perfect night.

“Kiss me once ’cause I know you had a long night

            Kiss me twice ’cause it’s gonna be alright

            Three times ’cause you waited your whole life…”