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livingformintyoongi · 3 days ago

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Echoes of Love | Kim Taehyung

a/n: This is literally the longest thing I've ever written in my life ._. I really tried to do my best, I got the idea after seeing the Winter ahead teaser and I really wanted to write it (even though I thought it was going to take much longer). I wanted to give a special thanks to @thunderg, @kookiewithluv and @angellekookie for helping me with the revision, they are the best moots in the world, I adore them, I really don't think I could have finished it without their opinions :(

Resume: You and Taehyung had a passing relationship four years ago, a relationship that felt like a hurricane; fleeting, sweeping, destructive. You had left a mark on him, one that, even as the years passed, was still present, and, no matter what he did, it seemed unwilling to go away.

Warnings: It has quite a bit of angst, Taehyung at one point acts like an idiot, time shifts between the present and four years earlier, most of the shot is focused on Tae's point of view.

WC: 16.9k

Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @zent9

Dividers: @thecutestgrotto

Taehyung stared fixedly at the sculpture in front of him, from the shape of its eyes to the soft curve of its lips. It was just like you, so much so that he could almost imagine the sparkle in your eyes and the sound of your laugh. He clenched his jaw as flashes of the days he had spent by your side returned to his memory—those times when you stayed up late kissing until your lips ached, or those afternoons when you went for walks on the beach to get some fresh air. It was unfair, it was painful, and perhaps the worst part was that it was his fault.

He set aside his chisel, never taking his eyes off the perfectly polished face of the one he was sure was the love of his life. He wasn’t going to gain anything by recalling the past, by getting stuck in the “what ifs” that had tormented him these past few years, he knew that. But then, why? Why was it so hard to stop thinking about you? About your voice, your touch, the way you loved so selflessly and intensely, simply... you.

"Taehyung, the exhibition is about to start. Are you ready?" Jiwon asked, crossing her arms as she leaned her shoulder against the doorframe. Her navy blue suit and the firm tie of her hair contrasted completely with the casual image she usually projected. He couldn’t help but feel a little relief as he realized his best friend took her work seriously, that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought, as alone as he felt inside.

"I think so..." he murmured, untangling the linen apron with clumsy movements before walking to her side. "What about you? Are you ready?"

"Already ready for more than an hour," she muttered quietly, too distracted by the sculpture behind him to really answer as she should. "It’s her, right? The woman you’ve been crying over for... I don’t know, three years?" She walked closer to the sculpture, studying its features. The delicate way in which Taehyung had captured her essence, as though he had poured his heart and soul into polishing every tiny detail of her. He had probably succeeded because even she, someone who was a zero at anything unrelated to science—and emotions in general—could feel a pressure in her chest looking at your face. "She’s beautiful... I understand why it hurts so much to have lost her." She shoved her hands in her pockets and turned to him.

"It was four years, Jiwon, and no, it’s not just ‘beautiful’, she is—" He protested, clenching his fists at his sides, his gaze fixed on your face—or rather, on the portrait of it. "She’s much more than a pretty face. You never knew her, you never did, so don’t talk about her like that."

Jiwon raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile crossing her face. "Oh, seems like I struck a nerve. Did you remember something interesting?"

Taehyung swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t like talking about you; actually, he hated when others talked about you, at least when they hadn’t had the chance to get to know you the way he had. When he had presented his exhibition with the 38 pieces he had created with you as his muse. Just like him, everyone was captivated by your beauty. It was weeks of the newspapers asking him about you, his new muse, talking about you as though they knew who you were, investigating tirelessly to find you. He hated it. With the bad taste left by Jiwon’s comment, he took a silk veil to cover the sculpture with as much care as possible, convincing himself that, in some way, covering your face would protect you from prying eyes. But he hadn’t counted on the fact that through the silk veil, the silhouette of your face still stared at him, as if reminding him that some wounds couldn’t be hidden by the finest fabric. Perhaps he didn’t miss company so much, at least not Jiwon’s.

"Let’s get out of here, please," he murmured, leaving the studio as quickly as his feet would allow him. The pain in his chest grew more unbearable, the nausea soon followed, and the discomfort was hard to ignore. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure it like this, but it definitely wouldn’t be much longer.

While Taehyung hurried out, Jiwon remained in the doorway, staring fixedly at the statue now covered by the veil. Unlike what Taehyung thought, she had known her—perhaps even longer than she could confess to her friend. She took the door handle, giving the space one last look. She stopped for a few seconds, clearing her mind. The uncertainty and guilt that had haunted her for the past four years were becoming harder to bear. She kept telling herself she was doing this for his sake, or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She clenched her jaw as she closed the door, as if doing so could choke the memories that threatened to suffocate her too, trying to leave that bitter love behind with the hundreds of portraits, photographs, and sculptures Taehyung had refused to display.

"Seriously, you couldn’t look more pathetic," Jiwon murmured, sitting relaxed in one of the beach chairs Taehyung had in the backyard of his house—mansion. The warm sun embraced her semi-naked skin, covered by a black swimsuit that accentuated her figure perfectly. Thick sunglasses rested on the bridge of her nose, protecting her eyes from the scorching summer sun, while her blonde hair fell softly over her shoulders. Jiwon was, in simple terms, a beautiful woman. But her sarcastic, insensitive, and rough attitude drove away almost everyone around her. Taehyung was one of the few exceptions.

"What are you doing in my house?" Taehyung grunted, ruffling his hair as he lay down on the grass, his brown eyes fixed on the crystal-clear water of the pool. The soft itch from the grass against his bare skin made him feel a little better, a little more alive. Why did it affect him so much that Joohyun left him? Well, maybe the fact that they had been together for five years, that she had been his muse since he met her, and that she left him right when he asked her to marry him, explained the intense pain in his chest. "You should, I don’t know... do whatever it is that family business owners do, like ruining one of your employee’s lives or marrying your secretary."

"Nah, that’s boring. Besides, Jungkook isn’t my type," she murmured lazily, the summer sun burning her eyes through her sunglasses. The sensation soon began to relax her, to the point of feeling her eyelids fall involuntarily. "Now, what are you going to do with your work? You have an exhibition in eight months and you’ve barely managed to do anything other than cry over some brainless girl."

Taehyung frowned, turning to look at Jiwon. Her mocking smile and sarcastic tone fit perfectly with her attitude. They had been friends for over ten years, and he still didn’t understand why they remained friends. With the urge to throw a beach chair at her head still bubbling inside, he stood up from the ground and walked toward her, approaching with firm steps.

"Joohyun wasn’t a brainless girl. She was my girlfriend, my muse, and without her..." He paused for a moment, staring at the sky barely covered by clouds. Something in his throat was choking him. "Without her, I’m nothing."

"Oh, please, stop being so pathetic." Jiwon reclined back in her chair, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them somewhere on the floor. Her expression, though slightly furrowed, was filled with disdain, and one of her eyebrows rose inquisitively. "Since when do you feel sorry for a woman? There are hundreds of thousands of women out there who are way more interesting, beautiful, and fun than that bitch."

"Stop calling her that, Jiwon," he said sternly, clenching his teeth to avoid exploding. He didn’t like her talking about Joohyun like that, even though he knew Jiwon had no filter for her opinions. He had always been aware of Jiwon’s coldness when it came to emotional matters, especially love, but that didn’t stop the pain her words caused every time they pierced him. Part of him knew what Jiwon said was true, but another part, the bigger part, refused to accept it. He preferred to live in a world as beautiful as his works than face the harsh reality.

"I’m just telling the truth. She cheated on you more than once, took advantage of your money, and was obsessed with being the star of your works. She practically made you dependent on her!" She moved a little closer, gently tapping his forehead. "Trust me, there are a lot of beautiful girls out there who could be your muse. Just... I don’t know... go look for one."

Taehyung looked at his best friend’s impassive face, the calm in her blue eyes, as cold as ice. She would never understand him. No matter how hard she tried, Jiwon would never feel art and love the way he did. Her view was objective, superficial. And that was exactly what he needed at that moment.

"Ugh, I’d forgotten how loud these events could be," Taehyung muttered, walking with his head down, heading directly to the exhibition hall. The cream-colored hallways adorned with hundreds of high-quality paintings and sculptures made Taehyung feel as if he were at home—or at least that’s how it had been for a long time, before he met you. He still felt a certain warmth in these kinds of places, but something inside him twisted every time he stepped into a museum. It was hard to feel whole when you had lost someone you felt so drawn to.

"It’s because you’re here, stirring up the hormones of the women artists," Jiwon murmured, walking slowly, taking her time to appreciate the art around her. Unlike Taehyung, she had never sympathized with art. She didn’t understand why people admired it so much, nor did she understand how it could generate such strong emotions with just one look. But she knew he liked it, and that was more than enough to spare a few hours of her life to accompany him to exhibitions.

"Of course not, that’s—" His feet came to a sudden stop when he noticed a large painting on the far wall. At first, his mind refused to accept what he was seeing. He blinked, trying to convince himself it was a coincidence, an illusion… But every detail brought him back to that night. And then, the weight of reality fell on him, crushing him. He remembered that moment as if it were yesterday—the cold night breeze on the beach, the smell of salt, the sand against his toes, you… It didn’t take long before he felt the knot forming in his throat, growing until it made it hard to speak and breathe. That white dress with blue reflections, your long, dark hair, the moon, the night,… everyhing came back to him like pieces of a broken mirror, cutting his heart with every little shard he tried to visualize.

It wasn’t just a painting. It was the only time he had captured something more than the beauty of a muse; he had painted the love he felt, without masks or artifices. That painting was a secret, a silent confession he never intended to share.

"Oh, I don’t remember seeing this one among the pieces you submitted," Jiwon said, walking closer to read the title. "Muse?" Taehyung’s heart stopped the moment he heard those words leave Jiwon’s lips. He didn’t want that painting to be displayed; he didn’t want anyone else to see it, for anyone else to feel what he felt that night. He didn’t want to share that moment so intimate, so important to him, to both of you.

Every brushstroke was an unspoken word, an echo of that night he could never relive. How could he share it? How could he allow someone else to interpret it, feel it, judge it? With the little strength he had left, he looked at the figure of the young woman in the painting, and with a trembling hand pressed to his aching chest, he murmured, "Ask them to take it down. Now." His voice cracked as he clenched his fist against his chest, as if trying to contain something that was about to break. "I don’t want… I can’t see it here."

Despite the pain the painting caused him, he seemed incapable of looking away from it, from you. He didn’t understand—how had it ended up here? He was certain he had left it with the rejected pieces. He had spent four years hiding it from the view of any intruder, never showing it to anyone—so how?

While Taehyung wrestled with himself, trying to figure out how the painting had ended up in the exhibition, Jiwon focused on studying him, every little gesture he made. She noticed how his lips pressed into a thin line, how his chest rose and fell irregularly, how his hands trembled slightly at his sides, and, finally, how his eyes seemed to be covered by a sheen of water, on the verge of spilling a bitter tear.

It was only when a single tear traced down his cheek that guilt overwhelmed her. She pressed her lips together, her thoughts clashing against each other. She had thought displaying it would give Taehyung a push, a way to force him to stop running from his own feelings. But now, seeing his reaction, she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to present that painting at the exhibition.

The soft night breeze elegantly tousled Taehyung’s hair, a stark contrast to his bare feet resting on the sand. The cigarette between his lips and the taste of nicotine made a feeble, almost miserable, attempt to ease the pressure on his chest. The memory of Joohyun still lingered in his mind, every time he closed his eyes, every time he picked up a brush. Frustration began to irritate him, and he still had only seven and a half months left to present his exhibition.

“You shouldn’t do that, it’s bad for you,” murmured a soft voice behind him. Silent footsteps beside him made him turn to see who was interrupting his negative thoughts, but even after being able to put a face to the mysterious voice, he couldn’t say anything. Every word, every thought, absolutely everything seemed to vanish the moment their gazes met.

There was a woman next to him, slightly younger than him. She wore a white dress, very similar to the one a bride would wear on her special day. Her dark, long hair rested delicately against her back and hips, and her large, bright eyes perfectly reflected the moonlight. Every feature he focused on made her seem even more ethereal. He had never felt anything so sudden since the first time he took a brush in his hand.

“Are you okay?” the young woman murmured, her brow furrowing slightly as she tilted her head to better observe Taehyung’s face, as if looking for any wounds or signs of pain. There was something about her that made the pain disappear from his chest.

“Who are you?” he managed to say after what felt like an eternity. The cigarette he had between his lips had long since fallen to the ground, forgotten entirely thanks to the almost angelic presence of the girl.

“Me?” she pointed to herself, her eyes reflecting incredulity and confusion, emotions that lasted only an instant, for she almost immediately gifted him one of the purest and gentlest smiles he had ever seen in his life. “My name is Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Y/N…” he murmured softly, taking in every detail of her face. The way her eyes reflected the light of the stars, how the night breeze tousled her hair, how her very presence seemed to calm the pain that had darkened his days for months. For the first time since Joohyun’s rejection, Taehyung felt inspired, as if, after months of drowning in a sea of tears, his lifeline had arrived, the one thing that could pull him from his misery. A new muse. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course! Ask me,” she tilted her head slightly, ready to listen to whatever the stranger had to say. You would lie if you said you weren’t nervous about speaking to him, not only because he was a complete stranger and could very well be a lunatic - although you were sure he wasn’t - but there was something about him, perhaps the way his eyes seemed so lost, or his melancholic aura that drew your attention, urging you to get closer to him, to understand why he seemed so… lost.

“Could you… could you be my model?” Taehyung wasn’t an insecure person and rarely justified what he said or did, but for some reason, he immediately felt the need to justify why he was asking her, a girl he had never seen before in his life, to be his model. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me, I’m not a creep or anything like that,” he hurried to say, feeling a wave of heat flood his face. “I-I’m an artist, I do paintings and sometimes photographs…” he shifted in place, anxiety gnawing at him. He licked his inner lip, taking a breath before continuing. “I have an exhibition in seven months and… the woman I was working with, my model, quit some time ago and seriously, seriously, I need someone to help me and you are…” he stopped again, his heart skipping a beat as he looked at her face again, “you’re beautiful…”

“Oh…” you said softly, feeling your cheeks warm faster than you’d like to admit. For a man as handsome as him - because yes, he was very attractive - to say that about you was… overwhelming. Even though your impulsive side, the more romantic one, screamed yes, your rational side made you reflect a little before accepting. You didn’t know him, you didn’t know his name, you had no way of knowing if it was true, and you didn’t plan on putting yourself in danger unnecessarily. “Do you have any proof that what you’re saying is true?”

“Well…” he put his hands in his pockets. He didn’t want her to see how they had been trembling from the nervousness of whether she would say yes or no. “I can tell you my artist name and, you know, you could look up my work. You don’t have to say yes now, you can take your time to think about it,” he pulled out a piece of paper from the back pocket of his pants, an old supermarket receipt he had forgotten to throw away in the past. He stretched it as much as he could, and once it was more… presentable, he wrote a series of numbers on it along with the name Vante. ‘I hope this doesn’t make me look crazy,’ he thought, ‘but I can’t let this opportunity slip away.’ “Here, this is my number and my artist name. If you like the idea, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Thank you… I’ll look it up when I get back to my hotel,” you murmured, looking at the messy, hurried writing with a smile. His strange way of giving you his contact information might have made you a little fond of him, but you definitely wouldn’t tell him that. It would be a secret kept only for you.

“So… why do you want that painting removed?” Jiwon stood her ground, ignoring Taehyung’s request. Her playful gaze had vanished a few seconds ago, replaced by an unusual seriousness. Her hands rested casually in her pants pockets, and her gaze, now cold and calculating, stayed fixed on her friend. “Why does her memory torment you so much, Taehyung? What happened between you two?”

Taehyung, for his part, remained looking down, incapable of facing the painting, incapable of reliving the moment that would change his life forever—something he had labeled his “point of no return.” He didn’t want to be interrogated, didn’t want to answer questions about her, didn’t feel capable of doing so without breaking down into inconsolable tears.

“It’s been almost four years, Tae,” Jiwon murmured, her voice so soft that, if he didn’t know her, he wouldn’t believe it was the same person. “You won’t achieve anything by keeping all of this inside… I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t open up to me.”

Taehyung sighed, ruffling his hair in a futile attempt to shake off the frustration weighing on him. He knew she was right; he knew he had to be honest, to tell the truth, but the memories were so painful, so unbearable.

“Tae… please.” Jiwon tried to meet his eyes, her pleading gaze fixed on his now-disheveled hair.

There were a few moments of silence, seconds in which they both seemed to be debating how to proceed. On one hand, Taehyung wanted to open up to her, to tell her the truth about what happened between him and her. Jiwon, on the other hand, seemed to be debating internally whether to keep pushing or simply let it go and wait for another moment, wait until he was ready to take that step on his own.

It was just when Jiwon opened her mouth to say she’d go talk to have the painting removed that Taehyung’s voice interrupted her. “It was my fault…” he murmured in a low, trembling voice, barely holding back tears. “She… she left because of me, Jiwon. I ruined it… and I’m not even sure if I’ll ever have another chance to see her again.”

With soft yet determined steps, Jiwon approached Taehyung, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder. She ran her hand through his dark hair, sighing as she felt her shirt grow damp from his tears. She lifted her gaze, noticing the large ostentatious chandelier above them. It was a trivial detail; she’d seen it hundreds of times and never paid attention to it. But now, in this moment, with the uncertainty of not knowing how to console her friend, the crystal design of that pretentious object helped her stay distracted, to maintain the calm she was known for.

“It’s okay… it’ll be okay. Whatever happened, you can’t keep carrying it alone. I’m here, do you understand? No matter how much time has passed, you don’t have to face this on your own,” she murmured softly, feeling Taehyung’s hands grip her like his life depended on it.

“If only I had… If only I’d been different, if I’d been better, maybe she’d still be here. But I hurt her. I made her leave.” The weight of his words seemed to crush him further, his voice trembling as if even the air itself refused to cooperate. He kept his head down, unable to face Jiwon’s eyes, afraid of finding pity or judgment there.

Jiwon had known Taehyung for years, had seen every side of him and accepted them all without question, because it was those very facets that made Taehyung the man he was—her best friend. However, seeing Taehyung break down like this hurt her more than any other negative trait she had witnessed in him. This time felt different; this time it felt like there was nothing she could do to help him, and that unsettled her deeply.

She wanted to find the right words, something that could take away at least a fraction of the pain that seemed to be consuming him. But all she could do was hold him, because sometimes, words weren’t enough; sometimes, all it took was silence and a warm embrace, letting them release their pain on your shoulder and simply being the handkerchief for their tears.

You walked into Taehyung’s studio, taking in the walls covered in artwork, many of them featuring Joohyun. A framed photograph caught your attention: Joohyun in an elegant, confident pose, with an air of near-unattainable perfection. A knot formed in your stomach at the thought that you could never measure up.

“She wasn’t perfect. I just learned how to capture her that way,” Taehyung murmured, almost as if sensing your unease and insecurity about his proposal.

You gave him a nervous smile, telling yourself this couldn’t go too badly... though deep down, you felt like you’d already failed before you even started. “Are you sure this is going to work?” you murmured as you watched Taehyung shuffle his things around in a clumsy and overly rushed manner.

You had contacted him the following day, still uncertain about the idea of being his model. The paintings you’d seen, the photos and sculptures—everything was truly beautiful, just like the woman who had taken on the role of Taehyung’s former model. It made your anxiety grow even more. What if his audience didn’t like his new muse—you? What if you couldn’t measure up? How were you supposed to pose? What expression should you wear?

Taehyung set his canvas in front of you, moving around the room in search of the perfect angle, muttering to himself all the while. “Relax,” he said without looking directly at you, his hands busy adjusting the lights and his materials. “I don’t need a professional. I just need someone who can give me back the inspiration I thought I’d lost. Difficult? Yes. But not for you.”

A soft blush spread across your cheeks, and you quickly lowered your gaze, embarrassed. You had no idea why you had agreed to this, but when you saw the bright spark in Taehyung’s eyes as he asked—begged—you to be his model, his muse, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

Your eyes fell on one of the photographs resting near the easel. Once again, it was Joohyun with her impeccable posture and piercing gaze, seemingly staring at you, judging you from afar. You tried to avoid catching your reflection in the nearby window, but you couldn’t stop the thought: How am I supposed to live up to this?

“But I’m not a model... I’m going to be so stiff,” you said quietly as Taehyung gently guided you to the exact spot where you were supposed to sit. Your heart raced every time you felt his presence close to you, his touch, his gaze. You were so deeply captivated by his passion for art that it was almost impossible not to feel your small, fragile heart overflow with anxiety, fear, and excitement whenever you saw him.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be a model to be someone’s muse,” he chuckled softly, seating you in front of the grand piano in his spacious home. He stepped back to where his canvas and paints were, feeling the inspiration he thought he’d lost rushing back to him in a flood of emotions he didn’t fully understand—and, for the moment, didn’t care to.

All he needed was to complete a total of ten paintings—just ten. The other works would be divided into photographs and sculptures, most of which were already nearly finished. He only had to focus on his craft, on taking advantage of the inspiration that had returned to him thanks to you, and simply… paint.

“So… do I just sit here doing nothing?” you asked curiously, lifting your hands until your delicate fingers hovered over the piano keys. You liked music and, along with it, instruments. You’d taken piano lessons as a child, so you had some skill, and playing might help calm your nerves.

“You can play something if you want…” he murmured, fumbling with his charcoal pencils, desperate to get something onto the canvas, eager to capture your beauty with his own hands. He wanted—no, needed—the world to see you, and not through just anyone’s eyes. He wanted everyone to see you the way he did: as his salvation.

“Oh… okay.” From your spot, you could see him: the concentration on his face, the way his fingers moved clumsily among the pencils and charcoal. There was something hypnotic about his passion, the way his entire world seemed to revolve around a canvas. And for a moment, you wished to be more than just his muse. Shaking your head in an attempt to dismiss the thought, you turned back to the piano, pausing for a few seconds before beginning to play a soft melody that Taehyung recognized as River Flows in You.

The anxiety he had felt, the desperation to create something at that very moment, dissipated. He still wanted to paint the scene before him—there was no doubt about that—but he no longer trembled as he picked up his pencil. His heart didn’t race wildly. It was simply… you, him, and the sound of the piano keys filling the silence between you as Taehyung immortalized the moment.

After a few minutes, Taehyung paused to observe the scene before him: your gentle gaze fixed on the piano keys, your lips slightly pursed in concentration, your hands moving fluidly to the romantic yet melancholic rhythm of the song. It was like a scene from a movie made just for him, reflecting both his pain and his fortune.

“Wait, turn a bit to the left… No, not that much.” His voice was calm, but you could see the tension in his furrowed brow. You tried to follow his instructions, though every small movement felt more awkward than the last. You were starting to get nervous, and it showed. “Like this?”

“Yes… yes, that’s good,” he replied, but his tone was distracted, his gaze fixed on the canvas as if trying to solve a puzzle. You knew something was still bothering him, but you didn’t have the courage to ask again—not when your nerves felt so raw.

For a moment, he lifted his eyes from the canvas and looked at you. His gaze was intense, as if trying to find something he still couldn’t capture on paper. “You’re fine,” he said softly, more to himself than to you, before returning to his work.

His comment threw you off a little, distracting you from your task. A sharp, wrong note echoed in the room, and your cheeks flushed immediately. Were the stars aligned today just to embarrass you?

“That was… unexpected,” Taehyung said with a soft laugh.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t apologize. It makes it more… real,” he said, his lips curving into a smile that managed to soothe your anxiety, if only a little. “I never thought something as simple as a piano could look so…” Taehyung trailed off, his voice fading into the sound of his pencil against the paper.

“So what?” you whispered. For some reason, your heart raced with anticipation for whatever he was about to say.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied quickly, but his cheeks held a faint blush. He set his pencil aside and leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between the canvas and you. You could feel his scrutiny, but this time, it didn’t make you feel insecure. There was something different in his eyes, something you couldn’t decipher.

Taehyung didn’t realize it, but in that moment, his eyes met yours. It lasted only seconds but felt like an eternity. Something in his expression made your chest tighten: was it admiration? Gratitude?

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper that hung in the air between you. His gaze remained locked on yours, dark and deep, as if searching for something he didn’t even know he’d lost.

In that moment, the world seemed to stop—there was no piano, no paintings, just the weight of his gaze anchoring you to the ground.

His hand, stained with charcoal, rested gently on yours with a softness that surprised you. It was a strange contrast: his fingers strong but trembling slightly, as if holding himself back from gripping you tighter. Something in your chest twisted—a mix of fear and hope—and for one brief, eternal moment, it felt as if the walls between you both had crumbled.

But the moment broke as quickly as it had come. Taehyung withdrew his hand, his expression closing off again as he stepped away. He gathered his materials with studied calm, as if nothing had happened. But you knew it had meant everything; you wanted it to mean everything.

Even as Taehyung distanced himself, you remained at the piano, letting the melody flow naturally from your fingers. But your mind? Your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t stop wondering why such a simple gesture affected you so deeply, why your heart raced every time he looked at you. Your reflection in the piano’s glossy surface stared back at you, confused and almost lost. To him, this was just work. But to you… what was all of this to you? What were you feeling? The answer scared you, but at the same time, it filled you with something new, something you couldn’t define.

"Are you feeling better?" Jiwon murmured, holding a bottle of water up to his face. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel sorry for seeing him in such a sorry state, with wet cheeks, a red nose, and dry lips. It was probably the worst she’d ever seen him, even worse than when Joohyun had left him. But she had no idea what to do or say to cheer him up. Knowing herself, she’d probably make things worse if she opened her mouth.

"Yeah..." he replied quietly, his brown eyes fixed on an empty spot on the floor. He seemed lost, absorbed in his own world, trapped in memories that caused him so much pain and heaviness it felt like he couldn’t bear them much longer. That, Jiwon thought, had been Taehyung's greatest muse: his pain.

"I’m sorry you have to go through all of this, I... I didn’t want to cause you more trouble. I know you hate listening to people complain and all that, but... I don’t have anyone else..."

"Shut up, you’re just making things worse," he murmured with sarcasm, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere a little. Contrary to what Taehyung thought, Jiwon actually cared about how he felt, she cared about listening to him, being there for him. "Now, why don’t you start from the beginning? How did you meet her?"

Taehyung stayed silent for a few seconds, one of his hands running through his hair, which had lost its once elegant form a long time ago. He licked his lips, feeling them dry. When he looked up, Jiwon’s eyes were already fixed on him, observing him with an intensity that revealed just how vulnerable he felt.

"I... I met her five years ago... there were almost seven months left until the next exhibition and I was struggling to create new art... and then she..."

"Did you make her your muse?" Jiwon tilted her head, sitting down next to him on the step. Her friend’s nervous behavior was starting to unsettle her. Even she didn’t know why. She knew him like the back of her hand, she knew he would never harm a girl, at least not consciously. So why was it so hard for him to speak?

"Yeah..." he murmured, covering his face with both hands. He closed his eyes, letting the memories of his time with Soomin flood back: her laughter, her eyes, her lips, her skin against his. Each memory grew more vivid, like a cold stream of water. He could hear the melody she played on the piano the first time they worked together, or remember the first time he saw her smile... Everything overwhelmed his mind like a cascade of moments he couldn’t stop. "She... she was like a breath of fresh air. I’d never met anyone so beautiful... and I’m not just talking about her looks, although she was that too. I’m talking about... her." He sighed, looking at Jiwon, whose eyes reflected the desolation he was feeling. "Her essence, her soul... whatever you want to call it. That’s what made her beautiful, Jiwon, and I don’t think I’ll find that in anyone else... I don’t want to."

Jiwon hugged her knees, still looking at her friend. She thought she understood what he was saying, at least to some extent. She had seen it reflected in his works, the way he portrayed her. It couldn’t be a coincidence that in each one, Soomin appeared as an ephemeral, ethereal being.

"So, then? Why did you let her go?" she murmured, studying his profile intently. She knew Taehyung was rambling, avoiding the topic. If she didn’t press him, he wouldn’t face it, and the last thing he needed right now was to keep avoiding reality.

Jiwon watched Taehyung for a long moment, feeling how the air between them thickened. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of his sadness was crushing him. She decided not to interrupt him, though his words hung heavily in the air. The silence between them became thick, but Jiwon didn’t want to rush her friend. She knew that only when he was ready, the words would come. But when Taehyung finally looked at her, his dark eyes were empty, filled with a sadness that Jiwon couldn’t fully understand, but she felt it as if it were her own.

‘It was her who left me, Jiwon...’

"I told you I can't dance, Taehyung," you said with a trembling voice, watching as your feet wobbled unsteadily while trying to follow Taehyung's steps.

The soft jazz music filled the room, and the evening light covered them in a warm blanket that made the scene feel like something straight out of a 1950s-inspired movie, where a couple of lovers let themselves be swept away by the music, enjoying each other's presence.

The only difference was that they weren’t a couple of lovers. At least, not both of them.

You simply let yourself be carried away by Taehyung. His slow and relaxed swaying set the rhythm while you felt his soft heartbeat against your ear. Yours, in contrast, sped up, making it hard to breathe. Your steps stumbled between the softness of the music and the weight of what you didn’t dare confess, as if you were dancing on a cloud about to disappear. Every second with Taehyung felt like that to you—it felt magically unstable, a shaky ground that made you feel too good to let go.

Taehyung, on his part, felt calm, at peace, inspired. He enjoyed your presence and how easily you could make him reason, forget his pain, and move on. Feeling your hands, much smaller than his, against his shoulders made him feel grounded, and your nervous gaze and shy stutter caused a warmth in his chest that he had never felt with any girl before. Taehyung wasn’t someone who liked comparing people, but it was impossible for him not to compare the emotions he felt when he was with you and how these made him feel much more secure than he had ever felt with Joohyun. He couldn’t stop wondering what that meant, what he was supposed to do with all the emotions he was feeling. Everything felt so familiar and new at the same time, as if his heart recognized something his mind still couldn’t understand. And that disconnect scared him more than he wanted to admit.

They were each other’s refuge, their pillar. Taehyung felt free when you were by his side, and you felt protected when Taehyung was by your side. You were sure of what you wanted from Taehyung, but him? He still couldn’t fully decipher his emotions for you. How could he think about what he wanted if he didn’t even know what he felt?

"Let go," he whispered next to your ear, his fingers lightly brushing the silk fabric covering your waist. The combination of his warmth and the coolness of the fabric gave him a strange comfort, one he didn’t fully understand but didn’t want to let go of.

"It’s hard... to let go in situations like this, Tae," your fingers pressed slightly against Taehyung’s shirt in an attempt to ignore the shiver you felt down your spine when his words left his lips. For a moment, you could feel the warmth of his mouth against the bare skin of your shoulder, and it was a sensation you didn’t want to forget.

"Then let me guide you," he pulled back slightly, enough to gaze into your eyes. The eye contact between the two of you made everything feel unstable and blurry, and for the first time, you didn’t feel afraid to let yourself feel, because how could you not, when he looked at you with those warm eyes and that kind smile on his lips?

The tension between you two seemed to grow with each passing second, until you felt a tingling at the tips of your fingers and a flutter in your lower belly. The soft saxophone melody had long since faded into the background, both of you too focused on each other’s breath, the foreign heartbeat invading your ears, transporting you to a world where only the two of you existed.

"Tae," you murmured, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes fixed on his. You felt like with every word, the ground beneath your feet was disappearing, but you kept going, "I think... I think I’m falling in love with you." The words hung in the air, filling the silent space between you two.

He didn’t respond. He simply watched you, feeling the gentle sway of your body against his. His hands, now a little stiffer, remained on your waist, but his fingers began to tighten slightly, as if trying to hold onto a truth he didn’t fully understand. His lips, pressed in a thin line, trembled for a moment before returning to silence. He wanted to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat, as heavy as the feelings he was just starting to understand. His thoughts were a whirlwind, unable to find an anchor in what he truly felt, so he just stayed there, your words floating in his mind, repeating over and over, tormenting him.

And you? You just let it go, convincing yourself that he needed time. You knew it was hard to find the words for something so new. At least that’s what you told yourself, trying to silence the fear that started growing in your chest, the fear that this silence wasn’t the prelude to something beautiful, but the confirmation that your paths would never be the same.

“What did you say?” Jiwon frowned, not out of anger but confusion. You had left him? Really? Up until now, everything she had heard about you—from Taehyung—painted a picture of someone completely in love, head over heels, someone who seemed to give everything for him. So why would you leave? Something didn’t add up.

Both remained silent, the only noise filtering into the room was the distant buzz from the exhibition inside the museum. There was a certain tension in the air that neither of them could decipher, mostly because they were both focused on two very different things. Jiwon was trying to understand the torturous silence and torment that seemed to invade Taehyung every time your name came up in conversation; and he… he was trying to explain the situation without breaking apart in the process. He didn’t like remembering the past, didn’t like reliving the happy moments by your side because he knew they’d only remain as fleeting memories erased by time. And he didn’t want to forget you, didn’t want to lose you. You had left a mark on him in a way no one else ever had. Who else could understand him the way you did? Who else could play a melody as harmonious as the one you played every time you sat in front of his piano? Who could allow themselves to open up the way you did with him? To Taehyung, you were one of a kind, a treasure that no amount of money could buy or replace. If only his past self had thought the same, maybe…

Taehyung let out a sigh, softly biting his lower lip. He felt frustrated, lost, hurt… how could he put everything he felt into words when the wound was still open? Wasn’t it supposed to be that you healed first and then made sense of the situation? Even so, he tried. He tried to tell Jiwon the reason you had left. “It was my fault, Jiwon… damn it, it was my fault,” he murmured through clenched teeth, the lump in his throat growing more suffocating, his eyes burning more and more. “If it weren’t for me, she’d still be here, with me, and… and maybe… just maybe…” he pressed his lips together, looking at Jiwon with eyes full of pain, of regret, “she’d still love me.”

Jiwon observed him in silence for a few seconds. She hadn’t missed the fact that he still hadn’t told her the truth about why you had left him. So far, all he had admitted was that it was his fault and that you were the one who left, but the reason was still being dodged, and it was beginning to frustrate her. She wasn’t a patient person; she had waited four years for him to spit out whatever was tormenting him so much. She didn’t intend to give him more time—he had already had the opportunity to wallow and cry over his own misery. Now it was time to face reality, to face the present. It was about time he left the past where it belonged.

“Taehyung,” she grabbed his cheeks between her hands, perhaps a bit too roughly, but she didn’t care. She wanted to help him, truly wanted to, but time was running out, and his ramblings weren’t helping much. “Tell me right now what the hell happened between you two.”

"Then… What do you like more? Painting or music?" you asked, a playful smile decorating your beautiful face as you held a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. You had been with Taehyung for almost five months, and each day spent with him made you feel more comfortable, more at home. You were no longer embarrassed to be his model, and you didn’t mind looking at him for hours while he captured your image on the blank canvas. A few days ago, you had also lost the shame of being next to him, skin to skin, heart to heart. You had forgotten how good it felt to be with a guy.

Your eyes were fixed on Taehyung, on how the summer linen shirt barely covered the top of his body and how small maroon marks stood out on his neck and collarbone. You felt a slight wave of heat cover your face as you remembered the previous night, and all the ones before it. You could still feel his warm, rough hand on the bare skin of your waist, his soft sighs against your lips, and his eyes covered by a layer of lust.

"Hmm, I think… I prefer admiring music, and creating paintings," he smiled as he answered, letting his brush float over the blank canvas, tracing every detail of your figure, from the shine in your eyes to the pink of your plump lips. "What about you, Y/N? What do you prefer?"

"Me?" You paused for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. You were surprised that he returned the question— you’d be lying if you said otherwise. You stopped to think for a moment. Music or painting? You loved art in all its forms, you loved going to museums and admiring the classic works that everyone knew, as well as those hidden in a corner that rivaled the beauty of the classics. You also loved music, attending recitals, concerts, seeing a live performance like The Phantom of the Opera or Hamilton— that was one of your biggest dreams. But...

A slight smile painted your lips as you thought of your answer. "I prefer to write."

"Write?" Taehyung set the brush aside for a moment, focusing entirely on you, not the beauty that so enchanted him or the inspiration you made him feel, but on you as a person. Even though you had been getting to know each other for months, Taehyung didn’t know much about you, aside from basic things like your name, age, and a few likes you had casually mentioned.

"Yes, I studied a degree in literature in Paris. Actually, I had returned to Korea the same day we met," you laughed softly, hiding the lower half of your face behind the bouquet of flowers Taehyung had asked you to use for today’s session. "I’ve always… been captivated by books and the emotions they could evoke in people, how you could get so immersed in a story just through the words of someone you've never met… I… really want to become someone who can provoke those intense emotions just with words, cross the barriers of language and culture…" You lifted your gaze, locking eyes with the bright man in front of you; his eyes so full of life, his heart-shaped lips, his messy dark hair, stained with paint from his hands. He was a work of art in itself, one you had admired constantly from the very first moment. "I guess that’s why I was captivated by you the first time we spoke… knowing that you were able to achieve everything I’ve always wanted with your art… made me see you as a role model, I suppose."

With slightly trembling hands, you set the bouquet aside, walking slowly and unsurely towards Taehyung. You didn’t stop until you were in front of him, feeling the warmth of his skin close to yours. You stretched one hand to rest it on his shoulder, lifting the long skirt of your pale pink dress just enough to raise your leg. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you positioned both of your legs around his, in an intimate yet comfortable act at the same time. You brought your face closer to his, resting your forehead against his.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, just before saying, "Anyway, I don’t think that matters… I stopped seeing you that way a long time ago."

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He rarely responded to comments like that from you. Besides, it’s not like you could say anything when his lips were against yours, his paint-covered hand caressing your cheek, leaving a trail of color on your skin as he brought his face closer to yours, wanting to feel you closer, wanting his kiss to convey everything he felt. You felt his other hand caressing your thigh, lifting your dress higher as his hand moved closer and closer to your waist.

You didn’t need words when you could feel it this way, you thought. That would be enough for now.

Taehyung was aware that he needed to speak, that he had to let out what he had been hiding for so long, even if it was difficult for him. He thought that perhaps, the perspective of someone distant and completely detached like Jiwon could give a new twist to his memories, maybe with her help, he could reflect on what had happened. But knowing what he had to do was very different from being ready to do it.

Still, despite the insecurity and anxiety that speaking it out loud caused him, he said it, for the first time, to someone else other than himself.

"I think... I think it all started after Y/N confessed her feelings for me," he said with a trembling voice, his hands shaking slightly as he prepared to tell Jiwon the truth behind his separation from you. "Everything felt too overwhelming, I was too absorbed in my own art, in what I wanted, in what she meant to my art, and..." he closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in an attempt to avoid breaking down in tears again, "I guess I forgot she was more than just a muse for me... I forgot she was a person with emotions, with feelings..." He lifted his gaze, looking at Jiwon’s expectant eyes. "The only way I knew how to love was through my art, through my paintings... but I completely ignored the fact that... by doing that, I forgot her, I neglected her... I treated her like a replacement."

They both fell into silence for a few seconds. Jiwon observed him attentively while Taehyung seemed to be lost in his own world, lost in his memories and his own pain, in the moment when you confronted him, in how your tears started falling the moment he didn't know what to say to you, too afraid of how it might affect your relationship with him, not realizing that it was precisely that insecurity that would separate you permanently.

As Taehyung vividly recalled the day of your separation, Jiwon was trying to analyze everything he had said up to that point, trying to piece it together as best as possible. There was one doubt that lingered in her mind, one piece that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fit together. "Replacement"... did he really say he treated her like that? She was sure she had heard him use that word. She glanced at him sideways, noticing how his hands were clutching his dark hair, pulling at it in a desperate movement. She didn’t feel completely comfortable interrogating her best friend while he was in such a vulnerable state, but the unease and the urge to intervene were too strong, even for someone as controlling as her.

"Taehyung, by any chance... did you treat her like a replacement for Joohyun?" she said softly, watching every little change in Taehyung’s expression, looking for any sign that could tell her what was going on in his mind. She wished she was wrong, she really did, but the fact that he had just used that word... it was hard to think of anything else.

She knew she was right the moment she saw how his brown eyes filled with tears.

"How much longer? My hands are starting to cramp," you murmured, feeling the exhaustion weigh on you. The moonlight streamed through the window, delicately falling on your sleepy face. It was a view worthy of being captured in a photograph, but Taehyung knew that, even if he did, it wouldn't be the same. A photo couldn't express the emotions he was feeling in this moment.

"Just a little longer, Y/N, hold on a bit more," he said softly, finishing painting your dark hair. His heart raced every time his eyes met yours, noticing how they seemed to reflect the stars and the moon. He'd painted hundreds of women in the past, had a muse here and there, but no one had made him feel the way he felt right now. Not even Joohyun. "God... you're so beautiful, it's so easy to feel inspired by you."

You watched him in silence, noticing how his hands moved over the canvas, how his eyes shifted between the painting and you in a matter of seconds. You could see the adoration and admiration in his gaze, and yet, you couldn't help but feel a slight tug in your chest. The thought had been lingering in your mind for days, but the insecurity and fear of hearing his answer had kept you from asking it until now.

At least until now.

"What am I to you?" you murmured with a trembling voice, gripping the soft fabric of your dress. The pressure in your chest and the knot in your stomach grew with each passing second without an answer from Taehyung. You were scared to know the truth, scared of what his answer might be, but you needed to be sure of his feelings for you. You needed to know if he saw you for who you were or if he simply… treated you like another one of his models.

"What kind of question is that?" he laughed softly, putting aside his palette and brushes, gazing at the painting before him. It was absolutely hypnotizing, like all the ones he'd done since meeting you. He couldn't explain it, but every painting he'd done with you as the subject made him feel satisfied with his work. "You're my muse."

"Is that all? Nothing more?" You watched as Taehyung carried the freshly finished painting alongside a pile of other works he'd made since meeting you. The lack of interest he seemed to show toward your question made your heart ache. You were sure you hadn’t been imagining things; you saw the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, how every little thing you did seemed to dazzle him in a way that was almost exaggerated, as if your mere existence enchanted him. So why did it now seem like he had no interest in you? In what was between you?

"Why do you say it like that? It’s important to me," you murmured, your heart breaking a little more with every word he said. "I needed to finish the next exhibition, and I couldn’t find inspiration after Joohyun left... when you came into my life, it was like a lifeline. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there that night. I probably would’ve had to, I don’t know, post an ad on the internet asking for a model or something."

"I was her replacement," you interrupted, standing up from the chair you’d been sitting in for the last five hours. Your legs trembled; you weren’t sure if it was from the time you’d spent in that position or because of the overwhelming urge to cry, but it didn’t matter, not now, not when the person you loved had just told you to your face that you were nothing more than a tool to achieve his goal. That, just as you were, it could’ve been any random girl who offered herself. "All this time... all we’ve been through together... didn’t it mean anything to you? Did you only care about finishing your work?"

Taehyung turned to look at you, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the tears silently streaking down your cheeks. He felt his mouth dry and his heart tighten at what he had just said. He had never thought of you as a replacement, right? You were beautiful, and he wanted to capture that beauty in his work; that was it.

No. No, it wasn’t. He knew it, but still, he couldn’t deny what you had just said. There were emotions involved, of that he was sure, but was it love? Was it really love? His heart had just been broken almost half a year ago, wasn’t it too soon to fall in love so quickly? Wasn’t it unethical?

"You never said it," you said with a broken voice, your bottom lip trembling with each word that left your lips. "You never answered when I told you I loved you."

"You're really an idiot," Jiwon let out a deep sigh, pressing her hand against her forehead. "How is it even possible that you said that? Do you have a brain? Of course, you do, but it's obvious you don't know how to use it."

"I know it was a mistake, I know, believe me," Taehyung watched her get up, feeling the urge to do the same, but the numbness in his legs and the trembling in every part of his body prevented him from moving. "I've replayed that moment in my head over and over, thinking about everything I could've said, how the situation could've been different if I... if only..." He let out a sigh, tugging at his hair with force. "I loved her... I still do, I always have, but... I don’t know... I was so desperate for inspiration, for recognition for my art that... I forgot."

"What did you forget?" she murmured, watching as Taehyung's hands lowered to his knees, burying his short nails into the fabric of his suit pants. "That the poor girl, surprisingly, also had feelings and wasn't just a doll you could use for your work?"

Taehyung knew Jiwon would react this way, after all, he had thought the same thing after his conversation with you. Still, it was hard not to feel hurt by his friend's cold words, no matter how much he felt he deserved them.

"I forgot that the reason I approached her in the first place was because I loved her," he whispered after a few seconds of silence, biting the inside of his lip to keep any sob from escaping. He didn’t deserve to cry; he wasn't the victim in this situation. "I loved her, Jiwon, like I had never loved anyone in my life. She was so much more than my muse. The only reason I was able to paint was because she made me feel alive, because she made me feel like it was worth showing the world the same beauty I saw in her. I wanted the world to see what I felt, but I never thought that by doing so... she... she would leave me."

"Well, shit," Jiwon crossed her arms, pacing in circles in front of him. She felt nervous, restless, and insecure. She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out her phone and quickly sending a message to one of her saved contacts. It was just as she pressed send that she realized something. "Wait, with what you just told me, she never mentioned anything about leaving you."

Taehyung looked up, his eyes seemed dull, lifeless, desolate, just like he'd felt over the last four years without you by his side. With one last sigh, he gave her a soft, weak smile, devoid of happiness. "That’s because she didn’t leave me at that moment, Jiwon."

Taehyung felt restless, pacing back and forth, staring at the window like a madman, desperate for any sign of you that would indicate you were still alive. It had been almost three days since your last conversation, and during those days, he hadn’t received any sign of life from you. The anxiety began to consume him like never before. Were you okay? Were you eating three meals a day? Were you staying hydrated? Were you sleeping enough? What if you had caught a cold? What if you’d had an accident?

It was just when his mind took him to the worst possible scenario when a soft "knock knock" sounded on the front door, followed by a “Can I come in?” from your side.

With his heart in his hand and his stomach almost in his throat, Taehyung ran to the door, opening it too quickly. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide his desperation anyway.

"...Hey," you said quietly, looking at him with a barely perceptible smile. It wasn’t like the smiles you had given Taehyung in the past. There was no familiar sparkle in your eyes that made him feel weak and excited, and your voice didn’t have the affectionate and cheerful tone it used to have before your last conversation. But there you were, in front of him, looking just as beautiful as always, being the pillar that kept him standing during his worst moments. “Can I… come in?”

Unable to say anything, Taehyung stepped aside, letting you enter his studio, watching as you walked gracefully and delicately through the place decorated with hundreds of paint jars and canvases of all sizes, most of them empty.

"Y/N, I..."

"Let me speak first, please," you said in a calm tone, turning to look at him. Your expression was serene, but it carried the same pain as the last time you saw each other, and that broke Taehyung in a way he didn’t even know he could feel. “I want to apologize for the other day. I think... I think I got carried away by how I was feeling, and I completely forgot that, from the beginning, what we had was only a work-related relationship.”

“No, wait, don’t apologize…”

“Let me finish,” you approached him, your steps slow and unsure. You were scared, afraid of making a mistake again, of taking the wrong path, of opening your heart once more and leaving even more hurt. But you knew this conversation was necessary. “What we had was a contract, yes,” you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts as best as you could, “But… I’m aware that over time, we both developed feelings for each other. I know what I felt for you, I know it was real and genuine and intense... and I know you feel something for me too. It might not be the same way I feel, but it's there; the way you look at me, how you treat me, I know it was mutual because I could feel your love for me in every moment I was by your side. I know it wasn’t my idea.”

Taehyung felt a weight lift off his shoulders. You understood, you knew how he felt even without him saying a word, and that made him feel even more captivated by you. He wanted to hug you, kiss your face, stroke your hair, feel every little piece of skin he could touch, kiss every corner of your body to show you that what you were saying was true; he loved you.

“But... I can’t allow myself to keep suffering for your indecision, Tae. I don’t want to give everything of myself while I wait for you to feel ready to take the next step,” your lashes fluttered quickly in an attempt to ward off the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. Even though you felt like you were breaking inside, you kept that weak smile on your face until the end. “I don’t plan on staying by your side, begging for the minimum I deserve…” you moved even closer to him, lifting your hands to touch his cheeks, caressing his cheekbones with great delicacy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and continued, “So I’ve made the decision to leave, to... to give us some space to think things through... so that you can get over whatever it is that’s stopping you from moving forward with this... and while you do that, I... I will continue with my life... waiting for you to fix your problem... waiting for you” you whispered against his lips, barely separated from yours by a few centimeters.

Taehyung barely had time to process everything that was happening. He didn’t want to accept what you were saying, he didn’t want you to leave, to abandon him, to leave him on his own.

But he knew you were right, he knew this would only hurt them more, that he needed to separate his muse from his love for you, and if that process hurt you, then... he would have to let you go.

“How am I supposed to find you again?” he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him as much as his body allowed. He licked his lower lip, feeling it getting drier and drier, “I already gave all my luck in doing it once...”

“I know you will,” your tearful eyes met his. They both seemed to express the same thing; pain, loss, love. “I trust you.”

And finally, you brought your lips to his, releasing all the emotions you had kept inside since the last night you were together.

The kiss was overwhelming, full of desperation, tears, and small sobs escaping from both of them. It was slow, soft, delicate, and felt like what a farewell kiss should feel like between two people who could have had everything but were not yet in the right place, who weren’t ready for whatever they would have to face if they were together. It was a kiss of promise, a “see you later” that kept the question of how long it would take to feel that way again.

That moment was, without a doubt, the one that marked both of them the most. That moment was the one Taehyung framed in the last canvas of his final collection; The 1.

“I feel a bit overwhelmed by all the information I just received,” Jiwon murmured, uselessly shaking her hair. Her hands seemed to tremble softly, and judging by the shine on them, sweat was beginning to cover them. “I mean, I understand what happened… more or less, but this whole situation is so… I don’t know, intense?” She turned around to look at Taehyung, who was still sitting at the side entrance of the museum. “You two sound like two hopeless idiots who have no idea how to get over your fears and differences, and that frustrates me so much. If I didn’t care about you so much, I’d probably be hitting you by now.”

Taehyung let out a small laugh. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t funny, it was just some kind of impulse, a reaction Jiwon always managed to get out of him whenever they were together. It reminded him why they were friends. Taehyung was the sensitive side of the friendship, Jiwon the rational side, and both complemented each other, which was why they had made it this far without killing each other in the process.

“I know… we were young and stupid… maybe if we had talked things through better… if only… I hadn’t been so scared to admit what I felt,” Taehyung sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. He wanted to be strong, face the situation in a mature and responsible way, but it was so hard. Years could pass, but your presence and the effect you had on him… that would never change.

“Don’t bullshit me, that was four years ago, you weren’t that young and naive,” she muttered under her breath, fidgeting restlessly. She lifted her head, looking at the clear sky above them. She thought maybe by doing that, she could calm down a little, take a breath before continuing. “Okay, fine, let me…” she let out a sigh that seemed to have been held in for a long time, her gaze, usually cold and direct, now completely avoided Taehyung’s. “I have something to confess.”

Taehyung furrowed his brows, observing Jiwon’s hesitant expression, how her hands moved over the fabric of her pants, how she walked back and forth awkwardly. He could tell something was disturbing her, and it made him feel even more uneasy than he already was. “What’s going on?”

“I know her,” she murmured almost immediately, stopping to look him in the eyes. The doubt and insecurity were still there, she didn’t know if this was the right decision, but she couldn’t hide such an important detail from Taehyung either. He was her best friend, she wished him the best, wanted to see him happy, and if she could help, even a little… she would. “I’ve known Y/N for years… three, to be exact.”

Summer had arrived, and with it, all the memories you shared with Taehyung. It had been a year since your farewell, and although you were the one who decided to end whatever it was you had at that time, the pain of losing him hadn’t diminished at all. You could still vividly recall every inch of his face: his smile, his eyes, the mole on his cheek, on his nose—every tiny detail felt as close as the last time you were with him.

You had spent the past year moving from one part-time job to another, never relocating to a city too far from where you met Taehyung, holding onto the hope of running into him again as soon as possible. You didn’t feel ready, of course; not enough time had passed to move on from your relationship with him. But that didn’t mean you missed him any less—the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his work, his deep laugh, his soft voice, the way he danced to music your grandparents would listen to.

You missed everything about him, and you no longer knew how to deal with the loss. You had never officially been together, but it had felt like the most real relationship you had ever experienced in your life, even if it had lasted only a few months, even if it had left you feeling used. You wanted to go back to him, to take back your words, to see if you’d still be together if you hadn’t said what you did.

But your rational side—the side that tried to protect your heart from the pain of failed romances and relationships that could hurt you—repeated that you had done the right thing. You weren’t ready for each other, and if you were lucky, you’d find him again, and this time, he’d be ready to let himself be loved and to show his love openly.

You stared at the triangular-shaped glass sitting on the coffee table in front of you. You were almost certain it was lemonade, but you couldn’t quite remember what you had asked the waiter for, and you didn’t feel like asking. Picking up the glass, you took a sip, grimacing as an odd taste hit your tongue. It wasn’t lemonade. You cursed yourself internally for being so caught up in the past that you hadn’t paid attention to what you had said or done in the present.

“Hey! You must be Y/N, right?” A blonde woman in a black suit approached your table, pulling you back to reality and the present. She carried a leather bag over her shoulder, and resting on the bridge of her nose were black glasses that matched perfectly with her suit. Everything about her screamed “boss” and “woman in charge,” and just watching the elegant and confident way she walked made it clear she was someone decisive who didn’t beat around the bush. She was everything you were not.

“Miss Han?” you murmured, standing up from your chair to greet her properly. You were slightly taken aback when she casually tossed her bag onto the chair, but you decided not to comment on it. After a brief bow from both of you, you sat down again, facing each other. You felt quite intimidated by her—not just because she was more than ten centimeters taller than you or because of her elegant haircut and confident posture. She genuinely looked like someone who didn’t tolerate nonsense.

“Please, just call me Jiwon,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. Her cold, calculating gaze scanned you from head to toe. “So… you’re the new editor, huh?” she asked as she picked up the drinks menu from the center of the table. Her glasses were still on, but you managed to catch a glimpse of her blue eyes when she lowered her head to look at the menu.

“Uh, yes, that’s me,” you said in the steadiest voice you could muster, straightening your posture in your chair. You wrapped your hands around the glass of… whatever it was you had ordered, gripping it tightly until your knuckles turned white. Your nerves were at their peak today, and her presence wasn’t helping. Perhaps it would have been better not to come to the interview today.

“Oh, do they serve alcoholic drinks here? What a surprise,” Jiwon hummed, too engrossed in the menu to notice your panic. “I think I’ll order a mimosa… no, better yet, soju. Just one bottle. It’s been a stressful day,” she sighed heavily. Her perfectly painted red lips let out a deep exhale. For a moment, you wondered if the woman in front of you was really your boss or a runway model. She had the physique for it.

“You’re going to drink? How will you get home? You came by car, right?” you muttered before you could stop yourself. Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized you had just questioned your potential boss, someone you had only just met.

“Huh? Yeah, I came by car,” she said nonchalantly, waving over a waiter to politely order a bottle of soju and some gimbap. “See that guy at the table behind me?” she murmured once the waiter left, pointing to a young man, probably your age, sitting a few tables away. He was leaning on his hands, staring at Jiwon’s back with an overly wide smile—one of those smiles that looked like it would give him a facial cramp. “That’s my secretary. He’s the one who brought me here.”

“Secretary?” you blurted out in surprise, glancing at the guy. Did she notice the way he was looking at her right now? Because he definitely didn’t seem like the type to be a secretary.

“Yeah, ignore his stupid face. He always looks like that,” she said, resting her chin on her hands and pushing her glasses up to rest on the top of her head, where her bangs met her hairline. “Now, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Y/N?”

“Well…” You cleared your throat, trying to hold her gaze. You lasted no more than five seconds, but at least you tried. “I studied literature here in Korea, and… uh… I went on an exchange to Paris, where I finished my degree.”

“Do you have any previous work experience in this field?” she tilted her head slightly, and you swore you heard her secretary sigh.

“I edited some books for independent authors this past year…” You decided not to mention your time working at a bookstore or the other small jobs you had taken to pay rent.

Before Jiwon could comment further on your sparse experience, her secretary approached the table and handed her a phone. You caught a blurry image on the screen—it was an incoming call.

You weren’t the type to snoop, really, but it was impossible not to glance when the guy was practically offering it on a silver platter. You saw the contact name and, for just a second, caught a glimpse of the photo. Your chest tightened as you recognized the picture.

“Ugh, I told you not to interrupt, Jungkook,” Jiwon muttered before taking the phone to answer it. “What do you want? I’m busy,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table and inspecting her nails with boredom.

She spoke to him with such confidence that it made you wonder what kind of relationship they might have. Were they friends? Family? …Partners?

“Why should I care if you’re alone on a day like this?” she rolled her eyes, slumping back in her chair. “Fine, I’ll buy you one on my way home. Happy now?” She fell silent for a moment before muttering a goodbye and ending the call. “Sorry, personal issue.” She handed the phone back to Jungkook, refocusing her attention on you. “Now, where were we?”

You glanced at her phone, lost in thought for a second. They knew each other, and judging by her tone, they were close—but not romantically involved. You doubted she’d be that curt with her boyfriend. Turning back to her, you felt a newfound determination in your gaze.

She knew Taehyung. She could be the bridge between the two of you when the time came. Taehyung could find you more easily if he knew you worked for one of his friends. You adjusted your hair, tying it into a firm bun to keep any stray strands in place. You were going to get this job, no matter what.

“What do you mean by that, Jiwon?” Taehyung’s voice sounded a bit more agitated than before, mostly because now both of them were running toward Jiwon’s car, desperate to get to her publishing house as soon as possible.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I told you I know her, idiot!” She pulled the keys to her car out of the bag she was carrying on her shoulder, unlocking the doors. She gestured with her head for him to get in the passenger seat. She didn’t have time for explanations, not now, at least. I mean, it was three damn long years she needed to explain, and although she could probably give him a summary with the essentials, her brain wasn’t ready to form the timeline properly.

“Could you elaborate a little more!?” As soon as he was inside the car, he slammed the door – a bit too hard – and buckled his seatbelt, taking longer than he should have because of the constant trembling in his hands. Knowing that Jiwon knew you… that she knew where you were, that she had the possibility of seeing you again, of apologizing in person… It was just too overwhelming.

“Shut up and let me do my job as your friend,” she muttered, checking the rearview mirror to make sure no car was coming. Once she was sure nothing or no one would cross their path, she started the car and accelerated as much as she could legally do on the street… and maybe a little bit more than what was legal. “Ugh, damn it, I never thought I’d do this for you. Can you see how low you’re making me fall? I’m playing Cupid-for-second-chances, this is disgusting,” she glanced at him sideways, her eyebrows furrowing in her frown, “you owe me big time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung, still reeling from the news and scared by the excessive speed at which Jiwon was driving, grabbed one of the handles on the ceiling of the car, watching as the buildings seemed to flash by on either side of them. He swallowed, just before looking at Jiwon. “O-okay, I’ll give you whatever you want, seriously, just… could you slow down a little? I’m not sure how legal this is…”

“A speeding ticket doesn’t kill anyone,” she murmured with indifference, ignoring Taehyung’s insistence to slow down, even just a little.

Still feeling his chest tighten and his nerves on edge due to the situation, Taehyung stared intensely as the buildings became more familiar, as they got closer to the publishing house where Jiwon worked, and the closer they got to you, the more his insecurity grew.

What if you didn’t want to see him again?

“Do you think she’ll want to see me?” he murmured softly, gripping the car handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Jiwon, on the other hand, wasn’t in a very different situation. Her hands gripped the wheel as if her life depended on it, her furrowed brow and serious expression, which so often characterized her, were back, something that, to some extent, calmed Taehyung’s anxious and uncertain heart. At least one of them could keep control of themselves… even if it was just a little.

“If it’s the Y/N I think it is… then yes, she wants to.”

"I don’t get it, why do you want to work in the art section? I thought you liked fantasy books, romance, and stuff like that." Jiwon observed curiously the draft you were holding in your hands, absentmindedly chewing on a tomato and cheese sandwich. It was lunchtime, and her new employee couldn’t even take a second off from her work, and she wasn’t sure if that should make her happy or worried. At least it was fun spending time with you.

"I do like them, yeah, but... uhm... there's someone I like, and he... he really likes these things, and I just... wanted to learn a bit more about his world." A shy smile appeared on your face, your gaze dropping to the book sketch you were holding in your hands. "And, well, I wanted to know if, by any chance, someone might have written about his works in any of these books."

"Oh, I get it, you have a crush on an artist." She laughed loudly, playfully putting her arm around your shoulders. She raised an eyebrow and carefully watched the embarrassed expression on your face. "Did you have any luck finding him in any of those books?"

"Yeah..." You pursed your lips slightly, avoiding Jiwon's inquisitive gaze at all costs. "But I’m not planning to look for him... at least not yet, I need to give him time, I need to... wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?" She murmured, confused, watching as you held one of the sketches tightly against your chest. She knew that one, she had flipped through it a bit when she came to check if Taehyung appeared in it.

"Wait for him to be ready," you replied, looking at the sketch you were holding. You had seen his interview and the photos attached with it, photos of the works Taehyung had made during your time together. You had read the interview over and over again, feeling your heart race every time he mentioned you, the way he talked about you... it gave you hope that he still loved you, even though it had been a year since the goodbye.

"Wouldn’t you like to meet another guy? I know a guy, who also happens to be an artist, who I really think you’d get along with," Jiwon said with a big smile, pulling out her phone to show you a picture of Taehyung. "He’s handsome, right? Just like you see him, he's still single, he has horrible luck with women."

You laughed softly, finding the situation quite ironic. You stared at the picture for a few seconds, smiling as you saw his face again, not in interview photos or ones taken from the internet, but a picture of him, one where he looked relaxed and happy. That was the Taehyung you had fallen in love with.

"Could you give me his number?"

“Get in the elevator.” Jiwon stopped in front of the tall metal doors that almost reached the ceiling. Once they opened, she pushed Taehyung inside, ignoring his complaints and confused expressions. “Tenth floor, office 1013.” Before the doors closed, Jiwon raised her index finger, pointing it at him threateningly. “Don’t you dare screw it up this time, Kim. This time, the girl has me to give you the beating you deserve.”

And the doors closed.

Now that Taehyung was alone, his mind couldn’t help but flood with emotions and questions, keeping his nerves on edge. What if it wasn’t his Y/N? What if you didn’t love him anymore? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you weren’t ready? ... What if you’d found someone else?

Hundreds of questions echoed in his mind as the elevator climbed to the tenth floor. He was scared, nervous, excited, tense—all at the same time. He didn’t think he could bear the thought of losing you a second time in his life. He didn’t want to.

The sound of the elevator doors opening distracted him from his internal monologue, preventing him—at least somewhat—from imagining even worse scenarios. With a lump in his throat and the fear of being rejected again, he stepped toward the door marked 1013. The door and walls were made of glass, allowing him to see everything inside the office without even entering.

From the outside, everything seemed to be in order. A large bookshelf filled with books, mostly hardcovers of various colors and sizes, stood prominently. A tall lamp rested in one corner of the shelf, while a beautiful plant in a decorative wooden pot occupied the other. The desk appeared impeccably neat, with only a few colorful, patterned pencils resting on its surface, alongside a yellow notepad and several sticky notes of different colors and sizes.

He scanned the room for any sign of you—or at least something to confirm this was indeed your office—but there was nothing recognizable, except for the almost obsessive orderliness of the space. He knew you had a sort of OCD when it came to organization, at least in work-related matters. He still remembered how you’d almost panicked at seeing just one thing out of place in his studio, or how you’d arranged all his paints by color palettes to make his work easier. He hadn’t changed that arrangement in four years…

“Excuse me, can I help you with something?”

Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of a soft voice behind him. It was you; he was sure of it. He could recognize that voice anywhere. Suddenly, there were no more depressing or pessimistic scenarios, no more voices in his head telling him this was a bad idea, or memories pulling him back to the moment he had been with you. Now, there was only silence, and the single thought that you were standing behind him.

His chest ached, each breath he took feeling tighter against his ribs. Everything around him seemed to shrink, suffocating him. He wanted to turn around, wanted to see your face again, but fear and insecurity made it difficult. He had imagined this exact scenario in his mind over and over—every morning when he woke up and every night before falling asleep—so why? Why was it so hard to speak now that he could finally see you again? Now that he had the chance to make things right?

“Are you okay?” Your voice carried a layer of worry and uncertainty. Your hand gently rested on his shoulder, trying to make him turn around so you could confirm he was alright. You didn’t usually receive many visitors—apart from Jiwon and Jungkook—and this floor was exclusive to certain employees. You were sure he wasn’t one of them; you’d never seen him here before.

While you tried to make the man in front of you turn around to ask what he was doing there, Taehyung was trying to control the erratic beating of his heart, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm it. He had wanted this moment to come, had yearned for it since the day you walked out of his studio four years ago… but that didn’t make it any easier.

A part of him wanted to give up, to run, to prepare himself better for this moment. But another part… didn’t want to leave you, didn’t want to lose you—not after knowing what life felt like without you. He still remembered some of the moments you’d shared together, moments that made him question why his love life had always been so complicated.

Just coworkers wouldn’t sleep together, wouldn’t bring each other breakfast in bed, wouldn’t dance at sunset, pressed tightly against each other, feeling the warmth of their bodies as one. They wouldn’t kiss… coworkers wouldn’t take each other to the edge of pleasure every night until their last “project” together. And he knew it.

He didn’t want to lose that again, not now that he had the chance to get you back. So, for the first time in his life, he decided to take the leap.

“I… I’m fine,” he murmured, his voice sounding rougher than it usually was, yet still retaining its essence. And that was enough for you to recognize it.

When he turned around to finally face you, it felt as if the past four years had never happened. You looked just like the last time he’d seen you—maybe a little older, and your once-bright eyes now seemed a bit more serious—but you… you were still as beautiful as ever. You still made his heart race uncontrollably, just like you had four years ago.

“Tae?” A soft gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening slightly in surprise at seeing him there, standing in front of you. Your hands started to grow cold and clammy, and you couldn’t stop the warmth from rushing to your cheeks. You knew this day would come. It was why you’d joined this company, why you’d accepted the number Jiwon had shown you, why you’d kept your promise and waited for him all these years. Yet you’d never truly believed the day would come when he’d find you, when he’d finally come back. “You… you came back.”

Hearing his name from your lips was a shock he hadn’t expected to hit him so hard—but it did. Some things didn’t change, and one of those was the effect you had on each other.

“I need… I need to talk to you. Are you free?”

Both of you walked in silence toward the small yet elegant café located on the top floor of the building. Neither of you seemed to dare to speak first; you were still processing the fact that he had come all the way to your workplace to find you, and Taehyung was too preoccupied organizing his thoughts, repeatedly rehearsing all the things he wanted—no, needed—to say to you. Neither of you wanted to ruin this reunion.

“We’re here,” you murmured softly, glancing at Taehyung out of the corner of your eye. Your fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your dress, trying to mask the trembling in your hands. You didn’t expect a reply from him; you simply led him to a table near the balcony and took a seat in one of the four chairs around it.

Taehyung sat across from you, clasping his hands together on the table, lightly scratching the skin of his fingers. He felt anxious, worried, excited—and didn’t know how to express everything he wanted to say. He hesitated for a few seconds, seconds in which he barely looked at you, barely breathed properly.

At least he was lucky that you were a patient person.

“Y/N, I… damn it, I’m sorry, let me…” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. His gaze darted around, struggling with all his might to verbalize what he had wanted to tell you for the past four years. He licked his lips, and the table shook slightly as his restless leg bumped against it. He tried, even a little, to hide the anxiety that overwhelmed him, but his body wasn’t cooperating at all.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, tentatively reaching out to take his hands, wanting to offer at least a little comfort. You didn’t want to rush him, not if it would make him even more nervous to the point of being unable to speak. “Take your time.”

“I can’t, damn it,” he sighed in frustration, holding your hand between his and giving it a gentle squeeze, as if he needed to remind himself that you were there, with him. “I’ve already spent too much time thinking about this. I’ve practiced hundreds of times what I was going to say when I saw you again—why is it so hard to do it now that you’re in front of me…?”

You watched him in silence, feeling your heart tighten in your chest at his words. He had thought of you all these years, just as you had thought of him.

“The last time we saw each other, I… I was a jerk, a complete idiot. I knew what I felt for you—of course, I did—damn it, I’m sure I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” he licked his lips, keeping his gaze low. He felt incapable of meeting your eyes, of facing the possible rejection from you. “I should have told you then, but I was so scared… I thought that if I did, sooner or later, you’d leave me, just like Joohyun did. I thought that if it ended like that, I wouldn’t see you the same way again. And I was so damn obsessed with the intense inspiration you gave me just by existing that I completely forgot why I felt that way. I forgot that I loved you…” He lifted your hands, still trapped in his, and pressed a soft kiss to them, something barely perceptible, cautious. “I didn’t come here to ask for your forgiveness, because I don’t feel I deserve it—not after the way I made you feel. I just… I just wanted you to know that you were never just a muse to me—you were… you were everything.”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat, feeling your eyes start to sting. Four years had passed, and finally, you had heard what you had longed to hear from him. Warmth filled your chest, and in an instant, the weight you had been carrying seemed to lift. The soft kiss you had received from him made you feel like that twenty-year-old girl again, meeting him by the seaside the same night you had returned to Korea.

“Tae… could you look at me?” you whispered, eyes fixed on his dark, tousled hair from the countless times he had run his hands through it that day. A few seconds passed, and he didn’t move or say anything, as if it were too hard for him to face you after the outpouring of words he had just let out. And it truly was hard for him; what would he do if he saw rejection on your face?

But that wasn’t the case.

When he finally looked at you, he couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body or the faint sting in the corners of his eyes. There you were again, smiling at him as if he hadn’t broken your heart years ago, reaching out to gently touch his cheek in the softest, most delicate way possible, treating him as if he might break at any moment.

“Thank you for being honest with me…” you said. Your tone was much more relaxed than it had been minutes ago. The hand resting on his cheek slid down to his jawline, and your eyes studied every corner of his face that you could see. You had missed him more than you realized. Seeing him in photos wasn’t the same. Hearing about him wasn’t the same.

Taehyung observed the smile on your face, trying to understand why you weren’t angry, why you didn’t want to yell at him, hit him. Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen after everything that had happened between them? Weren’t you supposed to hate him? To move on with your life and leave him behind? That’s how it was supposed to work, right?

“I thought… I thought you’d hate me for taking so long,” he murmured softly, bringing his hand to rest over yours. At this point, it was impossible for him to take his eyes off you. It almost felt like you had cast a spell on him, one he refused to break free from.

“I promised I’d wait for you,” you gave him a smile so radiant, so full of emotion, that he couldn’t help but feel a weight lift off his chest as a small smile began to spread across his face.

With the ache in his chest slightly lighter and with a bit more confidence, Taehyung dared to ask the question he had been waiting to ask all this time. “Should we… start over?” The hand still holding yours stretched, intertwining his fingers with yours, feeling your warmth against his skin. It felt right to experience that sensation with you again.

“No.” You shook your head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as your smile grew even bigger. “I don’t want to forget how I fell in love with you,” you murmured, running your thumb over the skin of his hand, trying to get used to the sensation of his touch against your fingers once more.

A soft laugh escaped Taehyung’s lips. His eyes still felt misty, but this time for different reasons—this time, out of joy, out of happiness. “God, you’re so sweet,” he said, bringing your hand to his lips again, this time with your fingers intertwined. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, a soft smile meeting them. “Alright, then no starting over.”

“Yeah.” Warmth crept up your cheeks, and you had to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling even wider than you already were. “Can we… pick up where we left off last time?”

Taehyung watched the pink on your cheeks spread to your neck and ears, the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him. He loved having you in front of him again, and he loved that he could still have this effect on you even after all this time—because you still had the same effect on him.

With a gentle nod, Taehyung leaned closer to you, never letting go of your hand. He could feel your soft breath against his, your noses barely brushing, his eyes fixed on your lips. He had waited four years for this, and he still couldn’t believe it was about to happen. It felt almost like a dream, one he had been having for 1,460 nights in a row.

The goodbye kiss they shared had been painful—perhaps the one that had marked them both the most in their entire lives. But this? This would undoubtedly leave an even greater mark than the last. Feeling your lips against his, the faint taste of coffee, the sensation of your hair brushing against his fingers, your soft sigh of relief, and their light laughter colliding as they tried to deepen the moment made him feel like an inexperienced teenager again. But it felt good—more than good—it felt perfect.

When they parted, just a little, only enough to look at each other, Taehyung decided it was time to say the words he had held back for so long—this time, without fear, this time, without waiting for you to say them first.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as you leaned forward to kiss him. “More than anything in this world.”

You let your head rest against his hand, closing your eyes under his touch, smiling softly. You felt happy, overwhelmingly happy.

“I know,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. “I love you too.”

Masterlist.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #fanfic #fiction #kim taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x oc #kim taehyung x y/n #kim taehyung x reader

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grlsbstshot · 24 hours ago

Text

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: while imani processes her lingering pain over jameson’s constant betrayals, jameson reels from her inattention. torn between loyalty to her best friend and processing her own feelings, genie grapples with guilt and anxiety while ej does his best to take care of her. sloane attempts to celebrate the split between jameson and imani but genie intervenes.

Warnings: toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), usage of the n-word (if you white and read it, you owe us $20) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.6k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

1 week after Sloane's party

Jameson leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the screen in surprise. The image of Christian reflected back at him and he briefly wondered when he even started following that nigga. A quick glance to the left-hand corner told him it was Imani's Instagram account. Imani? With Christian? He couldn't even see that bastard's face but knew he was probably happy as fuck to be with Imani.

Look who came to visit.

The caption made his stomach churn. There was nothing downright explicit or implicated more but the simple fact that she had taken the picture, thought of the caption, and posted it? It made him sick. He knew for a fact she couldn't stand him. After things ended abruptly between Christian and Genie, Imani hadn't seen it for him. Ever. But now they were close enough for him to visit?

Texts left on read. Calls that went straight to voicemail. The silence was deafening.

Jameson immediately left the app and went to his messages, texting her a blitz of...admittedly emotional responses. She still hadn't responded to any of the ones before. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying to rein in his temper. He didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said. Fans were undoubtedly cheering it on. Shit talking about how 'cute' he probably was. Wondering if she had finally replaced him.

What if she had? What if the space where he stood was going to belong to another person? Not just Christian -- anybody? That was enough to turn his stomach.

Jameson's hand clenched into a fist and he turned around, hitting the first thing he saw...which so happened to be EJ's fridge. His fist dented the medal but it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did the inanimate object.

“Ay, muhfucka! I got that imported from France. Watch that shit. What's your problem?” Jameson glanced up to see EJ rounding the corner, a cup of coffee in his hand. He couldn't quite blame his best friend for being irritated but he was going through some shit.

“Her Instagram.” Jameson muttered, nodding toward his phone. EJ walked over, picked up the phone, and whistled low when he saw the post. “Ain't this a bitch.” He scrolled through the comments briefly before setting the phone down. “They have a ship name too. Chrismani sound stupid tho.”

Jameson glared at him and EJ quickly put the phone down, shrugging. "My bad, man." “What am I supposed to do? She’s not answering my calls. She’s ignoring my texts. And now she’s letting him—” Jameson cut himself off, shaking his head. He didn't know what the fuck the two had going on but either way, he didn't like that shit.

“Letting him what? Exist?” EJ raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s what it looks like to me. You give this nigga way too much power, man. Genie has a history with him, right? You know Imani. She not going too far with him."

Jameson frowned at EJ. He was right but he also knew..."Please. If you saw the girl you loved posted up with somebody else a week after ignoring your calls, you'd be tripping too." He didn't know what to do when it came to Imani. “She told me to choose. I could be friends with Sloane or I could be with her.”

EJ set his coffee down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he stared at his best friend. “Okay? So Sloane's out. Now what?" Jameson began to rub his hand over his fist, rolling his eyes in agitation. "It's not that easy!"

EJ cocked his head, leaning against the counter as he stared at Jameson with wide eyes. "Fuck you mean it's not that easy? Lose a friend, gain a girlfriend. Besides, Genie don't like her and Genie likes everybody. That's how you know something is up with her."

Jameson sighed softly, reaching to snatch his phone off the counter again. EJ had a point. Genie and Sloane had fallen out around the time he and Imani had become serious. He never knew what happened but wanted them both to feel like they could count on him. He didn't want to take sides. His friend vs his sister? He didn't want to decide. "Sloane doesn't have anybody."

"She had a house full of people at that party last week." "None of those people give a shit about her." "And you do?" "Of course I do." "You want that girl?" "No! No. I'm so fucking tired of being accused of that shit. I've known her since she was fifteen. I knew her when she could barely look you in the eyes when she was talking to you. She was lonely as fuck. And she's still lonely. I'm sorry I feel guilty abandoning her."

Jameson saw EJ's face change. From confusion to understanding all in an instant and for some reason -- he hated it. "You keep saying you're 'abandoning' her. You're not, man. She's a grown up." Jameson braced himself, knowing what EJ was going to say next. "She's not you and you are not your father."

He shut it down within a second, shaking his head as he quickly moved out of the kitchen. His father was a forbidden subject. Nobody brought the man up. Not his mother, not the press. Nobody. As far as the world was concerned, it was just Anais and James Lucas against the world. "It's not about that, man. I just don't want to abandon my friend."

"Do you want Imani back?" EJ called out to him, following. "Of course I do." "Let Sloane go. You can't let her think Christian is the only muhfucka that cares about how she feels. Let her go."

Jameson stared at him, the words sinking in.

“You’ve got options,” EJ said, approaching him and patting his hand against Jameson's shoulder. “Write her a song. Send her flowers. Show up at the studio if you have to. You flew to fucking Italy within a minute. Why are you hesitating now? Don't sit there and let this nigga come take what's yours."

Jameson hesitated. “You think that’ll work?”

EJ shrugged. “I think it’s better than...you know. Punching my shit and stalking her on Instagram. You’ve always been a fighter, J. Don’t stop now.”

Jameson nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with ideas. EJ clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He unlocked the phone in his hand and went back to Instagram, staring at the picture of Christian on her page. It was bullshit but EJ was right. He couldn't give up on her. He swore he never would.

The texts came through fast, almost as if he didn't have to think about what he was sending. She didn't take any pleasure in his reaction. Not really. But Imani needed something to flip that damn switch in Jameson's mind. He needed to know she wasn't playing. The mention of Genie made her heart hurt though. She texted her before she posted the picture of Christian but there had been no response. There hadn't been a response afterward either and Imani was praying she didn't hold this against her.

She forced herself not to finish reading Jameson's texts. She closed out the messages and went back to Instagram. Cross-legged on her couch, the soft glow of her phone screen illuminating her face in the dim living room, she scrolled through the comments on her post.

The likes were climbing rapidly, as they always did. Thousands of comments flooded in, a mix of excitement, speculation, and blatant nosiness.

"With your bestie ex? Oh, messy Mani." "What about Jameson tho? 👀" "Girl, you’re glowing without him. Keep winning!"

Her thumb hovered over that last comment, her heart clenching. Glowing without him. Was she?

She tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back against the couch. The praise and speculation didn’t fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at her for days. It wasn’t about Christian—he was nothing. She felt absolutely nothing for the man. She got the vibe that he wanted something with her but Imani couldn't tell if he was delusional or just stupid to really think she'd give him the time of day after he was with her best friend. Then again...People thought that's exactly what she was doing.

The post wasn’t about him though. It was about the one person who wasn’t tagged, wasn’t mentioned, but was still present in every corner of her mind.

Jameson.

He kept letting her down. Choosing other people over her. She wouldn't him do it again. She closed her eyes, and the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.

It was late, and the city lights outside their hotel room window shimmered like stars. She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, the air thick with tension. Jameson stood in front of her, his hands trembling as he admitted the unthinkable. The night he ruined their relationship. All their problems went back to that one moment. “I slept with her.” he’d said, his voice raw and cracking. “I'm so sorry. Mani, I...I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk. I swear to god.” Her heart had shattered in that moment, the weight of his words crushing her. She remembered the way her chest had tightened, the disbelief that had turned into anger, then grief. They were done, she knew that. He knew that. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? It's fuck me, huh?!” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. Her entire body shaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.” “Mani, please,” he’d begged, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away, trying to get up from the bed but Jameson grasped her by the waist, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, twisting out of his grasp as tears filled her eyes. “I'm going to fix it, baby. I swear to god, I'll fix it. I'm sorry.” "Let me go! You can't fix this shit!" "Yes, I can. I can fix it. I'll be better." "Jameson. You just told me you fucked another bitch and you really think I'm going to give you a chance to fix it? We're done. It's over."

She opened her eyes, the memory dissipating like smoke, but the sting remained. She reached for her phone again, scrolling back to her post. The comments about Jameson were multiplying, each one a reminder of the life they’d shared and the pain he’d caused.

She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment before she pulled her hand away. No, she thought. Let him have to keep seeing it. Let him wonder. Let the tags in the comments be a reminder. “You won't get to the chance to play me again.” she whispered, her voice steady.

With that, she exited the app, her resolve solidifying. If Jameson wanted her back, he’d have to do more than beg. He’d have to prove he was worthy of her trust—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe that again.

Imani opened her texts, shooting a message to her engineer and manager. She had written so much shit when she was trying to get over the betrayal Jameson had done -- it was enough for albums. Why not use this pain to start a new chapter in her life? She spent so much of her time worrying about him. It was time to worry about herself. Her music. Her career.

Genie had done her best to put it out of her mind. The picture was exploding all over social media. She'd been tagged in it almost as much as Jameson was and each time made her chest tighten. The knot of anxiety she’d been carrying all day pulling tighter. She promised to meet EJ for lunch and had arrived early, sitting primly and perfectly -- covered in Chanel. Her beautiful dark coils pressed perfectly and swept back in a french curl. She looked much better than she felt.

She had known Imani was going to post it. The text had come hours before, but Genie hadn’t responded. She’d stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. What could she say? No one knew the whole story of she and Christian. All she told Imani was that it was over. But shouldn't that have been enough? Of all the men to use to make Jameson jealous, why him?

She had complicated feelings about Imani playing with Jameson's feelings as well -- but it wasn't as if she didn't have good reason. He was her brother but he was an idiot sometimes. The image was out in the world and Genie felt that her silence was almost complicity in hurting Jameson. If the gossip was correct, Sloane was a thorn in their relationship and Genie knew a surefire way to get her out.

EJ finally arrived and Genie glanced up to see him making his way to their table -- led by the hostess. A smile curved her lips as the two maintained eye contact. She had never been so enamored with a man before. Even that crush she had on Christian had been bullshit compared to how EJ made her feel. They kept their relationship fairly casual. After their night at Sloane's party, he had been with her every step of the way, reassuring her and being patient with her. He was more than she deserved.

Before he sat down, he came to her side of the table and kissed her softly. It was a brief touch of his lips but the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. She felt the tightening of her chest relax and for a minute, she felt like she could breathe. "Hi, baby." He told her softly, moving to take his seat as she poured him a glass of wine. His sharp eyes flicking to the phone on the table. “I guess you've seen it.,” he said, nodding toward it. “Jamie isn't too happy either.”

Genie hesitated, then nodded to confirm she saw it. “She said it was to make Jameson jealous, but…” She trailed off, placing the bottle back on the table. "I don't know. It seems so out of character for her. Mani can be petty but she doesn't waste her time with people she doesn't give a fuck about. I don't think she understands what she's getting into."

EJ nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to a waiter for a glass of water. He was totally different from her. He worried about their friends but Genie took it totally to heart. Probably because she loved them both. EJ loved Jameson -- she was sure he hadn't decided how he felt about Imani yet. "I told him to go get his girl back. But I kind of regret it now."

Genie prepared herself to defend Imani. Jameson was her brother but she wasn't ready to absolve him of his sins. Especially when the reason their relationship was so chaotic was because he cheated a year ago. "They love each other so that wasn't a mistake. They just...they can't seem to get it together.," she said softly. “This is going to make everything worse. For her. For Jameson. For everyone.”

EJ leaned back, studying her with a mix of concern. “Did you tell her that?”

“I...I couldn't." Genie sighed, then immediately regretted the admission. “I mean, I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t post him because he’s a jerk who’s going to ruin your life?’ I didn't want her to think I was jealous.”

EJ raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Genie opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. She had been jealous at the party. It had caused a twinge to her heart to see a man she used to want choosing other women over her. Women she loved deeply and respected. He had already taken Sloane. Now Imani? She had been scared. But as she gazed at EJ, she knew he was one of a kind. There wasn't a man like him in the world. How dare she be jealous over a man who wasn't worth it when one who was sat in front of her. “I’m not jealous. Anymore.,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m scared. For her. For Jameson. I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Between Sloane and Christian, their relationship could easily snap.”

EJ’s expression softened. He reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across her skin, “You worry too much about other people, Genie. It’s gonna tear you apart if you let it.”

Genie looked down at his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I can’t help it,” she murmured.

“I know. You got the kind of heart I love. But maybe it’s time you focused on you,” EJ said gently. “Let them figure it out. You’ve got your own life to live, Genie. Your own man to worry about."

"Oh? Are you my man?" "Didn't you cum on my face a few times? I could have sworn last night that you begged me to --"

Genie's eyes went wide as she peered around the restaurant to see if anyone heard him. No one did but her reaction made EJ laugh. She snatched her hand from his, reaching over to slap his wrist.

"Stop it! Don't say that out loud!" "It's true. You did. And you're gonna do it again when we leave here." "Is that all you're going to do?" "For now." "What if I want more?" "I gotta make sure you're ready. So stop babysitting everybody else and let me take care of you for a change." "Yes, sir." "Ooh. Keep that up. I like that."

She smiled faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. For the rest of the lunch, she and EJ didn't mention Jameson and Imani but her gaze kept straying to the phone. Thoughts of Christian and Sloane filtered through her mind. For her last act of babysitting -- she was going to make sure they didn't ruin Imani and Jameson's second chance. If they couldn't get it right, it had to be on their own terms. Not anybody else's.

It was nightfall by the time Genie managed to convince EJ to let her out of bed. He asked her to let everyone figure their shit out but she had to get this out. Once she promised him she'd wash her hands of it after talking to Jameson, he gave her a kiss and let her go. Texting Jameson and telling him it was an emergency was probably dramatic but he shared his location with her. When she pulled up to the recording studio, he was waiting outside -- leaning against his Range Rover.

He watched her curiously as she parked and got out, lifting his hand to press to her shoulder as he escorted her inside -- like an annoyed but worried older brother would. When they were settled in a quiet, private studio, finally he leaned in and nudged her arm. "Talk. You kind of scaring me."

They sat in front of the mixing console, a track playing lowly in the background. Genie could tell it was one of his. She knew his voice anywhere but hadn't heard this song before. She understood a few words here and there but couldn't catch the rhythm of the song. Jamie looked tense, his shoulders stiff. She knew he hadn't been able to shake the thoughts of Imani and Christian from his mind.

“What’s going on?”

Genie hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket. "There’s a lot you don’t know. Things I’ve been keeping to myself because I didn’t want to -- Well, I wasn't brave enough to do what Imani did. I didn't want to make you choose. But after everything that’s happened -- Imani, that post, the way Christian's been acting -- I can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Jameson’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he grasp her hands in his. “What did he do?”

Genie exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she began. “Christian and I -- it was a fluke from the beginning. Maybe I was too presumptive but I...I told Sloane how I felt. She encouraged me to pursue him. So I did. I put myself out there." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the way she had embarrassed herself. The sting of being rejected had faded but losing Sloane -- knowing what she had done? That would never go away.

"I found them together. At your afterparty for the Grammys. They were...Well, they were fucking. In your pool house. I didn't say a word. I turned around and left but I confronted Sloane afterward." Genie took a breath and forced herself to continue. "She didn’t even deny it. Said it was no big deal because...it wasn't like he wanted me anyway. He liked someone else. She knew and didn't tell me. I stopped talking to her that night.”

She felt his grip around her fingers tighten for a moment before they relaxed. The look on his face was...a lot like hers the night Sloane had shown who she was. Devasated. Confused. Disbelief. “She said that to you?”

Genie nodded, her throat tightening as tears fell. “I told Christian I was sorry. Can you believe it? I apologized for not being who he wanted. It was embarrassing. I'm starting to think who he wanted...was Imani.”

Jameson shook his head but all the pieces were falling into place. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Yes,” Genie said, her voice firmer now as she pulled her hands free and wiped her eyes. “And it’s why I think you need to let her go, J. Do what Imani said. Choose her. Sloane only cares about herself and she’s only going to drag you down.”

Jameson leaned back in his seat. “She was your friend. I wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for you. You loved her before anybody else and she...she did that to you.”

“Yes,” Genie said gently. “If anybody knows what it's like to see the best in Sloane, it's me. I always saw it. Until she showed me something else, Jameson. Don't wait until she shows you.”

He looked up at her then, a spark of anger in his eyes. "And Christian?”

Genie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't know. He may really like Imani but she...she deserves better." She may be there to help Jameson fix things but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Imani was just trying to make him jealous. Loyalty to both kept her conflicted.

They sat in silence for a while so Jameson could process everything. He was distracted, clearly overwhelmed, but she knew what he would do when he spoke next. "I love you, you know?" he told Genie softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You and your dad...you two gave me and Ma everything we needed to feel like a family. You're my sister, Genie. I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you."

She gave him a faint smile, tears filling her eyes again. For somebody who could write music, he had never been eloquent with her about his feelings. They irritated each other like siblings but she had never truly said it to him. "I love you too." Genie said softly. “I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you either. That's why Sloane has to get out of our lives. Now.”

Jameson nodded, agreeing without words. “I threw everything away with Imani to be loyal to somebody who didn't deserve it.”

Genie reached out, squeezing his knee. “It may not be over. Try it. Let her know you choose her. Over anything. Even if you guys don't work it out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But you can’t move forward if you’re still holding onto people like Sloane.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally.

Genie smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “Good. Now, go clean up your mess.”

He gave her a small, rueful laugh. “I'm not good at that.”

“Get good at it.,” she said, standing and placing a kiss to his forehead...before slapping him on the back of the neck. Jameson flinched but only stared up at her. “Consider this my retirement from worrying about you and Imani. My man told me to stop.”

His brows furrowed as she turned to leave the studio. "What man?!" he called out after her. Genie ignored him and continued on to her car to get back home to EJ.

God had to have a sense of humor. No sooner had he watched Genie zip off in her car, he'd gotten a text from Sloane. A dinner invitation. He had been seconds from texting a denial but he knew this message was better delivered in person -- so he agreed to show up. He spent the entire drive to her place stewing in anger -- pissed at her and himself. He had spent months bringing this girl around Genie, around Imani. Begging them to give her a shot. He hadn't even asked why she and Genie had fallen apart. He was a shit friend and a shit boyfriend.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jameson stepped into the hallway leading to Sloane’s penthouse. His jaw tight and he had no idea how to release his tension. He had no idea what he planned to say. There was so much in his head. All he wanted to do was yell at her. Make her give him a valid reason for the shit she'd been doing. The weight of Genie’s confession bore down on him, and the idea of confronting Sloane left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knocked twice, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sloane appeared, her face lighting up like the sun.

“Jamie! Just in time! Dinner is almost done.” she exclaimed, pulling the door wide for him to enter. When he did so, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi. I missed you.”

Her perfume was light and airy. In another place, another time, he probably would have complimented her on it and told her that he missed her too. And that would have been the wrong thing to do. Becoming disillusioned with Sloane made him notice everything. The way she clung to him, the way she looked up at him with bright eyes, the darkened apartment, the Ella Fitzgerald album -- one of his favorites -- playing softly in the background. He stood stiffly, not hugging her back but it didn't seem to phase her. She took her time hugging him, only pulling back when she deemed it was over.

Jameson’s expression didn’t waver. “We just saw each other last week at the party, Sloane,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than the edge of a blade.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. “I know. It still feels like it’s been a minute…”

Jameson stepped further away from her, his movements deliberate. He glanced around, noting the intimate setup of the dining table—a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a single candle flickering softly. The oven lit up with the smell of a dinner that he couldn't quite place. Genie had lit the match but everything was ablaze now. Imani's accusations were crystal clear in his mind. God, she had been right.

“I saw Imani posted Christian on Instagram,” Sloane said, her voice carefully measured. “I’m sorry…you don’t deserve that.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened as he stood with his back with her, trying to get a grasp on his anger. “Imani's mine to worry about.”

“I-I know,” Sloane stammered, moving closer to him. Her voice softened, dripping with concern. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Jamie.” She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. “You can call me if you need anything.”

Jameson didn’t move. His demeanor was rigid, his body language screaming discomfort. He didn’t bother to touch her hand, his gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that made her falter.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, her voice uncertain. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, confused smile. “You’re not acting like my Jamie.”

"Did you fuck Christian?" he asked her abruptly, tilting his head to look at her. He saw it for a second. For one second, she looked caught off guard. She looked...exposed. But then the guard went up, her brow furrowed and she gave him a laugh. He could see her about to lie. "Don't. Don't you dare lie to me. I've had enough of that."

She hesitated but then moved away, heading back to the table. She tripped over her own heels and clumsily poured herself a glass of wine. Jameson finally moved, the tension draining from his body the more he confronted her. Sloane lifted the glass to gulp down wine before Jameson continued on. "Genie told me everything." He watched her choke on the liquid, leaning forward as she coughed loudly and took deep breaths. "And I got to thinking -- if she could do that to her best friend...what else could she do?"

She turned wide eyes to him as she continued to try to catch her breath. "Christian was...a mistake." She gasped out, shaking her head. "It was just a night. We were drunk! We got carried away!"

He heard the same mistakes he gave Imani and his stomach churned again, shaking his head. "You destroyed someone who loved you. Better than anyone else. Do you think that excuse works? You hurt the kindest fucking person in the world. And you hurt her because you could. You humiliated her! And you act like nothing happened! You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell her you're sorry!"

Sloane’s lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at him, searching for some sign of forgiveness, but all she could see was disappointment and anger. It's all he had left for her.

“I believed in you. Imani told me to choose and I...I said I wouldn't but I did. I fucking chose you because I thought you were a good person. I thought you needed me. A friend.” Jameson continued, his voice low and steady.

"I do need you!" "You don't need me! You want me. There's a fucking difference, Sloane!"

He heard his phone notifications go off but he ignored it. Even when it continued, he kept going. His gaze didn't leave Sloane's. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out for him but he sidestepped her hand. She clenched her fingers tightly and sobbed quietly but he didn’t flinch. "Jamie, please. I’m sorry. I never meant—”

“Are you in love with me?” he interrupted, his tone weary. He didn't need the confession but he asked anyway. “If you ever cared about me, tell me the truth.”

Sloane froze before she gave the slightest nod. That nod hit him hard in the gut.

"You want to hear what I feel?" He asked her and watched as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She knew he didn't love her. She couldn't bear to hear the words. But Jameson figured it out now. A hard lesson to learn but...he had to give them to her. "I love Imani. I love everything about her. I love her so much that I don't know how to live without her. She makes me want to be better. I love the way she loves Genie. I love the way she loves me. And I gave that up twice. I keep hurting her and I did it again. This time...for you. And I regret it."

The more he spoke, the more she cried. "I'm sorry I brought us to this. You can blame me for it. Not Imani. Goodbye, Sloane." He moved towards the door and she followed him. Her phone rang out loud and she hesitated, tears blurring her eyes as she turned back to the kitchen. He didn't stop moving.

As he reached for the handle, she called out, her voice breaking. “Jamie, wait—Please! Don't leave me.”

He paused but didn’t turn around. Guilt grabbed a hold of him again but he pushed it away, knowing that enabling Sloane would only hurt her further...so he opened the door and walked out. It clicked shut behind him and for a moment, he stood there, trying to catch his breath. He heard her scream, throw things across the room, and yell out for him -- but he pretended he didn't.

Jameson walked towards the elevators, the anger he had carried up with him left behind in her place. He fished his phone out of his pocket, pushing the button for the ground floor as he read each text that came through but one caught his attention: a text from EJ that contained a link to Apple Music and an article.

R&B Sensation Imani releases surprise EP, Diary

As he browsed the article, the elevator doors pinged open and an avalanche of notifications from Instagram came in. Even more than when Imani posted the picture of Christian. To make matters worse, he got a shit ton of texts from friends and acquaintances. Half of them were the fucking eye emoji.

"Shit." He muttered to himself.

#aaron pierre #megan thee stallion #aaron pierre fanfic #megan thee stallion fanfic #aaron pierre x black!oc #megan thee stallion x black!oc #original characters #celebrity ocs #celebrity fic #celebrity fanfic #black ocs #ocs #fic: neon lights #sorry this late :( shay was being goofy on twitter and baking cookies #it came out before midnight so it's technically NOT late #Spotify

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sh4wty18 · 2 days ago

Text

sextape.

pairing: pornstar!jake x bsf!reader

summary: jake always sends you his OF content before he posts it. but one day after he sends you a solo video with an unexpected ending, you decide maybe it’s time you two film together.

cw: 18+ MDNI, NSFW, pornstar!au, sex, masturbation, online sex work, language, best friends with benefits to lovers, use of y/n

word count: 3.9k + proofread

a/n: another fic i’ve had in my notes app for a month lol🤗

TW: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME ONLINE. THIS STORY IS 100% FICTIONAL AND FOR FUN ONLY. NOTHING HERE IS ACCURATE TO REAL LIFE, NOR AM I CLAIMING IT TO BE. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you’re currently working on your grad school work, grading quizzes for the students you TA for at UCLA. getting a phd was a full time job, no one ever warned you. but it would be worth it. as you sit at the desk in your bedroom, contemplating how much partial credit to award a student for a mediocre response to a short answer question, your phone buzzes.

you look down and see jake’s name light up your screen. you lean back in your chair, phone in hand, and read his text.

heyyy you wanna see my vid for tm? tried somethin new i think it’s pretty good

you smile at the screen before quickly typing out a reply and pressing send.

yeah

u don’t know how bored i am rn

you put your phone back down and continue grading. jake was one of your closest friends. you’d been friends for years since undergrad when you both went to ucla together. after graduation you moved onto ucla’s graduate program and he decided he was done with academia. he had always been a very creative person. he was also very sexual. he loved sex. he was good at it. he knew what to do to make people squirm. he was sexy, and he knew it. he decided, why not try to make a career out of it? so a couple years ago, he’d made an onlyfans account. his innovation & entrepreneurship degree came in handy, because he knew exactly how to promote himself online to gain a following quickly. fast forward two years, and now he’s in the top 0.5% of creators on the site, easily making seven figures a year, sometimes even seven figures a month. you were a little jealous sometimes, of how much money he made with seemingly little effort, but then you thought about all the work he’d actually put into his career.

he posted on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays. mondays were photos. he’d often have extremely strenuous and exhausting photoshoots for multiple days in the beginning of the month. they were never the same and they were always creative. he thought of each idea. money went into hiring the photographers, make up artists, catering, rented out space. but he made enough money to pay for it all. money wasn’t the issue, it was time. on wednesdays he uploaded a solo video. on fridays, he uploaded a video filmed with one or two or however many other people. his videos were always to the point. he liked it quick and dirty. no emotions, no strings, and NEVER any kissing. his fans liked it that way. he knew they didn’t care for theatrics. they were there to get off, and so was he…although, he always made sure the people he filmed with came first.

he edited all his own content too. he also had the responsibility of planning collaborations with other artists, for the friday videos. they couldn’t both upload the same content, so that often meant going multiple rounds in a row. plus he might have multiple collabs to film each week, so he could edit the videos and schedule days to post them. point being, jake was a very hard worker. he deserved every ounce of fame he’d gotten.

he would often send his videos to you for your approval. since you’d had a sexual relationship for quite some time, and were super close friends, he trusted you to tell him the truth about whether the videos were good or not. you always did. for around the past year, your relationship had escalated from solely friendship to friends with benefits. he got tested once a week for his work, so you weren’t worried about getting any stds from him or anything. plus he was always super safe. sex with jake was amazing. he was a amazing. having the “benefits” label attached to your title… it was fun. it was sweet. it wasn’t serious. at least that was what you thought he wanted, and you were too afraid to ever bring it up. you were happy to be his friend. you loved being his friend. you also loved having sex with him. you didn’t want to ruin that.

it was tuesday night, he’d probably just finished editing his wednesday video. you couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement. watching him fuck himself was always fun for you.

you heard your phone buzz again and picked it up.

well hopefully this doesn’t bore you more lol :)

*FILE ATTACHMENT 3.5MB*

you click on the attachment and see that the video was eight minutes long. normally his wednesday videos averaged around three minutes. quick and dirty, remember? when you press play, you are immediately met with the image of a nearly naked jake waving to the camera and blowing a kiss (his signature salutation). you look down and can see where his boxers obviously tent, and when he plops himself down into the swiveling office chair with a smile, his erection is even more glaringly obvious.

one time, after one of your late night escapades, while you were cuddling in your bed in the early hours of the morning, you’d asked him how he was always hard before his solo videos even started. he had giggled and kissed your temple softly, before mumbling “a magician never tells his secrets.”

“oh come on,” you begged. “pleeease. i’m your best friend. and we are having sex so you kind of owe it to me if i’m going to find out you have some type of magical penis.”

he laughed again, “i just think about you.”

he kissed you on the cheek. “jaaake… be serious,” you say with faux annoyance.

“what makes you think i’m not being serious?” he asked before pulling your naked body ever closer to his. you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, but before you could push him any further, he’d fallen asleep.

you returned your attention back to the video, where the tiny jake in your screen was peeling his boxers off and tossing them to the side of the room. you watch as his dick sprang free. he tore his gaze away from his cock and glanced up to smile at the camera again. he had such a way with the camera. his eye contact made the viewer feel involved somehow. it was almost intimate. maybe that was why he was so popular. people felt seen by him. he squeezed a bit of unscented lotion on his hand and lazily grasped the shaft of his cock, drawing slow strokes back and forth, never breaking eye contact with the camera. yeah, this was definitely intimate. his breath caught every once in a while and he’d whisper “fuck” or “shit”, almost quiet enough that you couldn’t hear him.

after a couple minutes, you could tell he was about to come. well you could tell. you specifically. it was a face you’d grown so accustomed to seeing from him. his eyebrows furrowed a bit and his top lip curled up and to the right. sometimes he squeezed his eyes shut in his videos, but never with you. when you two fucked, he was always present. he wanted to savor every second. he wanted to see your eyes roll back as he made you finish for the second or third time in the night.

he squirmed in the chair and it rotated a little as his strokes got more aggressive. but right before he came he let go. he caught his breath. he laughed. he looked at the camera with a stare that could only be described as him saying “gotcha”. he repeated this process a few more times. working himself up. fucking himself to the brink of collapse but letting go just before he could teeter over the edge. you kept note of how his eyes hadn’t scrunched up once yet this video. as if he was trying as hard as possible to remain present with his audience.

around the seven minute mark, you knew he was finally going to allow himself to come. he was squirming, his leg was shaking, you could see the muscles in his abs contracting with every shallow breath he took. he whimpered softly, mumbling incoherently under his breath. but then he did something truly unexpected.

“fuck, y/n,” he let out with a moan. his own eyes widened at his words but at that point it was too late. the damage was already done. he felt so good and he was so close to coming that he couldn’t help but continue saying your name. he continued mumbling your name between soft sighs and moans until he finally pushed himself over the edge and come shot out of his dick and into his hand. he let go of his now flaccid but sensitive penis, and sat back in his chair with a breathless laugh.

“fuck,” he said. he stood up and walked closer to the camera, allowing the audience to get an up close look at the mess he’d made of himself. he smiled brightly one last time, blowing another kiss before the video cut out.

you sat in silence and disbelief at what you’d just seen. he was literally moaning your name while he jerked off, and was about to post it for a million subscribers to see. you couldn’t tell if you thought it was hot or if it made you nervous. you looked down at your texts and saw that he’d sent another message.

well?

it didn’t take long for you to think of your reply.

come over

he answered almost as soon as your text was delivered.

already on my way baby

you knew he arrived at your place when you heard three quick knocks at your front door, the same knock he did every time he came over.

“hey,” you greet him with a shy smile as you open the door. suddenly, seeing him in person after watching his video had made you feel less confident, and more embarrassed.

“hi,” he said, looking down at his feet. clearly his drive over had given him time to contemplate his actions and maybe garner a bit of embarrassment himself. he stepped over the threshold without asking. not that you wanted him to. you closed the door behind him and stood with your hand pressed against it for a second, facing away from him.

“look,” he started. “i don’t know why i did it. i know it’s… different… than my other stuff, and if you don’t want me to post it i won’t, but i wanted you to see how you make me feel.” you feel his presence behind you and your suspicion is validated as his fingers glide over your hip until his palm is flat against your skin. “say something, please.”

you turn around and grab his neck with both hands, pulling him down to sloppily kiss him. you thought about his words, how you make me feel, and you thought about him. you pull away for a second and stare into his eyes desperately. he meets your gaze with equal fervor, scanning all across your face for some sort of indication to keep going. and you can tell then. that he wants you just as much as you’d always wanted him. in a way that’s more than just best friends. more than just benefits. “i want to film with you,” you say, all your confidence restored.

his eyes widen, “really?”

“yes.”

you feel his grip tighten on your waist, his other hand snaking up your neck and around the back of your head. “i was hoping you’d say that,” he smiled.

you lead him to your bedroom, hand in hand. it had to be the hundredth time you’d led him there. but it never got old. you could do it forever. you would do it forever, if he’d have you.

“so how does this work?” you ask with giddy excitement upon locking your bedroom door behind you.

“we don’t have any of my film stuff, so we’ll just have to record on my phone. it’ll be fun. it’ll look homemade… amateur. people eat that shit up. plus, i think if you’re in it, people will love it even more. i know they’re gonna love the wednesday video… just hearing your name.”

you smile, taking a step towards him and reaching out to pull him in by his waistband. “so you’ll just… be recording us on your phone the whole time?” you ask.

he gulps, his dick growing harder by the second, just from thinking about having you on camera. he couldn’t stop imagining what the video would look like, and how he could jerk off to it whenever he wanted. he wouldn’t have to imagine you anymore. “yeah, pretty much.” he inches closer to you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in until his lips brush against your mouth. “gonna be so sexy for me, baby.”

“shit,” you whisper, your knees growing weak. “i want you.”

he sets up his phone, leaning it against a jewelry box on your dresser, and you wonder how he could possibly get all of it in frame.

“you good?” he asks as he makes his way back over to you.

“yeah,” you say, eyes still on the camera. “just a little nervous i guess.”

“you’re gonna do so good. just pretend it’s not even there. focus on me.”

“okay,” you smile, and lean in to connect your lips. he drags his hand down your back until he’s pulling on the fabric of your t-shirt, silently begging you to allow him to pull it off. you break away from each other, just for a second, to strip until you’re both naked. why not get down to business, right?

“getting right to it?” he asks with a smirk, before plunging back to your mouth, kissing you hard and fast. one of his hands grips your cheek while the other kneads your ass. your arms wrap around his neck and your bodies are so close together you can feel his cock pressing against your pelvis. you part your lips slightly, allowing is tongue to enter and explore the inside of your mouth. he guides you both over to your bed, never breaking the kiss, until he finally picks you up completely. you wrap your legs around his torso and he holds you close, flopping down on the bed with you mounting his lap. “turn around so they can see you, baby,” he breaks away and whispers in your ear. you do as you’re told, he spreads his legs so you can sit between them, facing the camera now.

“spread your legs for me, princess.” you rest one leg on both of his thighs, so you’re completely revealed. you can see yourself in his little phone screen on your vanity, and even bigger in the mirror behind it. he wraps one arm around your stomach, holding you in place, and rests his head on your shoulder, kissing you as he does. his free hand creeps around your waist and lands between your legs. “so wet for me.” he whispers as his fingers mindlessly brush over you. he finds your clit, as he’s done countless times before, and rubs gentle circles into it with his index and middle fingers.

he loved to start slow with you. building you up for so long just so he could eventually ruin you. you lean your head back into the crook of his neck and turn to meet his gaze, “please don’t tease, jake.”

he kisses your lips again, so softly, you almost think he’s going to go easy on you. “i’m not teasin’, promise,” he replies. “just gotta show them how pretty you are while you’re like this.”

he gets rougher then, his fingers moving quicker and harder, and you let out a moan. “louder, baby.” he says as he delivers a brisk slap to your inner thigh, pulling another moan from you, before he eventually shoves two fingers deep inside you. he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, finding your g-spot over and over again.

you’re practically a breathless, shaking mess in his arms, but he just keeps alternating between fingering you and rubbing your clit. he brings you to the edge more times than you can count, alternating methods just before you can reach your peak. he almost knows your body better than you at this point. knows exactly when to stop before you can come, knows exactly what makes you feel the best. “you’re doing so good for me, princess.” he praises as you continue to play his game. allowing him to make a mess of you in his arms, he’s the only one you’d ever want to be this vulnerable with. you absolutely love when he ruins you. you love how it feels during the moment, and you love how it feels after, with him cradling you in his arms until you fall asleep. kissing your forehead and cheeks relentlessly while he tells you how amazing you are. how you’re the only person he genuinely enjoys fucking. how he could do it all the time and never get bored.

he kisses your temple as he finally allows you to come undone in his arms. you grip his arm that’s wrapped around your stomach, and your other hand reaches behind you to grab the back of his head and pull him in. your lips latch onto his, even though you’re barely capable of kissing him as he works you through your orgasm. you gaze up to make eye contact with him, and he smiles down at you while your body finally stops convulsing and your loud moans dwindle into soft, breathless pants. you manage to return his smile then, and he leans down to press an ever so gentle kiss to your lips. “you think you can take more?” he asks softly.

“with you? always,” you reply.

“that’s my girl,” he grins. “move to the edge of the bed, baby.”

he stands up and grabs a tissue from your vanity to wipe off his fingers before grabbing his phone from the dresser. he flips the camera view so it’s on you, and he turns the flash on.

he walks up to you, camera in hand, and you can’t help but giggle as he does. you’ve never seen him in action before. well, not live. you wonder if this is how filming usually goes for him. you imagine not. since he has more professional recording equipment at home, and he’s with strangers. you have to admit, no matter how good his content is, he never has any type of chemistry with the people he fucks beyond sexually. it was different with you, it was bound to be. your relationship is bigger than just sex. it was more… for both of you.

“you laughin’ at me?” jake asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you.

you bat your eyelashes at him innocently, “never!”

he lets out a chuckle before finally reaching you on the bed. he stands at the edge where you sit up on your elbows to look at him. the flash in your face makes it hard to even see jake. you look past the light up at him, he’s all you care about. you know you must be giving him the biggest doe eyes ever, but you don’t care how you look. you want him bad.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, reaching down to jerk himself off with his free hand. “could come just by lookin’ at you.”

he continues stroking himself, whining a little as he does. “see what she does to me?” he asks his hypothetical audience. “lean back, mama. hold your thighs back for me.” again, you do as you’re told. being with him was the only time you were okay with a man telling you what to do. you grab one thigh in each hand and pull your legs back until they’re pressed against your torso.

he guides his cock between your legs, slowly pushing it inside of you inch by inch. you were always taken aback by his size. as if your body forgets how big he is between your hookups, you always needed a minute to adjust. “takin’ me so well, princess.” you knew the camera was capturing the entire scene. and for some reason, that was turning you on even more.

once he was finally in deep enough, he let go of his dick and used his now free hand to grab onto your thigh, pushing it down even further. you felt him bottom out, his pelvis pressing against your skin, and he groaned in delight at the feeling. “missed you so much, baby. missed this perfect body, and your pretty moans,” he says.

“you came over three nights ago,” you muster between moans as he begins thrusting into you.

“yeah, but i always miss you when you’re not with me. miss all of you. not just fucking you.” he couldn’t say much else, as he was now groaning himself, but you understood well enough what he meant. he missed you. everything about you.

his thrusts grew faster and harder with each passing second, and you reached out to grab his arm that was still pushing your thigh back. you gripped his wrist, your nails digging into him as your moans got louder. “fuck! jake… fuck, fuck.”

“what is it, baby? use your words,” jake said through his grunts.

“‘m…so close,” you reply, and another moan rips through you.

“me too,” he says. “come with me.”

your back arches off the bed and you can almost see stars as he slams into you, but you let go at precisely the same time. his thrusts grow sloppier, and he can barely hold his grip on the phone as his body begins to shake. yours does too, and you grip the sheets with the hand that isn’t actively holding onto jake’s wrist for dear life. you’re both in a state of pure ecstasy as you feel his dick finally twitch inside you.

he stops the video and throws his phone on the bed, hunching over on top of you to catch his breath. he slowly pulls out and collapses onto the bed, pulling your body onto his and kissing your face gently. he fixes your sweaty hair as best as he can, smiling as he does. “you’re so pretty.”

“so are you,” you whisper, your fingers softly tracing his face. “so are you gonna post the video this week? i think it was good, hopefully it’ll do well.”

“oh, i don’t think i’m going to post it.” jake says.

“what? why not? do you think it’s bad?” you ask, and genuine concern lines your voice.

“no. that’s the problem. it’s so good. i don’t wanna share it. don’t wanna share you. only i want to be able to see you like that.” he kisses you roughly and nuzzles his head into your chest.

you smile at his words. don’t wanna share you, and suddenly, you’re saying the one thing you never thought you’d be able to say to him. “jake, i think i’m in love with you.”

he seems caught off guard at first. but then he looks at you with eyes full of only love and passion, and the most earnest smile you’d ever seen adorns his face. “thank god.”

he kisses you, only this time it feels different. it’s as if a taut rope that had held you two a foot away from each other had finally snapped. or been cut. he holds your face in his hands like you’re a precious porcelain doll he wouldn’t dare risk breaking, and when he pulls away from the kiss, it’s only to say “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that.”

pics from pinterest, divider from @/saradika-graphics

tags for @liseytopia & @audr3yyyyy again <33 ily guys

#sh4wty18 #jake webber #original fiction #original one shot #one shot #smut #jake webber fanfic #jake webber x reader #jake webber smut #jake webber fanfiction #smut oneshot #pornstar!au #Spotify

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naughtyneganjdm · 3 days ago

Text

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 17

Summary: Negan gets a visit from Y/N after the fight he had with Joel and she has him make a very emotional promise to her. Joel opens up to his brother about something he kept locked away for many years.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, Tommy Miller, Lucille Smith, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/157173025 Warnings: Swearing, Severe Angst, Smut, talks about someone wanting to hurt themselves, a character has memories about what it felt to experience both abuse and homophobia from their parent, mental trauma from a character, etc.

Notes: This chapter I just edited and finished at 430 in the morning. I'm trying to keep up with schedules, but I know I'm falling behind and I'm doing my best! This chapter has someone talking about their past and the homophobia they had to face when they were younger. Especially in terms of their family. It is emotional and it could trigger some if they have ever been in this situation. I just want to put it out there.

Overwhelmed would be an understatement for Negan right now. After everything that happened today, it was really hard to focus on one thing. Dropping his head back against the couch, Negan reached up to cover his eyes releasing a stressed exhale. He was trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing that he was feeling in his knee right now. After all the injuries that Negan had experienced from playing baseball, he knew what it felt like when he was severely injured. This was not that kind of pain, but it certainly did fucking hurt. And it hurt bad. But it was the kind of ache that he would get when he overworked his knee. Not so much the pain of a horrible injury.

To help with the pain, there was a bag of ice wrapped around his knee while he was laid stretched out on the couch. Even with his eyes closed it felt like the room was spinning around him. It was probably from a mixture of the pain along with the adrenaline that was fueling through him. There was a dull ache in his fists along with his face since he had gotten into a fight with Joel even though he tried so very hard to not let it happen.

Disappointment was flooding through his veins as well. For so long he did pretty well with handling Joel, but tonight Joel went too far and made him snap. And that was bad because Y/N was right. Joel was drunk and he had no filtering system. Fighting with Joel while he was drunk made no sense, but once Joel started spouting off about Lucille, he couldn’t contain himself.

A faint knocking drew him to drag his palms down over his face. Turning his head toward the door, Negan sighed loudly when there was a second knock alerting him that he wasn’t making up the sound in his head. Lifting his head up from the couch, Negan wondered if his knee could make the trip to the door or if it was even worth it. Forcing himself up, he pushed up onto his hands and it probably took him way too long to get up from the couch. Setting down the bag of ice, he limped over toward the door and reached for the handle. Bracing most of his weight on his good leg, Negan felt his heart sink when he opened the door to see Y/N standing before him.

“What were you thinking running off on me?” she blurt out with Negan shamefully lowering his head to avoid looking at her. Clinging to the doorknob, Negan swallowed down hard and felt a chill running through his veins. “You were hurt. I don’t even know how you got home without getting in an accident and hurting yourself further.”

“I was ashamed and figured you wouldn’t want to be around me,” Negan confessed, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. There was a lot that was said today and thrown out on the table for her to deal with, so he didn’t even know where to start with things. “There was a lot thrown at you and…”

“Do you not want me here?” she interrupted Negan having his sad hazel eyes connecting with hers. Slouching, Negan bit down on his bottom lip and could see that she was worried about him. “I can leave if you don’t want me.”

“You know that I want you here,” Negan claimed, his long eyelashes fluttering. Nodding toward the inside of his rental home she waited for Negan to step aside and allow her into the house. Closing the door behind her, Negan rubbed at the back of his neck with the incredible amount of tension that was building up inside of him.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be around you?” she wondered, noticing the bag of ice that was sitting on the couch. Turning on her heel, she looked to Negan expectantly wanting some kind of answer from him but he was at a loss of words.

“There are plenty of reasons,” he stated, taking a few steps closer to her limping as he did it. “I should have never attacked Joel. I tried so hard to keep it together, but I didn’t. He was drunk and he didn’t have a filtering system. It was wrong for me to attack him. And Joel isn’t wrong Y/N. I’m a horrible person. I did terrible things…”

“I’m surprised you held it together as long as you did,” she suggested, stepping forward to reach for Negan’s hands. Holding them, she felt them trembling with her caressing over the backs of them with her thumbs. Right now the number one thing he was feeling was shocked. Especially since her caress was so kind and gentle. More than anything he thought she would be mad at him. “And I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” he stammered, confusion flooding his features. He wasn’t too entirely sure what she was pertaining to when she said that.

“I don’t care what you used to be,” she whispered, closing the distance between the two of them. Palming in over the side of Negan’s face had him letting out a tremoring breath, his eyes coming to a slow close. Leaning into the warmth of her touch, Negan’s bottom lip was slightly trembling while she comforted him. “I don’t care what you used to be like. All I care about is who you are now. How you treat me, how you treat my children.”

“I’m not good enough for you. I know he’s right about that,” Negan confessed, his eyes still closed with him cuddling his face in against the warmth of her palm. “I realized too late the mistakes I was making in life. I should have been a good husband the whole time, but I let things get to me. I wasn’t a good man for a very long time.”

“I don’t doubt that you loved your wife. I see it in the way you talk about her,” she hushed him, lifting her other hand to cup his face in her hands tenderly. By the time he opened his eyes, she could see that tears were burning at them. “One thing you’ve never been able to do is lie to me Negan Smith. I can see right through you and when you talk about her, I see pure love. I can see the pain in your eyes when you talk about her. I know how you took off time from work to take care of her. You still wear your wedding rings on your body Negan. You fucked up, you did. But I don’t think for a second that you didn’t love her.”

A sob fell from Negan’s lips and she urged him to lower down so she could press a lingering kiss over his forehead, “I don’t doubt that by the end of her life, Lucille knew how sorry you were. She knew how much you loved her and how much she loved you.”

Leading him over toward the couch, she got him to sit down and then lowered in beside him. Sweeping her fingers over his jawline, she allowed him to rest his head against her shoulder. Brushing her fingers through Negan’s thick hair, she hushed him when he started to cry.

“It’s okay,” she comforted him, wrapping him up in her arms allowing him a moment to go through that pain that had been pent up inside of him for so long. “I know that you miss Lucille and I can’t imagine what it’s like losing someone you love that much the way that you did. But please. Promise me that no matter what happens in the future…don’t hurt yourself. Keep fighting for me…for Lucille…”

Lifting his head from her shoulder, Negan’s reddened over eyes looked miserable. Placing another kiss over his forehead, she let it linger before frowning, “I need you here. I want you in my life. So no matter what, if things ever get hard or you need to find strength, please call me. Talk to me. Open up to me. Because a universe without Negan Smith is not somewhere I want to be.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan muttered with a firm nod, his chest aching with an incredible amount of guilt that he was feeling. Only a handful of people had known about him trying to kill himself in the past, but never having the strength to do it. Now Y/N and Joel were added to that list.

“Promise me,” she pled with him, her own eyes tearing over with the thought of what Negan admitted to both her and Joel. Hell, she knew Negan was depressed and upset about losing Lucille, but she never pictured that Negan was the kind of person that would try to kill himself. Especially since Negan seemed like the type to be high on life, never wanting to lose a moment. “Promise me that you will never try to kill yourself again. Because that would break me. It would break my heart forever and I would never forgive you for it. Because I love you. Do you understand me?”

Nodding his head, Negan had a hard time forming words, but she forced him to look at her and he released a broken breath.

“I promise,” Negan exhaled, his body trembling with her sweeping his tears away. With how emotional she was getting over all of this, it broke his heart to see. But with how emotional she was about it, he knew that she genuinely cared for him. “I know I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be having a breakdown…”

“I’d be worried about you if you weren’t,” she declared, sliding in closer to him to caress over the length of his back toward his shoulders. “You’re broken. You loved someone so deeply and you lost them. You have to talk about it. You have to feel…”

“Joel talks about how he missed out on so much, but he’s wrong. Stardom only made me worse,” Negan insisted, his fingers reaching up to curl around her wrist to caress over her pulse point with his thumb. “I would have given anything to have the life that he had with you and the children. We tried so hard to have children and we were always fighting about it. What he mentioned with me not being able to have children, it might be true. I might be broken completely…I was never brave enough to find out. She wanted me to, but…”

“If you can’t, there is nothing wrong with that Negan,” she insisted with her eyebrows furrowing and her head shaking slowly. Even the idea that Negan could possibly not be capable of having children was tearing him apart. But it wasn’t something that she thought he should be focusing on since there was already so much on his mind about things. “That doesn’t make you broken. And for all you know there is nothing wrong with you. Lucille was sick. And you don’t know for how long. It could have been a combination of things.”

“You shouldn’t be being nice or empathetic to my situation,” Negan suggested with a firm shake of his head, his jaw flexing with discomfort. After what Joel broke to her, he figured that she would never want to speak or talk to him again. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself enough?” she inquired with Negan’s expression growing sadder. When something like suicide was a topic of discussion, it wasn’t something you should blow off and with how emotional Negan was, she was happy that she came to him tonight. “Lucille asked you to live life for her and you promised that you would. Do you think she wanted you to continue to hurt yourself over the things you did wrong?”

“No,” Negan answered honestly, his bottom lip trembling further while she stroked over his face. There were a lot of discussions that the two of them had about the subject. Lucille was always angry with him for being so emotional. Begging him to promise to continue on with his life. To make something with the time he had left. Because she couldn’t. So if someone could, she wanted Negan to. Especially since she loved him.

“Then don’t do it,” she was doing her best to pull him from what it was that actually broke Negan tonight. “Focus on the good times you had. The moments you got to share together before she passed away. Because those are the moments that mattered. I know it hurts. More than anything you want to hug her, touch her and tell her that you love her, but she hears you Negan. Talk to her. Because she is and will always be with you.”

Placing her hand in over the center of his chest had his cries growing harder. Shakily his hand covered hers and squeezed it tightly in his grasp, “It’s so hard because we can’t hold them anymore, but they never really leave us. They are always there. She’s part of you and she always will be.”

Slouching forward, Negan’s forehead rest against hers with her stroking over the back of his neck, over his scalp and through his hair in a soothing manner, “You see so much darkness in yourself Negan and I see so much potential. So much love.”

“You always saw the best in me when no one else did,” Negan reminded her, palming his hands up and over her arms. “I think the other people were right about me. You just saw hints of something that weren’t really there.”

“No, I don’t believe that,” she whispered, refusing to allow him to sink into the thought that he was a terrible person. “Yeah, you’re a smart ass and you probably deserve to get punched sometimes, but everyone does. I’ve seen the things you do for the people you care about. You have a big heart when you allow yourself to show it. I’ve seen it many times since you came back to town. It’s there. And it shines bright.”

“I don’t know what I would have done if we didn’t run into each other again,” Negan admitted, swallowing down, turning in to press a loving kiss against the center of her palm. “I love you, so fucking much.”

“And I love you,” she whispered, enjoying the warmth of him before her. It ate away at her hearing Negan break down like he had when they were all together. Those words continued to play in her head like a broken record. The idea of Negan killing himself was a horrible nightmare for her. One she never wanted to face. “I always have and I always will.”

“I’m so sorry I let what Joel did break us apart,” Negan stammered, his breathing uneven with her tenderly caressing at the side of his neck and over his face. “I knew you had a crush on him. I should have understood. I was just so young and selfish. “

“I think you’re defining me right now,” she rolled her eyes at the idea that he was the bad one in the situation. There were a lot of things that she could say about Negan, but in the past he was the biggest victim in this whole situation. “The only person that wasn’t in the wrong in that situation was you. I wish you would have told me what was going on with Joel, but…”

“But you loved him so much,” Negan spoke up before she could finish her sentence getting her to look at him fully. “If you thought there was any question about the purity of your relationship, I knew it would break your heart. That’s why I never told you. You would question everything. And you shouldn’t have. Because he looked at you with so much love whenever I saw the two of you after that night. It’s why I never did anything. It may have broken me, but it made two people that I cared about happy. Two people that deserved happiness very much. I don’t question that Joel loved you.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she admitted in terms of Joel and the things that he told her. “I feel like there is so much that I don’t know about Joel. Things that he was never honest with me about. Unlike you, I can’t tell when he’s being honest or lying to me.”

“I think Joel deserves the same opportunity that I do,” Negan explained with a loud swallow. Something in her eyes showed that she didn’t understand. “You forgave me for my past. You mention the man that I am now…Joel is right I was a worse husband than he ever was. I’m just innocent when it comes to you because I wasn’t the one that hurt you. If you can get over that part of me, you should realize that he can be different too.”

“The man devastates you and gets you angry enough to start a physical fight with him, yet you’re still defending him,” she noted, surprised that Negan would go to bat for Joel even after everything that happened. Then again, that was something that Negan seemed to be doing longer than she ever even realized.

“Because he’s broken,” Negan replied with a frown. Hearing that took her breath away. “He’s at the stage I was when I first lost Lucille. He’s hitting all the stages at once. Regret. Pain. Anger. Disbelief. Fury. Rage. They are eating away at him and he’s just lost it because he loves you, but he doesn’t know how to show it. I’m not lying to you when I tell you that I think Joel regrets everything that he did. I think if he could go back in time and stop it from happening, he would. I don’t want to lead you on and make you believe that he’s this terrible piece of shit. Because he’s not. He did shitty things, but I do fucking believe that he loves you. And that he’s a good man. Just a man that had a lot of bad shit happen in his life, so he’s bad with his feelings and his emotions.”

With a deep inhale, Negan looked down and shook his head, “I know you love him too. I can see it in the way that the two of you look at one another. And if you want to be with Joel, I don’t want to hold you back. I feel like you are experiencing guilt because you don’t want to let me down, but I love you. So fucking much that if Joel makes you happy, if Joel is where you feel whole—I love you enough to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to let me go,” she was quick to respond, hushing him when she brought him in closer to her. “I can’t lose you from my life again Negan. You have brought back a joy that I never thought would be there again. You awakened that thing inside of me that I thought was long gone. Whether we’re together or not, I need you.”

“And I need you,” Negan agreed with her nuzzling his nose in against hers in a tender moment. Cherishing the warmth of her near, Negan still felt an ache at the center of his chest. “But I don’t want Joel suffering either.”

“Nor do I,” she acknowledged knowing that there was so much love in her heart for her ex-husband still. That wasn’t something that she could hide. Joel still held part of her heart in his hand and that would never leave her. “But if making Joel feel better is kicking you out of my life, I can’t do that. I’m probably not a good person and I acknowledge that because I love the both of you. Very much.”

Meeting her stare, Negan exhaled loudly with her getting up from the couch. Turning when she applied pressure at his shoulders, Negan sat the right way on the couch. Sighing, he bit down on his bottom lip when she caressed in over the center of his chest to get him to relax. Lowering down to her knees before him, she started to caress over Negan’s hurt leg eliciting a pained sound to fall from him. Grabbing the bag of ice, she placed it over his knee with one hand while the other continued to caress over his thigh.

“I love Joel. Nothing will change that. I’m smart enough to admit that,” she confessed, her breathing growing louder with the way that Negan was looking at her behind heavy eyelids. “But I know how I feel about you. I love you so much. No one makes me feel the way that you do. Poor, happy, sad, rich…I don’t care. You mean so much to me and I can’t throw you out of my life.”

“Y/N,” he exhaled loudly with her getting up further on her knees. Setting the ice aside, she started to undo his belt. Unhooking it and pulling it apart had Negan’s breathing growing more uneven. With her fingers undoing his pants and opening them, Negan lowered his hands and grabbed her wrists to stop her. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay,” she hushed him, urging his hands onto the couch beside him. Tugging at the material of his pants, she pulled the dark slacks from his body. Setting them aside, she took her time to caress over his thighs. It had him inhaling sharply when she lowered down over his knees to sweep over them and down to his calves. Slightly turning toward his hurt leg, she started massaging at his flesh. When her fingers swept over the scars that were over his knee area, she lowered forward to press loving kisses over his flesh. “You are so beautiful. Inside and out.”

Caressing his fingers over the back of her neck, Negan grasped at her hair and let out a pleased sound with her touching him. For a while she gave his leg a massage, working to get him to relax with it aching. Truthfully? She was one of the only people that he would trust near his leg like that.

Placing a final kiss over his knee had chills running down his spine. Getting up carefully from the ground, she took her jacket off as she kicked out of her boots. There was something that he should have said, but he couldn’t form words when she took her time to pull her sweater from her body. Once she had the material at her side, she dropped it next to where she had set his pants down.

Adjusting his positioning on the couch, Negan’s lips parted and he was ready to tell her that she didn’t need to do this. But as she started to shimmy out of her pants, it had a lump growing at the center of his throat. Almost immediately, he became breathless. His heart hammered in his chest with her reaching around herself to unhook her bra allowing the material to fall. The first sight of her bare breasts had him nervously licking his lips. Even though they had been together many times at this point, she still took his breath away. When she pushed her fingers into her panties to get them down her legs, he could feel his heart skip a beat.

Carefully lowering down to her knees over him had his hands settling in over her hips with his rough fingertips caressing over her flesh. Staring up at her in awe, Negan wondered if he truly deserved her at all.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you,” she apologized bringing their lips together in a passionate, unhurried sweep. Caressing at the back of her thighs, Negan kissed her back. Chills were running up and down his spine.

“No, don’t,” Negan silenced her, his eyelids heavy with desire for the woman before him. “If anything, I should be the one that is sorry. Joel was right. I should have never abandoned you and your family. I should have been here all along helping you. I loved you so much and I let something like that ruin our relationship that we had our whole life.”

“This is one time you can’t take credit,” she whispered, sliding further in over his lap having Negan tip his head back to keep his eyes hooked with hers. “I let my crush on Joel persuade me to be a certain way and I wasn’t thinking.”

“You really do deserve better than me,” Negan admitted with a frown, his rough palms caressing up over her back toward her shoulders. “I’m a broken mess and I don’t deserve the love and support that you give me.”

“I think we’re all a little broken,” she thought aloud, her fingers caressing at Negan’s scalp with her left arm hooking loosely around Negan’s shoulders. “But there is no one that makes me feel better than you do. I think you realize the person you were and you’re trying your best to make things better. For everyone.”

“I think I’m fucking up Joel,” Negan countered with a firm shake of his head, letting out a sigh. Watching her hands palm down in over the center of his chest toward his abdomen, Negan bit down on his bottom lip when she reached the bottom of the black henley that he was wearing. Raising his arms, Negan allowed her to tug the material up his body and drop it on the floor with the rest of their clothing.

“You’ve been trying to help Joel,” she corrected him with a shake of her head, her fingers teasing through the dark curls of hair over Negan’s torso. “I see it. What you did at that bar, the way you handle him. I think you’ve done a really good job.”

“We fought tonight,” he reminded her, exhaling loudly with the way her lips hovered over his. “I could have done better.”

“Joel isn’t used to my heart not belonging one hundred percent to him,” she recognized, sliding her hands up over the sides of Negan’s neck toward his face to cup it lovingly in her palms. “You were the one that kept trying to keep the truth from me. You don’t have any ulterior motives. You care about me. You care about him. You treat our children good. I like the man that you became. I like the man that you are with me.”

“I want to be the best version of myself for you,” Negan announced, his voice growing raspier when he felt her reach for the material of his black boxer briefs. Lifting his hips up, he helped her work the material down his body. Wiggling his legs, he grunted with her pushing firmly at the material working to get it to his knees. Lowering back onto the couch, Negan kicked at the material getting it to his ankles. Allowing her back in over him, he cherished the warmth of her body wrapping him up in her arms. Nuzzling his nose at the side of her neck, Negan’s hand caressed over the lengths of her back with her peppering kisses at his freckle covered shoulders.

“You are,” she assured him, pressing a faint kiss over his ear having him suck in a sharp breath. “I have no doubts when I’m with you. I know how I feel when we’re together.”

Grabbing a hold of his right arm, she led his hand toward the center of her chest allowing him to place it over her heart. Stroking her fingers at the back of his hand, she could tell just by the way that he looked at her that everything he felt was pure.

“You make me happy. I haven’t been happy in a very long time,” she told him the truth, loving the way that his eyes stared out at her. Lifting his hand up, she pressed a loving kiss over the center of it. “When I’m with you, I feel a warmth…love…”

“But I’m putting you in a hard place because I know you love Joel,” Negan commented, his other hand reaching up to trace over her features. “If I wasn’t here to mess things up, you could have everything you wanted with Joel.”

“I’m not sure Joel would be acting the way that he is if you weren’t here,” she sighed loudly, stroking her fingers through Negan’s short beard that covered his face. “You weren’t here for four years with us being divorced. So in a way, I guess you bring out both the best and the worst of Joel. I could whine that I’m in a horrible position, but I have two men that I love very much in my life right now. People can only hope to have one.”

“But what if you decide that you want to be with the other man?” Negan inquired, sucking in a sharp breath when she dropped one of her hands to curl her fingers loosely around his manhood. Tracing over his shaft had Negan’s neck flexing with his lips parting. Fluttering his eyelashes, Negan kept his eyes hooked with hers while she caressed over his length.

“Who am I with right now?” she questioned, her lips hovering in over his. Breathing both loud and uneven, Negan pressed in closer to kiss her but she kept him from kissing her. Smirking, her eyebrow arched and she was waiting for an answer. “Where am I?”

“With me,” Negan responded, dragging his bottom lip in over hers humming out with the sensations she was drawing out from inside of him.

“I could have been with either one of you right now, and you’re the one I chose to come to,” she pointed out, lifting her hips enough to lead his body toward hers. There was something in the way that his eyes hooked with hers that took her breath away. Accepting him into her body, she carefully lowered herself over him moaning with him in unison. Getting comfortable, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders pressing their bodies closer together.

“What if Joel forces you to choose?” Negan stammered, his lips hovering just over hers. Tensing up beneath her, Negan found his body easily reacting to the warmth of her surrounding him without them moving.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” she whispered, caressing her fingers through his hair at the back of his neck. Having him fully inside of her stagnant ached, but she liked the way that it felt. “I just want to spend my time with you. Be with you. We missed out on so much time together. I don’t want to miss a moment of it.”

“I question if Joel was right,” Negan winced when she lazily rolled her hips upward, taking her time in bringing them back down over him. Every movement was slow, drawn out, and was focusing on their connection. “Maybe the only way for us to truly be happy was to separate us during those years. We would have been hurting both Joel and Lucille. There is something between the two of us that is so strong. I don’t doubt that the two of us would have done something that we regretted if we were still around one another.”

Resting her forehead against his, she cried out at the way that Negan touched her while she moved over him. So much focus and care went into the way that he was with her, “Maybe that makes us bad people.”

“Joel can say whatever he wants to defend his thought process, but that’s not how things worked themselves out,” she silenced Negan, finally bringing their lips together to give him a passionate kiss that had him cupping her face in his hands. Moving ever so slightly back had their lips still brushing against each other’s while she spoke. “So we can talk about the maybes all day long, but that’s not how things were. So we’re not bad people for loving one another.”

“Now that I have you in my life, I can’t lose you,” Negan asserted, his palm sliding up over the center of her chest toward her neck. Curling his fingers around the side of her neck, his thumb traced over her jawline until hovering over her bottom lip. It had her kissing at his flesh and he smiled. “You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

“I feel the same way about you,” she promised, cuddling her head into his touch starting to rock her hips a little harder over his. Their breathing matched each other’s, growing louder with her movements. “I never want you to doubt the man that you are. I think Lucille would be proud of the man that you are now.”

“She’d kill me if she saw what I was doing right now,” he snickered, lifting enough to pepper kisses over her jawline. “I feel like she’d rather me be pining over her still, not falling head over heels in love with someone else.”

“I think you’re doing both,” she whimpered, her hips rolling firmer over his length having Negan moan out. Keeping them close had the warmth of his breath twisting with hers. This moment wasn’t about sex. It was about connecting. Showing how much they cared for each other.

Firmly wrapping his arm around her waist, Negan rolled her onto her back on the couch. Yelping out, her back arched and it was followed by a laugh with the confused expression that Negan was giving her, “The ice! The ice! It’s cold.”

“Oh,” Negan snorted, reaching behind her to dig out the bag of ice that was there. They both were laughing with Negan dropping his head against her chest. Setting the ice on the ground, he felt her kissing at the top of his head and he sighed loudly.

“A bag of ice up my ass sure did add a new sensation,” she teased him, tugging at his hair enough to bring his lips back to hers so they could kiss. Adjusting his body enough, he made sure to take the pressure off his hurt knee before he started to roll his hips up against hers. Locking his eyes with hers, Negan didn’t want to let go of this moment.

“Promise me that we will have each other for the rest of our lives,” Negan begged of her, his fingertips tracing over her jawline. Their bodies moved together in unison with her bouncing up with every thrust. “In whatever way possible.”

“You don’t have to beg me to promise,” she assured him, peppering kisses over his lips with him pausing his movements over her to give her his full attention. “We both know what it’s like not having each other in our lives. It hurts too much. We’ll always have each other from here on out.”

That was all he needed to hear. Now that he knew what it was like to be happy again and to feel loved after being lonely for two years, Negan knew that he couldn’t lose this.

Their love making session was slow, drawn out and by the time they were done, they were laid stretched out together on the couch. Her thigh was wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his chest with her drawing shapes over his abdomen.

“You don’t think I’m trying to steal Joel’s life, do you?” Negan still found himself considering the things that Joel had lashed out at him for today.

“Negan,” she frowned, her fingertips tracing over the tattoo that was over his pectoral muscle. “Don’t let that eat away at you. Joel is just jealous because people really like you. And it’s hard for him to get people to like him. The children still very much love their dad. They have just happily accepted you into their lives too.”

“I just don’t want…” Negan started only to yelp when he felt the sensation of something cold over his nipple. Arching his back up, he lifted his head to see that she had grabbed one of the ice cubes that was mostly melted from the bag that he set aside earlier. “Jesus!”

“It was the quickest way to get your mind focused on something else,” she was highly amused with herself, replacing the cold sensation with warmth by kissing over his nipple. Circling her tongue over his nipple, she snickered against his flesh with him moaning out. Running a line over the center of Negan’s abdomen down toward his belly button had him sucking in a sharp breath. Looking up at him, she shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip. “Joel was drunk. The worst thoughts that Joel has come out of his mouth when he’s drunk. I think you’re right about what you said with Joel. He’s having a hard time coming to terms with what happened between you and him. His brain is hooked on me, but his body wants both you and me.”

“I think he’s worried about what people will think about him if they find out we…” Negan considered the words that he should be using to describe what he did with Joel. “Fucked?”

“Joel hasn’t been comfortable with himself since he was eighteen years old,” she alerted Negan with a long sigh, dropping the ice cube back on top of the bag she pulled it out of. “Give it time. Everything will work itself out. I promise you that.”

“I should be the one promising you that,” Negan noted, his fingertips tracing over her back doing his best to comfort her. “You’re the one being placed in the middle of me and Joel…”

“Poor me. Stuck between two incredibly good-looking men who both love me,” she caused Negan to snort and laugh with her bluntness. “I’m more worried about you and Joel. Allow me that. Because I’m fine. I’ll be fine and I don’t doubt that. Right now, I’m in the arms of the man that I want to be with and I’m perfectly happy with that.”

----

“You can stop babysitting me,” Joel glanced over at Tommy who was falling asleep at the other end of the couch. After they came home, Peter went to bed almost immediately because he was exhausted. Elizabeth and Tommy stayed up with Joel, both of them visibly worried about him. Pretty quickly Elizabeth had picked up on the fact that Joel had gotten into a fight but he refused to tell her with who. That wasn’t something he was about to bring his daughter into. So instead she stayed up with both him and Tommy for as long as she could. And when she started falling asleep, Joel carried her upstairs to bed. Tommy made him promise to come back downstairs, but Joel didn’t get it. It had been hours since he put Elizabeth to bed, yet Tommy was still holding true to staying with Joel. There was a bag of ice that Joel had placed on his knuckles on his right hand and with his left hand he was holding ice to his nose. In the few good hits that Negan had got on Joel, he had managed to hit Joel in the nose and there was a cut over the bridge of it. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy’s eyes grew wide with him trying to wake himself up. Sliding into a better position to focus on the screen, Tommy was still wary about leaving Joel alone. “I don’t trust you alone with yourself right now.”

“You really think I would kill myself and let my children have to deal with that for the rest of their lives?” Joel snapped getting a certain look from Tommy that told him he did think that Joel was capable of hurting himself. “I might be selfish in your opinion, but I’d never do that to Ellie and Peter.”

“I’ve heard the way you talk when you’re upset,” Tommy reminded Joel, turning on the couch to face Joel to give him his full attention. This was why Tommy wouldn’t leave his side. He was worried that Joel would hurt himself. “You’ve threatened it before. Not so long ago either.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Joel stressed, throwing his hand that was holding the icepack to his nose up in the air to silence Tommy from even talking about it any further. “It was a stupid thing to say and I should have never said it.”

“People don’t always make the best decisions when they are drunk. Emotions get high, their feelings get enhanced and they do…stupid things,” Tommy waved his hand about in the air suggesting that Joel was a perfect example for that. “I don’t think you would have done a lot of things that you did tonight if you were sober.”

“Noted,” Joel scoffed, lowering down on the couch, spreading his thighs further apart so he could get comfortable.

“I’m not trying to be rude Joel, but you say one thing and then you act another,” Tommy recognized how things were with his older brother right now. It was confusing trying to understand what Joel was doing with his life. “Here we are talking about Y/N and how you don’t want to upset her. How you want her happy. Then you are running off on her and attacking her boyfriend.”

“It’s complicated,” Joel suggested with a frown, dropping his head back against the couch out of frustration. What happened tonight was not something that he wanted to explain to people or even go into detail with. Tommy was trying, but Joel was attempting to keep things locked up.

“Everything is complicated with you,” Tommy blurt out with a frown, stroking his fingers through his long hair. “I love you big brother, but you’re emotional because you are jealous.”

Most days, Joel would have fought back. Swore he wasn’t jealous, but deep down? He knew that he was. And there was a strong sense of confusion that filled his veins too.

“Jealousy, anger, alcohol…” Tommy listed off the things he knew were going on with Joel right now, “they make you do stupid things.”

“I get it, I’m stupid,” Joel grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes back to a close. That was a word that Tommy had focused on pretty heavily at this point. “You don’t have to keep reminding me of it.”

“I know it’s hard to hear considering,” Tommy reasoned with Joel knowing that he had offended his brother with that word. There were just a lot of decisions that Joel was making lately that Tommy didn’t agree with or understand. “Can I ask you something?”

“If I said no, it wouldn’t stop you,” Joel pointed out, his head dropping to the side with his eyes slowly opening. “So why bother asking?”

“I’m trying to be polite,” Tommy said with a tip of his head, his dark eyes gazing over his brother. “If you really do feel the way you say you do about Y/N then why does the idea of being together with all three of you bother you so much?”

“Really?” Joel grunted eliciting a dramatic shrug from Tommy. By the expression on Tommy’s face, he was genuinely curious. “Would you be okay if Maria told you that she was in love with another man and she wanted to be with him, but also be with you on the side?”

“If I was desperate enough and that was the only option, I’d take it,” Tommy surprised Joel with his answer. It didn’t seem to bother Tommy that much. “I love Maria. I know it was fast, I know that you would disapprove, but I love her a lot. So if that was the only way to have her in my life, I would deal.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Joel commented, his brown eyes unsure of the way that Tommy responded to his question.

“Beggers can’t be choosers Joel. You’re lucky enough that she still loves you,” Tommy snorted, his hands rubbing out over his own thighs in a stressed manner. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Joel was glaring at him, but he didn’t care. “The things you did to her? Most people don’t come back from that. And you only recently broke up with Tess. Yet, you are expecting her to give up the one person who makes her feel good about herself to give you another chance? After how many? You’re lucky that she wants to be with you in any way.”

“Thanks for the support little brother,” Joel snarled, his eyes rolling when he dropped his head back against the couch in frustration again.

“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Tommy defended himself with a yawn. Right now he was fighting falling asleep off, but it was hard. “If you love her, I think you’d want her to be the happiest version of herself. Right? So if she’s the happiest with both of you…?”

“What would people think?” Joel stressed, his nose wrinkling and that sent a rush of pain up to his forehead. Cussing out, he lifted the ice pack back to his nose to place it where it hurt the most. That was a thought he had been worried about from the start. What the world would think about the three of them being together in some kind of relationship.

“When have you ever cared what people thought?” Tommy was confused by the comment considering Joel always hated people as it was. There was never a moment where Tommy even thought for a second that Joel would care about what others thought about him. “You’ve never been the type to care what people thought of you. They told you that you were too young to be my primary caregiver, but you did it anyways. When people told you that Y/N’s parents were right, the two of you should get an abortion, you told them to fuck off.”

Going to say something, Joel scoffed when he realized that his brother was right, “And if people said things, do you really think it would be out of judgement or jealousy? Most people would love to be in a poly relationship with two people. Especially someone like Negan. Most straight men would happily bend over for Negan.”

Glaring over at Tommy had Tommy shrugging dramatically and making an awkward expression, “I’m just saying Joel, they would. They would brag about it too. So I don’t think you have anything to worry about. People might judge, but they would secretly be thinking how fucking lucky you were.”

“What makes you think I bent over for Negan?” Joel questioned with venom in his tone and it had Tommy’s face twisting with an array of emotions. Of all the things, that was what Joel was focused on and it seemed to put Tommy in a hard place.

An uncomfortable smile donned Tommy’s face and threw his hands up in the air once more, “Originally? I didn’t think you did, but your response to it tells me otherwise.”

A rush of warmth flooded into Joel’s face. Biting down on his lip, Joel kept himself from saying what he really wanted to, forcing himself to look away from Tommy. It embarrassed him to know that Tommy knew what had happened between him and Negan. That wasn’t something he wanted people to know.

“I didn’t think it was that kind of threesome, but I support it,” Tommy threw it out there, taking a moment to consider his next thought. “I’m not gonna judge you for being in a relationship with two people that might make you happy. You haven’t been happy in a long time Joel. If another man makes you happy? And if you sleep with him like that? I support it. Because I know you love Y/N. And something tells me that you like Negan more than you give up too. And if people give you shit for it? I’ll break their face.”

Again, Joel was quiet. It was hard being open with Tommy over…this. That was everything that someone in his position would want to hear from someone they loved. He just didn’t know if he wanted his little brother looking at him like that.

“So…” Tommy finally broke the moment of silence that surrounded them. Clearing his throat, Tommy adjusted his body on the couch and looked to Joel. “How was it?”

“How was what?” Joel scoffed, the line at the bridge of his nose growing deeper.

“Y’know,” Tommy nodded his head about trying to hint to Joel what he was talking about. When Joel realized that he was asking about the sex between him and Negan, Joel scowled and forced himself to look away from Tommy..

“I’m not doing this,” Joel was quick to respond and it had Tommy snickering. Warmth flooded into Joel’s face with his brother now asking him details about the sex that happened with Negan. “It’s not funny Tommy.”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Tommy swore, placing his hand in over the center of his chest. “I guarantee every man in this town would be jealous. All the women too.”

“So you’d sleep with Negan?” Joel retorted having Tommy groan in disgust. Tommy shook his head and it made Joel angrier. “See, you’re a liar.”

“He’s like my brother you moron,” Tommy realized they were talking too loudly and he lowered his voice. “You, Y/N and Negan were my family growing up. People told me all the time that I should have stolen Y/N out from under you when you got divorced, but I can’t look at her like that. She adopted me Joel. You and her are the closest things I have to parents. And Negan was always like a big brother. So no, I couldn’t sleep with Negan because that would be like sleeping with you.”

Growling out, Joel set aside the ice pack and dropped his head forward into his hands, “Stop overthinking things Joel. You’re sabotaging yourself and your own happiness because you’re suddenly worrying about what other people might think of you?”

“Tommy…” Joel’s voice sounded irritated with it vibrating against his hands.

“Look at me,” Tommy called out to Joel, reaching out to shove at Joel’s shoulder when he didn’t. Another shove had Joel lifting his head in anger. “Do you love Y/N?”

“Yes,” Joel was quick to answer.

“Really love her? Or are you only feeling these things because of Negan?” Tommy brought up the thing that so many others had already done.

“Really love her,” Joel was disgusted that his own brother would question his motives. “I made a mistake when I divorced her Tommy. Why do you think Tess left me?”

“I thought that was a mutual thing,” Tommy commented, his brown eyes confused with his brother’s response about his ex-girlfriend. “You said that she wanted more from you than you were willing to give.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Joel scoffed, pointing toward Tommy who tipped his head to the side like a confused puppy dog. “Toward the end of my marriage with Y/N, I wasn’t very affectionate. It was something that always upset her. She wanted to cuddle. She wanted to hear how much I loved her. Instead I slept on the edge of the bed, the opposite side away from her, I wasn’t touchy feely…”

“Right…” Tommy was waiting for the explanation with Joel rambling.

“I couldn’t be loving and emotional, when I wasn’t that way with Y/N,” Joel expressed how he felt, remembering what he was feeling when he was dating someone else. “And I guess I was always comparing her to Y/N. Using our relationship as an example of how things should be. I liked Tess, but I never loved Tess. She put up with it for as long as she could, but I couldn’t give her what she wanted in a relationship because I was always so hooked on Y/N.”

“Then why did you leave her?” Tommy stressed the question that was always on everyone’s mind. Why would he be stupid enough to leave Y/N when he was still so visibly in love with her?

“I don’t know,” Joel had no really good answer for that. And that infuriated Tommy with his response. “I don’t know Tommy! I could blame my mental health. It was poor. And I think that’s really what it was, but it was still me making a really stupid fucking decision little brother. And I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea in the first place because it never was.”

Tommy was considering everything that Joel was saying, but he was quiet because it was obvious this whole thing was complicated like it had been stressed many times before, “I guess my brain thought I needed time to discover that she was what I wanted all along.”

“Well your brain took its sweet ass time,” Tommy replied back with a disgusted breath at his brother’s confession. Joel didn’t disagree with him. Especially now that they were in such a strange position that had Joel questioning everything. “How many women did you sleep with after you got divorced?”

That was not something that Joel expected Tommy to ask of him. And when he did? Joel got angry. That wasn’t even something that he thought they should be talking about.

“Don’t make me answer that,” Joel begged of his brother, rolling his eyes that Tommy would even go there.

“How many other women have you slept with other than Y/N?” Tommy continued to push having Joel’s jaw flexing. Here he was going to be stubborn and not answer his brother. “Is it so many that you don’t know or are you afraid that I will tell her? Because I’m your fucking brother and you should be able to tell me these things. We should be able to talk to each other about this stuff.”

“There are two answers to your question,” Joel resented the fact that Tommy was going to this. Especially since he didn’t know what it had to do with what they were talking about in the first place. “I slept with a few people before I ever got with Y/N. You know that she wasn’t my first, right? I was her first, but with me...a lot of girls wanted to hook up with me when I was younger.”

“I assumed that. You were popular, girls were falling at your feet,” Tommy recalled what it was like when Joel was in high school. “And it’s not like I couldn’t hear shit because my room was right next to yours. So while mom and dad were sleeping, I knew that you were sneaking people into your room.”

“Yeah, well your dad wouldn’t have had as much of a problem with it as you might think,” Joel swallowed down hard, his eyes gazing over at Tommy from where he was seated on the couch. It was hard to admit this to his brother when he let out a tremoring breath. “Our father is the one that got me the condoms. And he sure as hell didn’t have a problem with me sleeping around. In fact, he urged me to do it.”

“What?” Tommy snapped at Joel realizing that this was headed in a direction that he wasn’t expecting. “Joel, why would dad do that? You know that he just about ripped my head off when he found that magazine I was keeping in my room.”

“Because…” Joel paused, biting down on his bottom lip and looking toward the stairs. “Do you promise not to look at me differently if I tell you something?”

“What?” Tommy scoffed, sitting forward on the couch when he gazed over Joel. “Did you kill someone or something? Because I always thought you had it in you to do it.”

“Tommy, shut up,” Joel couldn’t help but laugh that his brother was being so ridiculous in the moment. “Please just give me a moment to say this, okay? I reckon you’ll never look at me the same again after I tell you. Because I…I hate myself for it too.”

“Okay?” Tommy didn’t know how to respond, he just listened and kept quiet like Joel asked him too.

“When I was younger, I thought I was hot shit. People really liked me. And girls were throwing themselves at me. The first time I had sex, it was awful. I mean, terrible,” Joel stressed, biting down on his bottom lip and he hit his knee. “I didn’t know if it was me or the girl because I really didn’t like her that much. I just did it because I’m a guy. There were a lot of hot girls that wanted to sleep with me and I didn’t turn them down. Some experiences were better than others. But? I uh…there was always one person I really liked.”

“Y/N?” Tommy spoke up, his head shaking about with Joel sucking in a sharp breath of air. Joel’s eyes grew damp when he looked to Tommy with a shake of his head.

“I didn’t start having feelings for her until this one day I was in class, but let me get to something else first,” Joel hushed his brother, lifting his hand up to silence Tommy so that way he couldn’t stop himself from continuing his story. “Tommy, I always liked Negan. And not just in the way that you like a friend. I crushed on girls that were like in the magazines and what not, but when I was around Negan? I just kinda felt things that I knew I shouldn’t be feeling. He’d come over to hang out and we’d watch things that we shouldn’t have been watching when no one was home. And at first, we’d just do things to ourselves. I just thought it was something that guys did together. But throughout time, we started touching each other. And this one time, dad came home early for something. He walked in on me and Negan doing that together and he…he beat the shit outta me Tommy. Calling me a fa…you know. He was so ashamed of me.”

“How did I not know about this?” Tommy asked, clearly horrified from what he was learning about the past.

“No one knew. The only people that knew were me and him. Not even mom knew. He called me that word, threw Negan out of the house and then he kicked my ass. Wanted to beat it outta me. Told me he wasn’t going to have a queer living in his house. Said I had to get my shit together because if he found me doing that again he would throw me out and take everything away from me,” Joel informed his brother, his voice breaking when he forced himself to look away from Tommy. “We came up with some stupid story about me being attacked by another kid from an opposing school so he didn’t get in trouble. The only reason Negan found out about it is because he was there when dad showed up. When I came to school looking like I did? He immediately knew. So now the only people in the world that ever knew were me, Negan, dad and you. It’s not that I was gay, I had feelings for other women throughout my life, I just…I really liked Negan. I think I knew pretty young that I had feelings for both men and women. Or Negan and women. I don’t know. Because there isn’t another guy that I’ve felt like that toward, but I don’t know if that’s because it’s how it is or because our dad beat it out of me.”

“You should have told me,” Tommy looked upset to hear that Joel went through that and Joel shrugged his shoulders. Joel was emotional about the past and it was devastating Tommy to think that Joel went through that alone. “I remember how upset mom was about the way you looked. Wanting to call the police, but dad wouldn’t let her.”

“Because he was the one that did it,” Joel released something that sounded like a whimper even though he didn’t want it to be like that. “That’s how I knew that Y/N was the love of my life. Because when I kissed her? When I slept with her. I felt something for her that I had never felt for anyone. Not even Negan. I slept with a handful of people to try to prove I wasn’t what dad thought I was, but it wasn’t until her where everything in the world felt right.”

Pausing to think about everything, Joel nervously rubbed at the back of his neck and shrugged, “You know when I was dating Tess, that I cheated on her with Y/N, right?” Joel brought up what was true to his little brother, catching the way that Tommy’s eyebrows bounced up. “We never stopped sleeping with each other Tommy. We may have been divorced, but we were never apart more than a month or two. So I didn’t completely just give up on her those four years.”

“I don’t know if that makes things worse or better Joel,” Tommy was honest with Joel about how he felt with things toward the whole Tess and Y/N situation. “She probably thought the whole time it was a sign that you still wanted to be with her, but then you never did come back. No wonder she thinks it’s because of Negan that you want to be with her.”

“I had problems,” Joel defended himself, his hand raising to place over the center of his chest. “You know just as well as me Tommy that we’re soulmates.”

“But I think Negan is her soulmate too,” Tommy was honest with Joel and for the first time he actually saw disappointment in Joel’s eyes. “Is that so wrong? Maybe…just maybe he’s your soulmate too.”

“I’m nothing compared to him,” Joel declared, his head lowering with his confession. “I have no chance if that’s really the case.”

“Yet, they both have been more than willing to include you in things,” Tommy reminded Joel, sliding in closer to his brother to give him a firm nudge. “Maybe start thinking about the positives in things. You can be alone, or you can have something which is better than nothing. And with what you just told me…? I think that’s more than enough reason to prove that this whole poly relationship thing is a great idea. After what you went through? Dad isn’t here anymore. I am. And I support you. I support you loving both of them.”

“But what about the children?” Joel’s breathing was broken and it had Tommy sucking in a sharp breath of air, his finger shakily pushing into his dark hair.

“I don’t think they’d care. They love all three of you. I think they’d be okay with it. As long as you don’t act like it’s a weird thing, I think they would accept you as you are,” Tommy stressed to his brother what he believed was true and honest. “They are good kids Joel. You raised them to be accepting of people. You never taught them to be any other way. It’d be a lot easier having the three of you together than having you separated. Let them show you that Joel.”

“She learned the truth Tommy with what I had done,” Joel admitted to his little brother, turning to look at him with a saddened expression. “Why Negan really stopped interacting with me and her. What I did to Negan. Why I really slept with her the first time.”

“Does that matter anymore?” Tommy responded in a way that wasn’t what Joel was expecting. “Yeah, you got with her to be a douchebag, but you fell in love with her. The two of you were together sixteen years before you got divorced. Your feelings weren’t fake those sixteen years. I think she knows better than to assume that it was all just to fuck with Negan. Negan left when you were eighteen. You could have dropped it, but you didn’t because you love her.”

“I have fucked things up so much little brother,” Joel realized, dragging his hands down over the sides of his face. “I don’t even know how to fix things.”

“Try,” Tommy said one word, but the emphasis on it obviously meant something to Tommy. “Just try. That’s all that matters. Trying.”

Giving a nod, Joel didn’t know how he would even approach trying, but it wasn’t bad advice. Standing up from the couch, Joel went into the kitchen to put back the ice packs and returned to step before Tommy, “I’m going to go up to my room. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy blurt out getting Joel to look back at him over his shoulder. “I don’t want to wake up to something bad Joel.”

“I promise, I’m just going to my room to rest,” Joel swore, giving Tommy a firm nod moving toward the stairs until Tommy called out to him.

“You could have told me Joel because I would have loved you no matter what,” Tommy promised Joel, swallowing down the lump in his throat that wouldn’t go away after Joel explained to him what happened with their father. “Unlike dad, I think you have the right to be happy. And you are always gonna be my hero big brother. You were more my father than he ever was. You weren’t broken because you were attracted to both Negan and Y/N. And I look up to you even more now cus’ you were able to tell me. I love you Joel. I’m sorry you had to go through all that alone.”

Moving to the stairs, Tommy could hear the sounds of Joel’s breathing. It was broken and he was upset, turning Joel to face him, Tommy wrapped his brother up in his arms and gave him a strong, lingering hug that had Joel finally returning the hug after a few minutes.

“I think a lot of what you are going through is dad’s fault,” Tommy whispered, patting Joel at the center of the back. “You were never allowed to be you. But stop letting dad be your inside voice Joel. You’re good enough. Stop forcing yourself to be miserable. You deserve to be happy. And this is your chance.”

Swallowing down hard, Joel pulled back and away from Tommy. Patting the side of Joel’s face, Tommy gave his brother a reassuring nod, staying at the bottom of the steps when Joel started to head up toward his bedroom.

Once inside of his room, Joel kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot. A tremoring breath escaped Joel’s throat with him bringing his hands up to his face to cover it. For so long Joel had held that in and to finally tell someone had him shaking. Talking about his past had him feeling things and feeling them very strongly.

Looking to his laptop, Joel saw that it was opened and he bit down firmly on his bottom lip. This whole thing had Joel thinking about what he had done tonight to both Negan and Y/N. And then Lucille popped into his mind. Never had he really been open with anyone about the secret friendship that he had with Negan’s wife. They used to talk all the time, but when Joel separated from Y/N, they really didn’t talk as much as they used to.

Logging into his e-mail, Joel typed her name into the search bar bringing up all their messages that they shared together. Often back then they would send each other messages, videos, voice recordings and he had all of them saved.

It had been so long since he really thought about Lucille. After divorcing Y/N he got distracted. Noticing how many unread e-mails he had from her truly made him realize that. Guilt started to build up inside of him considering how quickly he abandoned that relationship once he was no longer with Y/N.

Opening a few of the messages, Joel realized most of them were just her writing him to ask how he was doing. But the final one? It was a video that he never even bothered to look at. Swallowing down hard, he opened the message and waited for the video to download. Shifting in his seat, Joel rest his elbows on the desk and bit down on his bottom lip when it started to play.

“Hey there stranger,” Lucille’s weak voice drew a labored breath from his lips. In the video she was wearing a purple wig that was shoulder length instead of having her naturally blonde hair. Leaning further back in the chair, Joel bit down on his bottom lip. It was obvious by the way her eyes looked that she was tired and weak. There was always a glow and an energy to Lucille when they spoke, but that wasn’t there. “It’s been a long time since we’ve talked and I thought I would send you this. What do you think about the area back here?”

Moving out of the way of the camera, she focused on the room that she seemed to be in, “Negan insisted that we have our own little space so we can spend all of our time together.”

Sliding back into the frame, Lucille gave what looked like to be a happy smile causing an ache at Joel’s chest, “I think he knows I don’t have much time left. He’s having a hard time with it. I’ve pretty much accepted it at this point. I’m ready. I’m too tired to fight.”

A broken breath fell from Joel’s throat, an overwhelming overflow of guilt eating away at him that he never seen this or even responded to her. And he knew that she had been dead for years now. They were friends and he did the one thing that he accused Negan of doing with Y/N and him. Abandoned her.

“We have our own little couple cave here. It’s the most doting he’s ever been. I made him go out to get me ice cream while I made this video for you. He never wants to leave my side anymore. I had to beg him to do it,” Lucille stated with another long sigh, her head shaking as she spoke. “I’m worried about him. He’s not sleeping. I think he’s scared that if he sleeps, I’m going to die and he won’t be with me.”

There were tears burning at Lucille’s eyes as she spoke, “I’m just worried about him in general. He’s not strong enough for this. I don’t know what he’s going to do when I die. I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle it.”

There was a long silence and Joel could see tears sliding down her face when she shrugged, “I need you to do something for me. I think we were wrong in keeping all of us separated. More than anything when I’m gone, I think Negan is going to need friends. People to keep him from drowning. I think he needs you and Y/N. People who really know him. So when you find out that I die, please find a way to get in contact with him Joel. I’ve appreciated this friendship that the two of us have had and I hope you can do this for me.”

Stopping the video, Joel lowered his head and let out a trembling breath. Why did he never open the fucking e-mail? Why did he avoid her after he had broken up with Y/N all those years ago? Trying to gather himself, Joel pushed forward and hit the play button to start the video back up again.

“I miss talking to you,” she declared with a nervous laugh, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke to the camera. “I wanted to give you some advice Joel. Take it or leave it from a dying woman with nothing but a small amount of time. I know that you want more in life. That you felt cheated for the things that happened to you, but I think you need to reconsider your divorce to Y/N. I was really upset with my life for a long time too, but I realized something. I loved Negan. Through and through. I always knew there was a good man deep down inside of him and he’s really proven that the last year or so. He’s the man I always knew him to be. The only thing I regret is never being able to have a family. Joel, you have the one thing I always wanted. The one thing I always longed for.”

It took a minute for Lucille to gather herself, biting down on her bottom lip with her tears sliding down her face. Wiping at them with the back of her hand, Lucille sniffled and shook her head, “A family Joel. A family that loves you endlessly. Hear it from someone who has what you would consider everything. I have everything, but when I die, I’ll have nothing to be remembered by. You had someone that loved you, children who think the world of you. I have Negan. And he’ll be the only person to keep my memory alive. And he’ll be alone. Trust me when I tell you Joel, the everything you long for…you already have it. Nothing beats love. Not money, not fame…love. Because at the end of your life you truly realize who it is you want to have with you. And I realize now that it was Negan for me.”

The sound of a door opening was heard and Lucille was looking off the screen. At the corner of the screen Joel watched Negan walking over toward the back table to set down a few bags, “I’m sorry for taking so long. I had to go to two stores just to get these. I bought you a few just in case you keep having cravings.”

Pointing her finger back toward the corner of the room in the video, Lucille smiled and whispered faintly, “Goodbye Joel. Thank you for everything.”

“What was that?” a younger Negan turned on his heel to face her with her glancing back over her shoulder. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Lucille stammered before ending the video.

It had Joel sliding further down in his chair feeling the ache growing at the center of his chest. Now, not only did he regret what he had done with Y/N, he realized that he also made a huge mistake in ignoring Lucille and her messages. It made Joel wonder how long after that video Lucille passed away.

Her last message was her telling him that his family was the most important thing. And now that she was gone and it was years later, Joel realized that she was right.

Sliding in closer to the desk, Joel went through a few folders until stopping on one that he wanted. Clicking open the video, Joel focused on the lower quality video smiling when he saw Y/N holding onto a young Peter sitting by the Christmas tree come into focus.

“Look at all those presents,” Joel’s voice was younger and he turned the camera toward him to show that Elizabeth was in his arms cuddling her head in against his shoulder. This was when they were still so happy and Joel didn’t doubt his life. “It looks like Santa was very good to the both of you this year.”

Pressing a quick kiss over a younger Elizabeth’s head, Joel turned the camera back to Y/N and Peter. Peter was clapping his hands together and reached for a present to inspect it, “I wonder what you did this year to be so good.”

“We’re just good always daddy,” Elizabeth’s younger voice was heard with her being set down and running to sit by the other two next to the tree. “You know that.”

“Yes you are,” Y/N wrapped her arms around both the children hugging them close. “You both are the best. And we love you very much.”

“Daddy, come on. Come here,” Peter called out moving his hands in a dramatic motion. A rumble of a laugh from the other side of the camera fell from Joel’s throat. A moment later Joel was setting up the camera so it would frame the whole family. He walked into the frame and dropped down on the ground next to Y/N. Peppering her with kisses had her smiling and Joel truly wondered where he went wrong. What was it that made him question the love he had for his family? He had the perfect life and now he was left realizing he should have never doubted that.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

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