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msbigredmachine · 1 month ago

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The Boy Next Door: Chapter Six

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Ivy hadn’t realized how much space Roman took up in her life until she pulled away. A week of zero contact felt like forever, especially after they’d been practically inseparable before. Where his texts and calls once lit up her phone all day and made her smile, the same texts and calls…well, voicemails…were now grating, each one pleading and importunate and doing nothing to quell her current stance. She wasn’t sure if the distance was for his sake or hers, but after what she’d witnessed that day, it was absolutely necessary.

Every time she thought about Roman yelling at Zaia, the venom laced in his voice, it sent a chill up her spine. Sure, he had apologized—and was damn near begging since then—but the memory lingered like a bad taste. She couldn’t get past the fear she’d seen in her daughter’s eyes.

Zaia, funny enough, seemed to have already moved on. It helped that Roman was pretty much bombarding her with presents, the latest being a Little Mermaid (Halle) coloring set and a handwritten note that Ivy found in Zaia’s new Hello Kitty backpack:

“For the best little DJ I know.” Zaia had beamed when she read it, proudly showing Ivy the small charm bracelet he’d tucked into the package as part of his peace offering.

But Ivy wasn’t a six-year-old. Roman’s charm, his gifts, his apologies—they didn’t erase the cracks forming in her trust. She couldn’t shake the memory of his sharp tone, his anger. And, as much as she hated to admit it, there was something else. Something deeper, a gnawing unease she couldn’t quite name.

Saturday Afternoon

She was folding laundry in the living room when the doorbell rang. Duchess barked sharply, scampering to the door as Ivy set down Zaia’s unicorn-printed pajamas and sighed. She knew exactly who it was. Roman had texted her earlier, saying he wanted to stop by.

When she opened the door, there he stood, impossibly handsome in a fitted black T-shirt that clung to his broad chest and sweats that hung just right on his hips. His tribal tattoos spread from beneath his right sleeve, a tantalizing display of inked skin. In one hand, he held a large gift bag, and in the other, a bouquet of deep red roses.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice a smooth rumble as he flashed a tentative, almost nervous grin. “I come bearing gifts.”

Ivy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “More, huh? You trying to bribe me?”

Roman chuckled. “Is it working?”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped aside for him. “Not yet.”

He grinned, closing the door behind him before following Ivy into the foyer. Duchess sniffed at his boots, her tail wagging, while Roman set the bag and flowers on the counter. “This is for Zaia,” he said, pulling a small stuffed dolphin from the bag. “She mentioned how much she loved that sea animals documentary the other day. Thought she’d like this.”

Ivy softened slightly, her arms uncrossing. “At this point, you’re spoiling her,” she said.

Roman shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I do owe her. And these,” he held up the roses, “are for you. Not cuz I messed up—though I know I did—but because…I miss you. I miss us.”

His words hit a nerve. Ivy wanted to stay mad, to keep him at arm’s length, but the longing in his dark eyes tugged at her heart. She took the roses from him, inhaling their sweet scent.

“You ain't making this easy, you know,” she said quietly, setting the flowers in a vase.

“I don’t want it to be easy. I want it to be right.” Roman insisted, reaching into the gift bag before turning to her. “I got you one more thing…” He held a small box out to her, wrapped in elegant gold paper.

Ivy frowned but accepted it, unwrapping it carefully. Her eyes widened at the Tiffany & Co. packaging. She glanced up at him, gauging his hopeful expression, and then opened the box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a small heart pendant. It sparkled in the light, simple yet stunning.

“Roman…” she started, her voice trailing off.

“I hate this distance between us,” he implored, stepping closer. “I miss you, Ivy. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I miss your touch. Your hugs…your kisses.”

She swallowed hard, her emotions warring inside her. “Roman, I…I don’t know…”

“I understand why you’ve been staying away,” he said quickly. “I fucked up, baby, and I’ll spend as long as I need to, making it up to you. But I can’t stand being away from you like this. It’s killing me.”

He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple shifting and his hand running over his mouth and gray beard. He then, reached for her hand, his touch warm and familiar. “Baby, I’m not perfect, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. I swear to you. You and me—we’re amazing together. I need you, Ivy.”

Her resolve faltered. Damn him and his way with words. The sincerity in his tone, the way his thumb stroked her knuckles—it all chipped away at her defenses.

“I don’t know, Ro…” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Come here,” he murmured, settling down in one of the foyer chairs and pulling her gently onto his lap. “Sit with me.”

“Roman,” she protested weakly, though she didn’t resist.

“Just for a minute,” he said, his arms circling around her slender waist as he looked up at her. “I've missed holding my baby. Let me hold you. Please.”

Ivy sighed, her body betraying her as she melted into him, growing even more traitorous as she absorbed the feel of his lips brushing her neck, then her jaw, and finally her mouth. The kiss was slow and consuming, pulling her under like a riptide. Her hands found the sides of his neck, gripping tightly as she kissed him back. His lips were soft yet insistent, his hands firm as they slid up her back to keep her close. She hated how good he felt, how easily he unraveled her. There was something about his kisses. They made her forget the world, made her forget him—the man who scared her, the man she doubted. In these moments, he was just Roman, the man who made her feel alive.

At last, they broke apart, but only just. Roman's big hands caressed her face, holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear. “Tell me, Ivy,” he whispered, “Tell me you’ve missed me too.”

Her resolve wavered as she looked into his eyes. Damn it, she had. Despite everything, despite her doubts, he drew her in like a moth to a flame. Every damn time he touched her, kissed her, all her defenses crumbled. It was dangerous, but fuck did it feel good.

“I missed you too,” she admitted breathlessly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

His smile was slow, almost predatory. “I knew you did.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, kissing him one more time before resting her head on his shoulder. For a moment, it felt like old times, like they hadn’t spent the last week avoiding each other. But then the doubts crept back in, nagging at the edges of her mind.

As if sensing her hesitation, Roman kissed her forehead and shifted the mood. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone lighter. “We need to get away. You, me, and Zaia. Somewhere warm and sunny. How about Hawaii?”

Ivy sat up straight, blinking, caught off guard. “Hawaii?”

“Yeah,” he said, his enthusiasm growing. “You’ve been working so hard at the hospital lately, and I see how much you do for Zaia. You deserve a break. Both of you.” He trailed off as he rubbed her hip, his touch firm and persuasive. “Plus, we can really focus on us. No distractions. Just paradise.”

Ivy smiled faintly, but something about the way he was speaking—so eager, almost insistent—made her uneasy. “That does sound amazing,” she admitted, glancing over at Duchess, who was now laying in her kennel. “But it’s not that simple. Zaia’s school just started back up, and I have shifts scheduled. Plus, traveling with a six-year-old isn’t exactly relaxing.”

Roman waved her concerns away, his expression unwavering. “All of that can be worked out. I’ll take care of the arrangements. You deserve this, Ivy.” His voice lowered, more intimate now. “You’ve given so much to everyone else—Zaia, your patients—you need to give yourself a little grace.”

Ivy hesitated, torn between the allure of his words and the knot of unease tightening in her chest. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get away—God knew she could use the break—but Roman’s urgency felt…off. Too perfect, too rehearsed.

She settled with a forced smile. “Let me think about it, okay?”

Roman’s expression flickered for a brief moment, a shadow in his eyes. But before he could respond, Zaia came bounding down the stairs, her eyes lighting up when she saw the big man in the foyer.

“Roman!” she squealed, running over to hug him.

He grinned, lifting her onto his lap alongside Ivy. “Hey, little lady. Look what I brought you.”

As Zaia tore into the gift bag, Ivy watched Roman out of the corner of her eye. He was attentive, affectionate, the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend and even a possible stepfather.

But deep down, Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something about Roman wasn’t adding up anymore. And until she figured out what it was, she couldn’t let her guard down—not completely.

Sunday Afternoon

Her bedroom was dim, save for the slivers of sunlight that slipped through the blinds, casting long streaks across the walls. A faint hint of lavender clung to the air from the candle Ivy had lit earlier, now reduced to a hardened pool of wax on the nightstand. The room was warm, and would have been quiet had it not been for the bed rocking beneath the moving bodies, heavy breaths mixing in the silence. The rhythmic creak of the bed, their moans and gasps, filled the space, escalating until she collapsed on top of him, their bodies trembling from the intensity of it all.

It had started innocently enough—a nice Sunday lunch on her day off, opting to extend an invitation to Roman to ensure he wasn’t alone…or so she told herself. There had been the familiar, easy chatter between her and Roman, Zaia’s laughter echoing as they set the table together, their bodies just inches away from each other, close but not too close as they sat side by side. But as time ticked by, the tension began to shift. By the time she tucked Zaia in for her afternoon nap, it was sizzling. Roman’s gaze had deepened, his touch lingered a little longer, and before she knew it, he was in her bed again.

A blur of sensations—long fingers, warm skin, the heat of his body overwhelming hers. Roman had been tender but forceful, his touch demanding in a way that sent electric currents surging through her veins. The feeling of him inside her had been comforting, intoxicating, and sorely missed, and when she had begged him—moaned for him—it was as if she had lost control completely, her body responding to him in ways she couldn’t explain.

An hour later, her bare body pressed against his solid, warm frame. His muscled arm draped lazily over her, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her butt cheek. The steady beat of his heart was a reminder that, for now, they were both here, tangled in the aftermath of what had just happened.

“I’ve been thinking,” Roman said suddenly, his baritone voice breaking the stillness.

Ivy turned her head, her curls brushing against his chest. She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Thinking? That sounds dangerous. About what?”

He huffed a soft laugh, his fingers pausing their motion before resuming. “About us. About you…and Zaia.” His tone softened, dipping into something vulnerable. “You two are the best thing that’s happened to me since I moved here.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in them catching her off guard. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she stayed silent, her fingers sliding idly along his tattooed forearm, encouraging him to continue.

His dark eyes gleamed in the low light, his expression open yet serious. “You know I don’t have any kids of my own. Elesha and I never got to…” he trailed off, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Being around you and Zaia…it’s made me realize how much I want that again. Marriage. A family, a real one. With you.”

Ivy’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as her eyes searched his. “Ro…”

“I mean it,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “Watching you with Zaia always warms my heart. You’re an amazing mom, baby. And I can’t stop thinking about how incredible it would be to give her a little brother or sister. To give us that.”

His words landed with the weight of a tidal wave, equal parts intoxicating and overwhelming. For a moment, Ivy could almost see the life he described: the happy, chaotic mornings, the sound of children’s laughter filling the house, Roman’s strong arms wrapping around her as they watched their family grow.

But then reality crashed back in. The nagging memory came rushing in again; of Roman’s voice raised in anger at Zaia, the way he’d lost control, even if just for a moment. He’d been trying to be much better since then, but Ivy couldn’t help wondering—what if it happened again? What if this perfect vision cracked under the pressure of another child?

Her gaze dropped, her stomach twisting. “Roman, that’s…that’s a lot to think about,” she said carefully, her tone hesitant. “I mean, I love what we have, but I don’t know if I’m ready for another child. Zaia’s still young, and—”

He cut her off gently, his fingers tilting her chin back toward him. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soothing whisper. “I’m not saying it has to happen tomorrow. I just…I want you to know how serious I am about us. About you.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, torn between the warmth of his words and the unease curling at the edges of her mind. She was in love with him—she knew she was—but something inside her held back, a quiet voice whispering caution.

“I get it, baby. But let’s…let’s take things a little slower,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay? We still have time.”

Roman’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “Fair enough,” he said, though his tone carried an undercurrent she couldn’t quite place.

Ivy tried to lighten the mood, needing to shake the weight of the conversation. “So,” she said, running her fingers along his forearm, “have you thought about having a housewarming party?”

Roman tensed slightly, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes so quick she almost missed it. “A housewarming party?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, though her curiosity was piqued by his reaction. “You’ve met more people since Gemini’s party. It might be nice to invite them to yours. I remember how fun it was when mine happened. You’ve made some friends, right?”

He shrugged, his hand resuming its idle strokes on her hip. “I don’t know, Ivy. I’m not really comfortable with people coming over just yet.”

“For real?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “I haven’t even met your work colleagues yet. Or seen your office, come to think of it.”

Roman stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Nah, not happening,” he said, his voice sharper than intended, but quickly added, “I mean, the office is a mess—renovations, chaos everywhere. Besides,” he said, his tone softening as he ran a hand down her back, “I like keeping my personal space… personal.”

The words landed heavily, and Ivy blinked, her hand freezing mid-stroke along his chest. Confusion flickered across her face before it hardened into something sharper. “Wow,” she said slowly, her voice laced with quiet frustration. She rolled off him, sat up and crossed her arms. “So, what? You don’t want me in your space? After everything I’ve shared with you?”

Roman hesitated, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not that,” he said, his tone smooth but guarded. “It’s just…I like things a certain way. My space is where I clear my head. You get that, right?”

“No, Roman,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with hurt. “I don’t get it. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into the sheet beneath them. “It’s not about you, Ivy,” he said softly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his frustration. “It’s just…I need to keep some things separate. Trust me, okay?”

Ivy let out a bitter laugh, pulling away from him slightly. “Trust you,” she repeated, her voice cold. “Funny how that’s getting harder to do.”

Roman sat up slightly, the tension in his broad shoulders undeniable. “Baby, wait,” he said, his voice softening. When she didn’t respond, he reached out, his hand brushing hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Right.”

He sighed, running a hand through his long, loose hair. “I’m just…tired. Work’s been a lot lately. Stress piling up. You know how it is, Miss Assistant Head Nurse.”

Ivy studied his face, searching for answers he clearly wasn’t willing to give. She’d learned that despite his openness, Roman was a man of walls—carefully constructed barriers that he rarely let her peek behind. The storage room in his basement came to mind, a fitting example of his tendency to shut things away. When she’d asked about it, he’d claimed it was just filled with his late wife’s belongings. The curt manner in which he’d also dismissed the topic had made it clear there was no room for discussion. It saddened her that he wasn’t opening up to her as much as she was to him.

Still, she knew when to back off. She wasn’t the type to push too hard—at least not with such a fresh wound, pun intended. Despite the faint unease curling in her chest, she let the subject drop. There were battles to be fought another day.

“I get it,” she said softly, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Work can be crazy sometimes. Just…don’t let it get to you too much, okay? Stress has a way of eating people alive if you let it. It got both my parents. I don’t want the same to happen to you.” Her hand found its way to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm grounding her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut at her touch, his shoulders easing just slightly, the weight of her presence momentarily lightening his burden, it seemed.

“I…I want you to know you can talk to me, Roman,” she whispered now, as though she feared scaring him off. “About anything. Alright?”

Roman’s eyes opened, but they weren’t clear—they were shadowed, distant, as if he were looking somewhere she couldn’t see. Something lurked behind them, an emotion she couldn’t quite name. For a long, silent moment, he just stared at her, his full lips pressing into a thin line.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and heavy. “I’ll try.”

The words felt like a fragile bridge, half-built but still offering the promise of something more. Ivy patted his chest gently, nodding, even though her heart ached with the knowledge that there were still so many walls he wasn’t ready to let down.

As she started to pull away, his arms tightened around her, the hold both firm and tender. His gaze softened, filled with a yearning that sent her pulse racing. Then, his lips met hers, and the kiss wasn’t just passionate—it was a silent apology, a plea for her forgiveness. She allowed it, savoring the moment for what felt like an eternity. By the time he pulled back, just slightly, she was breathless, her anger reduced to embers.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a great kisser?” he teased, his voice low, his eyes burning with intent.

Ivy’s lips twitched despite herself, the teasing jab disarming her slightly. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this,” she warned, though her tone was less icy now.

“Charm’s all I’ve got,” he said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Ivy exhaled shakily, her eyes searching his, the tension between them dissolving in the heat of the moment. She sighed, rolling her eyes but not pulling away. “You make it hard to stay mad at your ass, you know that?”

Roman smirked, brushing his nose against hers. “That’s the idea.”

Ivy giggled. “You’re exhausting.”

“In bed? Hell yeah,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

Ivy shook her head, smiling faintly despite herself. “You’re lucky you can fuck, Reigns.”

Roman grinned evilly, tugging her back on top of him as he crushed his lips to hers, sealing the moment with a deep, hungry kiss that spoke volumes more than his words ever could.

Ivy paced her living room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as her thoughts spiraled out of control. It had been two weeks since she’d last heard from Gemini. Two long, agonizing weeks of silence. Even when they fought, they never went this long without talking. But now? There was nothing—no calls, no texts, not even a passive-aggressive email. The memory of their last argument kept replaying in Ivy’s mind like a broken record: Gemini’s sharp words, the tension overwhelmingly thick, and their meeting after that, with Ivy storming out of Gemini’s office without looking back. It was petty, childish even, but neither of them had made a move to fix it. And it didn’t sit right with her.

The pit in Ivy’s stomach grew heavier by the hour, the silence suffocating. She tried to distract herself—organizing Zaia’s schoolwork, tidying up her kitchen, even re-watching an old favorite movie. But nothing worked. The nagging thoughts wouldn’t let up.

So, she grabbed her keys. She couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry any longer. Sliding into her Kia Carnival, she drove through the quiet streets of their neighborhood, the familiar route to Gemini’s house offering little comfort.

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she pulled up to the Beaufort mansion. The porch light was off, and the curtains were drawn, giving the place a hollow, almost abandoned feel.

Ivy stepped onto the porch, her breath hitching as she reached for the potted fern by the door. She found the spare key exactly where Gemini had always kept it, hidden under the dark green leaves. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The house was eerily still, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of Ivy’s neck stand up. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, but there was something else, too—a faint metallic tang she couldn’t quite place.

“Gem?” Ivy called out, her voice breaking the silence. It sounded small, fragile, like she was afraid of what might answer.

There was no response.

Ivy moved cautiously through the house, her eyes scanning every detail. The living room was untouched, the pillows perfectly arranged on the couch. The kitchen was eerily spotless, the countertops gleaming as if freshly wiped down. A wave of unease rolled over her. Gemini was a lawyer, but even she was never this meticulous, not unless she was trying to make an impression.

Heart pounding, Ivy made her way upstairs, her footsteps muffled on the carpeted stairs. When she pushed open the door to Gemini’s bedroom, her breath caught. The unmade bed was the first thing that stood out, the sheets tangled in a way that was so unlike Gemini, who prided herself on a pristine home. A faint breeze fluttered the curtains, but the windows were shut, amplifying the strange stillness.

And then she saw it: a piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly, waiting.

Ivy froze, dread tightening in her chest. Her feet felt like lead as she crossed the room and reached for the note. It was typed, the words precise and cold. Her eyes darted to the signature at the bottom—it was Gemini’s, unmistakable. But as she read the letter, the words felt alien.

I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry to everyone I’ve hurt. I just want the pain to stop.

To my dear Ivy,

I’m sorry I pushed you away. I will miss you the most.

“What the fuck!” Ivy whispered. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, no, no…”

The sobs came hard and fast, her chest heaving as she clutched the letter like it might disappear. She couldn’t bring herself to read all of it because it didn’t feel real. Gemini had always been the strong one, the vibrant one. She was the one who dragged Ivy out of her darkest moments, who never let her give up no matter how hard life got. And now? Now she was gone.

But something didn’t add up. The thought clawed its way through Ivy’s grief. If Gemini had written this note, where was she? The house was empty, devoid of any sign of her presence. There were no personal items packed, no indication of where she might have gone. It was as if she had simply vanished.

“Where are you, Gem?” Ivy whispered, staring at the bed as if it might hold the answers. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Was Gemini even alive?

The weight of that question bore down on her, suffocating her as she sat in the silence of her best friend’s room, the unanswered questions echoing louder than any scream.

She hadn’t even realized she’d driven to Roman’s house until she was there, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the quiet sounds of the neighborhood. Ivy stood trembling on his doorstep, clutching Gemini’s note in one hand and Duchess in the other. The puppy whined softly, nuzzling against Ivy’s neck as though trying to absorb her pain. Thank goodness Zaia was at her friend's house and unable to see her mother's distraught state.

When Roman opened the door, his concerned expression immediately softened into something more tender at the sight of her tear-streaked face. But before he could speak, Ivy blurted, “I need your help. I need to find her!”

Roman’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “Baby, what’s going on? Who are we looking for?”

“Gemini,” she stammered, her voice breaking as her body trembled. “She’s gone, Roman. I went to her place…She left this note but she’s not there and I don’t know where she is. I have to find her!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his features hardening for a split second before he schooled his face into a mask of calm. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands. “Baby, slow down. You’re shaking. Come here.”

Ivy allowed herself to be pulled into his arms, Duchess squirming slightly between them. Roman’s embrace was warm and steady, but Ivy could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her. She clung to him for a moment, trying to gather her spiraling thoughts, before pulling back to look up at him.

“She’s out there somewhere,” she said, her voice shaking. “She sounded so lost in the note, but this don’t feel right. Roman, I need you to help me find her. Please.”

Roman sighed, his hands sliding to her shoulders. “Baby, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe she just needed some space. People do that sometimes.”

“No!” Ivy insisted, shaking her head. “Not Gem. She wouldn’t leave like this, not without saying goodbye properly. And the note—it doesn’t make sense.” Her grip on Duchess tightened as tears welled in her eyes again. “I feel like something’s wrong, Roman. Please, we have to go look for her.”

Roman stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. He led her into the house and shut the door. “Baby girl,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm, “you’ve been through a lot. You’re exhausted, and I think that’s making this feel worse than it is. Let’s take a minute, sit down, and go over everything together.”

Ivy shook her head, stepping back from him. “We don’t have time to sit around, Roman! She could be in trouble. She could be—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

Roman reached for her again, his large hands cradling her shoulders. “Baby, listen to me. I get that you’re worried, but running out into the night without a plan isn’t going to help. Let me take care of you first, okay? You need to breathe.”

“I don’t need to breathe!” Ivy snapped, her desperation boiling over. “I need to find my friend! Are you gonna help me or not?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his grip on her tightening briefly before he let out a measured breath. “Of course I’ll help you, baby,” he said, his tone soft but deliberate. “I’d do anything for you. But we need to think this through. Let me make you some tea, and we’ll figure out the best way to look for her.”

Ivy hesitated, her tears streaking her face as she searched his expression for reassurance. “You promise?” she whispered, her voice small.

Roman leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I promise, baby girl. I’m here for you. Always.” He stepped back, his hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said gently, guiding her toward the kitchen. “You need to sit down. Let’s figure this out together.”

Ivy followed him numbly, her legs moving on autopilot as her thoughts churned. She clutched Duchess tightly, the dog’s soft whimpers a faint reminder of her reality. When they reached the kitchen, Roman pulled out a chair for her, the scrape of wood against tile sounding too loud in the stillness.

“Sit,” he urged, his voice steady but insistent.

She sank into the chair, her hands trembling as she smoothed Duchess’s fur. The note burned in her mind, its shaky words etched into her memory. It was so unlike Gemini—strong, vibrant Gemini—to write something so hopeless.

Roman leaned against the counter, his dark eyes studying her intently. His arms crossed over his chest, and the stark black of his tattoos seemed even more pronounced under the harsh kitchen light.

“What did the note say?” he asked, his tone calm but probing.

Ivy swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she replied, “She said she couldn’t take it anymore. That she felt lost and alone. And…she said she was sorry for pushing me away.” Her throat tightened, and fresh tears spilled over.

Roman held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

She handed him the crumpled note, watching his face closely as he read it. His expression darkened subtly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he looked up. “And you found this where?”

“On her nightstand,” Ivy said, her voice shaky. “But she’s not there, Roman. Her car’s gone, and she’s just… vanished. It doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t leave me like this.”

Roman frowned, his jaw tightening for a brief moment before his face softened again. “Maybe she…didn’t want to do it at home,” he suggested cautiously. “She might’ve gone somewhere private.”

“No!” Ivy’s voice rose, her frustration spilling over. “That’s not her! She wouldn’t just leave a note like that and disappear. Something’s wrong, Roman. I can feel it.”

Roman sighed heavily and stood in front of her, his large hands resting on her thighs. His dark eyes met hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

“Ivy,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve been through so much lately—Angelo, Zaia, work—and now this. You’re overwhelmed, baby. Your mind is running in circles, and it’s making you see things that aren’t there. Let me take care of you tonight. You need to rest.”

Ivy blinked, her resolve faltering under his steady gaze. Was she overreacting? Was her grief clouding her judgment?

“But—” she began, only to have him interrupt.

“No ‘buts,’” Roman said firmly. His hands squeezed her thighs gently before he stepped back. “We’ll figure it out, but you need to trust me. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

The reassurance in his tone eased some of the tension in her chest, though unease still lingered at the edges. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Roman’s lips curved into a faint smile. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. “Good girl. I’ll make us some tea,” he said, turning toward the stove.

Ivy watched him move, her mind still racing despite his calming words. Something about the way he had responded—too measured, too controlled—didn’t sit right. She wanted to shake the thought away, and blame her exhaustion and grief. But she couldn’t.

Something was not right. No matter what Roman said, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Gemini’s disappearance than the note suggested. And deep down, a tiny voice whispered a warning that she wasn’t ready to hear it.

Her gaze drifted aimlessly around the kitchen, desperate for a distraction from her spiraling thoughts. That’s when she saw it, tucked into a shadowy corner near the pantry: a vibrant tan-colored Prada tote bag.

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was Gemini’s—her favorite bag, the one she saved for special occasions and treated like it was made of gold. Ivy’s pulse quickened, her fingers freezing mid-stroke on Duchess’s fur. Why was it here? Gemini never let that bag out of her sight. Panic surged through Ivy’s chest, an icy flood that made her stomach churn.

Setting her puppy gently on the floor, Ivy’s feet moved almost on their own, carrying her to the bag. Her fingers hovered over it for a moment before grasping the worn leather strap. She turned it over in her hands, her heart sinking as her eyes landed on the unmistakable ��G’ charm dangling from the zipper—Gemini’s signature touch. There was no doubt now. This was her best friend’s bag, here in Roman’s kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

His deep voice startled her, sharp and sudden, cutting through the tense air. Ivy jumped, clutching the bag tighter as she spun to face him. His towering frame loomed in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

“This is Gemini’s bag. Why do you have it? Why is it here?” she demanded, her voice shaking. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto his, searching for an explanation, but the dark, unreadable look that flickered across his face sent a chill down her spine.

The mask of charm finally slipped. “Ivy…listen to me...”

But Ivy wasn’t listening. Her hands shook as she unzipped the bag and rifled through it, pulling out the contents one by one. There were several printouts of news articles of missing persons, Rhea and Bianca among them. One particular photo made her stomach drop into the void as she laid eyes on it.

Roman’s mugshot.

“What the hell is this?” Ivy’s voice cracked as she held it up, the other documents in her other hand.

Roman took a step toward her. “Ivy, calm down.”

She ignored him, her hands trembling as she stared at one of the headlines:

Mateo Hobbs Wanted in Connection with Multiple Murders in Florida.

The image was unmistakable—Roman, though his hair was shorter, and his beard less full. Ivy’s stomach turned, the bile threatening climbing up her throat.

“What is this?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Who the hell are you?”

Roman’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as though he were physically restraining himself from reacting. “Baby,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I can explain—”

“Explain?!” Ivy’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with betrayal.

“Ivy—”

She threw the papers at him. “Tell me that’s not you! Tell me that’s not your face! You can’t, can you?”

Roman took a deliberate step toward her, his large frame cutting an imposing figure in the dim kitchen light. His large hands were raised in what he probably thought was a placating gesture, but to Ivy, it was nothing more than a threat. She backed away, her movements jerky and panicked. Duchess, standing protectively at her feet, growled low and steady, the sound vibrating through the tense air.

“Baby,” Roman said, his voice soft yet firm, as if he were speaking to a child on the verge of a tantrum. “Calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

“I let you into my house! You held my child!” she yelled, her chest heaving as her mind raced to comprehend the horrifying truth. Her voice cracked under the weight of her disbelief. “Oh my god…you and me, we…” Hot tears welled in her eyes, sick to her stomach.

“Ivy,” Roman repeated, more hostile now. “You don’t understand. Come here and let’s talk—”

“No!” Her scream was shrill, laced with fear and fury. Her hands fumbled blindly behind her as she searched for something—anything—to defend herself. Her fingers brushed against cold steel, and she wrapped them around the handle of a kitchen knife, holding it out in front of her with shaking hands.

“Stay away from me!” she yelled, the blade trembling as she brandished it. Duchess barked furiously now, the sound filling the space as she bared her teeth at Roman.

Roman’s expression flickered with anger, frustration, perhaps—but he didn’t stop. Instead, he took another step forward, his gaze fixed on Ivy.

“Put the knife down,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. “You don’t wanna do this, Ivy. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll stab you!” she shrieked, her grip tightening on the knife even as her hands shook violently. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts. “I mean it, I’ll-”

Roman lunged.

The world blurred into chaos as she swung the knife wildly, her instincts overtaking her terror. Their bodies collided, and the knife clattered to the floor with a metallic clang. Roman’s strength was overwhelming, his grip on her arms like iron as he wrestled her to the ground.

With a loud bark, Duchess launched herself at Roman, her teeth snapping dangerously close to his leg, but he kicked her away with brutal precision. The yelp that came from the dog sent a fresh wave of panic through Ivy’s chest.

“Duchess!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she thrashed against Roman’s hold.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, his voice no longer calm or coaxing but sharp and commanding.

Ivy’s nails clawed at his arms, her legs kicking wildly as she tried to free herself, but Roman was too strong. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as her screams echoed through the kitchen.

“Let me go!” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she bucked beneath him, her energy rapidly depleting.

Roman’s face was inches from hers now, his breath hot against her skin. His eyes were dark, swirling with a mix of frustration and something far more dangerous.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ivy!” he said through gritted teeth, but the menace in his tone betrayed the words.

Ivy let out one last desperate scream, thrashing with so much force that her head struck the floor hard. Pain blossomed at the back of her skull, sharp and blinding, her vision tunneling before the world around her faded to black.

Roman sat back on his knees, breathing heavily as he stared down at her limp form. His jaw twitched, and he ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he said, his words low and tinged with frustration. He stood, lifting Ivy’s unconscious body effortlessly into his arms. Duchess growled weakly from where she lay near the corner, her movements sluggish. Roman didn’t spare the dog another glance as he carried Ivy toward the basement door, disappearing into the shadows below.

When Ivy woke, her head throbbed viciously and her vision swam with disjointed shapes. The cold concrete floor beneath her sent a chill through her body, seeping into her bones. She blinked, trying to piece together where she was and how she’d gotten there. The dim, artificial light cast long, eerie shadows across the space, and the faint, sharp scent of bleach stung her nose. But there was something else—something foul, sour, and unmistakably metallic.

Blood.

Her stomach lurched as she inhaled sharply, the nauseating scent overwhelming her senses. Ivy’s pulse raced as fragments of her memory returned.

Roman.

His shift in tone. The confrontation. And then… darkness.

Her heart pounded harder as she pushed herself onto shaky feet, her legs wobbling beneath her. She instinctively reached for the back of her head, feeling the tender knot where she must’ve been struck.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling and barely audible over the oppressive silence.

The room came into focus slowly—a basement, cold and sterile, with pristine white walls that somehow felt wrong in this suffocating space. A basement that didn’t belong to her.

Roman’s.

The realization hit her like a jolt of electricity, and her breath hitched. She spun toward the only door, but it was locked. Of course, it was locked. She pressed her ear to it and froze as she heard faint, deliberate footsteps above her. He was there.

Ivy backed away from the door, her movements frantic. Her chest heaved as panic clawed at her throat. She scanned the room for any means of escape. But nothing. The basement was immaculate, eerily so, with nothing out of place except for a large barrel in the corner. No ropes. No gags. No tools. Nothing that looked like it belonged to his wife, as he’d claimed. Just her, the empty space, and the deafening sound of her own breathing.

And then she saw it.

A trapdoor, set inconspicuously into the concrete floor.

Her stomach twisted, a war raging inside her between dread and desperate hope. Could it be a way out? Or was it something worse—something she didn’t want to face?

Ivy hesitated, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Roman could hear it from upstairs. She had to move. Had to act. The door wasn’t an option, and she couldn’t stay here waiting for him to come back.

Swallowing her fear, she crept toward the trapdoor, her breath shallow and ragged. Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the wood, the rough surface digging into her palms. She hesitated, every instinct in her body screaming at her to stop, to leave it closed. But her desperation overpowered her fear.

The wood creaked as she lifted it.

The smell hit her first, a nauseating wave of decay so strong it made her gag. She stumbled back, one hand covering her mouth and nose as her eyes watered. The pit below was dark, but her gaze caught something—a shape, pale and unmoving.

And then the shape became clear. Familiar.

Gemini.

A scream tore through Ivy’s throat, raw and guttural, reverberating in the empty space around her. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no!” she cried, her voice breaking, each word more desperate than the last. Tears slipped from her eyes as they locked on her best friend’s lifeless face, barely recognizable beneath the bruises and caved-in features. A long, open gash sliced through her throat, like a knife had been taken to it.

Her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat as she tried to process the horrific sight. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale feeling sharper, heavier, as though the very act of drawing breath into her lungs was a betrayal of what she was seeing. That somehow her mind was playing tricks on her. But the light above the trapdoor cast cruel shadows on Gemini’s body, highlighting the sheer violence of what had been done to her.

What Roman had done.

“Gemini!” Ivy’s body convulsed as she collapsed beside the pit, clutching at the edge and reaching in as though this act could somehow pull her best friend back into the world of the living. Her shaking hands closed around the cold, stiff fingers that no longer curled into playful fists or reached out for hugs. Ivy’s entire frame shook with the force of her loud, hysterical cries as she clutched at Gemini’s hand, willing it to warm, to move, to hold hers back.

“Oh my god…Gem…” Her voice cracked, her words barely audible over the torrent of anguish pouring from her. “Oh god, Gemini, no, no, please, please wake up—”

The words caught in her throat, strangled by guilt and despair. She couldn’t finish. There was no point. No plea could bring Gemini back. The realization hit her like a physical blow, making her chest ache as if her heart were shattering into shards inside her ribcage.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry,” Ivy wailed, fat teardrops splashing onto Gemini’s lifeless hand. The stark, unyielding coldness of her skin was wrong—everything about this was wrong.

Her sobs increased, her chest heaving as she cried out, “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this!” Her voice echoed in the space, bitter and broken.

Ivy rocked back and forth, her eyes squeezing shut as if it could stop the memories from flooding in—memories of Gemini’s laugh, her hugging Zaia and tickling Duchess, her fierce loyalty, her way of making Ivy feel like everything would be okay even when it wasn’t. All of it was gone now. Snuffed out by Roman’s brutality.

And she had let him in.

The realization was like a knife to her gut, twisting and unrelenting. Her fault. All her fault. She’d seen the signs. Felt the unease in her gut. Gemini had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d ignored the warnings, chosen to believe in him when she should’ve been running far, far away.

“I’m s-sorry,” Ivy wept, the words spilling out over and over like a mantra as she gripped Gemini’s hand with both of hers. “F-Forgive me, Gem. Please forgive me…”

The weight of her grief was unbearable. Slumping in a heap next to the pit, her shoulders heaved from crying. Somewhere above her, the faint creak of footsteps reached her ears, a reminder that this horrible nightmare wasn’t over. But Ivy couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave Gemini here—not like this, not alone.

She pressed her forehead to the ground, her tears soaking the cold floor. “I’ll fix this,” she sniffled, her voice hoarse and trembling. “I swear to God, Gem. I’ll make this right. I’ll—” Her voice broke, the words dissolving into another gut-wrenching cry.

The silence in the room was deafening now, save for her choked sobs. The world felt darker, heavier, like it had shifted irreparably. Because it had. Gemini was gone. And Ivy wasn’t sure she could survive the hole that had just been carved into her soul.

The sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs snapped Ivy out of her daze. Her heart raced as she released Gemini’s hand and scrambled to her feet, backing away from the trapdoor. Her body trembled, cold terror coursing through her veins.

Roman appeared, carrying a large, barrel-like tank similar to the one that sat in the corner of the basement. His broad frame filled the space, and the calm expression on his face made Ivy’s stomach twist in revulsion.

“I see you've found her,” he said casually, as if discussing something mundane, his tone unsettlingly smooth.

Ivy’s breath hitched, and her voice came out in a trembling shriek. “What did you do?!” she screamed, her hysteria bubbling over. “What did you do, you monster!”

Roman’s dark eyes flicked to her, and for a moment, something like disappointment crossed his face. But he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the trapdoor, kneeling down and pulling it open fully.

“What are you doing?!” Ivy cried, her voice breaking. “Roman, stop! Please! Don’t—don’t touch her!” She stumbled forward instinctively, her hand outstretched, afraid to get close.

Roman didn’t stop. He bent down with deliberate precision and gripped Gemini’s body, hauling her up with a disturbing amount of strength and lack of hesitation. Ivy gagged, her knees threatening to give out as he moved the corpse with chilling efficiency.

“Stop it! Don’t do this!” Ivy cried, tears streaming down her face. “Please, Roman, I’m begging you! Leave her alone! Stop!” Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, but he didn’t even glance her way.

Instead, he began forcing Gemini’s limp form into the tank. The sound of bones snapping and joints dislocating filled the air, each crack a horrific reminder of his strength—and his cruelty. Ivy pressed her hands over her ears, crying uncontrollably as she backed against the wall. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, to fight, to do something, but her legs wouldn’t obey.

Roman worked methodically, his movements almost clinical, as though this was just another chore to complete. He didn’t speak, didn’t react to Ivy’s pleas. It was as if she wasn’t even there. Her sobs filled the silence, broken only by the grotesque sounds of his work. And all she could do was watch as the man she once thought she loved continued to unveil the monster he truly was.

“Why?” she begged, “Why are you doing this?”

Roman twisted the lid of the barrel closed and turned to face her. “They didn’t understand me like you do,” he explained, his voice almost tender as he glanced at her. “I didn’t want to kill them, hell, I ain’t even plan to…but Angelo was in the way, and Gemini…she just wouldn’t stop digging…”

For a moment, Ivy couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, her vision blurred, and the room spun. She blinked rapidly, hoping—praying—that she’d misheard him. But the look on his face, calm and unrepentant, told her otherwise.

“You…what do you mean you killed Angelo?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Roman tilted his head slightly, as if her disbelief confused him. “He was holding you back, baby,” he said simply, his tone almost matter-of-fact. “Every time I saw him with you, I knew he’d never let us be happy. And Zaia deserves a father who loves her, who loves you.”

Ivy stumbled back, pressing herself against the cold concrete wall. “Oh god. Oh god, oh fuck…” The words tumbled out of her in a broken chant, her hands clutching at her chest as if trying to hold her heart together.

Roman took a step closer, his hands spread in a placating gesture. “Ivy, listen to me. I did it for us. For our future. Don’t you see?”

But she couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring in her ears. Memories of Angelo flooded her mind—the way he used to playfully lift Zaia onto his shoulders, how his laugh would echo through the house during family dinners. Yes, he had his faults. He was stubborn, controlling at times, and their relationship had ended messily. But he was Zaia’s father. He was her child’s father!

“I can’t believe this!” she cried, her voice rising in hysteria. She sank to her knees, clutching her head as tears poured down her face. “Angelo stressed me out, but I never wanted him dead! He was Zaia’s father! How could you—how could you take him away from her?!”

“Ivy,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, as though she were a frightened animal. “I know this is hard to hear, but Angelo was a piece of shit. He wasn’t good for you. He didn’t treat you the way you deserved. And Zaia? She’s better off without a man like him in her life.”

“Fuck you!” Ivy screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her anguish. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to play God with our lives!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening for a split second before softening again. “Baby girl,” he said, his voice almost soothing. “I’m protecting you. I’m protecting Zaia. You both deserve so much more than he could ever give. What’s a measly fucking house and some necklace when I can give you ten houses? A hundred necklaces? He was the bare minimum and you deserve more.”

“You’re sick,” Ivy hissed, her voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re fucking insane!”

Her words seemed to pierce through Roman’s calm façade. For a moment, his face hardened, his jaw clenching as he stared at her. Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted back to one of calculated composure.

“I know you’re upset,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But one day, you’ll understand. You’ll see that everything I’ve done was for you—for us.” He swallowed hard, emotion clouding his features, “Because I love you, Ivy. I love you so much.”

Ivy let out another guttural sob, her body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the sight of him, the sound of his voice. The man she had trusted, the man she had thought she was in love with, had taken Gemini and Angelo from her.

From Zaia.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Her baby would grow up without her father—not because of a tragic accident, but because Roman had stolen him away. And he had the fucking nerve to stand there, calm and unbothered, as though he’d done her a favor as opposed to destroying her and her daughter’s life.

Roman crouched down in front of her, his large frame blocking out the dim light. He reached out as if to comfort her, but Ivy recoiled, her entire body rattling with fury and grief. “Don’t touch me!” she choked out, her voice raw and trembling. “Get away from me!”

He hesitated, his hand hovering in the air before slowly retracting. He stood, his towering figure casting a long shadow over her trembling form.

“You may hate me right now,” he said softly, “But deep down, you know I’m right. I’ll give you time to see that.”

Ivy didn’t respond. She couldn’t. All she could do was curl into herself, her sobs echoing through the cold, sterile basement as the horrifying truths engulfed her like a vulture swooping in on its prey.

Thanks for all your support last year! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

Roman gif by @dejameflorecer

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luvjunie · 1 year ago

Text

— less is more

pairing: e-42!miles morales x fem!reader

contains: some tears, a little misunderstanding but a fluffy ending

summary: miles makes quite a bit of cash from his jobs, and with his love language being gift giving he often likes to spend a lot of it on you. however, you didn’t grow up with much, and this makes it especially hard for you to accept such expensive things from him without feeling overwhelmed. wc: 1,224

a/n: based off this request! some people might find this reader easier to relate to so i definitely wanted to write it

Gifts were something that came with the territory of dating Miles Morales. Big bouquets, flashy accessories, shopping sprees at the mall, and probably every single stuffed animal he’d ever caught you eyeing whenever the two of you went out. If you so much as looked at it, it was on your fire escape the next morning. At this point, you had so many on your bed that you were starting to run out of room to sleep.

And you knew he meant well, and you tried your best to enjoy it the way you imagined you should but it was all so foreign to you. Your life was much different before you met him, and it was more along the lines of nervously checking your bank account to see if you had enough cash to buy a five dollar starbucks drink to ‘treat yourself’, or if you’d have to wait till next week’s paycheck for blended coffee with some whipped cream on top.

Most of your clothes were hand-me-downs from your older siblings, or duds you’d secured from the Salvation Army a few blocks down on the colored-tag sale days, and that was the way you liked it. Humble beginnings is where you came from and humble was the way you intended to keep it.

So now as you stared down at the small jewelry box in your hands, Tiffany & Co embellishing the top in silvered letters, trepidation began coursing through you at the size of the box alone. Anything that came in a tiny package such as the one you were holding was bound to cost more than anything you’d ever managed to buy yourself. You realized you must have been lost in thought as you sat gawking at the untouched gift, because your boyfriend’s voice sounded like it was underwater the first few times he called out to you.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” You blinked, looking up at Miles from where you were seated on his bed to see him leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Go ‘head and open it, don’t leave me hanging.” Miles joked, brows bunched slightly in confusion.

“Oh— right,” you laughed half-heartedly. Swallowing hard, you gently pried the small box open with hesitant fingers to reveal the prettiest diamond necklace you think you’ve ever seen. Light glinting off the encrusted jewel, Miles waited with bated breath as he watched your hand tremble towards it, a choked inhale catching in your throat as you felt the weight of the pendant alone.

“Well?” he asked quietly.

“How much was this?” Your throat felt tight; uncomfortably so, like the air in the room suddenly wasn’t the kind you were meant to breathe.

Miles glanced to the side for a moment, then stood up straighter. “I mean, I paid for it if that’s what you’re asking...”

“How much was this, Miles?” Voice trembling when you spoke, you asked again but louder, and this time he knew you actually wanted an answer.

Confused because he didn’t take you for the materialistic type, he racked his brain for the memory of the total the clerk had read out to him and scratched his forehead.

“Like… three hundred and some change…maybe? Probably four? I don’t remember. Why does this matter?” He let out a peeved sigh, eyes widening as he watched your shoulders start to shake.

“Ay, mi amor, ¿que pasa? (what’s wrong, my love?)” Miles asked gently as he rushed to sit next to you, taking the jewelry box from your loose hold. He looked down at it disappointedly, lips pursing at the necklace he’d spent so long picking out. He thought you would’ve loved it. “You don’t like it? I can get you somethin’ better—“

“No, Miles. I… It’s perfect.” Warm tears rolled past your waterline and you wiped them away in a rush, aggravated that you were even crying in front of him about something like this. How could you explain yourself without sounding ungrateful or confusing him even more?

Miles licked at his dry lips as he tried to think of what to say. He was usually so good at reading your body language, but this time he was completely lost. You could see it on his expression when you looked at him that he was having a hard time understanding what was going on, and it only made you cry harder.

“No entiendo… (I don’t understand…)” He set the box down next to him and took your hands into his, head lowered to try and meet your averted gaze. “I’m lost.. If it’s perfect, then what’s wrong?”

You inhaled a wavered breath, the feeling of his thumbs rubbing the backs of your hands serving as encouragement for you to go on.

“I just…” taking a breath, your shoulders shrugged weakly. “You spending money on me like this, I— It feels like I’m using you. You should be spending your hard earned money on things for yourself, or… saving it for better things, not spending it on me.”

“Money is nothing to me when it comes to you.” he denied immediately.

“I know, and that’s the problem.” Your lips trembled, but thankfully you were able to prevent more tears from coming.

“Y/n, I—“

“Just, please. Let me finish.” You pleaded quietly, looking up to see him slowly nod at you. “I love you, Miles, and that means I love everything you do for me as well. But I’m not used to things like this.” you looked in the direction of the overturned jewelry box. “It’s a lot.”

Silence filled the space around the two of you. You felt incredibly guilty for even bringing it up, it was never your intention to make him feel this way. There was an energy shift and you could sense him regressing back to the version of him that once didn’t know how to express his love for you.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured simply. He didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t even understand, but he offered it to you anyway.

“No no no, Miles,” You guided his doleful eyes back to you with a hand on his cheek, your tone sincere. “I love the way you love me, really, I do. You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not your fault— I’m just not that kind of girl and I don’t know if I ever will be. But the way I grew up and the things I’m used to have nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me, okay?”

He frowned slightly. “So… No more gifts, then?”

You shook your head. “Giving me nice things is how you show your love towards me, I know that, and it would be unfair for me to take that from you. I’d be crazy to not appreciate how you’re always thinking of me wherever you go.”

Chewing on your thoughts, you contemplated the best way to give your answer.

“Okay, so it’s like this,” you sat up a bit. “You could give me a rock, and I’d cherish it like it was the best thing in the entire world, simply because you gave it to me. What I’m trying to say is how expensive the gift is doesn’t matter, all that matters is that my wonderful—“ your head dipped to meet his avoidant eyes. “caring, and thoughtful boyfriend got it for me. I don’t care about the money, I only care that it came from you.”

Miles brightened a little at that, and started to put things together after your explanation. “So, I can still get you nice things, but… less is more?”

A melancholic smile touched your lips before you pecked his cheek. “Less is more.”

He picked the small jewelry box up from the bed. He understood you completely now, but was still a bit bummed. “Does that mean I have to return this?”

You immediately shook your head. “Of course not, baby. I love it, and I think it’s beautiful. Just keep what I said in mind for next time, okay?” He nodded and you turned your back towards him so he could put it on for you.

“Good, cause I kinda lost the receipt.” Miles smiled coyly at the slightly shaky laugh that sounded from you as he unclasped the necklace, draping it over your chest and fastening it.

You peered down at the gorgeous piece around your neck, gently gracing over it with your fingertips. Your heart warmed at the thought of him picking it out for you, how he spotted something this beautiful and needed you to have it. You had to admit, it was absolutely stunning and you didn’t think you’d be taking it off any time soon. Even if the price of it had almost sent you into shock, you were more than grateful to have a boyfriend like him.

“Thank you, Miles. I love it, really.” You faced him once again with your confession, the sincerity laced in your tone accentuating the adoration in your eyes. Your hand caressed the apple of his cheek, it raising when he smiled contently and leaned into your palm. “But I love you, more.”

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