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runforthestars · 1 month ago

Text

Secret Admirer

Pairing: Sam Monroe x male!frat boy reader

Summary: Semi-crack treated seriously.

A/N: Saw an edit of Sam on my fyp and had to temporarily abandon my Lorenzo Berkshire x reader to write this out instead. Only proofread once and typed out in an hour so apologies for any mistakes.

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It had started off small. A solitary rose nestled in his locker, haphazardly dipped in black paint and dusted with cobalt blue glitter, creating a strangely captivating effect.

Sam stared at it for so long that he could practically commit each imperfection of the shoddily adorned flower to memory. And not just because it sat on his dresser—no, that would be absurd.

For nearly a week, he'd taken to scanning the hands of his peers, searching for the elusive prankster behind what he could only conclude was a laughably poor attempt at humor. After all, glitter was notorious for its stubborn clinginess. Yet, despite his constant investigation whenever the thought came to mind, he'd come up empty-handed—no pun intended. Whoever it was clearly had a knack for remaining hidden.

Then, the following Monday, he discovered a bag of sour Skittles in his locker, a small sticky note affixed to it adorned with messy handwriting. “Figured you might want a reason to look so sour all the time.”

Okay, rude, but after allowing Corey to be the test subject of the candy, he’d discovered that they weren’t poisoned, at the very least.

This pattern continued for the next week: small tokens of affection left waiting for him at his desk, handwritten notes tucked under the windshield wipers of his hatchback, flowers—each one a different type yet still suffocated in the same paint, seemingly chosen to echo the dark hues of Sam's hair. It was like this mysterious patron was experimenting, trying to guess his favorite flower.

That meant someone was watching him for a reaction. Sam wasn’t sure what to think. He always pushed people away, especially wary of any extended olive branches of friendship, all too familiar with being the punch line of countless jokes. It’d apparently worked to deter them to an extent, as this mysterious admirer had never actually come face to face with him, or had they?

His assumption that it was just someone messing with him were shattered like glass when he stumbled upon a Breaking Benjamin CD in his math class seat. Not just any album—it was the freshly released one, clumsily adorned in plain wrapping paper.

Staring at it, disbelief coursed through him. Surely, this person—secret admirer, as he’d begrudgingly began to refer to them—wouldn’t go to all that trouble just for one elaborate prank, right?

He tried to dismiss it from his mind, resorting to coping how he always did. A front of dismissive indifference, as always—but it was hard to ignore the thrill each new gift brought him.

Then came a pack of Marlboros tucked into his locker with a note that simply read an address, a time, and a cheeky "Come find me ;)".

Ominous, indeed.

When Sam arrived at the location, a modest party flickered to life in a middle-class neighborhood, doubt clutched his stomach. ‘Oh god, I’m going to get jumped, aren't I?’ was his first thought as he stood, taking in the thumping bass vibrating through the ground and the two frat brothers guarding the door like well-dressed gargoyles.

Caught between a desire to flee and the gnawing curiosity that tugged at him, he cautiously approached, masking his anxiety with a carefully crafted facade of indifference.

“Yo bro, I’m gonna gave to stop you right there. Who do you know here?” one of the frat brothers asked, suspicion evident in his tone.

Sam hesitated, fingers already fumbling through his pockets for the cigarette pack housing the note. But before he could respond, the unspoken tension shifted when the silent brother smacked the first guy on the shoulder.

“Dude, lay off. He got an invite, don’t be a douche.” Then, turning toward Sam, he flashed a spaced-out grin and waved him in with a friendly gesture. “Come on in, bro.”

A chill ran down Sam’s spine—overdramatic as always; every instinct screaming for him to turn and run. Yet, slowly he nodded, forcing himself to step past them into the house.

Maybe it was the blunt he’d smoked earlier that calmed his senses, but the party didn’t seem so daunting after all. Some guests cast curious glances his way, but no one seemed particularly annoyed by his mere presence.

He let his gaze drift across the flickering colored lights, various party games scattered about, and clusters of people dancing in the living room, before slipping into the kitchen to collect his thoughts.

Find them, that’s what the note had said. How on earth was he supposed to do that?

His fingers brushed against the smooth outline of the pack in his pocket. Screw this—if they really liked him, they could come find him. And besides, a smoke wouldn’t hurt.

Navigating through the crowd, he resisted the urge to snap at the person when a sweaty body knocked into him for what had to of been the fifth time. Finally escaping the throng, he darted for the back porch.

As the humid summer air met him, cooling rapidly as the sun dipped below the treetops, he inhaled deeply. The evening was alive with the chirping of crickets, mingled with laughter and the lively chatter of drunken frat boys attempting to orchestrate a bonfire, while another group was locked in an intense game of beer pong.

Retreating out of view to the far side of the wrap-around porch, he pulled the crumpled pack from his pocket. Setting it on the railing before him, he extracted a cigarette, the familiar motion grounding him amid the chaos unfolding around him.

This was insane. It had to be some sort of elaborate prank. “Haha, the loser thought someone actually liked him for once,” he could just hear it now.

Sam tried his best not to let those thoughts gnaw at him; he really did.

He was jolted from his spiraling thoughts by the soft, deliberate creak of footsteps approaching. A presence loomed beside him, and after a moment, he recognized the other boy as one of those frat types. Sam shot him a critical glare, thoughts racing.

You darted a nervous glance back at him, a grin unfurling across your face when you noticed him scoff and glance away.

That felt like progress, didn’t it? The fact that he didn’t immediately unleash a biting remark was something worth noting—perhaps he was simply rendered mute by the unlit cigarette poised defiantly between his lips. Whatever the case, you were willing to take the small victory.

“Need a light?” you offered, fumbling through your pockets until a small, metallic lighter emerged, gleaming faintly in the dim light as you extended it toward Sam.

His eyes darted between the lighter and your tight-lipped grin, the moment stretching into an awkward silence before he finally muttered a response that dripped with skepticism, “What’s it to you?” Even as he leaned closer to accept the flame, he retreated quickly, putting some distance back between you.

You nodded eagerly, accepting his hostility, your fingers drumming softly against the timeworn wood of the railing as you followed his gaze to where the first flickers of fireflies began to dance in the encroaching twilight. You could do silence if that was what he wanted. Or, maybe not.

“I haven’t seen you at any other parties; why the sudden change of heart?” you probed, curiosity getting the best of you.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” Sam shot back, now facing you fully.

“My problem?” you echoed, internally reviewing the past minute to find where you’d apparently stepped on some toes.

“Yeah. Why are you being so…” He flailed a hand through the air between you as if trying to grasp a word that would sum it all up before finally settling on something simple, “…nice, to me? What do you want?”

And oh man, the dramatic hand gestures drew your gaze to them. He’d worn his rings and leather studded bracelets. Of course he had, he always did. But that particularly fact didn’t stop you from grappling to maintain composure.

Finally tearing your gaze away from his hands, you swallowed hard upon noticing the way he scrutinized you, a mixture of confusion and disbelief painting his features.

“Nothing, nothing. A guy can’t be friendly?” you retorted, trying to keep your tone light.

Your words were met with an incredulous scoff.

“Not when they’re… you,” Sam replied, his hand waving dismissively in your direction, prompting a theatrical pout of offense from you.

It only took a heartbeat for you to realize that his words lacked any real bite—he was simply… confused.

“You never did answer my question,” you continued, turning your body slightly to face him.

Silence once more wrapped around you both, heavy and palpable.

“I was invited,” he finally muttered.

“Oh.” You already knew that, of course, but you feigned interest. “By, uh—who?”

“Dunno.”

You took a moment to settle against the railing comfortably, your eyes narrowing as you strained to see beyond the darkness towards the forest’s edge. “You sure have a way with words, Monroe.”

Your dry sarcasm startled a surprised huff of laughter from him, and you couldn’t suppress a proud grin. Success, at last.

“If it helps, I might know who invited you,” you added, finally piquing his interest.

Suspicion crept into his features as he eyed you warily, slowly exhaling a plume of smoke. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I heard they’re a real catch. Went to a lot of trouble to get that new CD for you,” you teased, avoiding eye contact, your heart racing as you waited for him to catch on.

The silence stretched again, each second feeling like an eternity as your nails dug into the rough wood of the railing, all while sensing the weight of his intense gaze on you.

Finally mustering the courage for a quick glance, you were met with a complex swirl of disbelief and simmering anger on Sam's face. He was the first to break eye contact, taking a sharp drag from his cigarette as he turned away.

“Oh real funny. What, did Josh tell you too? That I was gay? He’s been spreading that bullshit since I stopped buying from him.”

“Well, yeah, but—” Maybe you could’ve phrased that better. Panic coursed through you as Sam spat out an array of curses under his breath and began to stride away.

“Wait—wait! He told me that, but I meant all the gifts and stuff! I only listened to him because I thought I might have a chance with you if you were… y’know.” The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, an awkward ramble that had you biting the inside of your cheek to stop.

Sam froze, then turned to face you, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stilled around you. You strained to decipher the look on his face—the intensity of his gaze searching your own for signs of deception made you uncomfortably aware of the pounding of your heart. Breaking the charged silence, you finally blurted, “I… like you?” You added a nervous laugh, as if that could smooth over the abruptness.

Sam’s eyes narrowed further, and he glanced around suspiciously, scanning for hidden cameras, or any frat brothers ready to whip out their phones and immortalize his humiliation. God, he’d never live that down.

“You’re lying.”

Your expression twisted in indignation, arms crossing over your chest defiantly. “Nuh-uh,” you insisted with an air of seriousness.

The simplicity of your immature protest made Sam pause, and the corners of his lips threatened to twitch upwards, almost breaking into a smile.

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you like me?” He elaborated.

“Because you’re hot.” The bluntness of your words drew a snort of surprise from Sam, who quickly cleared his throat to regain composure. But you weren’t done; you fumbled over your next words. “I mean, I’m sure your personality is great too. You just have to let me get to know you.” As you spoke, you leaned against the railing with an exaggerated grin, clicking your tongue and wiggling your eyebrows.

“Yeah?” Sam’s voice was skeptical, but the flicker of interest in his eyes spoke volumes.

You insisted swiftly, emboldened. “I’m serious! Do you know how hard it was to find that CD?”

“How do you know even know I like guys?”

The question made you pale a little, eyes flickering over his general appearance. “Uhhh…”

You were making progress, you couldn’t just throw it all away now by admitting that yes, you’d blindly believed Josh’s claims because Sam kind of, just vaguely, maybe looked a little less heterosexual than his peers.

Thinking on your feet, you pushed off the railing, sauntering over to lean closer to him, flirty grin crowning your lips. “Well, I was hoping I could change your mind?”

“Unbelievable,” Sam muttered, but you couldn’t help but notice the smallest glint of amusement in his eyes before they darted away from yours.

Taking your opportunity while he was distracted, you careful plucked the cigarette from between his fingers. Ignoring the offended noise your robbery earned, you took a leisurely drag.

It was followed instantaneously by a cough, struggling for a moment before letting out a shaky breath.

Sam couldn’t stand just watching your failing endeavor without intervening.

“Here, you gotta like…” He said, his voice a low murmur as he extended his hand, lifting the cigarette from your hands. The warmth of his fingers briefly brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you as he lifted it to your lips.

Your heart raced, brain short circuiting as his fingers glided lightly across your lower lip and then along your jawline when he adjusted his grip.

“Now, breath in through your nose at the same time,” he instructed.

Was the air getting a little thin in here? You were sure it was. Still, you followed his guidance, letting out the smoke in one shaky breath when he offered a quick “don’t try to keep it in.”

You knew that, you’d smoked before without any issues, but you sure as hell weren’t about to tell Sam that if being “new to smoking” got his hand nearly cupping your face.

“There you go.” The soft, thoughtless words from Sam sent your mind reeling just as you’d began to gain some semblance of intelligence again.

There must’ve been something showing in your eyes when you looked back at him, because his hand slid to cup the side of your face, taking the cigarette with it. The danger of the burning ember close to your skin was all but forgotten when his thumb rested on your lips.

“Can I… Can I kiss—”

You stole the words right off his tongue when you practically dove forward to capture his lips against yours.

The sudden forward movement had more force than you’d intended, sending Sam stumbling back a step, catching his balance on the railing behind him as your arms took a place on either side of his waist, successfully pinning him to the sturdy post.

It grew heated in an instant and you savored the shared taste of tobacco and reminiscion of weed that lingered on your tongue as it swiped over Sam’s lower lip.

A hand on your shoulder was pushing you back, and you were met with Sam’s blown out pupils and spit-slicked lips parted to draw in soft pants.

Giving in to the temptation, you darted forward, licking a strip horizontally over his lower lip. A breathless laugh was drawn from you off of his reaction alone.

Sam spluttered when you pulled away, hand gripping your shoulder with more urgency. He was stuck staring in shock until he remembered why he’d pulled back in the first place.

His eyes searched yours with a measure of something bordering on desperation, looking for anything to prove that you shared his feelings.

“You gonna stare all night, or you gonna do something, pretty boy?” The words had barley left your mouth, yet it was clear they’d been all the encouragement Sam needed, before he was pushing forward, hand reaching around to the back of your head to tangle his fingers in your hair, tugging softly as your lips met once more.

Tilting his head for a better angle, he gladly used his height to his advantage now to take control of your shared movements. You’d never of guessed that he’d never kissed anyone before this, but the knowledge sure would’ve been a welcome surprise.

Your hand lifted to take a hold on the front of Sam’s shirt, twisting your grip to keep him from chasing after your lips when you pulled back, revering in the faintest whine of complaint it drew from him.

The grin coating your features was so genuine that Sam was struck speechless until your voice broke through his racing thoughts.

“I’ll take it that you believe me now?”

The sly, lowered tone you spoke in made something in Sam’s brain malfunction. He stared with something akin to awe for a moment before he answered your question by diving back in for another hungry kiss.

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#sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x you #no use of y/n #mlm #hayden christensen #life as a house #sam monroe x male reader #x male reader #male reader #frat boy reader #crack treated seriously #runforthestars

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ryverbind · 1 year ago

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Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Path We Tread [25]

Sal's freshly folded Breaking Benjamin hoodie is soft in my hands. I haven't washed it, but I figured I'd return it after accidentally stuffing it into my bag the other night.

I set it on top of the cat carrier that's prepped and housing a cheerful Gizmo who purrs like a fully powered motorboat. And he's too cute, too happy to see me, so I grin down at the orange feline and brace one hand on Sal's car door and lean down to give the little guy some scratches.

He purrs against my hand, big green eyes closed as he shoves his head into my palm and basically pets himself. I can't help but huff out a laugh, smile widening because of the little fur ball.

Yesterday, The Faces and I spent the day visiting with Henry and Lisa. Since they aren't moving to LA with us, considering they have their music store here, we wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. Especially Larry and Sal.

"Are you done coddling my cat?" Sal gripes behind me. I sigh a bit disappointedly, rubbing under Gizmo's chin before zipping the carrier closed.

Turning to the cat dad, I back away from the black Camaro. Sal gives me a not-so-serious glare before placing himself in my previous spot, snatching the hoodie I'd just laid down and unfolding it. So particular.

"He likes my coddling," I murmur, tipping my head to the side as I peer at Sal both out of curiosity and admiration. The sun beating down on him, illuminating all the shades of blue in his hair. It's still chilly here, Nockfell's norm.

Which explains why Sal starts pulling the hoodie over his head, but I still have to try my best not to gape. What happened to him being terrified of my cooties?

"No one likes your coddling," he responds, deadpan.

I regard him nonchalantly, pursing my lips. "Your mom does."

Sal's eyes go wide, the action setting off a warpath of alarm bells in my head. I watch him warily, but then the corners of his eyes crinkle and he whips his head away from me to choke on a... giggle.

My mouth twitches in a smile that I desperately attempt to stomp down. His laughter is so symphonic, so heavenly, so rare. Worst of all, it's infectious. And, most concerning, the joke wasn't that funny. So I hesitantly inquire, "What?"

Sal takes a breath, tucking a strand of cobalt hair behind his ear. Like he's purposefully trying to display that damned dagger that haunts my every sleeping and waking moment. "There's a punchline to that joke," he croons, eyes alight with such mischief that I brace myself, hold my breath.

"My mother is dead."

The breath I held punches past my lips, expelled in a gag-cough tag team on my lungs, my throat, my fucking brain. My cheeks flush scarlet, the warmth of my embarrassment rippling through my body. Sweat beads at my forehead as utter dread courses through me.

His mom is dead?

"I— I'm sorry, I didn't—" I sputter, rushing to get the apology out as soon as possible. Because, while I wouldn't bat an eye if my own mother left this plane of existence for eternity, I certainly would if my father did.

Sal shakes his head, eyes shutting and head tilting forward as if to say he accepts my apology. "You didn't know," he says nonchalantly. "Besides, it's nice not to have to talk about her so seriously. I wish people didn't tiptoe around the topic."

"They tiptoe for a reason," I hiss, although halfheartedly. I'm just relieved he isn't suddenly snapping at my heels with rage again. "Because it is serious."

Sal shrugs, a calm and relaxed glow to his cerulean gaze. For once. I almost forget that he's public enemy number one for a moment. "Yea, well," he sighs dramatically, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Gave me a reason to scare the shit out of you again. Seeing you ready to kiss my feet and beg for forgiveness is just such a lovely sight."

He does all of this on purpose. And screw him for using me as his comedic act constantly. "Suck it, Fisher," I sneer, feeling the terror in my veins finally transform into muted contempt. The anger isn't so bad, not like it used to be.

His gaze snaps to me, and just like every other time we look at each other, I can't tell what he's feeling as he murmurs, "So long as you consent."

I gulp, ditching what wrathful thoughts had gathered in my fortress of a mind. It's all quickly replaced with a throbbing in my very bones, another tinge of color to my cheeks, and a wild replay of all the times he had his head buried between my legs recently.

Hands clamp down on my shoulders and I flinch with the agility of a cat who just lost it's second to last life-- since Sal has taken all my other damn lives.

"Hey, angel," Ash coos from behind. I peek over my shoulder to see her grinning down at me. But her happy expression doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Sal's going to drop us off at the airport. As much as you two live to hate and loathe each other, we need to talk."

Oh, no. Oh, fuck. We need to talk? That statement never, ever ends well. Does she know about us? Is she about to kick me out of the group— or Sal? Or is there going to be this brutally mortifying conversation about how she knows but she'd never tell anyone and she absolutely requires an invite to the wedding?

I suppress a shudder.

Instead, I purse my lips, tongue cemented to the roof of my mouth as every one of my four limbs goes completely rigid. "I'd rather hotbox in a car full of Larry's farts," I declare, more than ready to do just that. He ate about half his body weight in tamales last night.

Ash's eyes go wide, her brows furrowing as a guilty smirk quirks her lips. "You would rather—" she cuts herself off, shaking her head and looking up at the sky to avoid the giggles she would no doubt conjure up if she looked at me for too much longer. "Just get in the car, y/n," she commands, voice wavering with hidden laughter.

I look back to Sal and take note of the lack of color in his eyes. Seconds ago, they were bright and full of mirth. Now... they're empty. Grave. Numb.

It snaps a little bit of clarity into me, so I do as Ash said and climb into his back seat, right beside Gizmo who chirps a greeting to me. I give the orange cat a smile as Ash shuts my door, but I'm roiling with too much anxiety to do more than that.

Ash is about to have a meeting with me and Sal. The three of us. She's either going to ball us out for fighting so much, or she knows that we're fucking. And if it's neither of those, then I don't know what else it could be. I think the unknown scares me more than the other options.

Ash plops herself into the passenger seat, using the 'oh-shit' handle to adjust herself before shutting her door and buckling. She throws her head over her shoulder, grinning at me. "So," she says giddily as Sal climbs into the driver's seat. "Hot rod, old ass, family heirloom. How are we feeling?"

I raise an eyebrow that she can't see. "It's a car."

"And a treasure," she finishes thoughts I did not have, watching me with eyes that say I should cherish this gift of a ride. "How are you not tweaking with excitement? This thing is older than you!"

"Because it's a car," I repeat, narrowing my eyes at her. I don't want to kill her short-lived joy, but I'm too paranoid.

The car suddenly roars to life and maybe— for a split second— I understand Ash's elation. It might be older than my grandpa (bless his heart) but it purrs like a newborn kitten. I'll give it that much.

Sal mumbles something I can't hear then situates his hand on the back of Ash's headrest, head peering over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. His eyes meet mine for a short moment before they avert to the window, making sure Henry's car is down the road before beginning to back up.

Oh, if I was Ash with his hand behind my head like that, I'd be feeling a lot of things. Horny being the most prevalent. I definitely wouldn't admit that though.

"Hey," Ash mutters, eyes on Sal who switches gears and begins driving behind his dad. "Are you... are you sure?"

So it's something they both know about? A spear of unease slashes through my gut, a clear reminder of this conversation we're about to have. The acknowledgement of it makes the inside of Sal's car grow thick with tension. It's almost unbearable— even Gizmo's purring has halted.

"Just get it over with," Sal grumbles, eyes on the road and fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

I swallow thickly, watching the way Sal completely checks out of reality. Something about his position, his unblinking gaze tells me he's drifted somewhere foreign. He isn't here right now— he's simply driving.

"Okay," Ash whispers before turning to me. Her glossy lips are stretched into a tight line, a shadow of grief darkening her angelic features. "Listen," she starts, normally light and airy tone morphed into something a bit apprehensive, sad. "I'm not going to get into the details of this because it's not my story to tell. But Sal, Larry, Todd, and I agreed that it would be in everyone's best interest to give you a heads up... and somewhat of an explanation."

I swipe my tongue along the seam of my lips, my mouth suddenly dry with the worry that skitters along my spine. I say nothing, simply wait for her to continue.

"We are moving to LA to be closer to opportunities, and since it's more fitting for our streaming careers," She tells me, viridian gaze zeroed in on mine. "But there's another, more pressing reason as to why we're moving."

I nod along, waiting, biting my tongue in nervous anticipation. This is where I crumble to ruins, right? When every bad decision I've made comes crashing down around me. I mentally brace myself, fingers closing around the door handle a bit tighter.

"There's a... woman." Sal's hands tighten around the steering wheel, unknowingly mimicking my own actions. "She really hurt Sal. She was put in prison for two years, but... she's being released next week. We don't want Sal to be near her, nor do we want to be near her."

Every bit of air leaves my lungs upon hearing Ash's words. Two years? What the hell did she do to him? I glance at Sal through his rearview mirror, noting how he stares disinterestedly through the windshield.

A kind of emotion I can't quite explain rushes through me. It's understanding, shared grief, fury, sorrow. None of it is aimed at him. It's for him. And part of me aches to avenge him, to find this girl and make her hurt the way she made him hurt.

The truth of it is painful, like some part of me is slowly being ripped apart from my body. It's all so unfamiliar. I can't understand why I feel so strongly about it, especially since I don't even know what this unknown woman has done. The sudden influx of emotions and undeciphered realization that's suddenly hit me overpowers every one of my brain neurons, but I make quick work to try and break everything down.

Now, I understand why he was willing to give me anything so long as I agreed to sex the other night. It was as much of an escape for him as it was for me. I wasn't the only one who needed a distraction.

I feel everything so deeply right now, and assessing the depth of all this emotion makes me realize that I must care for Sal a lot more than I originally thought I did.

Ash lets me mull over the information before speaking again. I feel my heart rumbling, echoing through the hollowness in my chest as she spills more to me.

"The reason we're telling you this at all is specifically because there are people shipping you and Sal together online. Of course, the focus on whatever the hell is going on with you and North has taken some of the heat away from you and Sal— but there's still enough going around that it's worth warning you." I suck in a shaky breath. "This woman has been known to target other women who have a close relationship to Sal. It's all via stalking online and harassment, but it's something I don't want you to have to go through. Something none of us want you to go through."

I'd take it all if it meant I'd get to enact revenge. For myself. For Sal. For both of us. I don't know.

Ash must see it on my face; the tidal wave of emotions that keep crashing into me relentlessly. She gives me a knowing look, a sad smile as if to say she understands. "So, keep us in the know, okay?" She says sweetly, reaching back with her hand, opening it for me. I blink, clutching her warm palm in mine. "If anyone messages you and it's really shitty, or if Sal is mentioned or something, tell us. We'll figure it out." She squeezes my hand, thumb running over my skin. "You aren't alone."

My eyes flit over to Sal again, trying to catch his gaze in the mirror. It almost seems as if he's avoiding me. I try to tell myself it's because he's driving, obviously, but it doesn't feel that way. He doesn't even bother to check if there are any cars behind us, just robotically stares ahead with the air condition gently ruffling his hair. Sleeping with Sirens softly playing on his radio.

My gaze drifts to him throughout the rest of our thirty minute drive to the airport right outside of Nockfell. I can't help myself. Can't help the weight that burdens me.

Eventually, Sal looks down from the windshield to shift his car to park once we get into the parking lot. Then he looks to Ash, gestures for her to get out of the car. And Ash, ever the goddess, snorts before opening her door.

I turn to Gizmo, stick my finger through a slit in his carrier, and scratch under his chin before parting ways, preparing to leave through the door that Ash has opened for me.

"Okay," Ash sighs, a cheery lilt in her voice. "Enough of the bad, more of the rad. It's moving time."

Sal throws open his door before it can even fully unlatch, a man desperate to escape the horrors of his past. The sight causes a twinge of pain in my chest, but I ignore it. I can contemplate this conversation when I'm safe on our plane and have nothing better to do.

I warily walk into the parking lot, surfacing beside Larry who has a blanket bunched in his arms and a pair of headphones around his neck. Something tells me his flight is going to be nice.

Larry takes note of me and throws an arm over my shoulder, offering me a sleepy grin that I try my best to fully return The comfort of his somewhat embrace is needed though. I'm still feeling the whiplash of the conversation I sat in on for the ride here.

I gently grab Larry's wrist and hold on, his thumb comfortingly rubbing over the inside of my palm.

"I think I've got everyone's bags ready to go," Henry says with a little sigh, hands on his hips and cheeks colored pink from handling everyone's luggage. I spot the backpack I came with and watch as Neil scoops it up, throwing a strap over his shoulder.

"I can't believe we're leaving," Ash mutters from beside me, frowning at Henry and Lisa. Her parents didn't come along to tell her goodbye. I hadn't asked her about it because the stress of moving is already enough on her shoulders, but I can't begin to imagine how painful the situation must be for her. I remember how tough it was for me to realize my mom didn't want to be a part of my life anymore-- at least, she 'wanted' to be a minuscule part of my life but not for the right reasons.

Henry smiles warmly at her, walking over to ruffle her hair. "You've said that about fifty times in the last 24 hours, squirrel." His dad chuckle follows and I find myself subconsciously smiling at their interaction. Henry became a stand-in dad for Ash the same way Lisa became a stand-in mom for me. Realizing this brings me some solace. It's a little sliver of light in the darkness of my overwhelmed mind.

Ash smacks her lips then purses them, trying and failing to hide her affectionate smile. "I know, I know," she fusses, running lithe fingers through her chestnut hair. "It just... doesn't feel real. I've lived in Nockfell for so long."

"And I would be failing all of you if I let you stay here any longer," Henry says gently, helping Ash with her hair by tucking a strand behind her ear. "You're all blowing up. Your options and resources are astronomically limited here. We, as parents, don't raise you to walk in our footsteps. We raise you to walk beyond the path we tread. You're all doing that." Henry's gaze passes over all of us, his eyes watery with a mixture of torment and pride. "So I want you to thrive somewhere that you have a chance to exploit your gifts--" Another sweet smile and I'm getting emotional alongside him. I didn't think I'd wake up this morning with a constant lump in my throat. "Just come visit every once in a while, 'kay?'

Larry's arm flexes around my shoulders and I blink past my tears, squeezing his wrist in my hold. I watch as Sal walks up beside Ash, a hand grasping her shoulder as her bottom lip begins quivering.

I didn't expect this to be so... hard. I knew it'd kill me to leave Nockfell a second time, but taking my old friends with me and having to part with people who have slowly become family is deeply gut-wrenching.

I've learned a lot on this trip. I saw so many things that make it hard to leave because I'm afraid of never seeing them again. I found out that Sal Fisher has a heart, and it's a pretty good one. He has issues, some of which have no doubt influenced his personality, but he's not soulless. He can be kind, he can be funny, he can be a friend. And Henry has clearly been a large influence on the good parts of Sal-- his father is the most selfless person I've ever met, gentler than a mother with her newborn. He has a heart of gold with morals and values that defy modern humanity. The moment Sal took my face into his hands and averted my attention during a panic reflected all the things his father has taught him-- all the warmth he has that he's hidden for so long. Hidden from me.

Looking at Sal now, noting his hand that tenderly runs over the back of Ash's head in nearly the same way Henry did, just reinforces the difference I've observed.

Ash wraps Henry up in a crushing hug, squeezing the man close to her. And he doesn't seem to mind-- in fact, he holds her just as tight. The man presses a kiss to her hair before moving over to hug his son.

We all hug Henry and Lisa, our parting about as heart-wrenching as an ASPCA commercial. But the bright side is that we know we'll see each other again. With our jobs in the streaming industry, we'll have enough money to make frequent trips.

Lisa holds me for a long time, her head rested atop mine and her fingers threading through my hair. Giving me the mother-like comfort that I crave every now and again. And Henry, he presses a kiss to my head the same way he did for everyone else. It's a soothing relief to know that I matter as much to him as the rest of The Faces do.

As I break away from my embrace with Henry, I watch Sal pull Ash to him, his hand cupping the back of her head and holding her close. I can't quite describe the kind of emotion that zaps me when he pulls his dad's signature move and presses his prosthetic lips to Ash's forehead. It's such a precious moment to witness. Ash's response makes it even sweeter; she playfully swats at his arm before leaning down a tad to kiss the cheek of his mask.

I can't help but smile fondly at their sibling-like affection, even if it echoes a bit in the hollowness inside me. I want to be cherished so badly in this moment, to be loved the way this family loves each other.

Sal moves around, hugging Larry, Todd, and Neil before taking a step back as everyone prepares to say their final goodbye's.

The disheartened smile doesn't leave my face as everyone mutters saddened parting words. But I spare a glance at Sal to find him watching everyone the same way I am. His eyes are squinted, the sole indication of his smile beneath that prosthetic.

My breath catches when his eyes, a crystal clear image of the overcast sky today, meet mine. He simply looks at me for a moment, then holds up a hand, middle finger on display.

I blanch, oxygen rushing back into my lungs, filling the void I've refused to acknowledge. Compared to his refusal to even come to the airport in Vegas, I'd say this is a step up.

I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt to disguise the smile that pulls at my lips and the fluttering in my chest as I flick him off in return.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Dragging my backpack onto this rickety airplane takes a lot of guts. It's so run down and beat up that I can't help but wonder if Amelia Earhart was the last person to sit in the pilot's seat. But hey, if I go missing, I'd be solving a lot of problems. Win-win?

I walk down the skinny aisle, pausing to find my seat-- only to realize that Todd and I are riding together for this trip.

I smile warmly at my dear friend, scooting past him and toward the window seat.

Sighing, I plop into my seat and fasten my seatbelt. "Hey, Todd. It's a shame you and Neil got separated."

Todd tips his head in a silent greeting, a little smile on his freckled face. "Not a shame at all. This is his punishment," he replies nonchalantly. I simply blink at him while fighting off an onslaught of giggles. They seem like the type to have random arguments and disagreements every once in a while. They're totally the couple that fully believes their hiccups make their relationship fun, too.

"I stand corrected then," I chuckle as I pull my phone from my pocket. "Just so you know," I continue, leaning toward him to whisper, "I'm on your side."

Todd laughs, the sound much like bells tolling on a lovely spring morning. He pats my wrist, gives it a little squeeze. "As you should be."

I give him another quick smile before looking at my phone.

I probably shouldn't message Sal. I should just leave it be. I'm not obligated in any way, shape, or form, but... the whole situation is weighing on me. I won't be able to stop thinking about our conversation until I extend my hand-- in whatever weird way that I can given this situation Sal and I have found ourselves in.

And, yes. Of course my messaging him is a split second decision that I'm bound to regret. I feel... closer to him. Like we've bonded somehow.

Famous last words.

This is a true fool's rose-tinted glasses because Sal is complicated. All of this is complicated and I'm probably mistaking my relation and guilt for his traumas as us forming a connection.

I swallow over the nerves that ravage me whole and pull up discord, clicking on Sal's and my private messages. His last text to me altered our entire situation. It started all of this:

SALLYFʌCɜ: i wouldn't have made the promise if i didn't intend on keeping it. watch what you say and give ash five minutes to remember that you're in the room. actually, give her brain a boost. SALLYFʌCɜ: come here.

I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating his last message to me before typing up a quick message. I want it to be simple, easy, done. Without considering the past too much.

But I end up typing, deleting, and retyping up until our pilot announces that all passengers are boarded.

My fingers quake as I type up my last attempt and use every bit of willpower to refrain from deleting it all over again. My thumb hovers over the 'send' button and I force myself to look away, quickly smashing the button and pursing my lips as embarrassment rips me to shreds.

I spare a glance down.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm good for more than just fucking if you need a reminder

Why the fuck did I say that? Why couldn't I be normal and just tell him I'd listen to his problems?

He starts typing.

I slap my phone face down onto my thighs and refuse to breathe for a full minute and a half. I take the time to build up the confidence to look, give myself a pep talk. I don't really care how stupid it was. It's done-- I can't change it. It doesn't matter and I don't care.

So with my heart knocking on my ribcage, I hesitantly lift my phone and look down.

SALLYFʌCɛ: i know. SALLYFʌCɛ: thank you

The guiltiest grin blooms on my face. I try my absolute hardest to smash the expression down, to tell myself that his appreciation isn't that serious. That this is just basic human decency. But, damn, something about the way he bothered to say 'thank you' instead of just 'thanks' or even nothing at all...

I put my phone on airplane mode then shut it off, look out the window as our plane begins to power up.

"Hey," Todd suddenly says, his voice inquisitive and a little concerned. "So, sorry if this is prying too much but it's kind of fucking killing me."

I turn my head to look at him, brow raised at his tone. "Don't worry about it," I murmur. "What's up?"

His dark eyes stare into mine-- deeply, investigating my soul like some kind of spiritual detective. I can't help but squirm beneath his heavy gaze, waiting for him to share his thoughts.

He starts slowly shaking his head. "I can't tell which one you're fucking."

Mentally, my eye is twitching.

I catch the shocked cough that almost escapes my mouth. Fear claws its way up my spine as I search through filing cabinets full of words in my head. "Uh," I intellectually start with. "Who says I'm fucking someone?"

Todd blinks, something like clarity morphing his features-- like he just got his answer. "Because you have North bricked up in the supply room of Henry's music store and Sal tracking your every movement like a dog salivating over a steak."

My mouth opens and closes silently up until my mental filing cabinet of words flies open and forces unintelligible sounds and words to fly through my mouth. I choke over my panic and slap a hand over my mouth, watching him with wide eyes.

Part of it is absolute amusement and disbelief over Todd's claims, but the other half of me is petrified by the fact that he sniffed me out immediately. Well, he's trying to, at least.

"I'm sorry?" I snort, my words muffled due to the hand that stays clutched to my mouth.

Todd gives me a no-bullshit look. "I won't say anything," he promises with a shrug. "I know I outted you in Vegas, but that's why I'm discussing the situation with you first this time."

"I'm not--" I pause, dropping my hand from my mouth to properly speak to him. I'm trying to school this and keep the terror out of my gaze, but I think he already knows. "I'm not fucking anyone," I declare, tilting my head down to accentuate my claim.

Maybe he'll buy it. I need him to buy it, actually.

It's not that I don't trust Todd, it's just that I know what he's going to say. It's the same thing anyone in The Faces would tell me-- the same thing Sal has insinuated repeatedly. That I shouldn't be fucking him. I want to avoid that because I already know. I don't want anyone else burying themselves in whatever the hell is going on because I don't even fully understand it myself.

This group is tight-knit. They care. They care so much that they would immediately tell me and Sal to end things and forget it ever happened because fuck buddies are 'toxic' and we 'hate' each other. But with Sal and me, it transcends all of that. We don't have half the issues we started out with, not to mention, our arrangement is working fine. And I'll admit that Sal is the farthest thing from shallow. There are so many twists and turns in his maze of a mind that I'm urged to navigate through it.

Maybe we're nothing remotely close to normal, it's the complete opposite of what constitutes as tradition. But everything before this pales in comparison. God forbid he hear my thoughts, but Sal is becoming a friend. I had to quickly accept that notion the moment I got defensive over his trauma.

Todd smacks his lips, a clear sign that he doesn't believe a word I've said. "Fine," he sighs. He seems a bit disappointed... but understanding. Todd loves drama, but he's thoughtful as well. He won't push me to talk if I don't want to. And let's face it, I'm sure he's already set on his opinion of the topic. The only thing he doesn't have is my confirmation.

"Just be careful, okay?" Todd's brows furrow a bit, a small frown pulling at his lips. "I know it isn't my business, but some secrets are a lot worse than you'd imagine. Fuck who you want, just don't get close enough to get wrapped up in feelings you'd regret."

Apprehension wraps its bony, ashen fingers around my heart and chokes the life out of it. I stare at Todd with wide eyes that have reacted of their own accord. I clench my teeth and think hard about how to organize my thoughts into something comprehensible.

"Is there something I should... know? About either or both of them?" I decide to ask, clearing my throat when my words come out whispered and hoarse, tangled with anxiety.

Todd presses his lips together, showing off his short temper. "I literally just told you they have secrets and to watch yourself. Read between the lines, y/n. Shakespeare should have taught you as much."

The pounding of my heart dies down a bit at Todd's rushed, frustrated sarcasm. The tension and fear are slowly dissipating, so I'll take Todd's claim to mean that he's just worried for me. North's and Sal's secrets can't be so bad-- everyone has baggage. And I mean, Sal's quite literally been through the wringer. An accident so bad it marred his face, a shitty woman who hurt him, and a dead mother. It can't get that much worse, can it?

I scoff playfully. "I hate Shakespeare. He was the worst person to choose for a comparison, Todd," I say gently, giving him a hesitant smile.

That sets Todd off. For the rest of our two hour flight, he argues with me about Shakespeare's genius. He made some pretty legit claims, saying that Shakespeare knew just how to throw backhanded comments to petty royals who didn't have smarts to decipher the true meaning. That Shakespeare was damn lucky he didn't get killed-- unless he was!

Yep, a whole debacle on his death came from that. It kept me entertained though. More importantly, it distracted me from Sal who, now that we've landed and are heading to our new apartments, I can't help but worry about.

Ash is sitting beside me watching the buildings of LA pass us by. She squeezes my hand here and again, smile widening when we come across landmarks she spent her own time searching up. It's so sweet-- all the places Ash couldn't visit on her first trip here are all available to her now.

Meanwhile, Larry's animatedly chatting with our Uber driver-- somehow he happened upon the topic of Speedos. Interestingly enough, our driver seems more than happy to let our friend talk. Neil chimes in here and again to add to Larry's outlandish remarks, making the driver nod in agreement or chuckle.

I watch the streets, slowly beginning to recall all the times I've walked these sidewalks within the past year. All my surroundings are starting to become familiar.

It's comforting knowing I won't be walking these streets alone anymore.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

I set my backpack on the floor, taking in the wide expanse of Sal and Larry's brand new living room. It's enormous; tall ceilings to accompany the loft to one side of the room, then a wall of windows with balcony doors across from me. As modern as it is, it has a nice, darker touch to it. The floors are grey oak, the walls a charcoal color, and the ceiling is bright white— a perfect contrast to the shade crawling upward.

I lick my lips, trying my best not to gape at the only room I've seen so far.

Larry whistles his adoration for the place, standing in the center of the room with his hands on his hips, inspecting every nook and cranny of his new home. He's but a speck of dust in a fancy cave. "This shit's pretty hardcore," he murmurs.

Neil places his bag on the floor beside mine, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Didn't you check the place out already, Lar?" he asks, a cheery edge to his voice.

Larry, in response, snorts and waves Neil's comment off. "Duh," he sarcastically answers. "This place has too much pizazz for me to not admire it like a middle aged man admires his new lawnmower. This is ejaculation material, bro."

Todd sighs obnoxiously, but Neil nods his head beside me, handsome smile on his face as he says, "Fair enough."

I seem to have found myself quite the group.

Ash glides her way through the entrance, giving the big room a once over and an approving nod that says she likes the apartment. She glances over at me, gestures with her elbow. "Looks pretty similar to ours, Vee," she chirps, viridian gaze glittering in the lovely sunshine that filters through the big windows. Sal and Larry didn't get an apartment, these dudes bought a house. In the sky. This thing is too extravagant to be undermined with the term of 'apartment.'

And then Ash's claim spins around my head, hitting all sides of my cranium to solidify the fact that we have a near identical home.

My eyebrows bunch together and I blink at Ash. "Wait, what?"

Ash simply shrugs, little grin plastered on her lips as she scrolls through her phone and plops herself onto the floor. She sits criss-cross applesauce and drags my backpack over to her, tucking it into her lap like a pillow. "I'm calling Sal to let him know we made it," she mutters, clicking on her phone a couple times before putting it on the ground in front of her.

I see a pig-tailed, really tiny Sal on her phone. His contact picture. He and Ash are standing side by side, both of them holding up bunny ears behind each other's heads. Ash looks exactly the way I remember her as a teenager. Sal looks the total opposite of what I thought though.

Part of me expected him to be this super lanky, scene kid. I mean, the hair said enough. But he just looks awkward and childlike here. His eyes are big and bright, happy. He's on his tiptoes to try and add some height to his small stature, so he doesn't look quite as short next to Ash. It's refreshing— clearly, he hasn't always been so... closed off, mean, and unhappy.

The call suddenly accepts and I'm forced back to reality, especially when someone who absolutely cannot be Sal Fisher answers the phone.

"Hey, sweetheart," he starts warmly, tone cosplaying as a literal cinnamon roll. Gooey, sweet, and cozy. "Did you guys make it safe?"

What brain slurping alien has taken over his body? There's no way that's him.

I think back to our night in Nockfell-- he called me sweetheart. He's calling Ash the same. Is this the true Sal? Laid back, caring, and gentle? Is that what he was trying to portray to me when we acted as distractions to one another?

"Sure did, mi corazón," Ash replies in a sing-song voice, rocking back and forth. "How are you and Gizzy? Staying safe? What's the ETA?"

I hear a low, content chuckle from the phone and swear I've been thrust into an alternate reality. "I'm fine, Giz is great. He's napping on my lap while I drive. Staying as safe as an eyeless guy can. And we should be there around midnight tonight."

Ash frowns. "Midnight? Why don't you guys stay the night at a hotel? Kinda risky to drive for so long."

Sal hums in contemplation. "My chances of finding a pet-friendly hotel are scarce. It's more trouble than it's worth. I don't usually go to bed 'til early in the morning anyway— you know that. I'll just get our bags down when we get there and save the unpacking for tomorrow."

"Let us know when you get here then," Ash murmurs worriedly. I grab my phone and check the time. It's six in the evening. Is he really going to drive for another six hours? "And please, drive safe. Don't forget to eat and stay hydrated. You literally take, like, two weeks off all our lives the longer you aren't around," she adds, tone much like a grandma fussing.

Sal laughs heartily on the line and my lips quirk up at the sound. "I will, I will," he replies to her, voice lovingly tender. "I'm about to stop to pick up dinner and feed Gizmo. I'll update you later, 'kay?"

"Okay," Ash chirps, satisfied with Sal's promise. "Ik houd van jou!" She kicks her feet after speaking, pinching her lips together and staring at the ceiling excitedly, waiting. Ash and her languages... I have no idea which one she just spoke, but usually if it's not in English, she's saying 'I love you.'

"You too, darling." Sal knows her as well as I do. This interaction is too precious-- I should not have been present for it.

Ash ends the call then looks over at us. "He's in such a good mood," she whisper yells, exhilaration scrawled across her face. She looks like she just did a line of coke. "He never says he loves me too!?" She whips her head to Larry, eyes narrowing as she inspects him. And Larry, he balks; holds his hands up in surrender to accompany his saucer-sized gaze.

"Is he on drugs? Did you give him something?" Ash asks, raising an eyebrow but never letting up that little glare she has going.

"No!" Larry exclaims, voice cracking. His surrendering hands turn upward in an exasperated shrug. "Why the hell would I send him on a road trip with drugs? We're talking about Sal."

"Exactly. We are talking about Sal. Sal who likes to party with you. See where I'm going?" Ash counters, tilting her head to accentuate her point.

Larry opens his mouth to argue, but then his brows furrow and he snaps his mouth shut, looking off to the side contemplatively. I'm still reeling over this news about Sal supposedly liking parties. "Okay, I see," Larry grumbles. "But seriously, I didn't give him anything. Hell, I don't even have anything."

"I wonder what the hell has him so cheery then," Ash mumbles to herself.

"It's trauma, dude, I swear," Larry declares passionately, pointing at Ash with one hand while the other buries itself into his hair. He's just had an 'aha!' moment. "He's fucking coping. Let the man cope."

Ash stuffs her face into her hands. "Larry," she says darkly, voice muffled. My hair stands on end at her tone and I note Larry grimacing beside me. "That is not funny."

Larry purses his lips and takes two steps back. I watch him struggle, cheeks going red as his mouth works. Like he's trying so desperately hard to not say something. But when can he ever keep his mouth shut, right? This is King Cockblock. Emo Buff Daddy.

"Sal would've laughed," he says softly, wincing when Ash's head snaps up and she sends him a cold glare.

I giggle when Ash launches into a full frontal attack, heading straight for Larry who squeals like a piglet. Todd simply sighs, pinching Neil's arm who laughs at our friends.

As unclear as everything is, I know that I can rely on the people here with me. The excitement on their faces just from knowing they have a new start, surrounded by one another. This is solid, this is good.

Ash and I eventually find our way three stories above Sal and Larry's apartment to our own apartment. It's at this exact moment that reality sets in. Not only will I be beside Ash every single day from here on out, but the rest of our friends are in the same exact building. For as long as I've felt alone, I feel stuffed with company and I love every bit of it.

She wasn't wrong either. Our apartment is essentially the lighter, more feminine version of Sal and Larry's. The floor is a dark, mahogany color but the walls are eggshell white, creating a lovely contrast in the room. Our ceilings are still stunningly tall, but unlike Sal and Larry, we don't have a loft. Just a lot of fan room, as Ash joked.

We spent time having our 'ooh' and 'ahh' moment, exploring our spacious three bedroom apartment and its bathrooms. And not long afterward, we set up the one blanket I brought with us in the middle of our living room. We ordered ramen and had a picnic beneath the moonlight fluttering in through our balcony windows.

It's a girl's night that I've been craving since the moment I first left Nockfell all those years ago.

Ash ends up dragging me and our little blanket out onto our balcony so we can stargaze. In fact, we're in the middle of discussing Twenty One Pilots's new album when pale hands suddenly drop onto Ash's shoulders.

She and I both yelp, Ash's arms flailing and her eyes squeezed shut in absolute terror as she flings herself off our blanket. I flinch, spinning in my sitting position to see Sal who's absolutely grinning beneath his prosthetic.

I look past him, noting Larry and Neil hovering in our living room with bags and suitcases surrounding them.

Oh, an important note, all three men are completely shirtless. Even better, they're a little sweaty too.

"What the fuck, Sally!?" Ash yells, sighing exasperatedly as she lifts herself from the ground and walks over to Sal, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "You're lucky I'm relieved about you being here because I would so twist your dick if this were any other situation."

"Thanks for sparing me then," he chuckles, hand splaying across Ash's lower back as they break their embrace.

I've found myself wordless all day. I feel like a spectator-- like I'm not even here with them on this balcony.

Ash ignores his remark. "Why are your nipples out? Why do you smell like a wet dog?" she asks instead, wrinkling her nose and leaning away from him.

Sal rolls his eyes and moves his arm away from her. "Because I've been unloading. Why else?" He steps aside, ushering Ash back into the apartment with a gesturing hand.

She follows his unspoken command, walking through the balcony doors and beholding the sheer amount of smelly men in our new home. "You should have called us for help," Ash murmurs, hands on her hips as she comes to a stop before Larry and Neil.

Sal doesn't answer her immediately. Instead, he looks over at me with his bright eyes that have been phenomenally captured by the moonlight above. He tilts his head toward the door, silently telling me to follow Ash's lead.

Gulping, I lean down and quickly gather my blanket in my arms, trying my absolute best not to express the nerves ravaging me whole. Sal's here. I don't really hate him like I thought I did. And he hasn't spewed insults at me yet. It's awkward and I feel... shy?

I start walking to the door, making absolute sure not to look at him.

As I pass through the threshold, I can feel the very tips of Sal's fingers brush along my side. Even in LA's smoldering weather, chills suddenly erupt along my skin. I don't know what kind of touch it was-- a greeting or a reminder of his presence-- but it was certainly something.

I suck in a quick breath, counting my steps so as not to trip over my feet as I walk further into the room.

Sal follows, shutting our balcony doors behind him and moving to point at all the luggage on the floor. And, oh, thank God, someone was either smart enough or kind enough to bring an air mattress. "This is all your shit, Ash," Sal sighs sarcastically, though there's some amusement beneath his facade.

"How did you manage to fit all of this into Sal's trunk?" Larry asks, gathering his hair into his hands, a ponytail between his teeth. "Everyone else had, like, three bags. Here you are, bringing your entire closet and then some."

"Uh, yea." Ash's attitude comes out full force, a glint in her forest eyes that says she's ready for this argument. "I brought my entire house, dude. I just moved states away, if you didn't know."

Neil cackles, grabbing onto Larry's shoulder for support. "I'm so glad we all moved together. I never get tired of you guys."

Someone get this man out of the room. Neil's a really handsome mouse surrounded by vultures, especially shirtless like this. Sal blinks at him then turns away and-- honestly-- I'm not far from having to do the same.

Ash smirks at Neil, shifting her weight to one leg to accentuate her little sassy pose. "You're going to get tired of us when we finish unpacking our stuff. After that, we're going pack up all of y/n's stuff to haul it here."

Neil tries to mask the way his face suddenly falls at the reminder that we're moving me here too, but he miserably fails. His quivering lips say enough and the group of us can't help but burst into laughter.

"It shouldn't be too bad." I send Neil a reassuring smile. "I'll rope Nate into helping us somehow--"

"Your hot LA bestie?" Ash squeaks excitedly. She turns to me with her hands fisted beneath her chin, her previous attitude mist in the wind now.

My brows furrow. "You think Nate is hot? You? Ms. Scissoring Expert herself?" I can't help but pick on her a bit.

Ash's excitement morphs into flattery at the name I came up with for her. "Oh, come on. It's not that shocking is it? I indulge in men sometimes."

"Yea, every three blue moons," Sal chimes in, watching us with a tilted head and narrowed eyes.

Ash sticks her tongue out, mocking him before she focuses back on me. "Definitely invite the hottie," she tells me with raised brows.

Whatever Ash wants, Ash gets.

I grab my phone without another word and start typing out a message to Nate. Ash watches over my shoulder, her coconut and poppy scented hair brushing along my chin.

Me: hey, i'm moving. help pack???? pls???? :DDD

Nate: I swear I wasn't serious about revoking your brownie rights. You don't have to leave.

Me: LMAO i promise that's not the reason the faces just moved to la & ash invited me to live with her soooo

Nate: So you hate me is what I'm hearing.

Me: --_--

Nate: Lol. Kidding. You know I'm happy to help with whatever you need.

Me: this is why ur my favorite ex <33

Ash gasps. "You dated the hottie?" I fling my head around to look at her, forgetting she was in on this entire conversation.

"Woah," Larry adds, hands waving like he's washing windows. "You dated the guy who tried to kill you before our stream?"

I shake my head disappointedly, glancing down at my phone to see if Nate fixed my fuck up. And he has, so I show everyone the message.

Nate: We've never dated. I'm not your ex.

Me: but you're clingy like one so you might as well be... plus you literally drop everything to help me

Nate: Have fun packing on your own.

Me: I'M SORRY I WAS JOKING

Larry's cackling by this point, watching the conversation over my other shoulder. "I'm so proud of you for inheriting my good humor," he squeezes my shoulder in his big palm, causing a grin to split across my face.

The boy's start talking about something that I don't care to listen to. I just spare Sal a couple glances, noting his unfazed and easygoing persona right now. All day, I went against all that my DNA has decided about him. I've worried and sympathized, battled myself constantly at the expense of my own sanity just because he showed some of his truth to me once.

Nockfell changed things.

I left LA lustful and I've returned with a friend.

-----

A/N::::: WHO'S READY FOR THE GANG TO MEET NATE OMGGGGGG

so sorry it's been fucking FOREVER guys >~< this was kind of a hard chapter to write. i had a general layout with certain scenes and whatnot but i've had to do SO many transitions, as you can see. I kinda hate that cuz i'd much rather stick with one theme and gently lead into side pieces in one chapter rather than bouncing ALL over the place. but, as you can tell, this chapter was needed to address some of sal's issues, y/n's thoughts and feelings as of current, as well as the way their relationship has changed a bit :3

ofc the other reason i've been gone is cuz of that stupid accident i had o_O for those who don't know, the summary is that i hit my foot so hard it made me faint and i literally shmacked my head on the floor HAHAAAAA here's the update: it's been two weeks and my foot hurts even more than it did when the accident happened. the day of, i got x-ray's and my doc said that i just had a bruise but i'm going to another doctor for a second opinion. i'm literally not even bruised anymore, but still swollen asf and can hardly walk sooooo that's tomorrow's agenda. i'll update you guys again when i find out more!!! (psa, if my foot is broken/fractured before my beach trip in two weeks, the hospital i went to better start counting its MONEY not its DAYS because guess who'll be going to fucking COURT with my DISCHARGE PAPERS AND WORK EXCUSE STATING THAT I AM HEALTHY AND OKAY TO WALK AROUND??????????)

tell me how i can improve! how could i make my transition smoother? what are some thoughts and/or actions i could add in to make things more entertaining and personal? also give me some fun words!! i need to expand my vocabulary >.<

anyway, as always, i love you guys with all three of my working limbs, even my janky foot. smooches and squishes my loves <333

(p.s. sorry for the long ass note)

(p.s.s. sorry for the shorter chap </3)

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #eventual smut

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