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maplegracefour · 5 months ago

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obsessed with this series im glad they got a happy ending <3

yuck! part 3 - schlatt x reader

[part one, part 1.5, part two, part three (currently reading)]

now listening: yuck - charli xcx 1:04 ────❍── 2:19 ↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

Your face scrunched up in confusion.

“What the fuck are you on about?” He sighed, shaking his head, letting stray tears continue to roll down his cheeks.

“I said…it’s not your feelings that are stupid, here. Mine are the stupid fuckin’ ones…”

Never in your life would you have expected this. You crossed your arms, looking up at him.

“Explain.” He hung his head low, refusing to look up at you.

“Can’t I come in first-”

“No! Explain. Now.” Bringing his hands to his face, he began to rub, seemingly trying to bring himself back to reality. It wasn’t just the fact that he wasn’t used to being vulnerable, he also wasn’t used to you being so…dominant and asserting. If it wasn’t in this given situation, he would’ve thought this side of you was totally hot, and would need to fuck you badly, but this was not the time, and he was not in the mood.

“I…toots, I don’t know where to start. I…you….we…” He muttered, trying his absolute hardest to get his mind straight, you could tell by the way his eyes began to scan scatteredly around your room that he had way too many thoughts on his mind, but you refused to budge. You wanted, needed, and deserved an explanation as to why he was being such an avoidant asshole.

“Sounds like you really do like them, man.” Ted chuckled, causing Schlatt to groan, putting his head into the palms of his hands.

“No, no, dude. This is not how this is supposed to go…I am not supposed to get feelings! Shit’s so fuckin’ stupid!” He explained, in pure disbelief and shock that this was his current situation. The call between the two started as a new recording for Chuckle Sandwich, and at the end Ted could sense Schlatt was stressed. Knowing he had just come back from what was supposed to be a “relaxing” weekend getaway, Ted knew he needed to ask. In turn, Schlatt began to spill his guts, needing an open ear to rant to about everything that had transpired, and how he was feeling about it all.

“Feelings aren’t stupid, dude! Falling in love with someone…it’s really, truly special!” Ted explained, feeling for the man on the other side of the screen.

“Just because you’re not used to it, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, Schlatt.” Schlatt let out another groan, leaning back in his desk chair this time.

“You can’t say that, you don’t know that…”

“Let’s be honest with ourselves…you are a catch! You’re funny, have a steady career going, caring, sometimes you’re kind…not to mention you’re clearly attractive and apparently really good at having sex…” Ted listed, chuckling at the last one slightly.

“Damn, if you want to fuck me, just say so Ted…” He grumbled, crossing his arms before looking up towards his ceiling.

“Listen…all I’m saying is it sounds like they’re into you, and you’re into them. You’ve been sleeping with one another for what…2 years now? Make a move, dude, before they’ve had enough of your shit and leave your ass!”

Make a move, dude….

Make a move, dude…

Make a move, dude….

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jay. I don’t have all day for your bullshit…” You said, grabbing the door, about to slam it back into his face as he shook his head, clearly coming back to reality.

“W-wait…wait! Fuck, I’ll explain, I’ll explain…”

“I’ve been standing here for a good 15 minutes waiting for an explanation from you, and you haven’t said a fucking word, haven’t moved a fucking inch. I’m giving you one more minute, shithead, one more than you honestly deserve right now!” Your voice began to get louder, making him shake his head. He knew he didn’t deserve your time of day, especially right now, wasting your time minute after minute, day after day. He swallowed his nerves, put his hands to his sides, and looked you in the eye.

“Alright, Jesus…I…I think I have…feelings for you…but I’m not sure.” Your head tilted to the side, trying to read his expression, looking behind him for some sort of camera to be recording.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you do. What episode of Punk’d am I on now? Or is this your new idea for a new channel? Build people up and then break them down, record their reactions for views? Where’s the camera…” His face immediately fell, his eyes getting softer.

“What? Is that…is that what you really think of me? That I would do this for fuckin’ views?”

“Honestly, Schlatt…at this point, I feel like I don’t know you anymore. I’m not sure.” You croaked, choking back your tears that were inevitable to fall. Watching you and hearing your reply absolutely broke his heart into pieces. He had expected you to take this poorly after the way he had been treating you, but he really didn’t expect this of all things.

“Leave. Go. Leave me alone…need to think.” You said, shoving him from your doorframe as you quickly closed the door on him, locking it behind you. You sunk down the door, wrapping your arms around your legs as you began to sob.

“Fuck, no…no, no, no! (Y/N)....(Y/N) please…we…I…need to talk…” You could hear him beginning to choke on his own tears as he banged on your door, every time his knuckles made contact with the wood it shook your body ever so slightly more.

“Leave me alone, Schlatt…I’ll find you when…when I’m..ready..” Your voice trailed off, constantly getting cut off by the ongoing stream of tears rolling down your face. You felt his presence still by the door as you cried, knowing he hadn’t gone far. Probably couldn’t make it back to his office, he was so weak and shocked by his own feelings and your subsequent reaction.

You had dreamed of the moment that Schlatt would confess his feelings for you, making it out to be something straight out of a fairytale. Maybe over dinner, a candlelit one to be exact, he would admit to having always felt something towards you, but was so in denial that you could feel the same that he created this elaborate agreement between the two of you as a coverup to get closer to you, and the minute he realized he wanted more, he felt the need to confess. You had always hoped and prayed he was a secret romantic, wanting him to praise the ground you walked on because he just loved you all that much. Now that the moment was here, though…it felt more like a nightmare than something straight from a storybook.

Schlatt sat on the ground, on the opposite side of the door you were leaning against, silently praying to God that you would grace him with forgiveness. It was at this moment he realized that Ted was right, he really did have feelings for you…but like Ted predicted, Schlatt was afraid it was too late. Afraid you realized just how big a piece of shit you were, how he didn’t deserve any time of day from you whatsoever. He rubbed at his eyes, not having cried this much or this badly since he was a kid, letting out a low chuckle.

You heard his chuckle, which immediately pissed you off.

“Really? You really think this whole situation is still funny?”

“No…no, I really don’t. Just…think the absurdity of it all is funny.” You groaned, leaning your head back on the door. You sighed, if you were going to talk about it, at least let there be a door separating you from him…if you had to look into his crying eyes one more time, you swore you’d be a puddle for him, doing whatever he’d ask, forgiving him for anything he had ever done wrong.

“When did you realize?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Like…came to terms with realizing? Or when did I truly realize?” He asked, matching your volume and tone of voice.

“Truly realize…”

“Back in that Russian Literature class…when you came walkin’ up, askin’ if we were partners…” He said with a sigh, thinking back to that moment in time, “I was so nervous just lookin’ at you…I had never felt that way ‘bout anyone ever before.” Your eyes widened. There was no way…

“You can’t be serious…”

“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” He said, laughing slightly. “Can’t lie about that. I’ve been in denial for…way too long now.” You rolled your eyes. How could you trust him?

“As soon as I saw you, with that stupid fuckin’ mascot sweatshirt on, I thought to myself ‘who is this person, and why are they dressed like they’re not a full fuckin’ 10’...couldn’t take my eyes off you. Made my stomach churn so bad, thought I was comin’ down with a stomach bug…” You hummed, remembering when he had texted you to cancel a work session because he thought he came down with something. “Turns out it wasn’t a stomach bug, it went away as soon as you left, and came back when you’d return. Turns out…those were butterflies. I was in denial.”

You sat in silence, thinking for a moment in peace. Schlatt sat waiting for your response, not pressing you, knowing damn well you were allowed to take as much time as you felt you needed to reply. He felt he didn’t even deserve a response from you, after the way he’d been treating you the last week or so.

“Just…tell me. Why do all this? Make things tricky?” You whispered, confused why you only became friends with benefits, rather than full-fledged lovers.

“Didn’t think you were into me that way. Besides, you know…I don’t really think ‘m deserving of any typa love…” He muttered, hanging his head low in shame. You stewed for a moment, knowing you should, realistically, be pissed off at him. Mad that it took him this long to admit things, mad that he drug you through this whole friends with benefits plotline knowing damn well he was feeling a certain way about you…but you couldn’t. You knew Schlatt, knew that admitting something as simple as this was harder than anything else in the world. He felt vulnerable in this moment, and you couldn’t treat him the way he did you. You reached up, unlocking your doorknob before waiting for a moment. Schlatt heard the knob turn, and sat up slightly, so he didn’t get knocked over when you eventually opened the door. You slowly opened it, still on the ground, as he scooted around to face you, his face just as tear-stained as yours was.

“Why? Why do this…?” You asked, simply looking at him.

“I…knew my feelings would get in the way one way or another…but once I heard you confess…I shut down. There was no way in hell the girl I’ve been dreamin’ about, the girl I’ve been sleepin’ with under this pact…actually liked me for me. I needed to clear my head, let it all sink in…” He said, sheepishly, looking down towards his socks rather than in your eye.

“It hurts, you know? The lack of response. The way you’ve been avoiding me all week. How am I supposed to just move on from all of this, Jay? Just…become happy that we’re on the same page finally, take the steps needed to be in a proper relationship with you…without addressing all this hurt?” You replied, staring at him, hoping for even an ounce of eye contact, some sort of form of remorse. Once he did look up, you felt a twinge in your heart, tearing up again yourself.

“I know I hurt you…I don’t expect us to just…move on like this never happened. It…it wasn’t my intention of hurtin’ you, toots…I just fuckin’ suck at all these mushy feelings shit.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes before looking back into yours, sensing the deep hurt he had put you through. “It’s not an excuse for my actions, though…and I don’t expect for you to accept my apology. Just know…I really, truly am so fuckin’ sorry. I should’ve toughened up sooner, been a man, admitted my feelings….but I couldn’t.”

You paused for a moment, taking in everything he said before sighing.

“I don’t accept your apology.”

“Wait, what?”

“Like you said, you don’t expect me to accept your apology, and I don’t. I understand where you were coming from, Jay…but until you can prove to me that you can change…I don’t accept your apology. You could be pulling shit from out of your ass just to make me feel better for all I know…” You sighed, your eyes looking at him, searching for the truth. “Until you can show me that this..” you pointed between one another, all around your apartment, “can change…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

His eyes widened, as he hummed at your explanation. A part of him was really expecting you to want to move forward, accepting his apology for what it was, and dealing with the repercussions later. However…he couldn’t say he was all that shocked that you hadn’t accepted his apology. If he were in your shoes, he would be kicking his own ass for everything he had done. Silently, he nodded his head, showing you that he got where you were coming from, before he stood up and headed into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

That conversation happened 2 weeks ago now, and the apartment felt tenser than ever before. You did everything in your power to avoid Schlatt, and he tried going out of his way to catch you, hoping you could talk. The amount of times he stood at your door knocking these last two weeks, begging to talk…you had lost count. You weren’t able to get over the feeling of betrayal, though, or clear your mind enough to go into a conversation openly with him about everything, about the future for the both of you, if there even was one at this point.

Schlatt was a full-blown mess. Didn’t get more than 5 hours of sleep over the last two weeks, he’d been living off of caffeinated GamerSupps and a daily prayer to God that you would finally talk to him again. Sighing, he glanced at the time…time for another Chuckle Sandwich recording, great. Just what he wanted to do with a broken heart. He knocked on your door one last time.

“Toots…gotta go record, but I’m still here, whenever you’re ready to talk…please…let me in.” He lingered for a moment, before sighing, stepping away to head into his office and hop on the Discord call.

“Jesus Christ, dude…you look like shit!” Ted winced, making a face over the call. Tucker nodded his head in agreement.

“Fuck you, and fuck you, too.”

“I take it…things haven’t improved?” Tucker asked quietly, not wanting to make the man feel any more shitty than he already was.

“They won’t even let me in their room to talk about things…not that I can blame them. I wouldn’t let me in, either.”

“Don’t talk about yourself that way, dude…they’ll come around sooner or later!” Ted said, optimistically.

“They’ve been holed up in their room all week.” Schlatt groaned, throwing his head back in his desk chair. “Honestly…I don’t know if I can do this, today, boys…I can’t get my mind off them.”

Ted groaned, knowing that something needed to happen quickly for Schlatt to get back to being his old asshole persona self, rather than this defeated, upset loner for them to get any work done.

“Give me their number.”

“What?”

“I said, give me their number, dipshit.” Schlatt slowly blinked, looking confused.

“No!”

“Trust me, asshole! Give me their number.” Schlatt groaned, rubbing his hands over his face before looking back at his monitor.

“What good is that going to do, fucker?”

“I’m gonna talk to them, see where their heads’ at. Let you know your prospects. C’mon, man, what will it hurt? You’ve already fucked this up beyond belief!” Schlatt sighed, knowing he was kinda on to something.

“Fine…but you better not fuck this up even more, Ted.” He grumbled, typing your number into his text messages with Ted, saying another prayer that you actually answer and hear him out.

In the room across the hall, you laid on your bed, still numb over all that had transpired. You should use this opportunity of Schlatt working to go get something to eat, maybe take a hot shower, go for a walk…hell, pack your bags and run far, far away from here, but you felt stuck. You couldn’t move. You knew it was due to your conflicted feelings, on one hand, you knew that he had been an asshole, and if that’s any sign of how he’d be in a relationship, you didn’t want it. On the other hand, you knew and saw how soft he could get, and have noticed how truly dedicated he had been to get even the slightest chance to talk to you over the last two weeks. Lost in your conflicted feelings, your phone began to ring.

“Boston area code…? I don’t know anyone from Boston..” You sighed, clicking your phone off. Two seconds later it lit up again, same phone number. You grumbled, reaching over to click your phone off once again, hopefully sending a hint to this person that they had the wrong number. Nope—here your phone lit up once more, causing you to get increasingly more angry.

“Hello-”

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to do, to sell, to whatever…but I’m not fuckin’ interested man, quit calling me, would you?”

“Wait! Wait, I’m not a scam caller, not trying to sell you something…you’re (Y/N), right?” The voice on the other line sounded somewhat familiar, but you were still confused as to how they knew your name.

“Y-Yes…why?”

“Oh thank God, I thought Schlatt gave me the wrong number…this is Ted, one of Schlatt’s friends.” You groaned, throwing your phone down on the bed. Schlatt couldn’t get you to open the door to your room, so he sent one of his friends to call you? Pathetic…

“Before you get the wrong idea…this wasn’t Schlatt’s idea, trust me. He actually hated it…a lot.” He let out a laugh, hoping you’d give him a chance, hear him out.

“Oh, really? How much did he pay you to say that?”

“Not enough….I kid, I’m kidding…listen. I’m really concerned. Schlatt hasn’t been this bad off…ever in my history of knowing him. I know he was like the world’s biggest asshole to you the last few weeks, trust me, I’ve grilled him enough about it…but…just hear him out, please? If not for you…for me? I can’t work with him being such a grouch like this…it’s so bad!” You laughed, hearing him plead.

“Give me one good reason I should, Ted. Honestly, I don’t even think he’s being honest about his feelings for me, and if he is…why did he wait this fucking long to admit them?” Ted hummed on the other end of the line, understanding where you were coming from.

“Listen, I get it. Trust me when I say, though…he’s liked you for a while. I noticed it back when Schlatt and I first met, he had this twinkle in his eye when he talked about this best friend he had met during his college days. I asked him about it…he confessed after taking a few shots. Once he was sober in the morning, I asked again, needing sober confirmation…and he did. He came clean, admitted to feeling for you, but not feeling like he was worthy enough of having the title of your boyfriend. When he told me he got involved in this…friends with benefits…mess with you…” Ted sighed, you could feel him shaking his head through the phone, “I told him it wouldn’t end up the way he had hoped. He was so stuck in his thoughts of not being deserving enough, not being a good enough person to be considered as your boyfriend that he reassured me this is what he wanted, and that he was happy with his choice. I can tell you, though, it’s been eating at him the last two years that he couldn’t do more with you.”

You groaned, knowing this was the kind of information you needed to know in order to feel confident in talking to him again, but that actually meant you’d have to suck it up, let him in, and talk it all out.

“Thanks, Ted. Definitely…have given me a lot to think about…a lot to consider.” You sighed into the receiver, hearing Ted let out a breath.

“Does that mean you’ll talk to him, now?”

“Yes…tell him I’ll talk to him…whenever he’s ready.”

“Oh, he’s ready now. I’ll let him know…thanks (Y/N).” You laughed slightly, first time in the last two weeks that you did, saying a quick thank you and goodbye before putting your phone back down on your bed, heading to your door to unlock it, so Schlatt could enter whenever. Just as your fingers twisted the lock, his hand twisted the doorknob, opening your door. You stood there, staring at one another for what felt like forever, before you silently returned to your bed, signalling him to follow. He did as he was told, coming and sitting on the edge of your bed, looking up at you. You could tell by the bags under his eyes and just how greasy his hair had gotten that he’s barely survived over the last two weeks without you. Your heart sank slightly, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m so sorry, toots. I didn’t mean for things to get this out of hand. I was just…scared.”

“Of what, Jay?”

He looked at you, rather confused.

“What were you so scared of? Had I not made my feelings for you abundantly clear? Not made it clear just how much I cared for you as a person, not just as a sex partner? How long have I been having these feelings for you?” He sighed, shaking his head.

“No…no nothing like that. I mean…kind of like that? I was scared of admitting I was the one having feelings for you. Scared to put myself out there to you in that way. Scared that, once I did, you’d realize just how shitty of a guy I can be, break my heart into pieces and then leave.” He said, his voice going to just slightly above a whisper, “I was so scared that you really, truly, didn’t feel the same as I was, and that I’d ruin my chances at love and my only true friend in one single swing.” You looked at him softly, wanting to not accept the words he was saying as true, but you could tell by demeanor alone that he meant every single word he had just said. You stayed silent, thinking.

“I know I’m not in a position to rush you, but I gotta admit…the longer you sit here and say nothing, the more I think you’re actually not that into me, princess.” You laughed, leaning back into your pillows, looking up towards him.

“No, I’m just..a little shocked. You’re easily the most attractive, occasionally caring guy I know…what do you mean you were scared?”

“When I said I’ve never felt this way about anybody, ever, it’s true, toots. Never…” Your eyes widened.

“Like…never never? Never ever? Not even in high school, ever?”

“Yeah, go ahead, rub it in, make me feel even worse.” He chuckled, snaking his hand behind his neck, refusing to make eye contact with you. You smiled, sneaking a hand towards his thigh to give him a loving squeeze, before taking the hand up to his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“Why didn’t you say that sooner, stupid? That would’ve explained so much!”

“Clearly I’m not proud of that part of my history, toots.” He joked, rolling his eyes, “Besides…thought you’d think I was a loser, wouldn’t want to associate, y’know…regular shit.” You laughed gently, shaking your head in disbelief.

“So instead, you went the route of just sleeping with people? How did you not get attached?”

“Easy…stare at her tits, not her face, say very little, cum, get out of there. Not as hard as all…this that we’ve been doin’.” You sat and stared at him for a moment, the silence engulfing the two of you heavily. Neither one of you wanted to move, in fear that this would ruin the moment, and you’d be back where you started.

“Y’know…I think our contract needs an amendment.” You said, looking him in the eyes. He looked confused, why mention the contract now?

“What?”

“Scratch out the last one. We should be able to fall in love with each other, right?” He smiled as you spoke, a breath he hadn’t realized leaving his lips as he sighed.

“Yeah, toots…I guess you’re right.”

Needless to say, after that talk, the contract was no longer needed between the two of you.

_____________________________________________

aaaand that's all she wrote! i really, truly enjoyed writing this series more than i could fully express...thanks for all your love and support on all the parts, and stay tuned for more coming series! <3

#maple recs

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maplegracefour · 6 months ago

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Maple, I'm sorry you had to go through that twice, both physically and mentally. I would try to make you feel better, but I have a feeling that you've heard it a thousand times. Just know you have friends on here you can talk to. Even though they might not be able to understand all the way, they can at least listen with the only motive to help you.

Hope you're body recovered, and I hope you feel better soon.

hi!!

thank you so much <3

I’ve spent a lot of time with my loved ones, and I have lots of support. Just needed some time away from here. love all of you guys so so much

I am doing much better, especially physically :)

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maplegracefour · 6 months ago

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where i've been

TW// Miscarriage, blood, generally gross imagery

I want to preface this by saying that I am okay! I’ve been taking a lot of time to process everything and honestly, I am doing much better. Very much a word-vomit. And considering this blog is relatively anonymous, it feels like the best place to do it.

My language is a tad vulgar in places during this. And please know these are just my feelings on these matters at the time as they were occurring.

That being said, please read this with caution. Contact a professional if you need help and take care of yourself <3

—

I had my first miscarriage September 2023. I remember not quite processing it first, I didn’t want to even say the word ‘miscarriage’, it felt dirty, it felt wrong.

“At least it was early.”

I don’t care if it was early, I don’t care. It still hurts just the same if it was 6 days or 6 months. The fact that my body can’t do the one thing it’s meant to just sucks.

“You can try again.”

Well, we’ll get to that later.

When I realised, I was working. I went to the bathroom and realised something was majorly wrong. I called my doctor and they told me I just had to let it run its course. He spoke about it like it was a fucking cold. He spoke about it like he hadn’t just confirmed that I had a life decaying inside of me.

I had at least another week or so of bleeding to deal with, everytime I went to the bathroom I was reminded by the sick image of my own failures.

“I’m sorry.”

Are you though? It’s not like it’s your fault that my body is blueprinted to do one thing predominantly and yet, it can’t.

Then I had to tell my boyfriend. How do you tell someone that their future was dying inside your body? I really struggled. I still couldn’t say the word, I danced around it for a long time before I actually explained what was going on.

Then weeks of physical pain. Lethargy and aches, stomach cramps and headaches. It faded eventually but the reminder of what I lost was just constantly etched into the back of my head. I hadn’t really considered having kids until I realised that maybe I wouldn’t get a chance like this again. I thought about names. Frankie. Oscar. Heather. I thought about first words, first steps, first day at school, first birthday, first Christmas. I wasn’t getting any of that.

The strangest thing about all of this is that I just couldn’t get over the fact that I felt ridiculous for feeling this way. They were right, I was early. At least I hadn’t bought nappies, or food, or toys. Why was I mourning someone who never existed?

Then I was angry, angry at myself. Angry at doctors for never picking up that something was wrong with me (strangely enough, they still don’t know).

Two months after my miscarriage, my sister told me she was pregnant. Thankfully, she carried to full term and gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl. (I actually started this blog whilst staying in the hospital with her!) But I couldn’t help the resentment, bubbling underneath my skin. The anger that she got everything I lost. I had to watch her have all the firsts that I wanted, the ones I deserved.

But I didn’t. And slowly I’ve come to terms with that fact. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my baby is gone and that I won’t be experiencing parenthood any time soon. Maybe one day, but not now.

I had my second miscarriage December 2024.

This one was harder. I didn’t take any time off work, I didn’t call the doctors. I knew what was happening. I knew how to handle it physically. Mentally, I had clocked out. I couldn’t face it this time. Facing the true reality that this isn’t a one off incident anymore, there is something wrong with me.

I didn’t tell my boyfriend for three weeks, I gave myself more time to process on my own. It was worth it, he understood. He lost something too but it wasn’t his body. I deserved that time.

I’m going back to the doctors for more scans, more blood tests. But the reality of my future seems much clearer to me than to anyone else.

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maplegracefour · 6 months ago

Link

wait, obsessed with this actually

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: jschlatt - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: jschlatt/reader Characters: Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: jschlatt/reader - Freeform, Schlatt/reader - Freeform, RPF, Angst, scrapped from tumblr oops, Rekindled Flame, Catholicism mentioned, Doomed Lovers - Freeform, based on a fob song, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), the nickname ‘johnny’ is used Summary:

it’s been nearly six years since the two of you abruptly ending your fling that blossomed through your freshman year of college. you got married, he became big on the internet. so what was really lying behind the two of you? maybe even insinuating it wasn’t just a fling, maybe fate.

#maple recs

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maplegracefour · 6 months ago

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this went so hard im emotional on the train rn

tears over beers | schlatt

word count: 5.3k

inspired by tears over beers by modern baseball

(kinda angsty, i think ! it gives right person wrong time if you know what i mean)

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

when i was just a boy (fifteen or so)

Schlatt slouched in his seat, letting the scratchy polyester bus fabric dig into his neck. He stared out the window, where the blurred shapes of trees whipped past, and cursed every adult in his life for making him endure this. A field trip. A whole damn day of pretending to care about ecosystems or migratory birds or whatever Mr. Dugan had rambled on about last week.

He would’ve survived if it weren’t for the seating arrangement.

“Schlatt, buddy,” Dugan had barked before they boarded, “pair up! Can’t have anyone alone.” Which was why, somehow, Schlatt’s luck had landed him here. Next to her.

He hadn’t even seen it happen. He’d been too busy standing off to the side, hoping Dugan would forget about him altogether, when suddenly—bam. She had plopped down right next to him. The girl from his chem class. The pretty one. The really, really pretty one.

She was so close he could smell the faintest hint of strawberry from her lip balm or shampoo or something. And now she was pulling her notebook out of her bag like this was normal. Like his entire nervous system wasn’t short-circuiting.

Why me? Why’d it have to be me? He stared harder out the window, trying to will his body into stone or mist or any form that didn’t involve sweating through his hoodie in December.

Her knee brushed his. Schlatt flinched like he’d been shocked, his stomach tying itself into knots. Was he sitting weird? Did he look weird? God, do I smell?

“So,” she said, her voice casual, but loud enough to cut through the noise of fifty teenagers and a diesel engine. “You’re in my chem class, right?”

Schlatt turned to her, his throat dry. Words were supposed to come out—something clever or at least passable—but instead he croaked, “Yeah.”

She smiled. God, she had a nice smile. That only made it worse.

“I thought so. You’re the one who did that whole rant about how lab goggles are a scam?”

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck, heat rising up to his ears. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You’re not wrong,” she said with a little laugh. “They’re pretty flimsy for how much they cost.”

Was this… banter? Was she… agreeing with him? Schlatt’s brain scrambled to respond, but his mouth just hung there, slightly open, until the silence stretched too long.

“Anyway,” she continued, undeterred, “do you actually care about this field trip? Or are you here for the ‘mandatory participation’ grade like me?”

He could’ve said something—anything. He could’ve told her how dumb he thought all of it was, how he’d rather be anywhere else, or how Dugan’s attempts at being “cool” made him want to gouge his ears out.

But instead, he shrugged. “I dunno. It’s fine.”

She tilted her head at him, eyebrows raising slightly. “Huh. Okay.”

The pause felt heavy, like she was waiting for him to add more. He didn’t.

She gave him a little nod, like she’d decided something, then turned her gaze out the window. Her knee pulled away from his, and Schlatt instantly missed the warmth.

The rest of the ride stretched on, the bus noise blending into an endless drone. Every once in a while, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She didn’t look back.

When the bus finally screeched to a stop, she grabbed her backpack and stood without a word. Schlatt stared at her retreating figure, stomach sinking.

He’d blown it.

By the time they got off the bus, she was already chatting with someone else, laughing at some dumb joke. Schlatt shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, scowling at the ground.

“Stupid,” he muttered under his breath. “So stupid.”

What was he supposed to do now? Go up to her and say something? It felt like too much time had passed, like the moment had died and anything he tried would just make it worse.

Instead, he trailed after the group, half-listening to Dugan’s voice echo through the woods. His mind stayed stuck on her, though. On the way her smile had faltered, just a little, before she looked away.

when i moved away from home (100 miles or so)

The bass from the party thumped through the walls, vibrating the beer Schlatt held loosely in his hand. The red solo cup was barely touched, its contents sloshing halfheartedly as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

Frat parties weren’t his thing. Hell, frats weren’t his thing. But his roommate, Jake, had dragged him here, insisting that “college memories” didn’t make themselves.

Now, Jake was nowhere to be found, probably off playing some ridiculous drinking game or making out with someone in the living room. Schlatt had done his part: mingled, laughed, and even tossed in a joke or two about the questionable amount of pumpkin-themed beer. But the air felt too thick, the music too loud.

He wasn’t a total wallflower anymore. He’d left most of that behind when he moved out of his hometown a hundred miles away. College had been a clean slate. He’d figured out how to carry a conversation, how to laugh at himself, how to make people laugh with him instead of at him. Still, places like this didn’t feel like him.

With a sigh, Schlatt slid the cup onto the counter and slipped outside.

The back porch was mercifully empty. Strings of patio lights cast a soft glow, their bulbs swaying slightly in the autumn breeze. He leaned against the wooden railing and let the cool air seep into his hoodie.

And then he heard it, a soft creak of the screen door behind him.

“I thought I saw someone else sneak out here.”

That voice.

Schlatt froze for a second too long before turning his head.

It was her.

The girl from the bus. From sophomore year chemistry class. The one whose knee had bumped his while she tried to talk to him and who’d given up when all he’d managed was a mumbled shrug.

She stepped closer, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket. She looked the same but older, more sure of herself, her face framed by strands of hair that looked effortlessly perfect.

His heart skipped a beat. Or maybe it just stopped entirely.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he said before he could think better of it.

Her brows lifted. “What?”

“I just—” He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Of all the places. I didn’t even know you went here.”

Her lips quirked up into a smile. “Small world, huh?” She leaned her shoulder against the railing beside him, tilting her head slightly to look at him. “Schlatt, right? From chem?”

“You remember that?” he blurted, surprised.

She gave a soft laugh. “Well, yeah. You were the guy who tore apart lab goggles like it was your personal vendetta. Hard to forget.”

“God,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Please don’t tell me that’s my legacy.”

“I thought it was funny.” She grinned, leaning in just slightly. “Besides, it’s not like you were wrong. They were a scam.”

This time, he smiled back—an easy, genuine smile that felt like it belonged on his face.

“So,” she continued, her voice teasing, “you gonna tell me why you ditched the party? Or are you still the ‘I dunno, it’s fine’ type?”

The memory hit him like a slap, and he laughed, equal parts mortified and amused. “Oh, come on. You’re not still holding that against me, are you?”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” She shrugged, her tone light but her gaze steady on him. “You left me hanging. That was brutal.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ve been beating myself up about that for years.”

“Years?” She raised a brow.

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat creep up to his ears. “I was kind of an idiot back then.”

She tilted her head, her smile softening. “You weren’t an idiot.”

“Trust me, I was,” he said with a wry chuckle. “I just… I didn’t know how to talk to people. Especially not, uh…” His words faltered for a second, but he pushed through. “Not to girls who actually wanted to talk to me.”

Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment longer before she smiled again, smaller this time. “Well, you’re doing fine now.”

That made his chest feel a little lighter.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter. “You, uh… you look good, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said, her cheeks heating up slightly in the glow of the patio lights. “So do you.”

Schlatt didn’t reply right away. He was too busy trying to keep himself from staring at her, at the way her lips curved when she smiled. He wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny or any of that poetic crap. But damn, if this didn’t feel like the universe was handing him a chance on a silver platter.

A chance to redeem himself.

Not just with her, but with the version of himself he used to be,the awkward kid who had spent way too many nights replaying that stupid bus ride in his head, wishing he’d said anything remotely cool.

Now, standing here with her, he wasn’t scrawny anymore. He wasn’t hunched over his desk in chem, trying to disappear into the background. He was taller, broader. His voice didn’t crack every time he spoke. And for the first time in years, he felt like maybe he could get this right.

“So,” he said finally, shifting to lean against the railing, “what about you? You ditch the party because it’s lame or because someone dragged you here against your will?”

She laughed softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “A little of both. My roommate’s obsessed with frat parties. She swears they’re the best way to ‘experience college.’” She made air quotes with her fingers, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t convinced, but I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“And? How’s the ‘experience’ so far?”

“Terrible,” she said, deadpan, then grinned. “The beer tastes like watered-down regret, the music’s loud enough to make my teeth vibrate, and some guy tried to impress me by doing a keg stand. I’m pretty sure he threw up in the bushes after.”

Schlatt snorted. “Classic. Nothing says ‘college memories’ like public humiliation.”

“Exactly.” She tilted her head at him, her smile lingering. “What about you? Did someone drag you here too, or are you secretly a frat boy?”

He barked a laugh. “Do I look like a frat boy?”

She pretended to study him, her eyes flicking over his frame. “You’ve got the height for it. Maybe a little too scruffy, though. They’re usually all clean-shaven, right? And they wear those pastel polo shirts. You’re missing the uniform.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could pull off salmon pink. I’d look like a defective highlighter.”

She giggled, and Schlatt felt a small surge of pride. Look at me, making her laugh. Progress.

“So, what’s your excuse?” she asked, crossing her arms as she leaned her hip against the railing. “Why are you here?”

“Roommate dragged me. Said I needed to ‘live a little.’” He smirked, shrugging. “Figured I’d come for the free beer and leave before anyone started screaming ‘chug’ at me.”

“Smart move.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, trading sarcastic jabs and stories about college life. She told him about her nightmare professor who wore socks with sandals and her roommate’s obsession with Taylor Swift. He told her about his part-time job at the campus radio station, where he mostly sorted through old CDs but occasionally got to be on-air, which felt “weirdly powerful.”

“I can’t believe they let you behind a microphone,” she teased. “What if you just start ranting about goggles again?”

“Hey, people need to know the truth.” He held up his hands defensively. “I’m doing the public a service.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, and Schlatt couldn’t help but think about how natural this felt.

The conversation drifted into familiar territory—small towns, high school, shared experiences.

“Do you ever think about those days?” she asked, her voice softer now. “Like, high school? Feels like forever ago.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Mostly about how dumb I was back then. Definitely didn’t have my shit together.”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully. “You seem pretty together now.”

Her words hit him harder than they should’ve. He wasn’t used to compliments like that—not ones that felt this genuine.

“Thanks,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I, uh, I try.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the distant thrum of the party fading into the background. The patio lights cast a soft glow over her face, and Schlatt felt the words rising in his throat before he could stop them.

“I’m really glad I ran into you,” he said quietly.

She looked at him, her expression unreadable for a split second before her smile softened. “Me too.”

His heart thudded in his chest. He wasn’t sure what this meant, if it was fate or just dumb luck, but he wasn’t about to let the moment slip away.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

Schlatt leaned back on the bench, one arm draped over the backrest, his other hand loosely gripping a bottle of soda. The park was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cars. It wasn’t a bad spot for a hangout—neutral, laid-back, the kind of place where you could talk without having to shout over bad music or a dozen other voices.

That was the problem, though. The talking.

“...and then Brad said he just needed ‘more.’ Can you believe that?” She huffed, crossing her arms as she turned to look at him. “More? What does that even mean?”

Schlatt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t cruel—he got it. Breakups sucked. But this was the third time this week she’d brought up Brad, and the guy was starting to feel like a ghost haunting his Saturday night.

“Yeah,” Schlatt said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. “Classic Brad move.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean, ‘classic Brad move’? You didn’t even know him.”

“Don’t have to,” he replied, taking a sip from his bottle. “He sounds like every guy who peaked in high school. Let me guess: football team? Wore a backwards cap even when it didn’t make sense?”

She let out a small laugh, the corners of her mouth twitching upward before the somber expression returned. “He wasn’t like that. I mean, yeah, he was on the football team, but he was sweet. At least, he used to be.”

Schlatt hummed noncommittally, eyes drifting to the swingset in the distance.

“Do you think I pushed him away?” she asked suddenly, her voice quieter now. “Like, maybe I was too clingy or something.”

Schlatt looked at her, the bottle halfway to his lips. “What? No. That’s stupid.”

She flinched slightly, and he winced at his own bluntness.

“I mean,” he amended, softer this time, “it’s not on you if the guy couldn’t handle a normal relationship. Sounds like he just… sucks.”

“He doesn’t suck,” she said quickly, defensively. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Not completely, anyway.”

Schlatt fought the urge to groan. He didn’t get it. Here she was—smart, funny, thoughtful, and stupidly pretty—and she was still hung up on some guy who had the emotional range of a brick.

She sighed, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m the problem. Like, if I just worked on myself—got more confident, lost a little weight, maybe learned how to keep a conversation interesting—maybe he’d come back.”

Schlatt sat up straighter, the frustration bubbling in his chest. “What are you even talking about? You don’t need to change anything about yourself for anybody, least of all some dude who ditched you for ‘space.’”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. “I’m not saying I’m doing it for him,” she said quickly, though her voice wavered. “I just… I want to be better, be more, you know? For me. But also for him. I don’t know—it’s complicated.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Schlatt said, his tone sharper than he intended. “He’s not worth it. You’re sitting here tearing yourself apart over some guy who probably doesn’t even realize what he lost.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she stared at him like she was weighing his words, trying to figure out if he was right or if she was just fooling herself. But then, as if to herself more than to him, she murmured, “I just… I want him back, Schlatt. That’s all. If I can fix myself, maybe I can make him realize we were supposed to be together.”

Schlatt stared at her, the frustration building in his chest. He didn’t know how to explain it—how to make her see that she didn’t need Brad or his empty promises to be whole. But the words felt stuck, like they were too big to say all at once.

“You don’t need him,” he said instead, voice quieter now. “You’re not broken, and you don’t have to be ‘better’ for someone else. You’re already enough.” He added the last part with more force than he intended, his voice coming out a little rougher than he wanted.

She shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her hands, like she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “I know, logically. But… It just feels like if I get better, if I’m just better than I was before, then maybe he’ll come back and realize it’s me he needs. Maybe then we can be the way we were.”

“Seriously?” Schlatt couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. “So you’re just gonna spend all your time trying to turn yourself into someone else? Someone he might like more?”

“It’s not like that—”

“Yeah, it is,” he interrupted, his voice tight. “You’re sitting here convinced that if you change, if you just become a better version of yourself, he’ll come back. What kind of relationship is that? Do you even hear yourself?”

She winced at the heat in his words, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she fell silent again, eyes fixed on her shoes. He could feel the weight of the silence between them, and his stomach churned.

He didn’t know what to say next—didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t want to fix her, but the whole thing made him angry, made him want to shake her out of this fog she’d gotten herself caught in.

“You deserve someone who sees you for who you are,” he said after a long pause, softer this time, trying to calm himself. “Not someone who needs you to be a version of yourself you’re not.”

“I don’t want to be someone else,” she said, her voice small now, “but… if I can just prove to him that I’m worth it…”

“You don’t have to prove anything to him,” Schlatt snapped, then immediately regretted it. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm that was brewing inside him. “I just… I don’t get why you’re doing this to yourself. You’ve got so much going for you. You’re better than Brad. You always have been.”

She didn’t answer right away, but Schlatt could tell the words weren’t landing like he wanted them to. She just stared off into the distance, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“You know,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, trying to find some way to reach her, “you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna find someone who actually gets you. Someone who doesn’t need you to change, because they’re gonna love you for who you are. Not some Brad-shaped ghost who doesn’t even deserve your time.”

She finally looked at him then, her expression unreadable.

“I just… I don’t know how to stop thinking about him,” she whispered.

And there it was. Schlatt knew he wasn’t going to win this fight tonight. She was caught up in something he couldn’t fix, something deeper than just words. And he hated that.

“Then stop,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You deserve better than this. Don’t waste any more time on someone who doesn’t see what he’s losing.”

The words were there, but somehow, they felt hollow now. She wasn’t hearing him. She wasn’t ready to. And that, more than anything, frustrated him.

But all he could do was sit there, the silence growing thick and uncomfortable between them.

He wasn’t sure what else to say. And she wasn’t sure how to stop feeling the way she did.

when I felt that I should leave, (midnight or so)

The party was a mistake. Schlatt knew it before he’d even shown up, before he’d even agreed to come along like some kind of idiot. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting. That things would somehow change between them? That if he stood close enough to her, if he lingered in her orbit long enough, she’d finally turn her head and see him standing there?

Stupid. He should’ve known better.

The house was packed, the air humid with sweat and alcohol, a suffocating mix of cheap cologne and cheaper beer that made his stomach churn. He stood near the edge of the living room, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and a red Solo cup dangling loosely from his fingers. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached, but he didn’t relax it. Couldn’t. Not when he could see her across the room, right in the center of it all.

She hated parties. She’d told him that, hadn’t she? Said the noise made her feel small, like she was drowning in the crowd. But tonight, here she was, in the middle of the chaos, smiling like she belonged. Like she wasn’t just another person trying to stay afloat.

Because Brad was here.

Brad.

That name alone made Schlatt’s blood boil. The guy had everything Schlatt hated—a big, dumb grin, a shirt a size too small to show off muscles he probably worked on more than his GPA, and that cocky swagger that somehow made girls fall over themselves. She wasn’t immune to it, either. That was the worst part.

Schlatt’s stomach twisted as he watched them. Brad leaned in close, his mouth right next to her ear, saying something Schlatt couldn’t hear over the bass of whatever shitty remix was playing. Whatever it was, it made her laugh—one of those full, unrestrained laughs that Schlatt always thought were rare and special, at least until tonight. Now, she was giving it to him.

He drained what was left of his drink in one bitter gulp.

It got worse. Of course it got worse.

Brad’s hand was on her arm now, fingers curling just enough to make it clear it wasn’t accidental. She didn’t move away. And then, because apparently the universe loved to kick him when he was down, Brad’s hand slid lower, down her back, settling just above her hip. Schlatt’s grip on the empty cup tightened, the plastic crackling under his fingers.

When Brad’s hand dipped lower, giving her a firm, casual slap on the ass, Schlatt’s chest felt like it was going to explode.

She didn’t pull away. She didn’t tell him to fuck off, or even brush his hand aside. No, she beamed. Beamed like he’d just handed her the moon, and Schlatt thought he might be sick right there, in the middle of this goddamn party.

He needed air.

He pushed off the wall, the cup slipping from his grip and bouncing forgotten onto the floor. He shoved his way through the crowd, not bothering to excuse himself as shoulders and elbows bumped against him. The front door was in sight, and all he could think about was getting out of there, getting away from her and Brad and the noise and the suffocating crush of people.

The door slammed shut behind him, muffling the pounding music and drunken chatter. He sucked in a breath of cold night air, the chill biting at his skin, and let it out slowly.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. His Yankees cap was shoved into his back pocket—he’d taken it off earlier because she’d once said he looked better without it. Another stupid thing he’d done for her that she probably didn’t even notice.

He stalked over to the curb and sat down heavily, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the cracked pavement under his boots. His head was spinning, but not from the alcohol.

What the hell had he been thinking? That she’d just stop liking Brad because he’d told her he was an idiot? That she’d suddenly look at him and see him for what he was—someone who gave a shit, someone who’d never treat her like some accessory at a party? He snorted bitterly at the thought. Yeah, right. She didn’t glow for him. She never had.

She didn’t know her worth.

Not in this town, not with these people, and sure as hell not with Brad. She didn’t know how fucking special she was, didn’t see what he saw—the spark in her laugh, the way she bit her lip when she was trying to hold back a grin, the way she made his shitty days feel just a little less shitty. She didn’t see it. And even if she did, it wasn’t for him.

The door behind him opened, spilling noise and laughter into the quiet night, and he tensed. For a split second, he thought maybe it was her. But when he heard a different voice, one of her friends, shrill and drunk, shouting something about shots, he exhaled and stayed where he was, hidden in the shadows.

He didn’t want to see her right now. Didn’t want her to see him like this.

So he sat there, staring at the cracks in the pavement, letting the cold settle into his bones, letting the bitterness churn in his stomach. He stayed until the noise from inside faded into a distant hum, until he could feel the sting behind his eyes and swallow it down before it spilled over.

All he could hope for was that time would fix it. That she’d get better. That she’d stop wasting herself on assholes like Brad.

That maybe, one day, she’d see him.

The air had turned colder. Schlatt didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there on the curb, staring at the cracks in the pavement like they held the answers to his mess of a life. The door to the house kept swinging open and shut, spilling snippets of muffled music and drunken shouts into the night. He tried to tune it out, to let the bite of the cold keep him numb, but he couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head: her glowing under Brad’s touch, preening like his attention was a prize.

It had made him sick. Still did.

He heard the door open again, the sound barely registering until he caught the familiar click of her heels against the concrete. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but then there she was, stepping into the night like a shattered version of herself.

She was crying.

The sight of her, mascara smudged and shoulders trembling, made his stomach twist. But instead of getting up and rushing to her side like he always did, he stayed seated, staring as she sank onto the curb a few feet away from him.

“He was making out with someone else,” she choked out after a moment, her voice cracking like a broken record. “Right there in the kitchen. Like I wasn’t even—” Her words dissolved into a sob, and she buried her face in her hands.

Schlatt didn’t move. He didn’t reach out. His hands stayed firmly planted on his knees, clenched into fists, the cool night air biting into his knuckles.

She sniffled, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Schlatt, I don’t—why does he do this? Why do I—”

He cut her off with a bitter laugh, sharp and jagged. “Why do you? Really, that’s the question, huh?”

She blinked at him, her tear-streaked face crumpling in confusion.

“You’re sitting here crying over Brad. Brad, who’s probably too drunk to remember your name right now. Brad, who doesn’t give a single shit about you, and you’re still killing yourself trying to make him notice you.” He stood, pacing a short line in front of her, his hands gesturing wildly as he talked. “You don’t see it, do you? You don’t see what you’re doing to yourself.”

“Schlatt, I—”

“No.” He cut her off, his voice rising. “You don’t get to interrupt me this time. You’re so fucking blind. You walk around like you’re nothing, like you have to earn scraps of attention from some meathead who doesn’t even deserve to look at you. And all the while, you’re stepping on people who actually care about you. You’re stepping on me.”

Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but he didn’t let her.

“You glow, you know that? You light up a room just by walking into it. But not for me, of course. Not for the guy who actually gives a shit. No, you glow for Brad. For assholes who treat you like garbage, and then you come crying to me like I’m supposed to pick up the pieces.”

The words came tumbling out, unfiltered, raw. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he’d just reached his breaking point, but he didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t hold it in.

“I like you.” The confession hit the air like a gunshot, loud and final. Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened, but he didn’t stop. “I fucking like you. And it kills me, because no matter what I do, no matter how many times I’m there for you when guys like Brad screw you over, it’s like I don’t even exist. You’re so busy chasing people who don’t deserve you that you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

“And you know what? I can’t do it anymore.” His voice cracked on the last word, but he didn’t care. He stood up, brushing his hands against his jeans like he could shake off the weight of everything he’d just said. “I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself for someone who doesn’t care. I can’t keep sitting here, pretending I’m okay with being your second choice—or your last choice, or whatever the hell I am to you.”

She stared up at him, frozen, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the glow of the streetlight. For once, she didn’t have anything to say.

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You know what? It doesn’t even matter. You’re never going to see it. And I can’t—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep watching you kill yourself for someone who doesn’t give a shit while you treat me like trash. I’m done.”

Her breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks, but he didn’t stay to see what she’d say. He couldn’t.

Schlatt turned and walked away, the cold night air biting at his skin as he left her sitting there, crying on the curb. He didn’t know where he was going—just that he needed to get the hell away. Away from her, away from the mess he’d just made.

He didn’t look back.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: one thing about me is i cannot keep a consistent format. I apologize greatly for switchin it up on you guys again. i hope you guys like this one !!!! you guys are all sodear to me so dont hesitate to yap or send asks or whateva, i promise even tho i dont post all that often im still very much here. okay coool.

-dottie <3

#maple recs

145 notes · View notes

maplegracefour · 7 months ago

Text

loved this so much

underneath it all.

submission by anon 🍓 ! your idea was too cute to not write, i hope you enjoy !! <3 [ i just put it in this format considering the amount of detail you put into it, kisses !!! :> ]

summary : the two of you meet at party, where you're met with schlatt's million dollar personality. there was obviously more than what met the eye it seemed. comfort unravels all, but could it unravel schlatt and his insistence that the 'real him' wasn't beneficial to anyone's heart?

notes :

⟡ ݁₊ | drunken flirting, insecure schlatt, mostly just banter and kissin', unexpected love! trope.

⟡ ݁₊ | fem reader.

⟡ ݁₊ | word count : 6.7k [ oh dear god. ]

the smell of sativa, the sound of a playlist that's probably named ‘vibes’ is playing, you can see at least four beer stains on the carpet from a ten foot radius. it couldn't be mistaken, you were at a party. which was rather surprising considering your normal attitude towards them. always fawning about how life has much more to offer than budweiser and some white girl who NEEDS every guy to know she knows the entirety of bonfire by childish gambino. though in your superiority complex, some bits of it were waning when it came to your roommate who bullied you into going. the second the two of you made your way in, your roomie pretty much just left you in the dust. great. it's loud, and not only that, now you were just stuck by your lonesome. no one here looked interesting enough to talk to. you just felt stuck, maybe even a bit stuck UP.

you look around the rooms at any potential victims, not really seeing much of a pallet. that's what you hated about these kinds of places, how everyone looked the same. how it felt like a hundred pairs of the same eyes were dawning on you, making your skin crawl at the slight thought. so you passed through the wave of gym bros with perms, girls who clung onto them with a seltzer in their hands, and almost feeling bad for the poor girls. you just tried to shut your brain up and remind yourself everyone has fun in their own ways, yeah whatever. you eventually found yourself in the dining room where it felt like if you made one wrong move something would be poured on you. luckily nothing did though, you just carelessly grabbed the half empty bottle of honey jack and went on your merry way.

you meet the bottle with your lips and let yourself feel the warm rush swim down your system, you were just eager to not feel so on edge. well, it wasn't necessarily edge per say; more like you haven't done this in ages and you're realizing how annoying the general public is to you once again! that was just the more nihilistic answer for such a query. you wipe your lips as the warmth continues to travel down your abdomen, making things just a little easier. you look to your left and see the dimly lit hallway, curiosity getting the best of you. you wouldn't mind just laying on the carpet of some random bedroom floor while getting shitfaced, seemed like a dream. you hold onto the wall slightly as the burning started to intensify in your stomach, you knew you shouldn't have ate so quickly before leaving. great job, you.

you tried your best to stabilize your breathing so you could keep yourself from feeling nauseous, that little body trick seemed to work every time. your eyes peer up to a cracked door, cocking your head at it before looking back down to the start of the hallway where you just were; making sure no one would know you went in here. not because you were embarrassed, you just didn't want to be fucking bothered. so maybe if you hid out, this night would be alright. you clutched onto your bottle to take another swig, before pushing open the door and not seeing anyone. that's weird. you took a look of the covers on the bed, how they had little stars on them; cute. you sigh, thinking you were in the clear. pushing yourself more into the room as you closed your eyes to take another swig of your honey jack.

“you enjoyin’ that?” a rather deeper voice calls out, making you jump like a deer when they hear a fucking twig snap. you turn to him and rub your eyes, he looked oddly familiar. you just couldn't put your finger on it, considering you were getting drunker by the minute. “sorry- is this your room?” you quickly choke out, thinking to yourself of how you stupid you’ve made yourself look already. this was the exact opposite of what you wanted to happen. he stuffs his phone into his hoodie and runs a hand up his neck with a gentle smile, why did he look so familiar? it was almost pissing you off that you couldn't put your finger on it. damn alcohol. “not mine- it's no bother.” he mutters out with a soft chuckle. he was leaned up against the corner of his room, presumably just on his phone before you came in. you realized he was probably doing the exact same thing you were attempting to do. interesting.

“oh. alright then.” you reply with a quiet tone, just letting yourself lean against the closet doors. on the opposite side of the room from the mysterious dude, you tried to keep your eyes on the floor as you swallowed the warm rush. “what? you in here cause you don't wanna be out there?” he blurts out with a grin, making you look back at him with a soft nod; bringing the bottle of jack back to your lips once again. seems he had his own as well, your vision too fucked to even try to read the bottle. oh well. “is it obvious?” you sneer out as you let your entire body weight just slump against the door, the jack was hitting; and hitting particularly harsh tonight. so much for ‘i will go easy tonight!’ bullshit.

he chuckles at your statement, shrugging before taking his own bottle and bringing it to his lips. he was drinking it neat as well, huh. looked particularly nice. “you like tennessee honey too?” he says as he eyes the bottle in your hand, catching you a bit off guard. you two were sharing the same drink, same room, same weird tension about the hatred you two had for the party. you softly nod and shake the bottle slightly to show it off. “if it gets me drunk, i like it.” you mutter out, putting the bottle down on the floor a moment. you were definitely getting to the moment where you needed to pace yourself or else you’d blackout. he begins eyeing your movements, a bit surprised you were attempting to be smart.

“you sure don't look too happy to be here.” he snickers out as he swirls the bottle in his hand with a grin. you just shrug and kick your foot to the wall to balance yourself better, “yeah? you look about the same.” you snap back, realizing that sounded really bitchy. “sorry- but yeah. i’m not exactly the happiest here.” you quickly mutter out, your eyes meeting with his again. he just blowed off the attitude and shrugged to your apologies. “no, you were right just then.” he says as he leers his eyes over to the window, watching as the disco lights danced on the grass. you follow his gaze and notice how they moved; even outside. “any particular reason you're not happy to be here then?” you question, wondering to yourself if this conversation was really all that worth it at the moment.

“now why’d i tell that to a complete stranger?” he snickers out as he pulls his gaze back to you, he couldn't lie. you were rather cute, just his inferiority complex got the best of him. you shrug to his reply, maybe he had a point. then again, this was a party; isn't that how it always went? then again, maybe this was a really weird situation you needed to get yourself out of. “i think i’m cool enough to say things like that to.” you state with a weak grin, cocking your head to the side as you try your best to stabilize yourself on the wall once more. he secretly liked that answer; how ambiguous your attitude was. maybe you were cool enough. “you think that highly of yourself, huh.” he sneered back as he picked on his jacket. “no, i actually think i’m a massive loser; hence why i’m drunk at a party and talking to a stranger in someone's bedroom.” you admit with a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

he really was beginning to piece together your character, how you were probably filled with so much self hate it was kind of narcissism if you squinted. what was the word, oh yeah- deadpan. that's exactly what you were, which weirdly intrigued him. how quick you were to be blunt, but then again, maybe it was the alcohol in your system. still made him interested though. “pretty interesting stranger you ran into.” he sputters out, almost in fear that you didn't recognize him. if so, he wasn't used to that at these kinds of parties. cause if you had no idea who he was, he’d just look like an uptight idiot. you take a moment to take in his face details, going over his muttoncho- OH MY GOD. the reality dawned upon you. god, you were really drunk.

“fucking- what? schlatt?” you somehow managed to get out, making schlatt immediately nod in admission. he almost wanted you to not know who he was for a moment, just so he could be himself; now he felt like he had to overplay his character. “who the fuck else would be wearing these god awful side burns?” he snickers out, wrapping his arms together tightly. “why? you surprised a fuck like me is in a place like this? i could buy the fuckin building if i wanted to.” his tone was much more confident, but you could easily tell it was a facade. you kind of already missed his calmer demeanor, it felt so much nicer. yeah, sure, you watched him when he popped up and he acted like this cocky asshole, but something about how he was acting before felt almost comforting.

“more like asking, how i didn't recognize you. i really have drunk way too much. maybe it's your hair. i don't know.” you stammer out, the reality of the situation was hitting you. slowly, but it was getting there. just a little tough when alcohol makes your brain go one mile an hour. he slowly nods and watches how your face slowly changes to match your confused daze, it was almost adorable. “hair? what's so different about my hair?” he says a bit louder, his tone was so much more cocky. you were practically begging internally for him to just act normal. maybe he was doing this because he wanted you to leave? though that possibility made your stomach hurt, he seemed so cool at first.

“it's just, shorter?” you mutter out as you rub your eyes and lean further to the wall, letting your drunken head drop a little to accommodate your heavy feeling that surrounds your body like a sickness. “shorter… shorter… gotcha.” he seethes out as he clicks his tongue, tapping his foot lightly on what to say. “so what? is it bad?” he snickers and raises an eyebrow at you, almost scared for your answer. you seemed rather blunt in the nature of conversations. you look at him with your head cocked for a moment, reeling in his appearance. he had to have been using filters or something considering he looked genuinely so tired in person. poor guy. “i think you need some face framing shit.” you blabber out, what were you going on about? you just practically insulted a famous dude? hello??? so you just standing there and hope to anything that hears you, that he doesn't run away.

“oh, some weird shit like this?” he cackles out as he pulls down his curls to his face, his hair seemed to be a lot longer straight. the temporary style he had given himself was really funny too. just still, something felt incredibly off. “yeah, something like that. you should really straighten your hair for the fun of it.” you playfully poke at him, you were really starting to wonder some things though. if he knew you knew exactly who he was, why was he not leaving? was it because he felt obligated to? something in you just had to say something; you just didn't know exactly how to. “yeah, i’ll totally do something like that.” he snickers sarcastically as he shakes his head. “maybe it’ll get you a lot of publicity - i can see it already, twitter barring their hands on your whole ‘new image’ or something like that.” you state with a weak grin, your body was really not adapting to the alcohol well.

“i’ve been clear of twitter drama for a while, so i’ll be happy to keep it that way.” he rolls his eyes as he speaks, it just all still felt peculiar. you just look at him for a moment and grab the bottle of jack from beside your feet, looking to the door. “you leaving?” he questions before taking a long swig of his own bottle. you whip your head back to him and lazily shrug, “yeah- uh, probably. figured you just want, like, the space to yourself, yknow?” you admit, you didn't want to make him uncomfortable for christ’s sake. the fear was quickly enveloping inside of you, it was easy for him to see as well. he took a small step towards you, not to be creepy, but you get the message from his movements. “it's not all that important to me.” he quickly sputters out, the sentence alone catching you off guard. he sounded like how he did at the start again. which was a feverish whiplash to you.

“it's really-” you say before your throat catches up with you, “not that big of a deal- i probably gotta check on my friend anyhow.” you stammer out, trying your best to not make intense eye contact with him. don't wanna scare the guy, now do you? he looked kind of disappointed with your answer, as if he just wanted to keep the sort of quirk filled conversation going. you were a ‘fan’ of some sort, but you were a little cool. at least in the midst of his one track mind that was heavily influenced by the whiskey. “why hasn't she checked on you then?” his words seemed to fog in your head, making you stuck still. he had a point, she was probably playing beer pong with a couple dudes without a worry in mind. part of you was honestly starting to feel like you going to check on her would honestly just bug down her mood.

“well hold on now, i’m sure she has-” you say as you pull your phone to check on any notifications, nope. no text message from your roommate, that was sort of predictable in a way. “yeah, she hasn't.” you quietly replied. making you look back up to him with your phone’s light glowing on your face, as if the empty notification box was mocking you. “so what's the bother to do it now?” he states as he leans himself back on the wall, his eyes pretty much stuck on your face. you couldn't correctly pinpoint what that look meant, but you really wanted to. “can i be honest?” you sputter out, your mouth acting faster than your head. he just softly nods and lets you sprawl your thoughts out. “i just don't want to be annoying with you.” you admit, your eyes almost showing a glimmer of fear, because what if that sentence was the one that did it? that just made this entire go to shit? it was already pretty far in the gutter, but to make a famous dude mad, now that’d just be preparing your casket all by yourself.

his eyes softly narrowed at you as you said that, but he couldn't act surprised. it's how he portrayed himself on the internet when it came to ‘fan’ interactions, now wasn't it? “so i can just- head out and find another room if there's not two people already fucking in it-” you blabber out again, god why couldn't you stop talking. but he quickly stopped you with waving his hand softly in the air in disagreement, “you- jesus. you don't have to do all that. you seem like alright company.” he cracks a weak smile as he talks, making you a bit more comfortable with the fact of staying in the room with him. it was just hard to not let your head overindulge on every word he said; was it genuine? was it just because he felt bad considering you came alone with a friend who hadn't even had the decency to keep you around? “sorry about the tone earlier- it's just, how i do my whole thing. yknow when fans are around.” he admits, a hint of embarrassment knitted in his words. you acknowledge his admission with a gentle nod. it made sense at least. put up a wall so it's easier to hide behind, and you knew that feeling the worst.

“well i’m not- trying to cut off your hair and sell it on ebay if that's what you're implying.” you chuckle out, making him join in with you with the quiet but slightly awkward laughter. it really was painfully awkward but at the same time, comfortable? maybe that was the wording for something like this? “you sure? maybe it could be a deal of some sort.” he jokes as he adjusted the collar of his shirt with a smile. “what kind of fucked up deal would that be?” you chuckle out once more, the tone was suddenly becoming much more warm. the banter was almost too friendly, cause for all you knew; maybe he was insane. didn't seem to matter too much considering how fun it was to banter with him after all, or maybe he was just funny due to the jack in your system. either way, it was nice. simple and nice.

“you get my hair and i uh-” he thought for a moment, wondering if this was a moment to be corny. did the moment call for it? “i get your number.” he snickers out. almost a bit terrified of that admission, so he quickly backpedaled, “no- no, no. sorry bad joke.” he stammers out as he puts his hands up in defense with an almost forced grin, you could tell too. “yeah, need to start writing them down just so you can burn em.” you roll your eyes as you take another swig from your bottle. there it was again, the same attitude that weirdly intrigued him. oh god, was his type quiet bitchy girls? he didn't like them too bitchy but- you were perfectly spoken with the way he liked it. he almost hated it, due to him not expecting to have any type of interaction like this tonight. he honestly thought the only thing that would come through the door would be a drunk couple trying to get it on, not some apathetic drunk girl who was weirdly appealing.

“i’ll keep my liners to myself then.” he sneered out as he felt his body slowly getting heavier, it took him a lot to get drunk; but it seemed it was one of those nights where it really hit him. “not liking ‘tennessee honey’ so much anymore, are you?” you ask with a quiet sigh. what was really the purpose of this conversation, you could just call an uber if you really wanted. you didn't though, and that sudden realization hit you rough. “i’d never- ever. turn on this.” he snickers out, his balance progressively getting worse. even though you were above his level of alcohol intake, something just switched in you as you saw his body start to slip. you quickly dash over to hover your hands around him in the case of him falling, he was really close to the wooden headboard; so if he fell he’d hit the thing pretty fucking hard. “careful there.” you stammer out, your course of action surprised him. so you saw him nearly slip and suddenly you're a super hero of some sort? just ready to catch him? it made things a bit heavy, even a bit of an awkward silence as the two of you just looked at one another.

the awkwardness wasn't really present for him at least, he was just stuck being fixated on how much care seemed to swim in the color of your eyes. how your eyebrows slightly tilted down to show how high on alert you were, it was adorable to say the least. “you’d do that?” he quietly asked, catching you off guard in the midst of the silence. his eyes looked so much softer, as if he was searching for something in your face. whatever it was, you had no clue. “it's just- rude to let drunk people be stupid.” you somehow managed to get out, maybe that was convincing. he just slowly nodded, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, oh he was gonna go down eventually. you sigh and keep your eyes on him, snapping your fingers in his face to help him find reality again.

“hey- hey. if you're gonna sleep. at least lay down.” you get out as quickly as possible, watching as his eyes slowly came back open. relieved at the fact, you look to his arms and back to his eyes. “do you- shit. you need help?” you ask, a bit reluctant to though. you didn't want to even poke him, in fear you’d make him uneasy. you were already making him uneasy though, just not in the way you were imagining. he shrugs and pushes himself off the wall to tumble himself over to the bed, he knew it wasn't his; but it was incredibly comfortable when he found himself on it. the sudden hit of his body against the body startled you a bit, but it quickly festered away once you realized he was just fine. you just crossed your arms and watched as his eyes closed back up again. guess he was out for the night. what a weird introduction.

you begin to walk towards the door, grabbing your bottle of jack as gently as could; in an attempt to be quiet to just let him rest. you take a swig and near the door further. right as the warmth travels to your stomach, making your hand practically twitch to the door; your hear him. “hey-hey i’m not asleep.” he mutters, you look back to him as you lean against the door. “no need to torture yourself.” he lazily chuckles, adding on. you softly shake your head with a weakened smile, seeing as his eyes were so heavy lidded. it's like he was fighting himself to stay awake; was it just so he could talk to you? well don't be silly. be rational, at least. “you're literally passing out on me.” you state, you weren't exactly wrong but that wasn't going to stop him apparently. he just shook his head into the pillow as he gently raised his body up to relax on the soft pillow better. he looked utterly huge for the bed, considering it was a twin. almost like it was comical, guess he really did live up to “big guy.”

“see, fine. we're just- just fine.” you could see how he was scrunching up his face to wake himself up better, as if he was doing any type of ‘exercise’ to push adrenaline into his system. maybe he just really hated the idea of sleeping in another person's bed? you just softly nod to his claim, his eyes were slowly widening more at least. you swivel the bottle in your hand for a moment, looking down to how it swirled; almost too nervous to try and make eye contact with him. what was even the deal? he seemed chill at least? he didn't even seem like the ‘persona’ or whatever, then again you were truly too drunk to focus on things like that. you could give a shit less if obama was right in front of you, with your tolerance you’d give him a thumbs up and pass out. “you can come here yknow. i know your feet are probably tired or somethin.” he stammered out again, his tone laced with a hint of pleading. it was almost odd to hear, well it was. you really weren't anticipating something like this for tonight.

you looked over to him, almost hesitating on taking the offer. what if you did something stupid? that was the biggest thing that was pissing you off, how utterly numb minded you felt. you couldn't tell if it was the jack daniels, schlatt, or even both. you needed yourself in some sort of role of control, especially over yourself, so this involuntary feeling of vulnerability felt unwarranted and scary. you just decided to pacify those stomach sinking thoughts and made your way to the bed, sitting on the end and neatly crossing your ankles, before looking back to his very tired face. his eyes looked really pretty up close, at least. “can i ask somethin?” you mutter as you begin to pick at your cuticles so you don't have to keep up with the eye contact, since it was so terrifying to you apparently. he slightly raises his body up more, almost as if he was trying to match your level. interesting. “oh no, you gonna bring up the ebay hair deal?” he snickers out, god he was funny. making you laugh along with him even when the anxiety was deeply unbridled into your nerves.

“no-no. not that. just- why are you so adamant i don't leave? that i don't go play beer pong or something? i could be crazy, you know that?” you jab at him a little at the end, just trying to make it not seem as heavy. your smile softly fading as you saw how he looked, he almost looked disappointed to hear you ask that. were you supposed to just, go along with it? “you wanna go play beer pong?” he quietly asked, his head leaned up against the headboard with a weak grin. you shake your head and lightly slap your thighs with a sigh, he was right in some way or another. “no. no i don't.” you reply with a softer tone than before, almost like a whisper. but he heard you, heard how the admission sounded. you sat there for a moment, awkwardly clutching the bottle of jack in your palm. unsure of what to do next.

the air admittedly felt a lot more tense, you couldn't seem to figure out why though? just something around you was making your introspective go crazy. a little too crazy. “guess you're stickin around?” he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow his face was half buried in. his tone was softer now, stripped of the bravado he’d been trying to maintain earlier; you’d be lying if you said it wasn't cute to you even the littlest bit. “someones gotta make sure you don't choke on your spit.” you mutter softly while eying the bedsheets, the little stars invoked a feeling out of you; it just wasn't clear if it was nostalgia or sadness. either way, you didn't want to feel either of those tonight. “well, aren't you just a saint.” he snickers out as he slowly moved his face out of the pillow so he could slightly peek at you, watching as your eyes stayed so stuck on the star blanket.

“thanks. i’ll add to my list of achievements.” you chuckle out as you begin picking at your pants, desperately praying that this conversation didn't go so awkward that there wasn't any turning back. you were sort of beginning to properly enjoy it, in spite of all the restless things your brain tried to keep up with. “well- that's a. good. yeah. good achievement,” he drunkenly states, the fact incredibly evident in his speech patterns. “you're so plastered.” you giggle out, trying to cover your mouth to muffle the noise in case it got too loud. only making him crack one eye open with a raised eyebrow. looking like he was ready to defend himself to any means necessary, even if he looked stupid wasted doing so.

“hey, i’m not that bad,” he defended, lifting his half-empty bottle like a trophy. “i’m still coherent. i can hold an intellectual conversation. like, uh…” he squinted, clearly trying to think of something smart. “what’s your favorite dinosaur?” you blinked. “seriously?” he nodded, very serious. “it says a lot about a person.”“fine,” you sighed. “triceratops.” He looked impressed, like you’d just passed some kind of test. “classic. good choice. strong, dependable, three horns … just like me.” “you’re comparing yourself to a triceratops now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he shrugged. “well, I’m strong, dependable… and I’m horny sometimes, so” the sudden comment almost made you freeze in spot, guess the two of you were ‘open’ enough now? “oh my god,” you groaned, laughing despite yourself as you lightly smacked his shoulder. “you’re ridiculous.” he just pokes at you back with a grin. “and yet, you’re still sitting here,” he countered, grinning smugly. “what does that say about you?” he let his fingers tip toe along the bedding, the same drunken smile plastered upon his face as he looked you; almost lovingly. it was kind of weird. a good weird though, kind of funny how that specific feeling was the one that kept arising.

“probably that i’ve had too much to drink,” you shot back, though you didn’t move. if anything, you found yourself relaxing, leaning back against the bottom of the headboard as the warmth of the whiskey and his unexpected awkward charm started to win you over. he took another swig of his drink, his grin softening into something a little less cocky and a little more genuine. “y’know,” he started, his voice quieter now, “i don’t usually get to do this.”

“do what?” you asked, glancing over at him. “talk to someone who doesn’t want something from me,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling. “it’s… nice.” you weren’t sure how to respond to that at first, so you just said the truth. “well, i’m not exactly here for autographs.” he laughed softly, glancing at you again. “good. cause my handwriting is terrible.”

for a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, the noise of the party a distant hum. you weren’t sure how this night had taken such a weird turn, but for once, you weren’t complaining. his breath tickled your lips as he hovered there, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. the tension was palpable, like the air between you was charged with static. and yet, for all the build-up, he was just… standing there, frozen.

“i, uh—” he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing. “sorry. i’m just—this is a lot of pressure, you know?” you raised an eyebrow. “i’m literally doing nothing.” you slightly lean your face back and scoff playfully. “exactly!” he threw his hands up, his voice pitching higher in his flustered state. “that’s the problem. you’re just sitting there, looking all… all like that.” he said as he let his eyes linger selfishly along you, not in a lustful way; more as admiration in that sort of deal. it was obvious the whiskey has melted any type of filter, it didn't matter much to him anymore. “like what?” you tuck your knees under your chin with a quiet sigh. “like—like you’re perfect or something,” he blurted, then immediately winced. “okay, nope. that was way too much. i sound like a cheesy rom-com reject. god.” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than usual, and muttered under his breath, “god help me.”

you bit back a laugh, equal parts endeared and exasperated. “you’re overthinking this.” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “i know i’m overthinking this. do you think i want to be this way? my brain’s just like, ‘hey, let’s make this moment incredibly awkward,’ and i’m like, ‘no, thanks,’ but it doesn’t listen.” you just nod as you let him talk, he really did appear to act more so like a dork; jusr your luck though considering … well dorks were exactly your type. “maybe you should try not talking for a second,” you suggested, your voice teasing but with just enough heat to make his breath hitch. “right. yeah. great idea.” he nodded rapidly, his expression serious like he was preparing for some weird high stakes operation. “okay. no talking. just… doing. i can do this.”

“please,” you deadpanned, “go ahead.” he stared at you for another long, excruciating second, like he was running through a checklist in his head. then, with a sudden burst of determination, he leaned in and managed to bump his forehead against yours in the process. “sorry!” he yelped, pulling back like he’d just set off an airbag. “that was; wow. that was so bad. are you okay? did i hurt you?” you couldn’t help it; you laughed, the sound breaking through the tension. “you’re fine. i’m fine. just… try again.” his cheeks flushed a deep red, but he nodded, biting his lip like he was trying to stop himself from apologizing again. “right. okay.”

he leaned in more carefully this time, moving slower than necessary, like he thought you might startle. when his lips finally brushed yours, it was tentative at first, but there was something sweet in the hesitancy; like he wanted to make sure he didn’t mess it up again. and then, as the kiss deepened, something shifted. the nerves didn’t vanish completely; this was him, after all- but they faded into the background, replaced by warmth and sincerity. his hand moved to your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt like he wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to touch. when he finally pulled back, his lips slightly swollen and his hair a mess from where your fingers had accidentally missed it, he looked at you with wide eyes. “was that… okay? i mean, i didn’t, like, accidentally head-butt you again, right?”

you smiled, leaning your forehead against his. “you’re good, dork.”“cool,” he said, his grin lopsided and impossibly endearing. “cool, cool, cool. so, uh… can i do that again?” you didn’t answer right away, partly because you were too busy biting back a smile, and partly because you enjoyed watching him squirm a little. his hand was still on your waist, his thumb brushing a slow, uncertain circle that betrayed just how nervous he still was. “i don’t know,” you said, drawing out the words like you were mulling it over. “what if the second time’s worse? what if you accidentally elbow me in the face or something?”

his eyes widened in alarm. “oh, god, is that a thing that could happen? i didn’t even think about elbows—now i’m thinking about elbows. why’d you have to say that?” you laughed, leaning back slightly, and his hand slipped from your waist. he looked briefly devastated, like he thought he’d completely ruined his chances, until you grabbed his shirt and tugged him closer again. “i was kidding,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. “you think too much. maybe that’s your problem.” you shake your head as you look at him. “yeah, well, overthinking is kind of my brand,” he muttered, though his grin was starting to come back. “i mean, what if i—”

you cut him off by kissing him this time, your lips brushing his mid-sentence. whatever half-formed thought was about to leave his mouth vanished, and he froze for just a second before he melted into the kiss, his arms looping around your waist with a little more confidence than before. his lips were soft and slightly chapped, and when you pulled away just far enough to catch your breath, he followed like he wasn’t ready to stop yet.

“that was-” he started, his voice a little breathless.

“good?” you supplied, smirking.

“yeah. is there a nice term for knowing what you're doing cause-” he blinked at you, looking dazed and slightly incredulous. “you just- made it so. good?”

“thanks?” you said, laughing. “you’re not bad yourself, you know.”

“not bad,” he repeated, mock-offended. “wow, okay, i see how it is. i pour my heart and soul into this kiss, and i get a ‘not bad.’”

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “i didn’t realize your ‘heart and soul’ included head-butting me first.”

“hey, that was part of the process,” he said, grinning now. “a very important… warm-up maneuver. you know, to, uh, break the tension.”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. very smooth of you.”

“thanks,” he said, beaming like you’d just handed him a medal. “i try.”

you shook your head, biting back another laugh, but before you could say anything else, he leaned in again, his grin fading into something softer.

“seriously, though,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “can i kiss you again? for real this time. no head-butting, no overthinking. just… this.”

you didn’t hesitate this time. “yeah,” you said, your smile fading as his lips brushed yours again. “somethin like this.”

as you two pulled together in a rather gentle kiss, yeah the alcohol had its play in it but if you were a bystander it would probably look like two people who were really passionate for one another. then again, who dictates when or fast that passion can start, cause who knows? maybe you already feel for him the way some people feel about their partners two years in- food for thought. that was too much to ponder about now though, it was just important to focus on the kiss. just focus on him. focus on the one good thing about your night.

suddenly the door flies open causing schlatt and i to slightly jump from the kiss and look to the door, seeing none other than the tall and burly mustached man himself, ted. schlatt gave ted an immediate look considering he had specifically told him to not bother him when he was in here. “my room comfy?” ted asked with a light chuckle, folding in his arms as he took a good view at the two of you. what a sight really, he hadn't seen schlatt do shit like this in ages. probably almost five, which is sort of mental! but, he knew he’d get it back eventually. and did. “um, i didn't know this was your room-” you stammer out. ted quickly realized he's just being terrorizing and MAY be scaring some folks, so maybe it was about the time to relax on the whole bit. just for now, maybe?

“oh there's no need to freak out- it's just a funny sight.” ted chuckles out as he leans in the corner, still taking in how the two of you look on the bed. schlatt held a strong glare at ted, as if his eyes were saying 'seriously?’ and the expression only making ted giggle out more. “glad you're weaning out of the superiority complex.” ted snickers out once more before leaning himself in the doorway, preparing to just ditch again. “you're a cunt.” schlatt sharply says as he leans himself against the headboard. “okay buddy.” ted just shakes his head and makes his way out, despite it being his own room. he at least knew how to be a decent ‘wingman.’

even with the childish star patterned bedding, everything about the moment felt aged. like a good wine, it was just you and him. thinking he could do no wrong, and maybe you’d keep that secret for a while. even if you could feel the passion growing in your chest, you’d have to be slow about things like this. especially for occasions like him.

author's note : HOLY FUCKING SHIT OKAY. i'm so sorry for the time this has taken me, but i hope you enjoy !! work has been a bother [ eugh ]

#maple recs

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