officialaemondtargaryen - Tumblr blog

officialaemondtargaryen · 10 days ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone - Part Four

Summary: When a friend from college contacts you about renting out your spare bedroom to her brother, you aren't really sure what to expect.

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.0k

Author's Note: Sorry I kind of forgot about this one. I'll try and get updates out more quickly. This one is for the anon who asked for an update. Probably would have continued forgetting about this if it weren't for you! Here's to hoping the next update takes less than six months!

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, sex, possible angst, pining & yearning, miscommunication, bit of a slow burn, and a lot of fluff, plus me attempting to be a comedian.

Masterlist | Playlist

Aegon was right, the wall was empty.

It had been since the day you first moved in. Blank. Beige. Unbothered. Not unlike your love life. It was something that you had become so accustomed to that you didn’t notice just how empty it really was, having passed by it a thousand times without a second glance. You were blind to the void that it represented until suddenly– there it was. Filled, but not just with color, or thread and gold beads, but with him.

Two weeks had passed since you both stumbled home from Helaena’s art show; laughing, drunk, and starving with bags of Jade Garden and snacks from the Freedom Mart up the street.

And he couldn’t wait to hang it for you. He’d insisted on doing it that night, despite your protests, and said that it absolutely could not wait. He had pushed up his sleeves and dug out your dad’s old hand-me-down toolbox that the old man had sworn you would need someday. You watched from the couch, barefoot and grinning with a box of Lo Mein, as he “eyeballed it”.

“There,” he said, stepping back to survey his work. “That wall’s been starin’ at me for weeks.”

Now it stares at you.

It should have meant nothing– but to you, it meant everything.

It meant that somewhere between splitting joints and the last crab rangoon, between the inside jokes and the butterflies, you had begun living in a future that didn’t belong to you. You’d begun daydreaming about forever, when in reality, you were living inside of a bubble– stretching thinner everyday, its walls shimmering and fragile. Deep down, you knew that at any moment, the needle would drop and this whole thing would burst.

And then what?

You’d spiral, obviously. Pack your shit into the same busted suitcases you moved in with, toss your books and your yarn into recycled boxes, and move across the country– never to be seen or heard from again. Leave him the apartment filled with your embarrassment and that goddamned painting.

Was it dramatic? Definitely. Were you still picturing him running after you in the airport and begging you to stay? Absolutely. But none of that mattered– not yet anyway. Because for now, the bubble was still intact. And despite your inner turmoil, you were going to be totally, perfectly, 100% fine.

Probably.

You were sitting on the kitchen counter, cereal bowl in hand, staring at the singular green coffee mug in the sink when someone knocked on the door. You didn’t move at first, too busy staring down that mug as if it were about to grow arms and legs and jump out at you. The knock came again, louder this time, followed by a muffled voice: “Knock, knock!”

You blinked out of your daze, setting your bowl aside with a soft clink against the countertop, and dragged yourself towards the door in the pajamas you hadn’t bothered to change out of yet. When you peeked through the peephole, you instantly recognized the silvery space buns and oversized sunglasses.

“Wasn’t expecting you!” You smiled as you opened the door.

“Hi,” she chirped, as bright as the midday sun itself, holding up your worn copy of Conversations With Friends. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop this off. You were right, it wasn’t as good as Normal People, but I still couldn’t put it down.”

“Told you,” You smiled, taking the book from her hands and stepped aside to let her in. She waltzed into your apartment like she owned the place, but that was how Helaena walked into every room; effortless and cool with her Doc Martens and cute dresses. “Aegon went out for a run.”

“S’okay,” she hummed and crossed the room to where her artwork hung on the wall. “This looks really great here. Catches the light from the window perfectly.”

You glanced at it too, the golden threads gleaming in the morning sun. “Yeah,” a small smile pulled at your lips. “He was adamant we needed something for that wall.”

There was a pause.

“We?” Helaena echoed, one perfectly arched brow lifting as she tilted her head towards you. Her voice wasn’t accusatory, but amused. Amused and curious in a way that made your stomach flutter with dread, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

“I– uh, by ‘we’ I mean ‘the apartment,’ obviously,” you said quickly, already regretting how fast the explanation left your mouth. You tried to backpedal, make it sound casual, redirect. “Like, as a whole. Collectively. The apartment needed something. You know, Feng Shui or whatever.”

“Feng Shui? You sound just like him.” She said with a smirk.

You could feel her watching you from the side as you tried very hard not to squirm. When you turned to her in protest, it was almost as if you could see the lightbulb clicking on over her head– like she’d just put two and two together and didn’t even need to check the math.

“You like him.” Her tone, as always, was sincere.

She wasn’t being judgmental or catty. Hell, she didn’t even seem all that surprised. She said it in a way that someone would say something obvious like, “the sky is blue”. And that, of course, made it all the more worse for you, because if Helaena had noticed within five minutes of being in your apartment, then you were being way more obvious than intended.

And if she could tell, chances were that Aegon could, too.

Great. Just great.

Your stomach flipped– annoyingly, involuntarily– and you laughed, too quickly. “What? No.”

Helaena didn’t press. She just tilted her head slightly, a knowing curve at the corner of her mouth as she turned her attention back to the painting with her arms folded over her chest.

You sighed in immediate defeat, “It’s that obvious?”

She smiled, but didn’t look at you, “It’s not not obvious.”

And just like that, the floor threatened to swallow you whole.

If Helaena, someone you’d only just begun to know outside the shared orbit of her brother, could figure it out so quickly, what were the chances he hadn’t? What were the odds that ‘Mr-I-Notice-Everything’ was somehow completely oblivious to this one thing? The lingering looks? Your feet brushing against his under the coffee table? You could already feel your cheeks heating, your mind spiraling through every interaction you’d had in the past two weeks, combing for any moment that might’ve cracked the facade.

She must’ve sensed you slipping too far into your own head, because her tone shifted. “Just… be careful,” she said as she pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes and grabbed her bag. “When I said he was messy, what did you think I meant?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, that he doesn’t pick up after himself?”

She snorted a laugh and crossed the living room towards the front door. “No, I meant that he’s a slut.”

You exhale, shoulders dropping in disappointment.

“I’m just being honest,” she said softly as she pulled the door open. “He crashed on my couch for a month before he moved in here and brought home a different girl every weekend.”

“That hasn’t happened here, thank God,” you mumbled more to yourself than to her.

Helaena leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, her expression unreadable behind her sunglasses, but you could still feel the weight of her gaze. “I’m not trying to scare you off,” she added, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. “I just think you should know what you’re walking into.”

“And what is that, exactly?” You ask as she steps out onto the front stoop.

She turned to you and shrugged, the corner of her mouth twisting into something between a smile and a wince and took a deep breath, “I don’t know. Best case? It’s great. Worst case?” She hesitated, weighing her words. “You sleep together, it gets weird, and then… you never talk again.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s optimistic.”

“Hey, fifty-fifty odds aren’t the worst,” she said, stepping down onto the sidewalk, sunlight catching in the silver strands of her hair. “And for what it’s worth, I do hope you’re the exception.”

You nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Thanks, I think.”

“Good luck, girly!” she called over her shoulder as she started down the block, then turned back, walking backwards a few steps. “Tell him to call me, yeah?”

The door clicked shut behind you and the apartment was quiet, leaving you alone with your thoughts, once again. You pressed your head against the door and sighed, telling yourself over and over again that you were okay. That everything was fine. It was just the proximity and hormones and the slow death of your better judgement, that’s all.

You peeled yourself away from the door slowly and turned to face the living room; your shoes next to his in the foyer, his XBox controller sitting on top of your most recent read on the coffee table, his hoodie hanging next to your raincoat– the arms seemingly entangled. Everything about this place had started to feel like him and the air was suddenly too thin.

Truth be told, you should just go ahead and start packing now. Move to Portland. Change your name. Dye your hair some vibrant shade of magenta. Open a bookstore. Thrift a whole new wardrobe. Become mysterious.

Maybe get a cat.

You’d never have to hear the name Aegon ever again.

Instead, you sank back into your bed with the weight of all your delusions, curled up so tightly in your duvet that it may have just been the only thing holding you together. You opened your laptop and queued up Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, wishing that you could do some erasing of your own. But, you didn’t even make it to Charles River before you fell asleep.

By the time you woke up, your laptop was dead and the sky outside your window was tinged with the dusky colors of an early sunset. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and fumble for your phone only to see that you had been out for over five hours. Shit. Apparently your body needed a rest after quietly crumbling beneath the emotional weight of your one-sided situationship.

You stretched beneath the covers, your limbs stiff and brain foggy. and the ache in your chest blooming fresh all over again now that you were conscious.

Aegon was in the living room. You could hear the faint sound of the evening news on the TV.

For a moment, you contemplated staying in the warmth of your bed. The thought of stepping out into that shared space made your stomach twist. Or maybe it was because you hadn’t eaten anything all day. Hard to tell. The line between physical and emotional hunger had started to blur a while ago.

What if she told him?

Of course she told him– she's his sister. She probably didn’t even make it to the end of the block before she had texted him. Regardless, it didn’t really matter, you’d have to face him eventually. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t hide in your room forever. Besides, you’d already stress-napped through most of the day. The least you could do was pull up your big girl panties and face your problems head on.

The living room was washed in the bluish light of the TV, flickering softly against the walls. The voice of a news anchor droned in the background, dry and detached, “…no official comment from Otto Hightower or other members of the TargCo executive board…”

“Hey,” Aegon says softly as you step into view. He reaches forward for the remote and flips the channel. “You’re alive.”

“Barely,” you croak, voice still thick with residual exhaustion. “Sorry I missed movie night.”

“You didn’t,” he smiles softly. “The night is still young, it’s only half past seven.”

“Feels like midnight,” you told him as you shuffled towards the kitchen to find something to eat.

“You were out cold,” he calls after you and there’s a smirk in his tone. “I checked to make sure you were still breathin’ at one point after you didn’t answer when I said I was orderin’ pizza. Guess you’ll just have to make do with pineapple.”

You padded into the kitchen, still blinking sleep from your eyes, bare feet cold on the tile floor. On the counter, there’s a half-eaten box of Hawaiian-style pizza. It’s still warm– the top propped open like an invitation. He even left the garlic sauce for you. You reached for a slice, folding it lazily as you leaned back against the counter, chewing slowly as your body tries to catch up with the time.

“Thank you,” you told him quietly as you finally join him on the couch.

“Don’t take this personally, but I could not stand for another nigh’ of leftovers,” he laughs softly while clicking through different movie titles.

“What?” You stretch into the cushions, trying to get comfortable. “You’re telling me four straight nights of spaghetti was too much?”

He smirked in response and suddenly the room had gone quiet again. It was the type of quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable but said too much– like you both could hear what wasn’t being said and it made you that much more aware of the three inches of cushion between you. He finally lands on a title and tilts the remote towards the screen, quirking an eyebrow at you like a silent question mark. You shrug and nod and it’s settled. You shifted your weight, folding your legs underneath you, then unfurling them just as quickly. Still not comfortable, but not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. You reached behind you for one of the throw pillows and placed it against the arm of the couch, leaning slightly into it. That didn’t feel right either. Too stiff. Too far away. You adjust again, cursing yourself for being all elbows and uncertainty.

His eyes tear away from the TV to check on you, but you’re too busy reaching for another pillow to notice, until you turn and meet his eyes. You were immediately embarrassed, but without a word, you prop the pillow against his side and let yourself ease into him, like it was the only soft place left in the room. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen. Didn’t try to reclaim the space.

“Better?” he asked, barely looking away from the screen, but you caught the flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. You settle into place and nod your head, not trusting your voice to be steady enough to say it outloud. “Good,” he replies casually.

But your heart was anything but casual.

You try to force your attention back to the movie, but the heat from his side is seeping into your skin, spreading like a wildfire beneath your ribs. You were closer than you should be, every breath feels like borrowing air from him. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too, but you don’t have the courage to look up at him, as if you’d even be able to tell. He was always so nonchalant, like nothing in the world bothered him.

Maybe he was just being polite, or maybe he was just comfortable. Maybe this meant nothing.

It didn’t feel like nothing.

Your fingers curl tighter around the edge of the pillow, knuckles whitening. Can he feel that same tug? The gravity of something unspoken pulling at the corners of the room. The weight of all the words you’re holding back; thick and heavy like the late summer air outside of the window. His arm rests loosely against the back of the sofa, and you can’t help but think about what it would feel like draped along your frame.

No, bad idea. Get up. Go back to bed.

But you don’t move. You can’t.

The sounds of the movie have become white noise as you spiral– quietly, inwardly– in the space between his silence and your imagination, convincing yourself that it meant something just because he didn’t pull away. Because he’s still here, close and solid. Now all that you can do is focus on his breathing, counting each breath as if you're memorizing the way that he works.

Your eyes flutter shut, just for a second. Just to rest them. You’ll open them again in a minute. You will.

But the moment stretches as exhaustion creeps in.

At some point– maybe two heartbeats later, maybe twenty– you feel it. The faintest shift. The gentle weight of his arm lowering, slow and careful, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you. It rests across your side; warm and tentative. Not demanding. Not possessive. Just there.

Like it was always supposed to be.

When you wake up, the room is dark. “Are you still watching?” on the television screen. It’s early. The sun hasn’t quite peeked over the horizon. Everything is quiet in a sacred kind of way that only exists right before the world remembers it’s supposed to be awake.

You stretch, groaning slightly as you shift your weight, and that’s when you feel it.

Aegon.

Pressed against your back, one arm slung lazily around your waist like it belongs there. His hand twitches against your stomach and everything in your body tenses at once; freezing as you feel him stir beside you. You try your hardest to steady your breathing, but your pulse is betraying you, and you’re sure he can hear it. It’s pounding loud enough to wake the whole city block.

You’re not ready for this moment to end, for when it has to become something else.

He shifts again, just barely, and his nose brushes the back of your shoulder. Then, in the softest murmur he says, “hey.”

“Hey,” your voice catches on the exhale.

You don’t turn to look at him. You can’t. Your face will give you away instantly, if it hasn’t already– that blushing, wide-eyed, heart-pounding you that’s currently screaming into her pillow somewhere in the back of your brain.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he admits.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, afraid that you’ll choke on the tension. “Neither did I.”

He hums in response, settling back into the comfort that was this moment. His arm is still draped over you and you take a moment to remind yourself of that.

Somehow, it felt like a confession.

Taglist

@thhriller, @watercolorskyy, @mrs-starkgaryen, @elllielewiss, @primroseluna, @justmymindandstuff, @louieluvly, @queen-of-elves, @mxauthor, @notsuremarie, @notafairyteen, @hardyshoe, @belovedbastardremus, @bey0nd-1he-stars, @trashbe, @dixie-elocin, @lem0ns77

#self reblog #in case you missed it

110 notes · View notes