#I count the coat as an achievement though I need to fix that pocket situation ...

[checanty]

I'm terrible at celebrating my achievements, so here' s all I did in January:

Work Work: Illustrations: 8 Workshops: 1 Personal Work Art: 1/4 Drawing Videos: 4 Books Read: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, The Fragile Threads of Power (audio), Paladin's Grace (audio), He Who Drowned The World (audio), A Power Unbound (audio), The Alter Ego Effect (audio) Movies Watched: Only Lovers Left Alive, Poor Things New Recipes Tried: 2 Special Achievement: Patched ancient winter coat, only accidentally sewed 1 pocket shut

[minachuuu]

Unspoken Words Hurt Too [P2]

❣Unspoken Words Hurt Too❣ Part 2/2 (Part 1!)

❤ Pairing: Yves x (Fem) Idol!Reader

❤ Genre: Angst

❤ Word Count: 7.3k (I think I got a little too excited on this one, ups)

❤ Song Suggestions: One Way by LOONA/yyxy and Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld

It has been two months since Yves phone stopped ringing with your name popping on the screen, but that didn’t mean her mind ceased to bring back your smile, your eyes and the way your arms felt around her. Her comeback with LOONA was useful to have her mind away from the issue for a while, but now that promotions had finished for them, there was nothing preventing you from dwelling on her memory.

Yves was sure that if her phone rang, just once again with your name, it wouldn’t take a second for her to answer it. She beated herself endlessly at the way she treated the situation from the first day. After the news broke, you tried reaching her endlessly but she kept declining call after call. But among preparations for their comeback, Vivi was the one to smack some sense into her, calling her attitude ‘childish’. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know that but her pride refused to surrender, avoiding any possible contact or even seeing your face anywhere.

It wasn’t until one day, the girls at the dorm were looking at a show were your group made an appearance. You looked tired, weared off. Her instinct was to get her phone out and text you to ask if you were okay, but a voice in her head reminded her of everything she had done wrong, the friendship she had broken. She promised to herself to answer your next call, but it was a little too late. 

On the other hand, you accepted that you had neglected your friendship a bit before the whole relationship thing even started, let’s not even think about a more serious relationship. So you perfectly understood if she didn’t want to waste her time with someone who didn’t know how to handle her priorities, but if you only had the opportunity...

And then, there she was. Her sight lost in the horizon, sitting in the most isolated bench at the park you used to visit together, to escape from life watching the Han River serenely flow. Her mind was rattling with a thousand thoughts as she gradually sipped on the hot beverage in her hands. The sun was setting in the horizon, turning the water below into a shaking quivering mirror, reflecting the sun rays straight to her face. 

You stared in silence, the girl unaware of your presence behind her, her silhouette as bright as you remembered from the last time you had seen her, all those months ago in the dance practice that would catapult you into stardom. You stayed there for some minutes, deciding on whether or not to interrupt her contemplating state. The only thing you had to grasp upon was a deep breath, before gently walking towards her.

“Excuse me, I believe you might be on my bench.” You joked, your whole self filled with hope that she would take it lightly.

“I’m so sorry!” She sprang from the seat in surprise, extremely apologetic. She gradually turned around, bowing respectfully. “I’ll move to-”

“I don’t mind sharing it though” You offered her a gentle smile when her eyes locked on yours. 

“Y/n-” She gasped, but her expression made it impossible to say if she was glad or not to see you there.

“Hi Sooyoung.” You responded, dryly but a hint of nostalgia managed to slip out. Revealing how much you missed saying your best friend’s name out loud. Your hand motioned to the empty part of the bench as she moved her body to one side. “May I?”

“Suit yourself.” She mumbled. 

You took a seat by her side, both avoiding making eye contact. The sun reflecting on the river in front of you bounced to your eyes now as the air around you two was cramming with a thousand words to be said. But the pressure of the silence was even more deafening, making it obvious that those times where you both were comfortable with your quietness were far behind.

“How did you find me?” She asked first. You sensed a certain hostile tone coming out of her, your energies crashing against each other.

“I wasn’t looking for you to begin with.” You answered in the same tone, a sting in your chest as you weren’t used to talking to her that way. “But it just so happens that we both choose the same spot to come and think about… stuff.”

“And what stuff do you have to think about that is so important to interrupt mine?” She scoffed.

You clenched your fists, tensing your jaw. The truth was that both of you only came here to think about each other. What any other reason could this spot have when you had spent countless hours here building memories together, thinking of a future full of dreams that you casually wanted to achieve together. But those now seemed far, far away from a reaching distance when every word right now seemed to scream ‘go away’.

“I just wanted to catch a breath.” You hid your real intentions behind a mask full to the brim with bottled emotions. 

“Yeah, I can’t imagine how tiring it must be to be you.” Sooyoung mentally slapped herself at the way she was talking back to you. But she couldn’t control the pride in her heart from swelling. 

“You know what? Yes, yes it is. I do have a problem” You snapped your head towards her, daring to look at her in the eyes. “But what’s yours Sooyoung?”

“I don’t know what you m-”

“I wanted my best friend back, I really did.” You continued but she refused to let her guard down. “But you made it really clear to me that you didn’t.”

“Then why are you here?” She spat. Her eyes getting glossy, staring at the paper cup in her hands as she averted your gaze.

“I-” The air was sucked out of your lungs, letting out an incredulous chuckle in defeat. “You’re right. I have no idea why I am wasting my time here.”

You bolted up from the bench, straightening your jacket as the last rays of sunlight lit up your silhouette. You stared at the colors of dusk, maybe the last time you saw them from this valued place of yours.

“Take care Sooyoung,” Your words barely made it through your choked throat, as you tried containing your tears. “Say hi to the girls from me.”

Each step you took away from her felt heavier and heavier. You couldn’t understand how only seconds ago you felt like her energy repelled you away, but now it felt like you were tied to a rope that she pulled against your strength. All your memories telling you to come back, that there was still something there to grasp upon, but your brain relieving the images of all you just witnessed was enough to power your walk, refusing to turn back.

With that, the last rays of sunlight caressed the sky as the sun hid behind the buildings at the other side of the lake. The sun took with it every ounce of might needed in Yves body to keep her from bawling her eyes out. As she buried her head in her hands trying to stop the outcome of tears from her eyes, and the flood of thoughts in her mind reprimanding every single one of her actions. 

It didn’t take long for her to stand up and run behind your trail, the terror in her soul reminding her that it might be already too late to try and fix what she managed to break even more. It was the rush of adrenaline that managed to help her run across the entire length of the park to the only other place you could have gone. A rusty set of swings where you both shared a first slow dance a long time ago. 

You found the place as cool for a photoshoot, blasting music on your phone to brighten the mood. A slow paced song managed to creep onto your upbeat playlist, but before you could change the song, Sooyoung had already put her hand on your shoulder, guiding your hand to her waist. You sang the lyrics almost as if you were singing them to her, as she gracefully led the dance. It was just a playful moment that would later come to haunt you both as you wondered if it may have been a sign of something more.

A deep sigh of relief escaped her mouth when she recognized your coated silhouette resting on the railing looking at the river. The set of swings still rusting it’s days away on your back.

“Y/N!” She choked as she approached you, making you spin around in your place. “Please, listen-”

“So now you want to talk?” Even if a part of you felt relieved that maybe she wanted to fix things with you, the rest of you felt conflicted. You already were building up the idea of a life without her, even if it broke your heart in an irreparable way.

“You- you don’t?” Yves halted her steps a few feet away from you after being slapped with your words.

“I wanted to Sooyoung.” Your body tensed up, your hands hiding away in the pockets of your coat. “And I wanted to talk for months. Months where you declined every single call, and then today… You made your message very clear.”

“How do you think I felt when I sat there in the cold waiting for you until midnight Y/n?” Yves cried back. “Until midnight!”

“I’ve already apologized for that-”

“You shoved me aside for your new famous friends.” Her volume escalated and for once you were grateful that the area of the park was mostly abandoned at that time. “I don’t know anything about you for months and suddenly I see your face on the news screaming about your new relationship! And I was supposed to keep believing I was your best friend?!”

“Maybe if only you had given me the opportunity to explain everything!” You took a few steps towards her, your eyes starting to sting as your hands, now free from your pockets,violently motioned . “I really thought you would understand, but I spent countless days and nights wondering what I had done wrong, what I made to hurt you so bad! I cried for days on end, I lost my voice Sooyoung. And for what?!”

“You… what?” Her mouth dropped open at your claims, making her drop her defensive stance.

“The last weeks of promotions were a torture! All because I couldn’t drill in my mind how I could have failed you so bad.” A tear managed to escape from your eyes, quickly falling down your cheek. “And to think I fatigued my eyes to sleep every night for someone who just decided to throw everything away!”

“But I always cared!” Yves defended herself. “I cared a lot.”

“Yeah sure,” You scoffed back. “I noticed.”

“I promised I would wait for you to tell you everything…” The knot in her throat tightened with each word she tried to get out. Her heart aching at the memories she tried hard repressing until this point. “But when the news broke out that- I was just so afraid!”

“Afraid of what? What did you want to tell me?” You walked even closer to her, now just a few inches apart as your heart ached at the sight of Sooyoung so broken and vulnerable.

She shook her head, unable to keep talking as her whole body trembled on time with her sobbing pants. Your hand reached for her chin, raising it up to meet her eyes.

“Why Sooyoung?” Tears were were choking your words already, “Why did you left-”

Her hands cooped your cheeks and pulled you aggressively towards her. Sooyoung crashed her lips against yours, taking you by surprise. But only a deep sight that filled your brain with her essence was necessary for you to melt into the kiss, your hands snaking around her waist. You boldly pulled her closer towards yourself, the force of the action smashing your back against the rail. 

Hungrily, you continued getting drunk in each other’s taste, her arms surrounding your shoulders as she tried feeling you even closer. The harmonious dance continued until both your lungs started stinging from lack of air. Slowly distancing from each other, it was your eyes locking with hers that made Sooyoung realize the gravity of her actions.

“Oh gosh-” She jumped aback, covering her mouth with her hands. Tears once again sliding down her cheeks as she kept warily taking steps away from you. “I’m so sorry Y/n-

“Sooyoung-”

“I’m sorry.” She snapped around, sprinting to the opposite direction from where you were standing. 

You watched dumbfounded at her silhouette moving away, your hand went up to your lips faintly longing the feeling of her lips against your, your chest raising up and down trying to even it’s breath, as your mind tried even harder on processing each second passing were Sooyoung was not by your side.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If you struggled to get Sooyoung out of your mind before, You were condemned to rewind that moment again, and again and again. Endlessly for every day of your damned existence. Your hand often explored your lips, trying to relive the weight of hers against them, and there were moments you felt a chill traveling through your body when you could swear you smelled her perfume close to you. Sometimes you even wondered if that night really happened. But it did.

You came back into your dorm that night, and your members described you as a walking zombie. Expressionless, as if every step you had a chain attached to your ankles. Your leader quickly asked if you were okay, until she realized your smeared lipstick, the smudged eyeliner, your ragged hairstyle and your clothes tugged at all the exact places. 

She didn’t even have to ask about it, your leader knew you enough to know who you had encountered, immediately taking you in her arms in a deep hug, before you cried your last entire night asleep. 

But how do you convince your heart that it was all over when it’s always a kiss that marks the beginning of the happily ever after?

Another comeback was on the horizon, the beat of the new song rumbled through the mirrors in the practice room just like all those months before. But this time your eyes couldn’t stop glancing towards the door, afraid you would be missing the moment your best friend Sooyoung entered the room. 

The choreography was fine, it was fun and catchy. But if you were being honest with yourself, it lacked that spark that Yves contributed the last time. It passed through your mind the day you made her promise to be contributing to your choreos from now on. A promise you didn’t imagine could be broken so soon, alongside all the others that lingered in between.

You had no problem filling up every single one of your positions and hitting every mark and every beat on time, but it wasn’t really amusing this time around. The music faded in the distance, claps around you filling the air breaking your daydreaming. The choreo was completely done. Only the last rehearsals before the recording of the video and the comeback was feeling closer with each day. 

You thanked your choreographer and the dancers that aided everyone, leaving only your members and some of your managers in the group.

“Hey Y/n-Unnie!” The maknae of the group ran to you, with excitement pumping in every vein as she approached. A faint smile adorned your lips, grateful that her enthusiasm was very contagious. “I don’t mean to be noisy about anything, but I’m pretty sure I saw your girlfriend walking around the halls.”

“My- what?” Your eyes furrowed at her words. 

“Well, your girlfriend. Wink, wink” She laughed at the self added sound effects to her actions. “No but really, I saw Somi-Unnie out there just a few moments ago.”

“But she never comes here…” You hesitated, as you grabbed a towel to clean up the sweat from the back of your neck. 

“That’s why I’m telling you,” Your maknae rolled her eyes, “She’s not one to come just to stare at you with heart eyes like Sooy-”

Your maknae halted her words in time to avoid the name you both knew she was eventually going to let out. She looked like her body decided to stop knowing how to function as she stuttered and clumsily tried to keep the conversation going. But for her own relief, another one of your members came close to you.

“Hey Y/n, they’re calling for you at the door.” She announced, as the youngest member took advantage of the situation to fly away.

You snapped your head towards the door, a high executive gently waving his hand to you, signaling you to come close. You nodded back as you quickly put on some deodorant, your hoodie and finished by quickly sprinkling some perfume in yourself to mask the sweat odor off your body. 

You approached him and bowed respectfully, with the man commanding you to follow him. The walk through your company’s building was eerily quiet, a trip up the elevator to the managing offices was either something extremely good, or not a good sign at all. 

As the doors opened, you spotted the CEO’s office at the end of the corridor, swallowing hard. You walked along the man in the darkened corridor towards it, passing other offices that looked friendlier than the CEO’s. You only remember that office from when you and your group mates were called to sign your contract before officially debuting, but its grey walls and black chairs were not the first things that came to mind when asking for comfort. 

The man opened the door to the office, letting you in first. The blinding white corporate light filled your eyes as you tried recognizing the figures inside of the office. The CEO, sitting on her chair behind her huge cluttered desk. And the slim, graceful figure sitting in front of it, who turned around to face you with a smile on her face, Somi.

You politely bowed at the CEO, who signaled you to take a seat aside Somi. You offered her a sweet smile and a quick hug while walking toward your seat. An awkward silence cramming the office.

“Good night Y/n, I sincerely hope this meeting doesn’t take long, I’ll make my case quick.” She tapped a few papers on the table, and put them aside, crossing her arms on top of the table to address you and Somi. “I first got to ask, how are you two doing?”

You looked at each other, something in your eyes begging the girl besides you to answer the question. 

“We have been doing good, thanks for asking.” She politely answered and took your hand in hers as you offered a gentle nod back. You felt a knot in the back of your throat when the usual invasive thought of that night a month ago resurrected in full color. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” She sat back on her chair, posing her hands on the armrest. “To go straight to the point, I’ve been talking with the Black Label’s team and they have agreed to everything that I’ll be saying to you today.”

Your mind listened attentively to her words, but a little voice kept nagging inside of you, recreating that night aside Yves. 

“It has been ten months of this little affair in between you two. We are all proud that even in the forced situation, you have managed to establish at least a good friendship.” She motioned her hands towards you, “The publishing teams are satisfied with your work, and have agreed to cut the contract short as it no longer possesses significant importance in today’s media.”

Your breath halted at her words, trying to keep your entire attention at her instead of succumbing to your own thoughts.

“They believe a break-up could be a better source of publicity before launching both your firsts full albums, but they have decided to respect your decision towards this situation.” The CEO continued her speech. “We are going to respect you if you want to follow up this, or if you don’t. We’re going to leave you for a while so you can decide this.”

The man and the CEO walked out of the room, leaving you and Somi alone in the cold room.

“Somi-” You managed to whisper first.

“Look,” She laughed, easing the tension in lingering between you. “I love you Y/n, but you know, as a friend. We were never really a couple to start with.”

“Yeah” You scoffed back.

“And I also know you haven’t been able to get over her.” She continued in a more serious tone. The words made you snap your head towards her, but there was nothing to hide here.

Your mind started flowing with memories of those nights all across the last ten months, where you suddenly found yourself crying in Somi’s arms. You remembered that night when you started sharing secrets of who your real crushes were, spilling all the tea on your ongoing misadventures with Sooyoung. You never told her about the incident that happened a month ago, but something in the way she was looking at you gave away that she knew there was something bothering you more than usual.

Maybe neither of you were really eager at the idea of a relationship between you two, but between your very obviously staged public dates and those days where you had to take photos with each other or support at shows, a really cute friendship blossomed. 

“Promise me you’ll try your best.” She broke your train of thoughts as she grabbed your hands on hers.

“My best to what?” You questioned.

“To go for who you really love.” She launched towards you, hugging you tightly. “This world is not easy on love, so you really have to be courageous to do it. And I know you are Y/n.”

“Thanks Somi…” You tightened the hug back when the door opened again to the CEO and the man carrying beverages.

They offered one to each one of you when you broke the embrace before sitting back on their respective chairs. The silence lingered a little too long for your liking, but something inside you was eager to let this end.

“So, do we have a decision?” She crossed her hands and rested her head on top of it, ready to listen to you.

Somi locked eyes on yours offering a gentle smile back, giving you the necessary strength to say the words that needed to be said, words that were going to make the publicity team very happy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I'm not kidding, I'm feeling very sick guys" You mumbled from the last seat in the back of the car. 

"You have been saying that for the last half hour on the road Y/n-Unnie," Your maknae turned around to make eye contact with you. "And I know that when you do feel sick you practically look like hell." 

"It's just another variety show." Your leader reminded you from her seat. "Smile, wave and be professional just like I'm sure she will be."

Another month passed and you found yourself in the middle of promoting your new comeback, but this time, a full album. Promotions were obviously an unavoidable thing, but everyone casually forgot to mention that your group was going to promote on Fact-In-Star, the show where Yves worked as a co-host. You hadn't seen her since that night that keeps repeating in your mind. What little you knew about her was thanks to social media and you were just minutes away from looking at her face to face and having to pretend that everything was alright.

But maybe everything was alright for her. Maybe it was only you who wasn’t able to move on.

The van finally stopped in the parking lot of the venue as your heart accelerated, making your entire chest rumble. You got out of the car and clutched your arms around your leader’s arm as you walked towards the greenroom. The halls seemed cold as crew staff, writers and other people politely bowed as you passed through the halls, unaware of the internal whirlwind of emotions inside of you. The room was already visible within distance, thankful that there were no unfortunate awkward encounters as of yet, but you had spoken a second too soon.

Just as the rest of your members entered the room, you on the back with your leader, the sight of a recognizable face paralysed your senses. Chuu was casually coming out of a room a few doors away from yours, what you assumed was Yves dressing room. She looked around for someone, but her eyes turned as big as the moon the instant they locked on yours, only for her to rush back inside the dressing room she came just as you entered yours.

The quick encounter only made you even more agitated, since the girl’s reaction could only mean so little things. All of the options crammed your brain endlessly as you watched your members playing with the table games in the greenroom. Your survival mode kicked in as you waved hello to the vlogging camera that your maknae was shoving into everyone’s faces and in less time that you imagined, your group was being called to the filming set. You latched again to your leader’s arm, to which she just giggled and patted your head.

“Everything’s going to be okay Y/n,” She whispered as you traveled the halls together. “You have us now.”

You gently nodded as your eyes warily lifted from the floor, just in time to lock again with someone in a few steps. Kim Lip and Chuu were just hanging in Yves' dressing room, but differently from your earlier encounter with the latter, they both offered you a gentle, nervous smile, waving her hands towards you and your leader. She took upon herself waving her hand back, as you responded back with a mild smile and a bow while you kept walking.

The bright colored set opened before your eyes, with both Yves and the other MC already chatting with the director in the corner. You saw Sooyoung’s eyes scanning cautiously over her shoulder, her arms crossed with her hands hidden under her armpits, rocking her feet nervously in place.

“C’mon,” You felt your leader tugging you towards her, clearly sensing your uneasiness. “Let’s go say hi!” 

Your fans and fansites all pulled up near the windows as you approached to greet them, it was only then that you dared moving away from your leader. You looked at the crowd cheering up on you with their lightsticks and bright smiles, and as you recognized some of your usual fansites you did cool poses for them.

But suddenly your own sight played you dirty, and the focus of your eyes shifted from the outside to your own reflection and the reflection of the set behind you. And not far behind, Sooyoung sat on her stool, staring straight at you with a delicate smile plastered on her lips, those lips you kept dreaming about every night.

Before you could even react, the crew was already asking for you to sit on your places, ready to start taping the show. Your members guided you to the middle seat at the back row, a gesture you thanked them for since it made you feel more secure that way. You made yourself as comfortable as possible, making an effort on avoiding the glances of that girl sitted a few feet away from you. 

The director called action and the male MC started their usual speech, pumping up the audience that would eventually be at the other side of the camera. Yves also introduced herself and you took advantage of the moment to take a peek at the girl. Just as your leader told you before, and you knew it too, she was someone very professional, she didn’t seem faced at all.

You spotted Chuu and Kim Lip amongst the camera crew, attentively looking at their older member. It was when Yves finished her introduction that you noticed Chuu giving her thumbs up, as Kim gestured to her to breathe deeply. You snapped your head towards Sooyoung, who nervously nodded back to them, took a deep breath and then shuffled her cue cards.

The MC introduced your group and you all stood up to make the greeting. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, but as soon as you sat down again your mind blanked. You zoomed out of the moment, your brain muffling all the words being spoken and laughed at around you. Your brain only caught the occasional scattered words, but not enough to truly understand what was going on. You laughed when everyone laughed and nodded when everyone nodded, that was until your brain thankfully caught your name being thrown into the conversation by the male MC.

“Y/n! Since it seemed that you suffered the terrible consequences of going viral on your last comeback,” The statement got a laugh out of the entire room, as you turned your head around to make eye contact with him, your eyebrows rising exaggeratedly to prove you were paying attention. “Can you talk to us a little about your new choreography and what are your strengths as a group over it?”

“I wouldn’t call them terrible consequences!” You giggled, trying to ease the tension on your own body. Your eyes locked on Sooyoung’s who tried attentively to listen to you too. “On the contrary, I’m thankful that so many people liked our new style and appreciated the risks implied. If it wasn’t for the bold choices we made last time, we wouldn’t be here promoting a full album now!”

The room clapped at your words, as a smile was drawn on your lips. 

“Was it hard to learn the choreography this time around?” The MC continued the questions towards you. 

“Just a little, it definitely was easier than last time.” You chuckled, a far memory returning to your mind in the moment took over your mouth. “But well, we’ve had really good choreographers and dancers these past comebacks, it would have been impossible to make it this far without them.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, credit where credit’s due. And talking about credit…” The room tensed from corner to corner as everyone was anticipating the next words of the MC, as he turned his body around to face Yves. “You participated in the making of the choreography with them on the last comeback right?”

“That’s- that’s right.” Yves mumbled, a faint forced smile visible over her face.

“And did you help this time around?” He kept making the questions, making Yves visibly more uncomfortable with each one.

“No, I didn’t” Her response was dry, surprising the room. She cleared her throat and forced the smile back on her face. “There were… schedule issues.”

“Aw that’s too bad!” The MC tried salvaging the situation by upping the energy in his reactions. “But since you’re our dance machine, I say Y/n can teach you the point moves with no problem!”

Your breath halted at the suggestion, the eyes of the entire room now over you. You took a deep breath and repeated the words of your leader over and over in your brain: Be professional just like I'm sure she will be.

“Sure, I can do that.” All your members raised their eyebrows in surprise at your eagerness as you jumped out of your seat, and fixed your clothes as you walked towards the middle.

But it was Yves’ movements who seemed more hesitant as she carefully left her cue cards over her seat and warily approached the middle.

You walked her through all the point movements of the hook of your new comeback. You knew perfectly she wouldn’t take long to get them, if only you weren’t staring at each other’s lips every time you talked around the movements. The movements were powerful, never lacking a sprinkle of sensual charisma on them. For anyone looking at you two without context, the scene could have looked as luring each other to something more.

“I think you have them!” The MC tried easing the tension that could be cut with a plastic knife. “Play the music!”

Your comeback song started glaring across the megaphones in the studio. And just a glance was enough for you to coordinate your bodies perfectly. Hitting every count and movement with the power and grace necessary. It had been such a long time that you had forgotten how much of a good chemistry you shared with each other, especially over a dance floor. 

The fragment came to an end, and in an adrenaline rush, you turned to offer Sooyoung a bright smile, as you fixed your hair. She smiled back at you, her cheeks slightly blushing at your image. For a moment it felt like everything was alright, like it was only you and your best friend and nothing else mattered. 

“Wow!” The MC cheered as the room exploded in applause. “I’m going to be the first one to ask for your two to have a special stage together someday!”

We giggled at his comment as we went back to our places, riding the high of the moment. If only the MC didn’t decide to drag the moment all across the floor.

“I also believe Y/n is available!” He teased Yves, and in that moment you swear you heard a cosmic facepalm across everyone that knew your history. “Maybe Yves can throw her shot!”

The mood in the room darkened, Yves alarmingly snapped her eyes to her bandmates, both of them offering her nervous smiles and breathing motions. The MC noticed the dreadful tension in the room and swiftly moved to the next game.

You were thankful for your group mates, as they didn’t compel you to participate for the rest of the show, since you once again entered survival mode, trying to avoid Yves as much as possible.

It seemed like a mutual sentiment, with all the questions she made, directly aimed at your other members. You knew she had it worse in some way, you just had to stand there and smile and nod but she had to be a functional interacting human, pretending to be okay with your presence there. 

It seemed like forever to you, but the taping finally got to an end. Your group thanked the crew and the MCs before heading back to the greenroom to gather your stuff back. And you sat there clutching your purse for dear life, ready to spring out of your seat when the managers arrived to get you to the dorms.

Your body bounced when a sudden knock at the door stopped the commotions inside the room, one of your members opened it, to reveal a crossed-arms Kim Lip and the usual cheery Chuu behind her. 

“Can I please talk to you for a moment?” Kim Lip motioned your leader, who promptly stood up from her seat and left the room with the other two girls.

You didn’t understand what was taking so long, you just wished everything to be over. You got your phone out to play some games while you waited, but your brain was trying so hard to distract itself from the situation that you didn’t notice each and everyone of your members and staff leaving the room, until an unfamiliar silence crammed the room and lifted your eyes.

Your leader and Kim Lip stood there with their arms closed looking at you, the door was wide open behind them, Chuu peeking out from it.

“What is this about?” You questioned, getting up from your chair. 

“How is it even possible that you both literally stop functioning correctly when the other is near?” Kim Lip reprimanded.

“What do you me-” You blinked slowly, trying to process her words.

“It’s childish and you both need to figure it out.” Your leader continued, you heard Sooyoung’s whines on the other side of the wall approaching, dawning on your mind exactly what they both meant. “And you’re going to figure it out now.”

“Please don’t, I really don’t want to do this!” You heard her voice coming even closer, just when Chuu pushed Sooyoung into the room with you, slamming it close behind her back. Silence filled the air while the only two people in the room couldn’t help but keep staring at each other for what seemed hours for both of you.

“Sooyoung…” You started, a sigh escaping your mouth when you accepted that this was happening one way or another

“Y/n…” She continued, imitating your stance. 

“Let’s make this quick, I really want to get out of here.” You defended. “And for what I heard you don’t want to do this either.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to Y/n-” She crossed her arms defensively. 

“Sooyoung, you literally just screamed that you didn’t want to do this.” You walked closer, your hands aggressively motioning towards her.

“I meant I didn’t want it to happen like this,” She warily moved closer to.

“How else were you planning for it to happen when we don’t even want to be looking at each other?” You furrowed your eyes, your head hurting from all the unreleased tension in your body. “I thought you didn’t even want to see me again.”

“Of course I wanted to,” Her hands fidgeted over her arms, “I just wanted to wait until this… thing faded away.”

“What thing?” You hesitated, genuinely curious at her words.

“You know, this thing that…” Her eyes locked on the floor, as she moved even closer to you. She took a deep breath releasing it all with a sigh, and gathered all the bravery available in her body to continue talking. “This thing that doesn’t allow me to forget that night, that it doesn’t let me forget how you lips felt against mine. Heck, it’s eating me on the inside and I know what I did was bad but I wish I felt even a bit remorseful, but I don’t.”

You glanced at her, the same posture you saw those months ago that afternoon in the park. She kept restraining her own thoughts, trying to contain the explosiveness for which you knew her very well. The silence following her confession crushed you both, her eyes painfully rising to meet your, silently begging for an answer.

“It was unexpected,” You cleared your throat, your tone flat as you tried to avoid her gaze now.

“I’m sorry if that made caused any trouble-”

“You don’t have to worry about it now,” You scoffed, trying to ease the friction in the air. “But you’re right, we should both wait for this thing to fade out. Maybe then we can try again.”

“We?” She furrowed her eyes at you.

“Yes, we.” You hid your hands in your pockets, shyly explaining. “We can’t have one of us still feeling the same way if we’re trying to get back our friendship.”

“Wait, you feel the same way?”

“Oh please-” You let your arms fall behind your sides, closing your eyes as you shook your head. “I have been thinking non-stop about that every day since it happened. There’s not a single day where I don’t think about you and your smile and your… stupidly good kiss and how much I want you to do that again.”

“But you and Somi-”

“Sooyoung c’mon! You really thought that was real!?” You raised your tone, incredulous. “It was all a PR stunt!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know if you don’t explain it to me?!” She replied in the same tone.

“How was I supposed to explain if you refused to answer my calls?!” You snapped back taking a step forward

“Are we really going to go through this again?!” She grunted, leaning in towards you.

“Apparently!” You growled.

You didn’t notice how or when exactly happened, but your bodies were so close to each other that your lips hovered hungrily above hers, not more than an inch away. You felt each other’s breath warm against the other’s cheeks, your eyes indecisively alternating between her lips and eyes. You both knew exactly what had to follow, you just had to confirm that the other wanted it as much. A necessity took up your will in a bolt of bravery as you dared to talk first.

“Finish this.” You urged. Your eyes latched on hers as you felt the rhythm in your heart accelerate, making your breathing heavier. “Or I’ll finish this myself.”

“Your turn.” She scoffed.

Your hands surrounded her waist, pulling Sooyoung to you as she quickly snaked her arms around your shoulders. Time stopped for both of you as your lips clashed in a starving exigency for each other. You felt your legs trembling, your stomach filled with butterflies as her hands lurked up, her fingers travelling through your hair with a mind of their own. A gasp escaped Sooyoung’s lips when you fiercely tightened your hands on her waist, pushing her against a wall in pure desire.

You recognized the flavor of her favorite sweet beverage in the taste of her lips, as a knot untied on your chest, warmth raiding every single cell in your body after you breathed her perfume and it didn’t feel prohibited. A cold drop of water caressing your cheek made you realize that Yves was tearing up. You gently broke the kiss, bringing one hand to clean up the falling droplets from the corner of her eyes.

“Are you okay Sooyoungie?” The mention of the cute pet name felt so pleasant to say as much as it felt delightful for Yves to hear it again, managing to get a delicate smile to her lips.

“Do you think this can work?” She gasped on your neck as she evened her breath. Her teary eyes looking hopeful for yours.

“We can try.” You smirked back to her, “As long as you answer my calls-”

“I hate you so much.” She sneered, pushing your chest with her hands, a playful grin, that first love smile that you missed so much emerging on her glowing face. 

Her hands latched at the collar of your jacket, bringing you close to her once more, her lips hungrily capturing yours once again, dancing together between unavoidable smiles and glares full of promises that seemed possible again. 

“Okay, I think we have given you both enough time so...” Lip’s voice ringing in the room as the door opened made you both jerk apart in surprise, paralyzing you in your place as you looked at the blonde innocently entering the room. But when her eyes locked on your intimate closeness against the wall, her eyes widened, clear panic starting to run through her veins as she sped up her speech, baking up her steps. “I’M GLAD YOU WORKED YOUR DIFFERENCES TELL ME WHEN YOU’RE READY TO GO HOME BYEEEE.” 

The burst of laughter both of you in the room let out when you heard Kim Lip screeching on the other side of the wall just after closing the door again, was enough to dissipate what little tension was left between you and Sooyoung that could still exist. She lured your chin with her hand to face her again.

“I think they can wait a little more…” She snuck her hand to the back of your neck, caressing seductively. “Where were we?”

“You haven’t answered if you’re gonna answer my calls though.” You jokingly replied.

“Ah, why do I even bother.” She mumbled, with a big sigh escaping from her smile. Sooyoung used the hand on the back of your neck to bring you back to her, pecking your lips once more, ecstatic that now she was able to do that as much as she wanted.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 18 : Awakening

SUMMARY

There's a lot to unpack.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,446

content : profanity

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a/n: I'm sorry this took too long, I've been needing a mental health break with how busy life has become. This chapter is a bit rushed just because I wanted to post it before next week since I've been MIA for so long.

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Slowly turning the key, your head starts to spin as you push the front door open to an empty apartment and a mixture of emotions surge through you. Relief that the repairs for your apartment are finally complete and you can move back to the comfort of your own home. Yet sadness swells in your chest at the realization you’ll be alone.

It’s weird. The natural response would be to get out of Oikawa’s apartment as soon as possible, sick of his antics and constant harassment. But for some incoherent reason, a part of you feels hesitant.

This heavy sensation in your chest drags you down as you walk into your apartment -- it seems so much more burdensome than when you left. Everything still feels fresh.

An agonizing pain mixed with confusion emanates off the walls flashing you back to the night Ushijima ending things. Your anxiety grows stronger as you picture his piercing hazel eyes glowering down at you after asking for you back. It's seemingly getting more and more difficult to make a decision as each moment passes and you're feeling inexplicably hopeless.  It's a terrible idea to get back together with him -- just remembering that night makes you sick. We need to talk still haunts you accompanied with his unbothered, stoic expression... Your heart starts to race trying to make sense of what you’re feeling.

Why is everything suddenly so difficult?

You clench your fists so tightly your knuckles turn white. Why does he even want you back? This isn’t something that he should take so lightly, he hurt you. Though you strongly feel anger festering within, a voice keeps whispering in your ear to take him back. You can’t tell if it’s what you truly want or it’s just the fear of disappointing your parents even more.

“How’s it looking?”

Your manic thoughts are pushed away with Oikawa as he walks further into the apartment to take a look around.

The flood -- you’d forgotten about that morning until this moment. Your heart starts beating faster as the memory rushes to the forefront, not just from the panic and frustration of waking up to a submerged apartment, but to the moment of the warmth under the covers with Oikawa’s firm body pressed up behind you. Had Oikawa been holding back the entire night you spent together? Of course, you didn’t know how long he’s had feelings for you, so surely if he did at the time, it must have been absolutely tempting to make a move on you. But why didn’t he? Truthfully, if the situation was switched then you would’ve taken the opportunity to…

“Not bad,” you answer, trying to force an honest smile, but Oikawa sees right through you.

“Why do you do that?” Oikawa says, his voice is tight on the cusp of irritation.

“Do what?” you respond quickly, hoping that he will just let this one go. But he doesn’t.

“Force yourself to smile like that,” he grunts. “You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset.”

“I’m not--”

“Bullshit,” he retorts with a harsh tone.

You bite your tongue, even more conflicted on what to say.

Oikawa sees that as he analyzes you, he knows it’s not easy for you to talk to him about stuff.  “Is something on your mind?” he asks softly, drawing his frustration back.

It’s hard to process, you’ve felt this heavy feeling for so long, you thought it was normal. The only time you’ve felt any reassurance is in Oikawa’s presence, yet for some reason, today the aching is much more prominent.  Everything feels so nerve wracking. You know he likes you and yet, it makes your heart throb.

“My parents,” you start with your voice a little shaky. “They think they know what’s best for me...”

“For the internship?”

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, eyes fixed on the ground. They also think they know it’s best for you to be with Ushijima, but you couldn’t tell Oikawa that. “Everything’s all set up and it could make me successful but…”

You turn away from him so your face is out of his view. The silence stretches between you for a moment. You feel oddly vulnerable, like the slightest touch will shatter you into pieces. If only it was easier to explain the constant pressure you receive from them, you might've tried to laugh about it upon telling him, just to make things a bit lighter. But, it wasn’t something you were ready to dig into.

“Then what do you want?” Oikawa asks, breaking the quietness.

The age old question that’s been going through your head this entire time. Truthfully, some answers seem so vivid now. You don’t want that internship… It’s not something that will excite you in any form. You want to work to achieve something and this feels like it’s just being handed to you because of your parents. There’s no drive for it.

But as for Ushijima, well...

“I don’t know,” you utter, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

“You’ll figure it out, I know you will,” Oikawa hums, before walking up to ruffle your hair.

Even as he pulls his hand away, his touch is still lingering, forcing you to catch your breath at the sudden surprise. His words are warm and caring as if he truly believes everything will fall into place. You want to believe him. Even the warmth in his eyes almost sways your skepticism, you can feel affection in them, but you can’t seem to grasp onto the hope he has. At this point you’re too stunned to even say a word as you allow your emotions to control you.

“When are you moving back in?” he asks, bringing you back to reality.

“Probably in the next couple days,” you breathe then pause staring at him for a bit while feeling your entire face burn up. An undeniable tension floats in the air and you're struggling to understand if it’s just your mind racing or it’s actually there. The way he manages to get your heart racing out of nowhere, the look he gives you when his chocolate eyes gaze at you, makes you want to melt… “Can you help?”

“Of course.”

------

Now that Iwaizumi is gone, it’s only standard for you to sleep in the guest bedroom. You’re not sure why a room down the hallway was more uncomfortable, but here you were tossing and turning unable to fall asleep. Of course you have other causes to your insomnia, like the pressure of deciding whether or not you should move forward with the internship and whether or not you should get back together with Ushijima. But at the very moment, your head can’t seem to wrap around the idea that Oikawa is just down the hall.

You’ve been living with him for awhile and now you decide to be nervous about it, you think.

Tucking your head under the covers, you take a deep breath inhaling the soft scents of softener and linen, a deep contrast to the sweet scent of citrus mixed with a tinge of oak in Oikawa’s room -- which you’d noticed shortly after is the essence of Oikawa. You clench your jaw, y our brain is all messed up from everything going on. Not to mention it's strange, the way Oikawa’s been so generous lately -- sweet without being boastful or bothersome, completely unlike himself. You’re not sure what you were expecting after your “fight”, but it probably wasn’t this.

You won't be sleeping anytime soon, so you get up and grab your coat, hoping an evening walk will put your mind at ease.

The night is dark and calm as you walk down the street, sidewalk lit by a streetlamp every few steps. Though quiet, your thoughts are louder than ever, pounding at your head hounding you to make a decision. As the cool air picks up and nips at your face, you quickly shove your hands in your pockets full of tissues and a cartridge. Pulling it out, you’re reminded of the evening you first bought the pack of smokes, how your agony ripped you apart to the point you had to turn to a bad habit. The recollection of relief pulsing through your body after inhaling the rich smoke tempted you as you open the pack and take out a stale cigarette that’s a bit crumpled.

The emptiness sets in and your eyes begin to gloss over as you think of what you should do next. For a moment the stress of your future can temporarily disappear with one breath, but how disappointed would Oikawa be if you did so.

That evening, when he called you in the midst of your smoke, he didn’t even know what had happened, but he was still there in a way. His voice echoes your head as he slurs that he hopes Ushijima makes you happy… It makes you hot and flustered. Oikawa always just wants what is best for you. Even if it didn’t benefit him…

You crush the cigarette into your palm and with that a shiver went down your spine. The heavy feeling in your chest seemed to lift itself a little and you almost thought you were standing a bit taller.

------

Fiddling with your pen, you look up once again at the time; class is almost over. Oikawa sits beside you, seemingly locked in on the professor's lecture. It feels unfamiliar to see him taking notes, attentively listening -- his concentration is normally as lacking as yours. Today your attention span is the worst it’s ever been trying to hone in on the dull monotone voice that booms across the class.

Then an idea sparks.

Quickly you try to grab the pen that Oikawa is writing with, but his reflexes are too swift for you as he jerks it away from your reach. A loud obnoxious screech from your chair lurching forward interrupts your professor in the middle of his lesson.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” the professor asks, while everyone’s eyes turn to you.

It’s awkward as you scoff under your breath, but sit up and readjust your seat.

“Y--yes, everything is good,” you say before having the professor return back to his stale lecture.

You let out a sigh while your face gets all flushed. The taste of desperation coats your mouth and it’s so overwhelming that you had to go to uncomfortable lengths just to feel the slightest bit of normalcy between the two of you. There’s just something about the way his irritation spikes through his tight-lipped smile and balling of fists while his eyes glare at you. You missed it.

Suddenly, a quiet snicker sounds beside you. In the corner of your eye, you can see a softness in Oikawa’s appearance and he's slightly smirking. You try not to make it obvious that you notice, but it makes your heart melt a little.

The remainder of the lesson, you continue to replay the way Oikawa’s lips almost turned up to a smile. You wish you got more of a reaction out of him, but it was enough to reassure things.  When the professor gives his final dismissal, Oikawa pops up to pack up his belongings. There’s this longing of wishing you could sit beside him longer as you slowly collect your things.

“Ushiwaka is here,”  Oikawa says, gesturing to the doorway.

You glance at the doorway noticing a familiar figure poking his head in. His eyes survey the classroom and before meeting yours, you quickly dart them away.

“Are you kidding?” you say under your breath, quickly zipping up your bag, feeling a flash of irritation course through your veins. “I’ll be right back.”

Oikawa raises his brow as he watches you speed towards Ushijima. He knew something like this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time.

But you weren’t pleased with Ushijima’s appearance.

"What are you doing?” you fume, you were quite pissed off as you pout your lips in petulant annoyance.

“I wanted to walk you to your next class,” Ushijima admits so nonchalantly it grinds your teeth.

"N--no," you reply, losing your focus to Oikawa walking by. “No, I don’t need--”

“I need to make up for the time we’ve lost together,” Ushijima adds, eyes locked on to yours that are wandering past him looking at Oikawa who’s getting further and further away.

"I-- I can’t. Please just… I need more space,” you sputter before swallowing hard your body leading to Oikawa’s direction.

"Take whatever time you need, I'll be waiting,” is what you think you heard from him as you catch up to Oikawa, but you don’t really care because your heart feels like everything you did in the moment was unlawful. You didn’t want Oikawa to get the wrong idea, and you feel like he might have, it makes you sick. Just when things started to repair with him, Ushijima just had to sweep in.

“What did he want?” Oikawa asks, his gaze ahead. “Did you finally accept his proposal?”

“What? No," you answer, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re really taking your time with this aren’t you,” he mumbles. “You better figure it out quick, he’s not going to wait for you forever.”

“He can wait,” you say to which Oikawa glances at you.

You get to a fork in the hallway that branches off to your next class or leads to outside the building. Oikawa raises his hand to bid farewell, but you stop planting your feet and take a deep breath.

“Toru.”

He stops and looks over at you…

“Can you come with me…. to my parents?” you breathe. “I don’t want to do the internship. I just don’t want to go alone to tell them.”

Hesitant of his answer, you wait for his response.

“I’d be happy to.”

----

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you whine, abruptly stopping on the sidewalk in front of your parents house. The sun hides behind the dark clouds, almost seeming like a sigh that you shouldn’t move forward with your plan, but gently touches your back.

“It will be alright,” Oikawa says softly as you try to push away the heat of his touch.

You’re sure that because Oikawa is here with you, you can go through with it. Even if you’re on the verge of retreating, it’s in fact, much more relieving to have him support you on the sidelines.

Every ounce of you pushes your body forward towards the front door. The ominous illusion of a stone cold castle looms over you as you press your finger to the doorbell.  The anxiety starts to build up as you look back to Oikawa. He gives you a smile and your face is hot, worried about what's to come from this conversation.

The door unlatches and slowly opens.

“Oh, hello,” your mom says, eyes wide yet narrow glaring down at you. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hi,” you respond shyly. You wanted to grab Oikawa’s body to shield you from your mom’s unpleasant aura, but of course you plant your feet. “This is Toru Oikawa.”

Looking back at him to check in and see if he too is incapacitated from her energy. But he isn’t.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says with a bow.

“How charming, come in!” she greets.

Oikawa straightens up, smoothing out his shirt before fixing his hair. Your eyes widen in awe - his calm confidence is visionary. You didn’t remotely feel comfortable around your mother and Oikawa is smooth and endearing. You're definitely always bringing him with you when you have to see your parents.

Your poorly hidden anxiety is noted on Oikawa’s behalf as he raises an eyebrow and flicks you on the forehead.

“Don’t stress!” Oikawa smiles.

Entering into the house, you two take off your shoes and make your way into the dining area where your mom awaits you. The rooms feel remarkably lifeless and empty.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, taking a seat at the dining table as Oikawa follows suit, sitting next to you.

“Oh working again, doesn’t know when to stop,” your mom sighs. Her eyes trail to Oikawa and her gaze feels so much softer compared to the daggers she throws at you. “Would you like some tea? Water?”

Her gaze lingers as she patiently waits for an answer.

“Thank you, but I’m alright,” he replies.

She turns to you and your heart leaps out of your chest, her stare feels like it could drag your soul out of your body.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, voice shaky as you swallow hard, forcing the next couple words out of your mouth. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the internship.”

Your mom’s intimidating demeanor drops immediately, her eyes twinkling with excitement while taking a seat across from you.

“Oh they’re so delighted to have you,” she croons. “They’ve even made you a care package in anticipation of your arrival!”

“See, the thing is…”

Your mom’s blissful face cuts.

“What’s wrong,” she says, making the question more of a blank statement.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just--”

“You think a mother wouldn’t know her own daughter.”

“It’s just--”

“Spit it out.”

You hold your breath, not sure how to present it. Looking at Oikawa, his eyes are full of affection and reassurance, you’ve come this far and you can’t back out of it now.

“Are you quitting?” she murmurs, gazing at you with a stern, cold look on her face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to cushion the blow. But her eyes grow with more displeasure.

“Excuse me,” she hisses.

The air cuts thin. You’re quiet upon hearing the disappointment in her voice, and can understand why she’d be absolutely mortified.

“All that your father and I have done for you,” she barks. “This is how you repay us?”

I knew this was going to happen, you think to yourself as the worst case scenario seems to be on track with her reaction.

“I want to find somewhere else to intern,” you breathe, scared your words are just going to start a war. Her eyes have blaze in them won’t go out. There’s so much passion to make you like her, but even more successful, despite you going against her wishes. Something in her aura makes you want to run, but running is all you’ve ever done. It’s time to face your fears. “Please, let me explain.”

She doesn’t speak, her scowl says everything as she leans back in her chair, arms crossed against her chest.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ever since I first went in for the interview,” you begin trembling. “Everyone was so welcoming and so excited to have me, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

“So you’re going to be selfish and only think about yourself?” she argues.

You recognize your anxiety from earlier stirring in your stomach. Your mom isn’t the easiest person to speak to, especially when her face radiates failure and suffering, this is quite possibly the most horrified you’ve seen her.

“It’s not what I want to do with my degree. I want to look somewhere else that will make me feel more fulfilled.”

“What you want is a mistake,” she thunders.

Her words are like knives digging into your heart. She just seems so distraught, and obviously cares about your future, but you can’t do this anymore.

You stand up from the table and bow deeply. “Will you please trust me? That’s all I ask.”

The room is silent as tension fills the air, you don’t really know what to expect as you shut your eyes tight waiting for a reaction. You’re expecting to be yelled at-- not to mention a shock wave of embarrassment protruding through you in front of Oikawa. The moment is painful and you don’t know what to do. You remain in the deep bow waiting.

“Alright. You don’t need to be so ridiculous, bowing...” she mumbles. You stand up and she has her hand clasp to her forehead. “You’re father’s going to kill me, but alright.”

Your heart rate increases, uncertain what she means by that, because you thought you’d misheard her.

“I guess it’s about time you’ve made your own decisions,” she says. “I was beginning to believe you’d continue to go along with it, but you’re your own person now.”

Shock and confusion washes over you, mixed with hope and excitement. You press your palm to your heart wondering if it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“Just don’t come crying when nothing goes your way,” she adds.

Letting out a huge breath, your lips upturn to a smile.

“Thank you,” you say. And it’s genuine.

[sunflowerstache]

the one where you’re Harry’s tailor

@theasstour​ and I have been stewing in this idea for nearly a year and it’s finally come together.. we hope you enjoy x.

Word Count: 25.6k | Warning(s): explicit language, alcohol, sexual content

NORA’S MASTERLIST  |  SARAH’S MASTERLIST

There were few moments in life that would equate to being backstage at a fashion show, simply because it was impossible to string together the specific words needed to describe the feeling. Journalists tried, quickly scribbling down thoughts and plans for their future articles in small notepads, while the professionals around them danced about in unspoken, yet somehow synchronized, movements. How would they be able to accurately depict the feeling of fabrics rubbing together between your fingers, in the most comforting way? The almost deafening sound of sewing pins carelessly being dropped on the table, after fixing a foot sized hole in a pair of trousers moments before showtime. Or how, with the amount of people crammed into the room, mixed with the humid Roman air seeping through the open windows, had sweat continuously dripped from your forehead. Yet, there was still a constant shiver running up your spine with nerves. No matter how valiant of an attempt, unless they were watching their own tailored outfits walk down the runway, their written words would never be exactly right.

Even after four years working for Gucci, perfecting hundreds of articles of clothing, clothing that was held on such a high pedestal in the fashion industry, the nerves never settled. Not when Alessandro immediately hired you at the end of your University placement, or when you were asked to accompany him in the closing walk during last year’s Cruise Show. But all of those monumental achievements paled in comparison to the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you were crouched in front of your current canvas, Gucci’s newest runway model for the 2020 Cruise Fashion Show; Harry Styles.

He was making his runway debut wearing Look 51, something you’d taken notice was not too far away from his new wardrobe when you first opened his folder. The wide legged pants were crafted from fine dots patterned blue wool, a single red pin stripe running from the hip, all the way down to the ankle. They were finished with minor details, ones not many people would take notice to, but ones that made your heart race with excitement; hidden horn buttons, front slash pockets, viscose inner lining, and an interior silk belt, all of which were hidden by his coat. Green, red, and blue stripes defined the knee length coat, appearing to crease where the four pockets sat; two at his groin and two more just at the breasts, the left pocket holding Lyre ‘Pas de Rumeur’ crest patch. Barely visible under the wool coat, peaked out a blazer identically matching the pants, only the buttons and red piping could be seen, but you knew what would be hidden to onlookers; an orange lion embroidered onto the upper left breast pocket, the hand stitched word ‘Gucci’ sitting under it’s paws in black thread, and a baby blue silk inside - a fabric that no doubt felt great against Harry’s white tank top covered torso. The rest of his look consisted of minor accessories that brought the look together; a red barrie that had the signature double G’s embroidered in green thread, a pair of crocheted black fingerless gloves, and maroon quilted leather slide sandals, complete with the interlocking G horsebit. The subtle jewelry on his body was a stark contrast to his usual ring clad fingers, now only having a few delicate necklaces rest against his bare chest. He was a sight to be seen, someone who would surely grab attention as he made his way through the dark museum runway.

“Quit moving, or you’ll end up with a pin in your bum.” you mumbled, on your knees behind Harry and quickly fixing a tear in the rear left pants pocket before he was ushered out onto the runway.

The two of you were in the farthest corner of the back dressing room, away from most of the hustle and bustle of all other models, so that you could grab the emergency sewing kit, filled with all colors of thread, baby scissors, hundreds of pins, and even super glue, from your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, Alessandro could be seen weaving through the room, triple checking that each and every outfit was completed in the exact way he had envisioned. There wasn’t much time before all models were set to step foot on the Musei Capitolini floor, and the last minute nerves were finally setting in.

“Sorry, can’t help it. Never done this before, you know.” his voice was muffled by not only the chatter of the room, but also the constant picking of his lip.

“Still can’t believe you’re actually doing it, if I’m honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you chuckled, giving the bum pocket a couple tugs to make sure it wouldn’t come undone again, before moving to stand directly in front of him. “You cut yourself the first time we met, ripped your trousers at the first shoot, and fell off a stone wall in the new campaign. You’re not exactly the most graceful lad at times.”

“In my defense, no one told me not to get on that wall.” Harry paused a moment, holding his hand out for you to place the pin cushion while you reorganized your bag,  “Can’t believe we only met a few years ago. Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Without any hesitation, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t really remember the exact date you first met Harry. All you remember is it had been February 2018 and raining - very hard at that - and when you entered the Gucci store on Bond Street in London, your umbrella had been torn to shreds because of the wind, and your hands felt like ice after having been attacked by the raging storm outside. Alessandro had been upstairs in one of the offices, three huge white boards before him with the different campaigns he was planning at the time. Humming along to Malafemmena by Roberto Murolo playing from the speakers on his desk, Alessandro traced a finger over the fabric hanging from the wall beside the boards. You knew those were the fabrics you were going to be using today, your boss having hung them forth so it would be easier for you to work.

“Morning.” You had said, taking your jacket off and placing it on the hanger. “Absolutely horrendous outside.”

“Hmm,” mused Alessandro, tilting his head to take the grey fabric in before he looked over at you making your way over. “Always like that in England.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the different colours, materials and patterns you were going to use for the new looks. “You’re not wrong.”

Alessandro giggled, looking over his shoulder for a single second.

“Either pouring rain or it’s drizzling.” You said, studying the different designs of each of the suits you would be making over the next few months. “Right annoying when you don’t even want to be here.”

He laughed again, turning around to look at the boards you assumed.

“I’m being serious.” You reached for the fabric your boss had been checking out when you arrived. “Who would choose to live in a country where it constantly rains?”

“Didn’t really have a choice most of my life,” came a voice from behind you and you instantly stopped dead in your tracks. “Can’t really control where we are born, can we?”

Slowly, you turned to see one of Alessandro’s dearest friends: Harry Styles. He was sitting in the brown leather sofa right behind you, a sofa you knew was there from having been in Alessandro’s London office multiple times before, but hadn’t thought to give a second look. You would assume Harry would have someone there with him, like some assistant or manager or… anyone, but Harry was sitting there all alone, looking over at you with this cheeky grin on his face that had your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t a shock for him to be here alone, you thought after a second, as Harry and Alessandro spent loads of time together usually so this was just another normal hang-out for them. You, on the other hand, had never met Harry Styles before. This was your first time being in his company. And so far – you had to be honest with yourself – you weren’t looking very good. Grumpy, soaked through, and with a dash of dishevelled everything, you no doubt looked like a person no one wanted anything to do with. Harry clearly found it very amusing how little you liked being in England. Also most definitely found it funny how startled you were at his sudden utterance. You watched as he got up from the sofa, walking over to you as Alessandro also came to sight again.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro said. “This is Harry.”

You zoned out entirely, the whole situation too surreal. Though you had been born and brought up in England, there was just something about the constant rain that made not only your mood drop, but your skin sticky and hands clammy. So when Harry reached a hand out to shake yours after Alessandro had told Harry your name and introduced you, red lights and a loud alarm started going off in your head. He would have to feel just how bad the effect of the bloody terrible English weather had on you. But not shaking his hand would be weird and impolite. His hand was between the two of you, open and ready for yours. It stood there for a few seconds. And you just looked at it. Quickly realising that not shaking his hand would probably be more awkward than doing so with a sweaty palm, you took his. A breathy giggle left Harry’s lips as your hands met. You let his go, looking over at Alessandro who was giving you a weird look while you heard the slap of Harry’s hand against his thigh in the background.

“Measurements.” Alessandro said, trying to move on from the awkward situation you had just caused. All the blood in your body rushed to the surface of your skin, instantly heating you up. You glanced to the ground, hoping Harry didn’t notice how flustered you just got. Walking to your bag, you took out your notebook and measurement tape. “Glorious, mio caro.”

Getting your pen, you walked over to the board for the Gucci Autumn/Winter Campaign. There were five different suits for this one, a couple of more for the next, and then three for the last one. From the way Alessandro had left some space at the bottom of the last board, it was clear he would be working even more with Harry in the future, they just did not know exactly what or when yet. Someone cleared their throat beside you and you whipped your head to your left to see Alessandro pointing to the different suits on the board.

“These today.” He said, pointing to the specific details he wanted and instructions on where they would be loose and not. “I need to go to a meeting, but you two will be fine on your own. You have a lot in common.”

You frowned, watching as Alessandro walked toward his desk, picking up a huge binder and resting it under his arm. “Have a lot in common?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “You do.”

“Like…?”

Alessandro only gestured with his hands for the two of you to get talking, and then he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him. Dettagli - Detalhes by Ornella Vanoni played lowly as the quiet between the two of you filled the room and made it troublesome to breathe properly. A great stream of anxiety suddenly took over and you suddenly felt very awkward. Obvious from the way Alessandro had left in such a hurry and the way he had left with that grin, you knew there was underlying expectations to this encounter. There were multiple reasons why Alessandro had called you to come help him. You didn’t want to think about that, though, because that only made absolutely everything ten times more embarrassing.

“Lovely,” Harry looked over at you from staring at the door Alessandro had kicked closed, standing confidently in his green and white striped tee shirt over his loose light denim jeans. “Likes a dramatic entrance and exit, that one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking over to the board to look at the details once more. Harry only watched you, a bit unsure of what to do next. The rain fell against the windows, creating a lulling sound to go with the Italian music still swaying through the room. The white walls, tall ceiling, and Victorian look of the room only made it feel like you two were actually in Italy. His phone vibrated from the sofa with an incoming text, only giving it a quick look over his shoulder until you wandered over to your bag again. Whipping your glasses out, you hung them from the collar of your white tee shirt before walking back over to Harry.

Quickly, and maybe a bit too loudly, you cleared your throat. “Are you ticklish?”

Taken a bit off guard, Harry blinked twice. “Only armpits and backs of my knees.”

“Right.” You nodded your head, hooking your measurement tape around your neck. “Stand still, back straight.”

Harry listened to you, biting the side of his lip as you pressed your ring and index finger to your sternum in concentration. Eyes following you as you started walking around his figure, getting a good look at everything before you stood before him again.

“Clothes too loose?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, taking your tape back in your hands again. An instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio by Jack Jezzro started playing just as the rain outside threw itself more forcefully against the windows, but you tried not to pay notice to anything but what was going on before you. You had no idea why you were nervous. Plenty of times before, you had worked with other celebrities; tailoring their suits, dresses and whatnots. For some reason, however, this felt different. Harry was so close to Alessandro, so the notion that the two of you would get along just as well filled you with anxiety, and a hint of awkwardness. Bringing your tape up you took a step closer to Harry as you lifted it above his head and around his neck. Before doing anything else, you put your glasses on, wanting to actually be able to see what the measurements were. Resting the tape on the tops of his shoulders, you put your finger between the tape and his neck to allow for some room for Harry to breathe in his suits. You felt him swallow against your finger. Her heart skipped a quick beat.

“So…” he said, dragging it out. “Where are you from?”

Instantly, your eyes whipped up in the direction of his, staring at you patiently. You glanced down at the measurements again, whispering them to yourself under your breath and doing so continuously till you wrote his numbers behind the ‘neck’ in your notebook.

“You can tell I’m from England?” you asked, knowing your parents had made it very apparent to you how much of your accent you had lost over the four years you had spent constantly traveling.

“Know a Brit when I hear one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking back to him. “Lift your arms, please.”

He did.

You sneaked the measurement tape from where it hung from his shoulders and wrapped it around the widest point of his chest. “Worcestershire, you?”

“Cheshire,” he answered. “Right outside Manchester.”

“Stand in a relaxed posture if you can,” you ordered. “You can let your arms fall to your sides.” Harry did as you told him to. “Now breathe in.” Breathed in, you noted the numbers in your head. “Breathe out.” You did the same again. Muttering them under your breath, you dragged the tape with you while writing everything down.

“And you?” Harry asked, clearly eager to get to know you better while you were this close to him. He didn’t want any awkward tension between the two of you as this almost felt like an intimate moment; you studying him so closely and touching his entire body on your first meeting. Though he was good at knowing when to be professional and when it was okay not to be - and though he knew this was work - he couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t. You were a good friend of Alessandro, just as he was, and so it felt more like two acquaintances hanging out than anything work related.

“Evesham.” You answered, enclosing the tape around Harry’s waist this time. You leaned into him, nose almost touching his chest. You breathed in through your nose, and as discreetly as possible, breathed out through your mouth. Why were you acting up? What was it with Harry Styles that suddenly made it hard for you to function? This never happened. Bending your index finger, you started feeling around for Harry’s belly button to make sure you were on the right spot.

“Never really been to Worcestershire, if I’m- Oh!” Harry looked down at you as you poked his belly button a little too hard.

“Sorry, just needed to know I was directly on your waist.” You leaned down, asking him to breathe in and out again.

Harry watched you write the numbers down. “How long have you been doing this?”

“What?” you asked, putting one end of the tape at the mid side of his neck, following it all the way down to where you knew Alessandro wanted the shirt to end. Which was a little too close to his crotch. “You mean working for Gucci or tailoring people?” You felt the spot where his abdomen ended and his leg began. No, no, no, don’t go there, be professional, you thought to yourself.

“Both.”

You hunched down, getting the right measurements, writing them down, and then going to stand at his back. “Since I was twenty. Alessandro thought I had some talent, took me under his wing, and I’ve been working for Gucci since, tailoring people.” Placing your finger near his armpit, and tracing a line upward, Harry jerked.

“Absolutely not.” He glanced at you now that you were face to face, protecting his armpit while he continued on, “Want me to elbow you in the throat?”

“Preferably not.”

“Then don’t tickle my armpit.” He was so serious it took everything in you not to laugh.

“Well,” you couldn’t help your smile now. “I kind of have to know where your armpit is to do your shoulders.”

Conflict ran across Harry’s face, as if he was debating everything that could go wrong if he let you do it. Slowly, he turned back around, shoulders incredibly tense this time.

“Try to relax.”

“I know I’m about to have a finger jammed up my armpit, I’m unable to.”

The urge to laugh was so immense, but you bit your lips together and quickly ran your finger from his armpit and directly up his shoulder. Harry only winced a little, sighing under his breath as you took the measurements and then went to write them down.

“Sorry,” Harry said as you turned back around to him. “Didn’t mean to turn into a dickhead, but I just hate when people touch my armpits.”

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m the same with my neck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Ever had someone tailor you?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Nope. I’ll do that myself unless I need someone to do my back.”

“Let me know next time you need help and I’ll do your back.” Harry said. “Maybe wiggle my fingers along your neck or summat to that effect.”

You laughed. “You have free time on your hands now? Aren’t you a busy bloke?”

“Count me in after July.”

“Oh?”

“World tour is over; I get to relax.” He informed, watching as you did his arm. “Going to Italy to relax with some mates and family.”

“How nice.” You said, doing his wrist. “I’m going to Italy as well. Always spend March ‘till August in Florence, then September ‘till February in London.”

“Really?” Harry almost looked a little impressed by your lifestyle, as if his own wasn’t just as adventurous. “Travel a lot?”

You couldn’t help a tiny smile, knowing that no matter how many countries you’d travelled to, Harry had probably done double the amount. But regardless of how well-travelled he himself was, in the low yet curious tone of his voice, you could hear the sincerity of his question. “Mostly between Italy and England, but I do tag along on some of Alessandro’s visits to the States, France, and some other countries.”

“Wicked.” Harry smiled as he noticed the corners of your mouth tip a little upward. “What’s been your favourite so far?”

The eye contact was intense. He didn’t look away, focusing entirely and altogether on you. There was a friendliness to his glance that had you relaxing, which was odd considering how anxious you had been earlier. You were sure that, by this point, Harry had completely forgotten the entire reason why he was here or why it was raining outside. And, to be fair, so had you. This felt like catching up with a friend, the easy chatter you had with one of your mates after months apart.

“I feel like I’m somewhat biased, but Italy. I love my little flat in Florence and that city too much for my own good.” You said, finding the way Harry’s head moved slightly with his huff, endearing. “You expected that?”

“What's not to love about Italy?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “I’m going there this summer, remember? Taking my whole family and meeting some mates.”

“Where abouts are you going?”

“Modena.” He put his hands in his jean pockets, nodding his head as he spoke. “Not really anywhere close to a big city or anything, but I just want to rest once I’m there to be fair. I’m teaching myself Italian at the moment, Alessandro is teaching me some as well.”

“Really?” Your smile grew bigger.

Harry’s smile mirrored yours. “Yeah.”

“Would you understand if I spoke some to you?” The four years you had lived in Italy had made you fluent in their first language. It had been a challenge at first, but you now understood the frustrated Florentine drivers shouting out from their open driver side windows, the old couple owning the bakery near you who loved to mumble, and even the slang some of the interns at Gucci used when they talked to one another. Harry seemed to be able to tell that you mastered this language he had just barely started to learn, but he nodded nevertheless.

“Right then.” He said. “Hit me.”

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself, getting the measurement tape from the table behind you, completely having forgotten about the fact that you were here for work.

“Is that Italian for ‘oh no’?” Harry teased, making you both laugh, but you quickly shut up as you saw what was next on the list. Hip and seat. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Harry, biting your lip as you hunched down before him. You could tell that he too was a bit taken aback by the completely new position you two found yourself in. He quickly looked away.

“Is it okay if you…” your eyes met. “If you lift your shirt slightly and lower your jeans a tad? I need to measure directly onto your body.”

“Alright,” Harry took a grip of his jeans, shimmying them along with his boxers a bit down his hip. “Yeah.” Taking his shirt up next, the bare skin of his abdomen was there right in front of you.

“Modena,” you started, leaning in as you brought the measurement tape around him. Harry felt your breath brush against his abdominal hair. “Non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

“What?” he said, eyes glued to the wall right in front of him, hands gripping his shirt hard in concentration. “Didn’t catch that.”

You memorised his number, then said a quick, “You can pull your jeans up and shirt down now.”

Harry did so, watching you stroll back to note his hip. He noticed he was panting slightly, like he had run up a set of stairs. Closing his mouth, he shook his head and willed himself to act normal, to be respectful. It was a little hard, however, when he had been single for so long and a pretty lass stood right in front of his crotch. As you came back and stood in front of him the exact same way as the time before, Harry settled his eyes on the white boards again. This time around, you brought the book with you, wanting the crotch and leg area to be done with as quickly as possible.

“Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.” You said again, measuring around the widest point of his seat.

He didn’t respond.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

You giggled, writing down the measurements before inhaling hugely. Inseam next. “Did you catch what I was saying?”

“No, I-“ He stopped himself as your hand came up to the inside of his upper thigh, not having seen it coming. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay.” You said quickly, doing his inseam, knuckles softly gracing that spot between his thighs.

“I, uhh, I didn’t understand what you were saying.” He admitted quickly, hands on his hips and gaze faraway.

You wrote down the inseam, and got up, taking the book with you. His eyes instantly fell on you as you stood face to face again; him biting his lips together and your eyes big. Turning around, you placed the book down on the table again, running your finger over all the measurements so far.

“Could you come here, please?” You asked, hearing Harry walk towards you, hands on his back and ready for the next steps. You had been a bit scared to command him earlier, but now that you had talked and been between his legs, you felt it almost got a little easier to be around him. As if the awkwardness had gone away. Now you didn’t have to go far to write his measurements because the table and book and pen were right beside you. You walked over to the white board, mentally jotting down how and where Alessandro wanted the shirt to end and how it was supposed to sit on Harry. Meanwhile, Harry craned his neck to watch you. Still wearing your glasses, he watched your lips move as you mumbled to yourself, the dark blue of the rainstorm from the window beside you, made what Harry looked like seem like a painting. The calmness of you against the raging madness outside. He glanced back at the book, then at the soft fabric hanging beside him, mind wandering to the different places these campaigns would take him. He read over his measurements, about to turn the pages to see some of his other lengths and widths, when he felt a sharp pain in his finger.

He hissed.

You glanced over at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Harry was fast to answer, putting his index finger in his mouth to get some of the blood off his finger.

Walking back over to him, you didn’t pay much attention to how he was quick to put his hand behind his back again where it had been earlier. “Modena isn’t too far from Florence.”

Harry’s brows met above his nose, feeling a little lost at first, but as he slowly started putting two and two together, his grimace evaporated. “Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

You nodded your head twice, giving him a little smile. “Esattamente.”

“Exactly.” Harry translated.

You raised your hand, offering Harry a high five which he happily answered. What he forgot in that second however, was his minor accident just a minute earlier. Right before your hands met, you noticed his finger, and your eyes went immediately to his.

“What happened to your bleeding finger, mate?”

“Oh-” Harry looked at it, looking unsure for a second before he huffed. “Oh that,” he huffed. “That’s nothing.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re a tailor.”

“What…” You shook your head. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Thought we were stating the obvious.” He shrugged. “Just a papercut. I’ll survive.”

“Of course you’ll survive, just wondered how you were able to start bleeding out of nowhere.”

Harry chuckled. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to use my hand as normal in no time.”

“Knob.” You mumbled automatically, immediately regretting it. That was not at all professional. And you were in a very professional setting. You were at work. You couldn’t call your client a knob right to his face. Oh my god oh my god oh my god, you thought to yourself trying to row yourself back to safe territory. You scrunched your nose up as you inhaled sharply. “Can’t even remember the last time I got a papercut, to be frank.”

“Speaking frankly now, are you?” He joked. You looked up at him again, and a second after your eyes met, you both started laughing. You put your hand to your heart, shaking your head at how silly the two of you were when you were under strict orders from Alessandro to get Harry’s measurements. But the fact that he hadn’t taken you calling him a knob seriously, the fact that he was able to joke about it and take the piss, it made it impossible for you not to laugh with him.

Your eyes met, both teary eyed from laughter.

“What’s knob in Italian, anyway?” Harry asked, making you laugh even harder.

And that launched the two of you into easy conversation. Almost a little too easy for the two of you to just have met. The fact that you were in a work environment didn’t seem to face you at all, which was incredibly refreshing for both. The seriousness of the meetings you had to endure most of the time so unnecessarily boring and dry that this was like a breath of fresh air. Alessandro had been right when he said you had loads in common, which you figured out in between you taking his measurements. There didn’t seem to be a topic untouched at the end of Harry’s session, and though he was done with his measurements and such, he stuck around. You two stood by the table you stood at earlier, you still holding onto the tape like once you stopped, Harry would immediately leave. Neither of you noticed how the door opened slightly. Didn’t notice Alessandro looking through the crack and at the two of you, having heard voices from behind the door when he came back from his meeting. He smiled to himself, seeing Harry laugh at something you said before he closed the door again, leaving you two to it.

You became fast friends. Though you could go a week without texting, or a day without thinking about one another, you still knew that when you next met up, you would pick up where you left off. You had formed an easy friendship like that, one which you both appreciated and knew you could come back to without problem. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would befriend someone as high profile as Harry Styles when working as a tailor. You hadn’t really thought you would befriend any celebrity when working as a tailor, actually. But here you were, friends with Harry Styles, and not at all thinking of him as someone who made hit singles or who was the new face of Gucci. Someone who made a living off of singing and who had a huge bloody fanbase supporting him. That part of his life felt surreal, but yours and Harry’s friendship was so genuine, so effortless, that you didn’t really care about the other aspects of his life as long as he was a good person.

The second time you met was at the chip shop, The Camp, in St Albans, Hertfordshire, where the photoshoot and commercial would take place. It was cloudy, the skies a dull grey that threatened with rain, but you knew would just fly right by without interrupting the film crew. The wind was annoying however, bitter at the touch, but you knew Harry was a warm blooded person and would have no problems exposing his chest and hands to it. You strolled up to the Camp School parking lot that was littered with cars and a huge white truck where you knew Harry would be, getting ready. Alessandro had other business to attend to and most of the people on set worked for Gucci, but you were there to see that the suits you had made were okay and that they properly fit. For the first fitting some weeks ago, you had been busy with another client, so Alessandro had done that himself. But he still wanted someone on sight in case something happened, because no way in hell were anyone but him or you allowed to repair a pair of torn trousers or a ruined shirt.

You knocked on the door of the truck, heard a “Come in”, and stepped inside. Harry was sitting in a makeup chair, a woman doing his hair and make-up, readying him for his first ever Gucci shoot. He opened his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror before him. Your smiles were identical when you realised who you were looking at.

“Knob.” You said, standing by the wall behind Harry.

“Wanker.” He answered, grinning at you. “You alright?”

It was something the two of you had fallen into the habit of calling one another ever since the ‘knob’ incident of your first meeting. No one really understood why, especially not the people around you. Alessandro, who thought he had been the mastermind behind a match made in heaven, was surprised to see just how good friends the two of you were. Seeing you two hit it off in his office at first, he had immediately thought he had done it, found each his friends a potential partner, but after months of nothing romantic happening, he had given up. It was clear the two of you just looked at each other as friends and nothing more. Very good friends at that.

“Yeah,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing out beyond the door you had just walked through. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”

Harry chuckled. “Worried about that, are you?” He thanked the make-up artist before he got up, gesturing for you to walk out first.

“Yes.” You answered, stepping out of the van. “You’ll look like a maniac if you get wet in that.”

“A maniac?!” Harry sounded appalled. “You might have to elaborate on why.”

“Wet hair, wearing a suit with no shirt, striking orange necklace, and holding a chicken?”

“No, that’s art, babe.”

You laughed. The two of you started strolling towards the chip shop.

“If anything, I’ll look irresistible wearing this and being soaked.” Harry said, saying a quick ‘hi’ to someone walking by. “You won’t be able to resist me.”

You huffed. “If I saw someone walking down the street looking like that, being soaked through, I’d have my pepper spray ready and already dialling 999.”

“Admit it, you’d not be able to keep your hands off me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with me thinking you’re fit?” You laughed. A short silence followed. Your knuckles brushed against one another. Something warm lit up your chest for a single second. Harry just looked at you for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the question. But before you got the chance to look to your left and at your mate, to make sure he was fine, someone interrupted.

“Harry,” one of Glen Luchford’s assistants walked toward the two of you. “We’re ready for you.”

The photographer stood beside the art director – Christopher Simmonds - further down the street, just outside the chip shop, talking amongst themselves about something. A slight breeze blew past you, Harry’s cologne graced you for two lovely seconds as you watched the man himself follow the main photographer’s assistant. You were a couple of steps behind them, standing by yourself and watching the whole commercial unfold. Harry was handed the chicken, who flapped its wings upon being in Harry’s grasp. The look on Harry’s face had you laughing, and Harry immediately looked over at you, giving you a stern look. However, you were laughing, so it was hard for him not to crack a smile as well. Your phone vibrated in your pocket some minutes later, and you walked a distance away as not to be in the way.

“Lallo, hiya.” You greeted, scrunching your nose up as you felt the first droplet of rain hit it.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro greeted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “How’s the photoshoot?”

“Not really done much yet, but everything’s fine so far.”

He sighed again. “I am glad to hear. Did the suit fit nice like it’s supposed to?”

You glanced at Harry over your shoulder, standing on the pavement further down, ready to film. He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the white sky with big eyes. It was almost as if you could see the peaceful green of his irises. His neck was stretched as he bowed his head back, closing his eyes and letting a few raindrops fall into his face. He looked almost dreamy; peaceful for a few moments as he collected himself. Someone shouted something and Harry blinked his eyes open, looking at the director. Suddenly, his eyes went to you, but they flickered away just as quickly. You looked away.

“It fits.”

“Nothing bad’s happened?”

You kicked at a stone on the ground. “What does that mean?”

“Harry ruining the suit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose. “Do you have that little faith in him?”

“He gets clumsy when he’s nervous.”

You frowned. “Harry isn’t nervous.”

“Are you sure?” Alessandro asked, you could tell he was narrowing his eyes and putting his hand on his hip. He was challenging you. “Really sure?”

“Look,” you started walking towards the make-up van, aware that you most likely had to go get the make-up artist and hairdresser out if it was going to start raining. “Everything’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. If you were worried this was going to be a fail, why didn’t you prioritise this event?”

“Fine, fine. It’s not you I’m worried about, no? It’s that…” Alessandro paused for some seconds. “It’s Harry’s first Gucci shoot and I’m not there. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then I’m there to fix it. Why I’m here, remember?” You spotted the van. “I’m your eyes, ears, and hands today.”

Alessandro laughed. “Il mio amore, what would I do without you?”

“Do not know. I really don’t.”

He laughed again and you two hung up just as you knocked on the door to the make-up van. Informing them that it was drizzling out and that they might have to come do a touch-up if it got worse, you walked in as they got everything they needed. A selection of suits hung on a rack on one end of the van, some twins in case something were to happen, and others were lone ones. Regardless, you always found Alessandro’s ability to make clothes into a form of art so inspiring. It was what made you want to work with him in the first place. An abundance of colours and fabrics, of softness and roughness, of modern and rustic. The things he thought to make you’d never in your wildest dreams think of, which made doing anything for him so fascinating. Always something new, always something spellbinding.

You followed the crew out and in the direction of the shoot. It wasn’t drizzling as much anymore, but this was still England, something that meant it would happen anytime soon. The artists were chatting amongst themselves as you made your way over, you read over an email on your phone. Suddenly though, the heels that had walked right beside you stopped. You glanced up from your phone, over your shoulder at the three ladies you had gotten to help you. They stared straight ahead, and when you averted your eyes, letting them land on what they were seeing, you almost dropped your phone.

The hen Harry had been holding was flapping about, two crew members chasing it while a third one ran over to help. Someone was shouting “Stop recording” and someone else “Get the fucking chicken”. But the worst part of it all – at least for you – was Harry getting up from the asphalt. There was a furrow to his brows as he checked his suits for scratches, stopping when he saw the rip at his knee. Your brain immediately flashed back to what Alessandro had just told you.

Harry’s eyes shot up, hastily scanning the crowd around him, and you quickly realised he was looking for you. Stepping forward, you saw him relax some when his eyes landed on you. He jogged over, groaning through his teeth.

“I-“

“-Get to the bloody van, I need to take a look at the rest of your suit.”

“But there’s only the knee.” Harry said as you two started walking.

“I’m not taking your word for it.”

This seemed to become a theme for Harry’s shoots. His anxiety would get the better of him, though he did get more confident with each one that went by. It wasn’t something he was amazing at at first, but something that grew on him overtime. Just like the seasons changed from winter to spring to summer, Harry slowly got his feet off the slippery ice he seemed to have been on that first shoot in England.

However, a few months later, you were back in Italy, doing another shoot with Gucci. Harry was wearing one of the suits you had tailored for him; a checked one, a blue shirt, a silk bandana around his neck and another one in his hair. Since the last shoot, the two of you had talked over the phone, texted, and sent each other funny memes on Instagram. You hadn’t met up a whole lot, maybe the odd café trip or two with some friends, but nothing beyond that. So, meeting him in Italy, your second home, was incredibly special to you.

You were on the outside of Rome, Villa Lente, and you had spent most of your morning yawning and getting looks from Alessandro when you did so. Harry yawned with you when he caught you doing so, the two of you giggling at how ridiculous you were being. With raised eyebrows, Alessandro watched the two of you, giving you a slight flick to the arm when you distracted Harry.

But it was when Harry was perched on the stone wall, dragging some hair out of his face as he placed himself steadily on it, that was then it happened. The sun hit him just right, making the ruffle of his curls look like a golden halo around his head; green irises switching to the colour of autumn leaves where the light hit them. He looked ethereal. And in the middle of all of this, Harry reached for the lamb he was supposed to be perching on his shoulders. No one thought Harry would actually fall off the wall. No one thought he was that clumsy. But as he was hurtling towards the ground having lost his footing completely, the realisation that he was indeed that clumsy hit you just as Harry hit the stone staircase beneath the wall.

Alessandro exclaimed a few crude words in Italian, running to Harry’s aid. You stood there blinking, getting yourself back from the slight daydream you’d just had about the poor man that laid on the ground with a dozen people around him. One second he had looked like something straight out of a dream; like an angel that had come down to earth. He had looked too good and you simply had not been able to look away from him. You knew Harry was good looking, you weren’t blind, but something about the sun hitting him like that, when he smiled down at you watching him, how carefully he styled his hair when he at up on that stone wall. It did something to you.

But all of that disappeared right away when Harry hit the ground, exclaiming a grunt of pain. Alessandro was by his side in seconds, speaking so fast you had trouble understanding him. Harry held onto his knee, yet again having ripped the suit and once again bleeding, only this time it was his hand. Why was it always his knee and why did he always end up bleeding? It was only so clumsy a person could get, wasn’t it? And yet, Harry Styles seemed to be proving you very wrong. No one was as easily affected by their anxiety as him.

People crowded him, ready to be of help and to get him standing. It wasn’t like he had broken any bones, because he was able to get up onto his feet without trouble, but the fall had definitely hurt regardless. Your eyes locked as Harry’s arm came to rest around Alessandro’s shoulders, the designer helped him over to the van. Once again, Harry had to change trousers.

“How?” you simply asked, unsure what best way to even address the whole situation.

“Don’t,” Harry shook his head, not in the mood to have you take the mick out of him for this. “Hurts like a fucking cunt.”

Alessandro pinched Harry’s side, making him yelp and put more pressure on his knee than he wanted to, ultimately getting him to gasp. Harry glanced at the designer, an annoyed furrow forming between his brows.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were being rude.”

“Pinching a wounded man is rude.” Harry removed his arm from around Alessandro, limping towards the van. “I’m getting changed.”

You glanced at Alessandro, both of you knowing that no matter what, Harry would be in a bad mood for a bit now. That always happened when something didn’t go according to plan; he’d get grumpy and need some time alone. One of the assistants was about to follow him, clearly having gotten some orders from the photographer, Glen Luchford, or art director, Christopher Simmonds. You put your hand out warning them from following the already irritated and hurting star of the photoshoot. He just needed 10 minutes to cool off, and then you’d be off after him to make sure he was alright.

Once 10 minutes had passed, you knocked on the door of the make-up van, hearing a grumble of sorts before stepping inside. Harry was standing unzipping his trousers and shimmying them down his hip. It reminded you a bit of the tailoring you had done at the beginning of the year, how he had pushed both his trousers and boxers down so you could get his measurements right. He glanced over his shoulder at you before he sat down, now only his boxers covering the top part of his thighs and crotch.

“Don’t stand there looking for too long,” he said, bending over to get the trousers completely off. “I might end up turning you on.”

You stepped inside, closing the door and walking over to the first-aid kit. You felt Harry’s eyes on you as he sat back, placing the ripped trousers on the chair beside him. Getting some cotton, you put a mild soap on it and poured it under water before walking back over to Harry. You sat down in a chair, getting closer to him, and taking his hand. As you turned it over to look at the scratch on his palm, you could tell that it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it to be, but it still looked like it’d hurt. Carefully, you dabbed the wound, making sure to clean it up. Harry hissed through his teeth, watching as the cotton came out dirty. It hadn’t been the cleanest ground he’d landed on and you didn’t want him to get an infection.

Getting up, you got another piece of cotton and did the same, dragging the chair even closer to Harry now. Taking his hand this time around, your knuckles brushed his thigh, the dark downy hair you hadn’t noticed till now. How his boxers rested tightly around his thighs, and how far up they were, revealing more than you were intended to see. Your cheeks felt hot and you focused on his hand, lifting it from his leg so you didn’t have to feel his warm, bare thigh against your knuckles. There wasn’t really a trace of any dirt on it now, but you wanted to be sure you’d gotten everything before you let him outside again.

You were very aware Harry could rinse his own wound himself. He didn’t need people to do everything for him, he liked doing most things himself, in fact. And though both of you were sat there knowing you didn’t have to, neither stopped it. Slowly, Harry’s eyes came to rest at your face. They stayed there, just watching you tend to him so carefully. When people go out of their way to help you, to make sure you’re okay, those are the kind of people to hold onto for life. The kind of people who will buy you sweets when you need it on a bad day, who will force themselves to be in a cheery mood to better yours, who will kiss your eyelids when you go back to sleep after a nightmare. The kind of people who will rinse your wound when you get hurt when you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

You didn’t know why you looked up, didn’t know what made you do it. Maybe it was your subconscious that knew if you did, you’d find something you’d been searching for your whole life. Maybe something inside you knew that glancing up, you’d see something you hadn’t before. Your eyes met Harry’s, and though you had stared into them on numerous occasions before, something shifted in that moment. With his hand in your hand, his bare knee resting against yours, eyes glancing intently into yours; it was like something bigger than yourselves took over. You felt it on your heart first, like a warm tingling that spread out to every single one of your limbs and cells. It felt like you were drunk; head hazy and feelings heightened. Everything about Harry before you was greater, brighter; more.

“You need to finish the shoot.” You said, knowing that Alessandro would undoubtedly not appreciate the two of you taking this long.

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared at you, like he was seeing something spectacular for the first time and he couldn’t look away. The look in his eyes softened as he gulped, his Adam’s apple moving with a lump in his throat he clearly had trouble swallowing. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes rest to your lips. Following the shape of them, savouring the colour of them. Neither of you realised you were moving in. It wasn’t till the sight of Harry started to blur and the room seem to fill with electricity that you realised just how close you were. You stopped, pulling a bit away till you saw him clearly, but a slight wrinkle to his brows told you he hadn’t appreciated that. Just as you were about to lean in again, to an unknown fate between the two of you, there was a loud knock on the door and a second later it flew open. You pushed away from him, barely even touching his hand as you finished rinsing the wound. Harry blinked, clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder at Alessandro who stood there glancing back at him.

“Well?” Alessandro asked, gesturing behind him at the shoot that had been momentarily stopped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, eyes meeting yours before he dragged his hand out of your grip. “Just a sec.”

Harry got up, walking over to the wardrobe to get changed. Instantly, you threw the cotton away and walked outside with Alessandro, ready to forget the whole moment and never think of it again. But it was easier said than done. The rest of that shoot, that day, that week, it was all you could think about.

Unfortunately, after that shoot, you and Harry hadn’t been able to see one another  It was finally that time of year when you had a bit of time off to relax, and this time it happened to fall in the middle of July. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do nothing more than wander the streets of your home, see some old friends, and fully enjoy the beauties that an Italian summer had to offer. But no matter how happy you were for the time off, it was bittersweet because although Harry had just finished his world tour and now had an abundance of free time on his hands, he was fully booked until you’d see him for your next shoot.

You didn’t fault him for how he spent his time off, he did just get home after a long year long world tour, and that did warrant some time alone. But you did have to admit that you missed seeing him. Somewhere in your mind, you recall him saying he was spending some time in Italy up north with his family, but the dates were jumbled and you didn’t want to disturb his peace. Instead, you settled for knowing you’d see him again in a few short months.

You had set out for the day in order to find some new houseplants, seeing as the young girl who kept yours tended to while you were away - Lilliana - always seemed to let them wilt. It was the most perfect day to stroll down to the market and see some of the florists you’d missed while you were away, what with the sun shining it’s brightest and only the tiniest breeze ghosting by your cheeks. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. This was your time to bask in the sunlight before heading back to dreary London for some time.

Sandals clapping against the cobblestone walkway echoed through the quiet street, the sound of faint music playing from a nearby open window was carried by the breeze, filling in any silence that would be there otherwise. This was the life you had dreamt about as a child, the kind of life that you only got to read about in books or watch in films, yet here you were. It was yet another reason you had to be thankful to Alessandro for.

“Mi scusi, signora.”

You often walked down the small side street with your eyes closed briefly, not only knowing it like the back of your hands, but also basking in the warmth of the sun, so it wasn’t anything new to have someone speak up to let you know they were near. But something about that voice was familiar. Like when you walk into your home for the first time in a while and you can smell you. Like you can’t exactly put a finger on it, but you know it’s familiar, so you investigate. Which you did, and it caused you to gasp.

“Harry?”

“In the flesh.” his smile could rival the brightness of the sun that was shining between in the tall buildings as he walked up the slight incline of the street towards you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and through I’d stop by. See my favorite tailor.” Once he finally reached you, your arms were instantly wrapped around one another, squeezing like you hadn’t just been together weeks ago.

“Wha - how are yo-?”

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless. You? Of all people?” he laughed, pulling away after giving a few rubs to your back.

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Montaione to take the piss, Harry.” you took this time to really look at him after your surprise meet up. He looked remarkable, something that quite annoyed you considering he was dressed so casually. Then again, the man could pull off close to anything. He was wearing a pair of grey trousers; a single pleat running from his waist to ankles down the middle of the leg, a plain white t shirt that perfectly accentuated his dark tattoos, and a royal blue bandana that hung loosely from around his neck. The pair of sunglasses he had worn when walking up to you were now being hung from the bandana so that he could get a better look at you, and if you had to look at his sparkling green eyes for any second longer, you were sure you would combust.

“Despite how easy it is to get under your skin, I, surprisingly, didn’t come here to do anything other than see you for a few hours.”

“A few hours? You traveled down from Modena just to hangout for a few hours?”

“Knew I was in Modena then? Keeping tabs on me while we’re apart, are you?”

Your hand jut out and shoved him hard enough to make him lose a bit of balance while you two started walking down the street, just enough so that he had to take a few steps to the side to stabilize himself.

“Thought you weren’t here to take the piss, knob.”

He laughed, nodding his head and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. “Alright alright. Truce. But to answer your question, yes I did. That a bad thing?”

“Uh, no it’s not. Just a bit surprising is all. That’s a bit of a journey just for lunch.”

“And I’d make it countless more times for you.”

Over the last two years, you grew to know Harry and when he was being serious or having a laugh, so you could instantly hear the sincerity behind his words. Despite the goofy grin playing at his lips, you knew that he was being truthful, and the thought made butterflies awaken in your belly.

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” the nod you gave was more towards yourself, but when you glanced up at Harry, you saw that he was already watching you, smiling as he took in your relaxed aura.

“You too, doll.”

“How’d you find me, anyway?” just as you did each time you met up, the two of you fell into easy conversation as you made your way towards the village square. Harry was one of those people that you could go months without talking to, yet somehow, the second you met back up again, you were able to pick up right where you left off.

“Alessandro may or may not have given it to me.” his voice was timid, like he didn’t fully want to admit he had asked your boss where you lived.

“Of course he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s obsessed with you, you know?”

“He’s not.”

“Mhm. Says you’re his shining star. ‘M sure the man would create a whole collection surrounding you if you give him enough time.”

“Says the woman who he looks at like his next of kin.”

“Don’t make this into a pissing contest, Harry. You know he adores you.”

“Just him?”

It felt like spending time with a lifelong mate when with Harry, but when he said shit like that, when he made your tummy flutter with his mix of words and longing gazes, it made it hard for you to see him as just a friend.

“Didn’t you say that you only had a bit before having to get back?” you changed the subject quickly, not wanting to answer his question.

“Not get back, ‘m not headed back to Modena.” he shook his head when you sent him a soft, questioning ‘no?’ “Nope. Flying down to Sicily for a few days for Google Camp.”

“Google Camp?” your eyebrows shot up in question when he told you, “A sumit for the rich and famous to talk about climate change while flying in on private jets and yachts. How very unlike you mister Styles.”

“Oi, lay off. Got invited, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to turn it down. Besides,” he shrugged, “‘M flying commercial and carpooling. Being as eco friendly as possible.”

“Course, of course.”

“I have four hours until my flight, so just shut up and come get lunch with me.”

The room had gone totally dim during your trip down memory lane, indicating that it was time for everyone to begin getting in their places so that the show could begin. But even in the low lighting, it wasn’t hard to miss the look of fear and doubt flash through Harry’s eyes. The look was something that appeared before every shoot or campaign you had been present for, only lasting seconds, yet always intriguing to you. The man before you was a superstar, someone who pranced around on stage in front of tens of thousands of people every night, without a care in the world. Yet, as soon as your exquisitely tailored clothes touched his body, his shoulders would tense, and he looked like a scared child. You’d never understood why.

“You’re nervous.” It came out as more of a breathy statement than a question.

“‘M terrified.”

You heard those words regularly from your models, especially the new ones, but hearing it fall from between his lips made your stomach tighten. Harry was such a natural at all of this; the superstardom. It was easy to tell that he felt right at home while on stage, how perfectly natural his body reacted whenever the camera was on for a red carpet, how easy going he was when it came to hair and makeup and outlandish outfits. All of it came so easy to him and it blew you away every time you got to witness it. And while he was so good at adjusting quickly to new environments, his team and fans constantly cheering him on with every new endeavor, he was still just a normal twenty five year old guy. He still FaceTimed his mum to get her opinion on new looks, still went out and enjoyed his free time with mates, and still got anxious when trying something new. He never seemed to want to disappoint you or Alessandro when he was wearing the clothes you’d made for him specifically. That was what got to him, you thought, the prospect of ruining spectacular clothes you’d made from scratch. The moments in time you’d just thought back on was indicator enough.

“It’s gonna be great. We saw you during the runthrough yesterday.” you smiled, reminding him how well he had done during the practice show.

“But that’s different. This time it means somethin-” he was cut off by Alessandro yelling it was time for all models to officially line up for showtime. “What if I go too fast and I step on Mae’s shoe, fuck up her walk? Or too slow and clog up the entire runway? Or the hat fal-”

“Hey!” To stop his incessant worrying, your hands grabbed either side of his face, making him stop for a second and look directly at you. He blinked once. “Stop it. You’re going to do amazing. Alessandro wouldn’t have put you in this show if he didn’t have complete confidence in you. And you should know by now I wouldn’t have wasted my oh so precious time making any of this fit you perfectly if I didn’t believe in you.”

Harry’s breathing began calming down, going from almost hysterical to a gentle, rhythmic, intake, indicating that he was coming out of his panic bubble. His eyes never left your own, quite different from all the times they had openly roamed your figure.

“You can do this.” You whispered, nodding slightly and sending him a loving smile as your hands dropped back down to your sides,

Alessandro’s voice yelled over everyone, demanding everyone be in their place immediately, but Harry made no move to leave your side. He continued staring at you, taking a few deep breaths every few seconds and nodding to himself, seeming to give himself a pep talk in his head. The lights went out in the museum, leaving the audience in complete darkness, and you knew the intense sound of an alarm would soon be echoing through the building to start the show.

But none of that held your attention.

In what could have only been a second, Harry’s lips were pressed against yours. It was so quick that you didn’t have time to register what had happened before he was turning to run and join the other models, but it left you stunned. Like being in the warmth of your home during a snowy day and suddenly opening the door, letting the freezing wind hit you in the face.

And as much as the kiss had taken you off guard, it felt so very right that small second it happened. He hadn’t even given it a second thought, leaning in to kiss you like the two of you had been an item for years and it was part of your normal everyday routine. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the thought alone made your fingertips ache to be on his skin again. Shaking yourself out the haze that had formed around you mind, your focus and priorities flipped like a switch as soon as the siren began playing, looking around the room to make sure everyone and everything was where it needed to be.  

Just as the precession of models began exiting the dressing room, and The Shadows Die Twice by Br1002 ranging throughout the museum, you made your way up to stand beside Alessandro. There was never a time you saw him truly stressed; not when you first started working with him and you accidentally ruined an entire bundle of fabric, not when he was in charge of creating dozens of different looks for the Met Gala, and not even now, watching as his newest collection strutted down the runway, making its worldwide debut. He was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.

“There she goes.” You admired, resting your head on your boss’ shoulder and watching all 217 of the looks he created and you helped bring to life, be released into the world.

The sense of pride that rushed through your veins each and every time you got to see the pieces you put your heart and soul into, was similar to what you could only imagine it was like for a parent to watch their child flourish. You could remember all the moments during the months leading up to the show that you wanted to quit, when you would get so frustrated with Alessandro and his brilliantly creative mind every time he brought you a new look idea, how badly you wanted to scream after pricking your fingers so much they started to bruise. You remembered all of those times when holding such an important job at Gucci felt like something you just weren’t ready for at the age of twenty four. But every hardship was worth it the moment your work came to a culmination. This moment of absolute pride and excitement.

“How are you feeling?”

Alessandro wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you so close to his body that it was most comfortable for you to wrap one arm around his back and one around his waist, your hands joining together at his hip. “I feel so much love.”

That was the only way to describe what the two of you were feeling as the show progressed through the museum. Even though the room was dark, tall lighting setups hung in every direction, and hundreds of guests were posted up in chairs, the beauty of the location still shined through. Black and white marble covered the floor throughout the entire building, the diamond pattern flowing easily from room to room, and sculptures of ancient men lined each side of the hallway, seemingly growing from the walls because of the similar colors. About halfway down the hallway, models made a left turn and entered the large area known as Palazzo Nuovo. The “New Palace” was constructed over 400 years ago and was an identical replica of the Palazzo dei Conservatori that Michaelangelo created. You had been to the location many times before since spending 6 months at a time in Italy, but you had never seen it as a place to hold a show. Not until Alessandro had brought you one day and explained his vision as you roamed the hallways.

The quick pass of a red beret on one of the monitors, set up for the backstage team to watch the show, caught your attention. He stayed on camera for a bit, and you wished you could watch his fans meltdown over it in real time because he looked exquisite. Despite the darkness of the room, Harry was glowing. The way the strobe lights would hit his face every few steps and accentuate his already angelic features made your stomach clench. You had spent countless hours up close and personal with Harry, while there was very little fabric covering his body; very intimate and unforgettable moments. Many a-second-too-long looks, smiles when the other wasn’t watching, and an intense almost kiss. And an actual kiss. A tiny kiss. A kiss you still felt on your lips. But now, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about his lips while he strutted down the runway in one of the most conservative outfits of the line.

There was something about the lapel rolls of the jacket flapping open slightly with each step, beautifully showcasing his sparrow tattoos and delicate pendant necklace under the dim lights, that excited you. But it was the faintest smile that graced his lips the second before he left frame that made your heart swell.

The overall look he was sporting was extremely similar to that of his first Men’s Tailoring campaign, with the long robe like jacket and exposed chest, but the glint of both happiness and confidence in his eyes reminded you of the moment you put him into the pink and red ensemble of his latest campaign. Something that still made something inside your tummy flutter and the corners of your mouth tip upward.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Harry said. “I will die. 100%.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, holding the pink blazer up and letting him put both his arms through it. “It’s just pigs.”

“That will have my head if I get too close.”

“This is a Gucci shoot, you’re not on I’m a Celeb.”

Harry huffed, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the blazer over his shoulders properly. “Watch me go on I’m a Celeb and die when I get attacked by an exotic animal or summat.”

“A pig won’t be the death of you and it’s not an exotic animal, now shut up and sit down.” You wagged the red bandana at him. “I need to put this on you before we can get this started.”

“Alright then.” Harry shoved his wrists out for you. “Go on.”

You tried to give him a disappointed look, but you simply were not able to. Laughing, you shoved Harry into his seat, standing between his legs as you tied the bandana around his head. This time around, the shoot was mostly indoors, so there weren’t many ways Harry could fuck this one up. Alessandro was busying himself and so were other crew members, walking about you two and shouting orders at someone else, but neither of you noticed anyone but the person before you. Since the lunch in Florence, you had been incredibly busy, so you hadn’t really had much time to meet up. Harry, who was currently travelling and making his second album, hadn’t been available much either, but you were both over the moon that you got to spend this time together. You really missed each other the time you were away.

Since last time, Alessandro had gone out of his way to make rings for those he held dearest. Gold Gucci rings with each person’s initials, one for each letter, big and bold. It had taken you off guard, as you hadn’t thought yourself to be as important to Alessandro as he was to you, but he had insisted and showed you his own. He told you “Dear friends match” and that did it for you, you simply had to wear his rings without question. And since then, you had been wearing them every single day. You felt part of his little family. So when Harry showed up to your third shoot together, wearing matching rings to yours, you felt your heart skip a beat and Alessandro’s knowing eyes on both of you. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew how you both felt for one another, and he thought, by giving you these rings, you might realise how special you were to him and then see how special you were to one another as well.

“You’ll just have to forget about your fear of geese and be a professional.”

“I don’t have a bloody fear of geese.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tying the bandana properly.

“I don’t!”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry paused for a second. “Don’t ‘mate’ me.”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore the comment and how it made literally every inch of your body heat up. Taking a step back you studied him, giving him a thumbs up before you walked over to the other suits you had to check up on for the shoot. Harry watched you for a few seconds before he got up from the chair, going to check himself out in the mirror again. Your phone suddenly vibrated against the desk right in front of the mirror, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell to it. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who’s Jack?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry read the text you just got. “Hey!”

“Who is he?” he asked again, looking over at you as you came rushing over. You took the phone, pressing it to your chest as if it was going to make Harry forget what he’d just read. He tried to add a playful undertone to his voice, a slight smile across his lips.

“None of your business.”

Harry looked away from you, nodding as he busied himself with trying to get some kind of lint off his coat. “You’re right.”

You put the phone back in your jean pocket and walked over to the suits again, hunching down to check the seam on the hem on the trousers. You felt your phone vibrate with another notification or vibrate as a reminder that she’d gotten a text two minutes prior. Getting up and about to reach back to check what Jack had wanted, she felt a breath against her neck.

“You’re seeing him then?”

You jumped, holding your hand to your chest as you turned around to face him. “None of your business!”

“Oh, come on!”

You shoved him out of the way, way too much to do to be distracted by Harry’s nosiness. Strolling over to the desk, you started looking through your calendar when Harry showed up beside you again. Leaning on his elbow on the desk, he looked up at you, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how curious he actually was.

“Is he fit at least?”

“He’s not annoying.” You said, covering his face with your hand. You felt him smile into your palm. “Ever tried that?”

“Tried being annoying?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

You shoved him away, making him lose his balance some and lean both his elbows on the desk. He watched as you walked back to the suits, looking at which ones Alessandro said were to be used by Harry and which ones were to be used by someone else at another time. Just as Harry was about to ask another question about Jack – who was just a mate from back home you hadn’t ever talked to him about because he’d never come up in conversation -, there was a knock at the wardrobe door. Alessandro stood there, a raise to his eyebrows and a small smile on his lips that was almost hidden by his dark, thick, long beard. He’d stood there watching you two for a little while, you thought to yourself.

“Is Harry ready for the shoot?”

“Yes,” you glanced at Harry and pointed at Alessandro. “Go.”

Harry sighed but got up, walking over to Alessandro who was smiling, encouraging Harry to do the same. As he passed him, a small beam was on Harry’s lips, but as he walked through the door, you couldn’t tell if he was still smiling or if he just did it to Alessandro wouldn’t make him. The creative director looked over at you, crossing his arms but not losing his smile.

“What?”

Alessandro shrugged.

“No, what?”

“You could’ve at least told him who Jack was.” Alessandro chuckled.

You rolled your eyes.

“But I get that you want to watch him suffer. It’s funny seeing someone you like be jealous.”

“Harry isn’t jealous.” You said, closing the calendar and placing it neatly back on the desk. “He’s just nosy.”

Alessandro didn’t say anything in response, instead he just walked on over to the shoot, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just told Harry who Jack was. It wasn’t like anything was going on between you and Jack, you were simply mates and he wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. You had absolutely nothing to hide. Especially nothing to the point of keeping your phone close to your chest so he wouldn’t reread the message you’d just gotten, holding no significance whatsoever.

Maybe Alessandro was right. Maybe you did want to see if he was jealous or not. But he didn’t seem jealous to you, just his nosy self. Sighing, you followed Alessandro, ready to be of service if something should go wrong. They hadn’t even started shooting when you walked into the room, they were still walking around, placing the different statues and other props around the place to get it to look exactly like the producer wanted it to. You stood watching for a bit, knowing that your phone was still in your back pocket, untouched since Harry had seen the innocent text from Jack.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, saw a shadow mingle with yours, and you recognised the messy hair and the bandana you’d wrapped around his head earlier. Smiling, you continued to stare ahead, waiting a minute before Harry felt brave enough to answer.

“Did you answer Jack then?” You felt the breath of his words against your hair.

“He just wanted to know how I was, Harry.”

“I know.”

You bit your lip, not looking back at him.

“Guess he just wanted to talk. To feel close to you in a way.”

You huffed, standing your ground and not looking back at him like you knew he wanted you to. “And the point of this is…?”

“Being close to someone you love can calm you down.” Harry said, voice low so only the two of you could hear him. You felt a shiver run up your spine. “Like shelter in a storm; entering a small house and staying for tea before braving the terrible weather again, a little stronger this time with some motivation from those you… hold closest to your heart.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your throat, feeling both Harry’s breath and eyes on you. It took everything in you not to look at him, to see his soft expression after uttering those equally soft words. “I’m not in love with Jack, Harry.”

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “Okay.”

You smiled yourself, wanting to say something in response but not knowing what would be appropriate. You weren’t even sure why you were feeling this much or why Harry being elated you weren’t seeing someone made you this happy. He stood right behind you, just as close, not wavering, till he had to go do the shoot. Walking backwards, he made sure to catch your eye, give you a small smile, before going to do his job. You hated how your cheeks felt hot, that every single time Harry’s dimples appeared you heard something inside your head scream and the every single one of your cells react to him. Glancing over at Alessandro, you caught the creative director watching you with a grin on his face. As soon as your eyes met, though, he turned away, forcing his smile away and pretending like he hadn’t seen a thing. You rolled your eyes, focusing all your attention on Harry, who didn’t let his anxiety get the better of him this time around.

“He’s doing very well.” Alessandro commented, his left hand resting on his chin in a pondering manner.

“He is.”

“Because you replaced his nerves before the show.” From under his hand, you could see a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“I - what?” Lifting away from his side, you stared at Alessandro’s face. And your wide eyes must have made you look like a deer in the headlights because he started chuckling.

You were positive that no one had seen your moment with Harry, considering how dark the little corner you were stood in was. Backstage at a fashion show was crazy enough, there’s no way anyone had been paying attention to the tailor in the back of the room. But the knowing look in your boss’s eyes told you otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest.

“Eyes all over my head, il mio amore. I see everything.”

Alessandro had been like this from the moment he introduced you and Harry, almost two years ago at this point. Always motioning from across the room for you to stand just a bit closer to Harry, informing you whenever Harry was remotely near the office, and always leaving the two of you alone each time he was scheduled for a fitting. It was like he was making it his life’s mission to get his two prodigies together.

“Don’t laugh at me. This is your fault, you know?”

Feigning offence and his hand moved from his chin to his chest, Alessandro turned away from the monitor to finally look directly at you, “Mine? Why do you say that?”

“‘You have a lot in common.’ or how about, ‘look at my two loves together!’ or my personal favorite, ‘The two of you together, assolutamente da togliere il fiato!’”your impersonation of him had gotten extremely good over the last few years, bringing a soft smile to his lips. “Any of those ringing any bells?”

“Only encouraging what you both know to be true, cara.”

“You’re absurd.”

At this point, the first model had made his way back to the dressing room, immediately going to line up for the final walk through. It was scheduled to be a quick show, only about thirteen minutes from first walk to last, but you never imagined it would go by this fast. As the models began to line back up, both you and Alessandro separated, going to either side of the line to join the other tailor in making sure each outfit was still in its pristine condition. You you had a few loose threats to snip here, and a broken necklace to dispose of there, but overall, everyone was still looking perfect.

Especially Harry.

His head was craned, watching you as you made your way down the line behind him, and as soon as you stepped in front of him to quickly examine his apparel, he whispered your name.

“Haven’t tripped yet.” he smirked, adjusting the red glasses on his nose.

“I know, I was watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. We were talking about you. Turn around.” grabbing hold of his shoulder, you pulled forward, “Making him proud, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed under your palms, like hearing the news of making one of his idols happy set him free and he could now have the utmost fun with the final walk through.

“Alright. Good luck.”

But before you could get to the next model, his hand caught your arm. In any other situation, you’d be annoyed that you were being stopped from completing your job, but the look on Harry’s face made all worries about any other model fade from your mind.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you proud?”

The question took you off guard. Was really that concerned with what you thought of his performance? He was one of the most renowned superstars in the world, who danced his heart out on stage and did what made him happy no matter what others thought. But your opinion was the one who made his hands clam up? And had you ever made him feel like you weren’t proud? You always thought your quick jabs to one another were all in good fun, but maybe you had gone too far and made him doubt himself.

“Always proud of everything you do.”

It was the honest answer. Getting to watch him excel in every aspect of life he threw himself into, make decisions that helped so many people, putting his friends and family first, and making sure he was happy above all else, was inspiring to say the least. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t feel immense pride for even just getting the chance to know Harry. And in that moment, you promised yourself that you would make it more apparent to him from then on.

A large smile spread across his face, and even in the poor lighting, you could see the apples of his cheeks turn a rosey pink. He looked undeniably cute and following your heart as well as Alessandro’s previous encouragements, you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Come find me after the show. Gotta talk.”

The happiness faded from both his face and his eyes, and you instantly regretted the way you phrased your sentence. “Nothing bad, I promise! Just come find me, yeah?”

You had moved on to the next model, giving her a smile and a quick “Hello Mae” and began checking her dress as Harry was still processing your request. His hands were fidgeting with the fingerless gloves and he was undoubtedly about to break skin with how hard he was biting his lip. You felt like a proper idiot for making him nervous again after he was so happy.

“Calm down, would you? You’re starting to stress me out.” you laughed, giving Mae the okay and moving onto the next model. Sending him a wink, you nodded your head, making him well aware of how unserious this conversation was going to be.

A faster paced rendition of The Shadows Die Twice started playing, just as you finished checking over your designated models, indicating that it was time for the final walk through to begin. After these final few minutes, all the garments you had worked tirelessly on for months, would be totally completed. And usually, you would be filled with ease and comfort knowing you would have some time off before your next project. But this time was different.

This time, Alessandro had consulted you on many of the pieces making their way down the runway, showing just how much he valued and trusted your opinion. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be where you are today, but because of the man standing next to you, believing in your talent and putting your passion to use, you were living out a dream that you never knew you had.

“Thank you.” You whispered

“For what?”

“For believing in me enough to hire me four years ago. For not letting me give up when I was confused. For always encouraging me. Just - thank you.”

“Never have to thank me for those things, tesoro. The potential and passion inside you needs to be explored! I’m honored I get to be the one to help you embrace them!” Alessandro pulled you into a tight hug, the two of you swaying as you watched the models capture the attention of each guest one last time.

Lifting to stand on your tiptoes you whispered in Alessandro’s ear, but even though your statement was barely loud enough to be heard over the booming music, apparently it was just loud enough for your boss to hear, because his head snapped back and he grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you at arms length.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Together?”

“Mhm.” It was hard not to continue your giggles at his bewildered expression.

“How come?”

You shrugged, “I guess I just have a bloody persuasive boss.”

Once again, models began entering the dressing room, but this time, instead of staying in strict model mode, they were letting loose. Smiles were spread all over their faces, rushing to give each other hugs and words of encouragement. It was a beautiful sight to watch, the release of pressure the show brought to the models and the absolute joy they were now basking in.

“Il tuo tempo per brillare, rockstar.” your time to shine, rockstar. giving his shoulder a pat, you watched as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to walk the runway and accept the congratulatory applause about to be thrown his way once the last model had arrived backstage.

It was during this part, for some reason, that you always saw a bit of his nerves pop out. Maybe it was because of all the wandering eyes and unknown opinions, but walking out to thank the guests for attending seemed to be the only thing that ever made Alessandro nervous. And you would never admit it to him, but you enjoyed seeing him a bit on edge, reminded you that he wasn’t just some fashion robot, but a man who just wanted to be accepted for his unique and creative mind.

Your position in the back room made it easy to be a part of both atmosphere’s; the juxtaposition between the loud, bustling back room and angelic, calming sound of Bach - St. John Passion BWV 245: Herr echoing off of the marble walls was like a metaphor for your life these last few months. How at times, everything around you was so busy and fast paced that it was sometimes hard to get a handle on what was happening. But then moments like this happened and none of failures or pricked fingers mattered. Because watching your boss, the man you admired with all your heart and were lucky to call a friend, walk down his own runway, accepting love he deserved, on pieces you had helped create, was the most heavenly feeling you could imagine.

You watched as he made his way through the museum quickly, stopping every so often to bow his head in gratitude and send kisses to everyone in the audience.

“I see why you like this so much.”

Harry stood next to you, hands buried deep in his pants pockets, the long overcoat pushed back behind his arms, just enough that you got a good view of the sparrow tattoos and the very tip of the bird cage on his rib peaking out from under the white tank top. He didn’t look at you, instead, his eyes were trained on the monitor, watching the man who gave you each the chance to flourish in a world you never expected.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“Fucking exihlerating walking down that runway.” he admitted, the sentance coming out in a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe how much fun he had. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for the people that created it all.”

“Yeah, quite hard coming down from a high like this, so he usually takes a week or so off before jumping back into things.” you chuckled, thinking back to when you’d received an influx of text messages the last time Alessandro had gone off the grid, depicting how much he loved bees and would be incorporating them into the new collection after staying on a bee farm for a few days.

“Alessandro did a phenomenal job.” he paused, finally taking his eyes away from the screen and turning his entire body so that he was now facing you. “But so did you.”

If he hadn’t been staring directly at you, he would have missed the roll of your eyes. Of course, you were thankful to be a part of something so extraordinary, but this was all Alessandro. It was all his vision and even though you were asked to help finalize a few looks, this masterpiece was all thanks to him, and you wouldn’t take credit for any of it.

But before you could explain all of that to Harry, he said your name softly, moving a tad closer so your elbow was just barely touching his stomach. “‘M serious. These may have been his finalized pieces, but you quite literally put it all together. There would be no final product without your work.”

“Harry -”

“Don’t ‘Harry’ me, wanker, you’re bloody amazing at what you do. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone walking around this room is example enough.”

Receiving compliments from Harry wasn’t anything new to you. For as long as you’d known him, he was always looking for the good in people and making sure they knew about it. If you had to guess, that was probably one of the his main qualities that initially drew fans in, because all anyone wanted in life was to feel good; appreciated. And that’s exactly what he had been doing for you since the day he walked through your office doors. It was the little things that made your stomach turn to mush; holding your pin cushion when he knew it would make a session easier for you, bringing you a smoothie when you’d told him you didn’t have time to eat before a shoot, sending you funny memes in the middle of the night, or even just seeing his dimpled smile appear when he finally got to see his immaculately executed wardrobe. No matter what the circumstance was, simply being around Harry made you feel happy, calm, and you didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

“Just look around an-”

“Do you want to go on a date?” when you���d asked him earlier to find you after the show so you could chat, you didn’t exactly expect the conversation to start out so blunt, but he just looked so cute and sincere telling you in his own way how proud of you he was.

“Wh-“

“There’s, um, there’s this really great restaurant not too far from here. Most delicious pasta you’ll ever eat, not to mention the cutest old couple on the planet runs it and they’ll def-“

“I haven’t eaten since this morning, so if you’re going to keep talking, I’ll just go eat this amazing pasta by myself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right, that was a dumb que-“ it wasn’t his words that made you stop mid sentence, but more the soft smile that spread across his face, his dimple popping out slightly beneath his growing facial hair. There was no hesitation in his acceptance to your dinner date, contrary to what you were expecting, and it made the tips of your ears warm up. “Oh! Um, perfect. Yeah, great. Okay.”

Never had you been so flustered by the man standing before you. This wouldn’t be the first time you grab a bite to eat with him, and definitely wouldn’t be the first time the two of you spent time alone, but the way he was looking at you, like none of what he just did mattered, was definitely a first.

“Okay, um, just get dressed and I’ll meet you outside?”

“‘M serious, hurry up. Might starve to death while you’re busy chatting.” Harry joked, slowly walking away while still facing you, his finger coming out to point right at you, “Then you’ll have to explain to everyone how your desperate need to talk to everyone you come in contact with, was the reason behind the death of the Harry Styles.”

“Oi, fuck off. Says the man who made sure to learn something about every single person setting up the show today. Go get dressed before I slap the Harry Styles.”

The slight shake of his head kept your attention as he weaved his way through the bustling room, back towards the vanity he had claimed as his own. You’d watched the scene in front of you play out many times before; models spread out throughout the room, some having changed immediately into their own comfortable clothes, some tossing their heads back in eased laughter, and some every sitting back with their feet up, enjoying a basket of chips. No matter how each of them decided to unwind after such a monumental show, it never got old. Because just as they did, you had your own post show ritual.

You didn’t divulge in unhealthy foods or put on your most comfortable pair of socks; you organized your kit one last time. From the moment Alessandro sits you down with his new vision until the last model walks off the runway, you know to keep millions of pins, thread of all colors, buttons of every shape and size, and even some super glue on you at all times. They would undoubtedly get used throughout the months of alterations and mishaps, if not by you, then by a member of your team. So, taking a moment to sit and go through everything once the night was officially over was a sort of release for you. A way for you to touch and feel just how much hard work had gone into your work. How the container holding your pins was considerably lighter, the spool of black thread had nearly vanished, and the pile of band aids in the lower pocket was down to three. All signs that you put your heart and soul into this collection.

There was never any guarantee when Alessandro would find inspiration next and when his next project would begin, meaning you never knew when the next time you’d be opening your kit was. But this time, that wasn’t the case. He had planned at least three more shoots before the years end, so you were only allotted a few weeks of laid back free time this time around.

“Packing up so soon?”

“You know how I like to close out a show.” You chuckled, not turning to look at your boss, but seeing his hand reach out and fingertips graze over the very top of your bag.

“How many this time?”

“28 buttons, nearly the entire tin of pins, 64 band aids, and two mini bottles of wine.”

“You should be proud, il mio amore, that’s two less bottles than last time! It’s about progress!”

“Two less because someone yelled at me less this time around.” Finally getting back to your feet, you turned to face him and noticed that he had thrown his hair up to get it away from his sweaty forehead. “No need to drink if you aren’t crying in the fabric closet.”

“Lo faccio solo con amore, Tesoro, lo sai.” I only do it with love honey, you know. His smile was contagious as he took your hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Look at how far you’ve come. Such beautiful art comes from these hands.”

“Do you know what you’ll do until the fragrance shoot?”

“I will be taking Vanni to see my brother. A nice peaceful place to become one again. Where will you go?”

“My flat in Florence has been calling my name for weeks, Lallo.” He smiled fondly at the nickname. “Will probably do some redecorating while I’m there.”

“And some dates, no?”

“I really don’t know why I bother telling you anything. Like my father, you are.”

“Well I am the reason for this, am I not? Seems only right that I know all the details.”

“Details of what?”

“How I’m redecorating my flat in Florence.” Your response was quick, and you sent Alessandro a stern side glare so that he knew not to bring up anything of what you were just speaking of.

“Yes, I told her that I expect pictures.”

“Oh, add me to that list as well then! I’d love to see how you decorate. ‘M always looking for new inspiration.”

“Um, yeah sure. You ready?” if Harry could sense how awkward you felt when he joined you and Alessandro, he made no move to indicate it. Especially now, smiling at your agreement.

“Yup. Ready to enjoy some of Earth’s finest pasta.”

“Oh!” Alessandro brightened at Harry’s words, his back straightened, and eyes widened. “Are you taking him to Chiaro Di Luna?” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Magnifico! A wonderful place you will love!”

“Well he won’t love it if we keep standing here so…”

“Have fun my prodigies!”

Both you and Harry laughed quietly as you finally walked away from the man of the hour. You may have known him in different ways, but each of you got the chance to see a side of Alessandro most people didn’t – parental type figure who wanted nothing but love and prosperity for you both.

“He’s like that with you all the time as well?”

“Hmm?”

You took a glance at him when pressing the button for the lift, just to be met with his warm eyes already looking at you. He looked handsome after the show – not that he wasn’t always handsome, but something about seeing him work so hard and then look so comfortable made your chest tingle. He was wearing a pair of dark yellow corduroy pants – the flare at the ankles not nearly as large as some of the flares he owns, but wide nonetheless – paired with a red and blue striped shirt, a tiny Mickey Mouse head embroidered into the upper left breast and a black bomber jacket.  He looked relaxed and everything that spending time in Italy embodied.

“Does he turn into dad mode on you as well?”

Harry laughed, “He means well.”

It was no surprise that Harry had brought along a plethora of fans, all eagerly awaiting his presence back outside after the show, so there was no way the two of you could casually stroll out of the front doors to get to your late dinner date. Instead, you were walking through the basement hallway so that you could make your speedy escape through the lower side exit, directly across from Cafe Capitolino.

“You think you’d do another?”

“You think I’d be asked to do another?”

Your hand found it’s way up to his forehead as the two of you strolled through Piazelle Caffarelli - the quaintest little park directly across from the museum. In the bright moonlight, the beds of flowers and statues almost appeared to glow, directing your path through the garden.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you have a fever.”

“Huh?”

“You must be sick because I’m not seeing your ego anywhere.”

“Oh piss off.” he laughed, lifting his own arm so that he could slap yours - playfully - away from his face. “‘M serious.”

“So am I. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you doing your music thing Harry. You’re good and you know it. Where’s that attitude here?”

He was quiet as the two of you finally made it out of the garden and crossed the main street, focusing on stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and tugging it closer to his torso. His hair had grown quite a lot since the first time you’d met him years ago, and the curls, wild from being kept under a cap for hours, were blowing in the small breeze.

“‘Dunno. I was nervous when I did the film as well. Guess doing something new like this makes me question if I’m given the chance to do it because I’m genuinely good at it, or just because they want my name on it.”

That was a surprise to you. From the moment you met him, you could feel the confidence he emitted. In fact, it rubbed off on most who were working with him. He made the people around him feel confident in themselves and what they were doing, and always encouraged when someone was feeling down.

“You’re very much wanted on this team for what you bring to it, not your name. I’m sorry if you were made to feel anything less.”

“No!” he quickly rebutted, gaining the attention of the few people wandering the street late at night. But he paid no mind to them, only focused on looking at you to make sure you heard what he was saying cearly. “You haven’t, at all. None of you have. Just don’t want to be known as the guy who gets jobs because he was in a band.”

“Can promise you that Lallo wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of so many shoots and such an important show if he didn’t completely and wholeheartedly believe you were perfect for it.”

You watched him nod and mutter a quiet I guess, the moon peeking over the Gran Caffe Roma and highlighting his eyelashes and very tip of his nose so perfectly that he began to look like a statue.

“Lallo?”

“Yeah.” a quick chuckle left your mouth, a hand coming up to rub your cheek while you thought of your response. “After I finished my first collection for him, it was a small one so he could see if I was right for the position, he took me out for drinks to celebrate me getting the job. Long story short, we both had a few too many and I started calling him Lallo and it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.” his hand was wiggling about, trying to escape the confines of the jacket pocket, and when it finally did, it brushed against your own. You both looked down at the close proximity of your hands and you felt the air immediately get thicker. He must have felt the same because when you briefly look up at him over your lashes, he was staring straight ahead; very apparently trying not to make any sudden moves.

But the millisecond the warmth of skin left yours, you wanted it back. Maybe it was the tiny kiss you shared backstage just hours ago, or the built up tension between the two of you that had started during his second campaign shoot, whatever it was, you were done dancing around the obvious. Without giving it a second thought or looking anywhere but straight ahead, you lifted your pointer finger ever so slightly. Just enough so that it gently rubbed against his. You wanted to give him the option of pursuing anything further, so just as quickly as the contact began, it ended; your fingers settling by your side yet again.

However, the breeze working it’s way between your hands didn’t last long, because almost immediately after your little move, you felt his fingers slowly creep around your hand. He didn’t move fast, almost as if he was letting the calm Italian breeze join your hands together. And slower than you would have liked, your entire hand was enclosed by his, feather touches to make sure the other was comfortable with where things had gone.

You wanted to make sure Harry knew just how okay you were with his hand keeping yours warm, so you continued talking as if nothing had happened. “‘M the only one who gets to call him that though, so don’t go parading around saying it.”

“Loud and clear. Your secret's safe with me.” he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening when a strong gust of wind blew through the small alleyway you were walking down and you shivered, “Cold?”

“No, I’m alright.” you lied, the air outside always making you significantly colder after leaving the sauna that was a fashion show back room.

Instead of letting go of the idea of you being cold, Harry lightly tugged on your joined hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, which then forced you to move closer to his side. Italy in May wasn’t a time you would consider cold; the sun shone nearly every day, warming your cheeks, and there was no need for anything more than a light jumper, but the warmth radiating from Harry’s side made it feel as if you were strolling around on an August day. But you welcomed it, despite the race of your heart.

“Looking forward to having some time off?”

“Absolutely. I really do need to redecorate my place. ‘M sure Lilliana hasn’t been taking care of the plants as often as I’d like so I’ll have to make a stop and pick up some new ones.”  you were mostly speaking to yourself, so you elaborated when he didn’t respond. “Lilliana is a girl who lives across the street. She’s sixteen, and has been watching my place ever since I started with Gucci. Doesn’t want to get paid or anything, only wants me to get her a meeting with Alessandro when she turns eighteen. Told her I’d see what I can do, but he’s already seen some of her designs. She’s very talented.”

“You’re really wonderful, you know.”

The compliment made the tips of your ears warm, and you were worried that the palms of your hands would start to clam up if you thought about the way you could feel him looking at you, so you quickly changed the subject, your hand clumsily sliding out of his pocket to point at the tiny restaurant in front of you.

“Here we are!”

Nestled at the very end of the alley, was your destination. Only two tables were set up outside, the tiny patio was past picturesque; it was straight out of a movie. A metal fence was surrounding the seating area on two sides - the third wall was created by the muted terracotta building and the fourth was left open for easy access. Wrapped around the very tops of the fence were some fairy lights, not enough to cover the entire thing, but enough to give a bit of lighting on the otherwise dark road, and creating a pathway to the front door, sat a nice variety of potted plants. And with the green doors to the shop left open, the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit you and Harry in the face.

“This is amazing.” his voice was full of wonder and you appreciated the fact that even he, someone who had been around the world and back many times, never took for granted the small beauties of the world.

“Just wait until you try the food.” you smiled, bringing your hand up to your mouth in a mock chef’s kiss. “Deliziosa!”

The boisterous laugh that fell from between his lips was enough to catch the attention of whoever was working inside. It didn’t take long for them to walk down the front steps, seeing as the inside of the establishment was also small. But the second his face lit up from the wall mounted lights, you smiled.

“Lorenzo! Così bello vederti di nuovo!” Lorenzo! It’s so good to see you again!

“Mio dolce! Mi sei mancato!” My sweet! I’ve missed you! His arms opened wide as he walked down the single step, instantaneously enveloping you in a hug. He smelled of pasta sauce and pizza dough, the evidence of his hard work sprinkled across his withered cheek.

“Mi dispiace! Sai quanto può essere intenso il lavoro! Soprattutto con un capo come il mio!” I’m sorry! You know how intense work can be! Especially with a boss like mine!

You watched Lorenzo’s face light up when he pulled away from you and heard your boss’ name. The two had met ages ago and he was the one who had introduced the two of you. “Ah! Alessandro! Confido che stia bene! E chi hai portato con te questa volta, cara?” Ah! Alessandro! I trust he is doing well! And who have you brought with you this time, dear?

Feeling bad for leaving Harry out of the brief conversation, you angled your body so that you were now facing him, moving your hand between the two men in front of you. “Lorenzo, this is Harry. Harry, Lorenzo.”

True to his nature, Harry immediately stuck his hand out and offered a ‘you alright?’ to the older gentleman, but Lorenzo was having none of that. Completely ignoring the waiting hand, and having to stand a bit on his toes in order to wrap his arms around the younger man’s upper back, he pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

“Any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Benvenuto!”

“Hai un… posto bellissimo qui!” Lorenzo’s smile grew as the two separated and Harry slowly racked his mind for the right words. “Was that right?”

“It was! Thank you, we do love it here!”

“Speaking of..” you cut in, “I know it’s late but do you think we could steal a plate or two?”

“For you, mio caro, anything.” he lifted his calloused hand to gently pat your cheek. “Why don’t the two of you sit down and I will bring you a few dishes. I’ve got some fettuccine alla carbonara if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something else if-”

“That sounds wonderful, Lorenzo, thank you.”

You watched as his frail figure made its way back into the shop, taking an extra second to carefully climb the single step. It was the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy one of your favorite meals, but even more perfect to turn around and see Harry holding a chair out, waiting for you to join him at the table.

“Thank you.” you hoped the smirk you were trying to hide wasn’t visible in the dimly lit back alley and he couldn’t tell how much the small gesture made your heart race.

“So tell me,” he sighed once he finally sat down next to you, his forearms leaning against the small wooden table so that he could look directly at you. “You really like the food here or do you just keep coming back because he adores you?”

“I take offense that you think I’d use my charming personality just to get a free plate of pasta.” the stare shared between you both was one of comedy - his eyebrow raised in question and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I use it for two.”

“I knew it.”

“It really is the best, swear it! Tried to get him to teach me the recipe once but he won’t budge. Says he won’t allow it to leave the family.”

“He always here this late? Seems to be a bit… old… to be here at quarter eleven.” he never broke eye contact while speaking to you, but his fingers began to roam around, slowly inching towards your own empty hands. There was no move to do anything more than brush his fingers against yours, but you longed for him to envelop your smaller ones in his.

“For as long as I’ve known him. Always comes in to prep for the people who come in at five the next morning.”

“Good bloke.” he nodded, craning his neck a bit so he could look around him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to have my own restaurant.”

A deep belly laugh spilled from your lips upon hearing his words, your body’s finally making contact when you lifted your hand and placed it on his forearm to ground yourself.

“What’s so funny about that?” his voice held a certain aura of feigned offence, but you knew not to take it too seriously by the bright smile covering his face. It was a different kind of smile than you were used to seeing him give, but you welcomed it and never wanted to see it end. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle a tad more than normal, mouth open a bit wider, and entire body lean forward.

“Harry, I’ve known you nearly three years. Never once have I heard you mention wanting to have your own restaurant. I’ve been told a lawyer, a florist, even a physiotherapist, but a chef? Can you even cook?”

“Now I'm offended! I’ll have you know that I used to cook for the band all the time!”

“Beans on toast doesn't count as cooking, Harry.”

“Leave off.” somewhere during your mock argument and Harry laughing at you, his hand had fully found its way to yours, wrapping around it carefully as not to disturb the perfect peace the two of you had going. “You’ll just have to come over so I can prove to you just how good I am.”

Obviously he didn’t mean it in any other way than a friend inviting another friend over for a nice meal, but the way his tongue jut out before speaking, leaving his lips shining and nearly begging for attention, made the sentence mean a lot more to you than he led on.

“Well, I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Don’t mate me while I’m holding your hand, mate.” you swear it was like Harry was trying to push every single last button you had. Not only was he smirking while giving your hand a squeeze, but with each word, he seemed to be gradually leaning closer to you.

Almost as if he was waiting for the most perfectly inopportune moment, Lorenzo made his presence known with the clink of two wine glasses that echoed through the small alley. The sound made you and Harry separate as quickly as possible and look towards the older man.

“Two dishes of my world famous fettuccine paired with the best bottle of wine you could ask for!”

“But we didn’t ask for wine, Lorenzo.”

“It’s alright because you are new here, but when I give you a bottle of wine, you take it.”

“He says it makes for a better experience.” you shrug, taking the glasses and bottle from the tray so that he would have an easier time setting down your plates.

“Non puoi goderti i frutti del tuo lavoro senza un po ‘di divertimento!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say. Now take this before I stay here all night and give it to Mateo, because you know he’ll take it.” you tried handing him a few folded up fifties, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t accept, but insead, backed away from your outstretched hand.

“Mio caro, no. I do not want that from you. I just enjoy seeing your beautiful face every now and again.”

“Lorenzo, you know I won’t stop. Please”

“You are too much, ragazza dolce. Please come tell me if you need anything more.”

“What did he say to you just then? I caught fruit and fun but that’s where it stops.” Harry asked as soon as the older man was out of ear shot. He was trying hard to look at you, but the steaming plate of food before you both was enough to pull anyone’s attention away, so you didn’t fault him for being mesmerized.

“Come on, hot shot, have your Italian lessons taught you nothing?”

“Wow you’re really riding me tonight, huh?” if only. “I’m busy alright. Got a lot going on up here.” he used his pointer and middle finger to tap against his temple, “Gets hard to remember things sometimes.”

“You know I’m just taking the piss.” unable to wait any longer, you began to twist your fork in the pasta while giving him an explanation. “Said you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor without having a little fun.”

“He’s got a point you know.”

“If you try and tell me that I need to be prouder of my work, I will dump all of that food on the ground before you even have the chance to try it.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not if it’s as good as you say it is.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious, love.” Harry had called you many pet names since your first meeting, but love had never been one of them. It sounded so comforting falling his lips, like it was the only word you wanted to hear for the rest of time, and it made your insides instantly warm - and it wasn’t from the wine. “You’re outrageously talented. Everyone on the planet can see it except for you.”

“I’m proud of what I do, Harry. Just don’t feel like it’s right to take any bit of credit for something I only helped put together.” sure, you helped transform the clothing from pieces of mixed matched fabrics into the collections that hit the runways, but they weren’t your ideas or designs, so you felt only fair to give credit where it was rightfully due.

“Alright. Fine then. If you won’t take credit for your work, I’ll do it for you.” he cleared his throat after finishing off his glass of wine, back straightening and his chest puffing out after filling with air. “Hello!” he shouted, followed by introducing your name, “I am the lead tailor for Gucci and I just completed my fourth Cruise Collection!”

“Shh!! Harry!” you really did try to keep it together while tugging on his arm, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he kept shouting praising about you to the empty Roman streets.

“I’m one of the best in the world and everyone is absolutely dying to work with me!”

“Harry!” you laughed again, this time, cupping your hand over his lips that he couldn’t say anymore. “I get it, my god.”

“Do you? Because I can do it again. Hello -”

“I do, thank you.” your smile was genuine, truly appreciating the fact that he always had such nice things to say about you and your work. “But please just shut up and eat, yeah?”

Finally the two of you were silent, smiling to yourselves so that you could enjoy your awaiting food. Until you weren’t.

A loud moan from next to you quickly made your head snap up in desperate need to see where it had come from. There was no one else it could have come from, but to hear the sound fall from Harry’s mouth wasn’t something you were prepared for. Nor was the sight of carbonara sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck you were right.” he moaned again, this time much smaller, “This is the greatest pasta on the planet.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now that there are very few times that’d I’m not right.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man indoors, who when you looked up over Harry’s shoulder, you saw standing in the window smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Of course he was on the same page as Alessandro and would be trying to put both you and Harry in the mood for a romantic night. But to hear the chords of ‘So This Is Love’ play through whatever speaker he had in his kitchen, really did surprise you.

“Lorenzo!” you yelled, not caring about waking whatever kind of neighbors he had

“What?”

“Really?”

“I just turned on my music, mio caro! Please enjoy your meal.”

Snickering from next to you made you roll your eyes,  “Don’t laugh at him, you’re only egging him on, Harry.”

“‘M not, I’m not!” you sent him a pointed look, taking the last gulp of wine from your glass and pouring yet another. “Alright, maybe just a little. But only because I think ya look cute when you’re flustered, is all.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you’re a right bellend.”

“Only to a select few!” the sound of his light laugh was drowned out by the creaking of his chair as he pushed it backwards. In a second, he was at his feet, ignoring your question of ‘what are you doing?’ to stand in front of you. “Signora.” his mouth may not have made any movements to smile, but you could see his eyes holding one back.

He mocked bowed, resting one arm behind his back as the other hand engulfed one of your sitting on top of the table. The pads of his fingers caressed the inside of your hand as he gently picked it up, slowly slotting your two hands together. It felt like an out of body experience, like you were watching the scene happen as an onlooker, instead of being a part of it. Because the second he picked his head up from the bow, his eyes met yours. Hundreds of unidentified thoughts raced through your mind and your breathing stopped when he picked up your hand completely, the distance between it and his lips growing short and shorter every second. With one quick, quiet, exhale falling from your lips, he placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, keeping his eyes set on yours.

It could have been every innocent moment the two of you had spent together over the last two and a half years, or watching him perform his heart out just hours ago in garments that you literally built, or maybe even the way his eyes sparkled in the Italian moonlight, but staring at him as he stood back up straight, his hand still holding yours, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

“Care to dance?”

It wasn’t the spark that radiated through your hands or the wind pulling at your blouse, but the look of endearment in Harry’s eyes that made you stand from your chair, accepting his offer. His free arm wound around your waist while yours rested on his shoulders, your body now flush against his. It wasn’t the perfect setting for be slow dancing; the twinkling lights were barely bright enough for you to see where you were stepping, the cobblestone beneath your trainers made the arches of your feet hurt, and the open space was very limited between the table and building, but the soft instrumental of ‘Bella notte’ playing from inside the shop and the wine flowing through your veins, made it something out of a dream.

The sun shone in through the window and straight into your eyes, making you blink awake with a small wrinkle between your brows. First thing you noticed was that you were sleeping in the cream blouse you had worn the night before, your trousers off and hopefully, you thought to yourself, so was most of your make-up as well. Second thing you noticed was the hand on your hip and the other under your head, the breathing against your skin and the forehead against your neck. Third… was something else entirely…

Memories from the night before came back in bits and pieces, bringing a small smile to your face. How you and Harry had both drunkenly stumbled down the hallway at like one, how you had struggled to get the key to your room in the lock, and how Harry had playfully pushed you out of the way to help you with it. How he helped you indoors, and how you’d asked him to stay. There hadn’t been a sexual intent behind the words, just an infatuated drunk speaking truthfully to another. You remember asking Harry to not look as you took your trousers off, and that you thought it’d be a good idea to take your bra off but sleep in your silk blouse. Harry on the other hand, kept all his clothes on, laying down beside you in bed and told you goodnight before you’d even managed to get yourself properly under the sheets. He must’ve been exhausted. It’d been a long day after all.

You woke up in the spooning position; his arm resting across your hip, breathing onto your skin, forehead against your neck, holding you close. Even before Harry woke up and noticed what was going on, you tried to understand why you felt like something wasn’t as it usually was. You felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath behind you and then him moving his head away from you, lifting the hand that had been placed on your hip, running it over his face. It wasn’t till you were about to turn around to face him that you both realised what was resting between you. You both stopped abruptly, silence filling the room around you.

“Bollocks.” Harry hissed between his teeth, glancing down at where his morning wood pressed against his yellow trousers and your ass and thigh. “So sorry.” He didn’t really know how to move as to not make it worse. Walking away from bed would mean you’d have to see the bulge in his trousers, but staying there would be absolute fucking torture.

You tried your hardest not to giggle, feeling a flush wave through your body.

“I-I… I don’t know what to do now. Sorry.” Harry said, feeling so embarrassed he was unsure what the next right thing to do would be.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, on everything that had transpired between the two of you, you suddenly felt a surge of dominance run through you. The countless times you’d waited for Harry to kiss you, the times he could’ve reached for your hand in the silence of the moment, the hundreds of hours you’d spent smiling at each other. The numerous missed opportunities. All the ‘what if’s. You hated them all, but they’d led you to this moment. It had all came down to this. Here, now. You two, in bed, Harry grunting in frustration into the pillow and you smiling to yourself, not at all sorry for him waking up hard against you. In fact, you didn’t mind it at all. After everything last night, this felt right. After absolutely everything you two had been through, it didn’t feel weird.

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry there with his eyes shut tightly.

“What’re you doing?”

His cheeks were red, obviously incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “Willing my woodie away, what does it bloody look like?”

You couldn’t help your laughter, shaking into Harry who smiled at the sound of your exclamations of joy. Slowly, you moved your arse against him, feeling his erection between your bumcheeks. Harry stilled, watching you with wide eyes as you did it again. Reaching behind you, you took a grip of Harry’s hand that had been on your hip earlier, placing it back there so he could feel you swaying against him. You felt an inhale of breath against you, then Harry’s fingers instantly grip onto you. He watched you as you continued to roll your hips against him, loving the hot feeling it sent to the spot between your legs. You hummed, biting your lip as you glanced down at Harry’s hand on your bare skin, letting him see just how much you liked this.

Instantly, he moved closer to you, wrapping the arm he’d been resting under your neck around you, taking a grip of your shoulder. The other one he slowly slid further down, moving closer and closer to the space between your legs that ached for him. You closed your eyes as he hovered above you, laying his palm flat against your cunt, the breathy and barely audible moan that left your lips driving him insane. Laying some pressure on you, you inhaled sharply, both your hands gripping the arm wrapped around your neck. The heat that had started in the very bottom of your stomach intensified, and got even hotter when he ran his fingers seductively over you. Feather-like touches, soft kisses to your cheek and neck, absolutely nothing mattered but the fire that was being ignited in your core.

Harry pushed your knickers aside, running his ring and middle finger between your folds. While doing so, he pushed your hips to rock against him, causing a friction between the two of you unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You gasped, opening your eyes and looking at Harry who was watching you more intently than you’d ever seen before. He looked so hot like that, demanding you to please him while he was pleasing you. Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made him feel.

You reached down, wiggling your hips as you dragged your knickers down your legs. You threw them somewhere far away before turning back to Harry. This time, you sat up and onto his lap, looking down on him while you rested your hands at the zipper of his yellow trousers. He let out a small breath, heart hammering against his chest as he watched you sit on him like that; look at him like that. He’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to find himself in this position, and yet, here he was. You reached for his zipper, undoing it as Harry did both the buttons. You sat up on your knees helping Harry as he tried to get out of his trousers, but it seemed harder than either of you thought.

“Just get them off.” You said, reaching behind you to push them further down.

“Not so easy when you’re on top of me like that.” Harry answered, sitting up to drag them off. Your faces were suddenly very close.

“Alright, I’ll get off-“

“-No,” he answered abruptly. “Please don’t.”

You stopped, letting Harry take his trousers off and throw them to the ground, not breaking eye contact with you once. You felt him against you, felt how hot he was for you like you were for him; how badly he wanted you. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he glanced back up into your eyes again, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words for it. You had taken control so far, so you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say or do something. And it was as if he knew your thoughts exactly. He took a grip of the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

The second your lips met, you closed your eyes, melting into the kiss and melting into Harry. You hadn’t really shared a proper kiss till now, only having had that small peck and him kissing your hand. But this was a real kiss. You tasted him, felt him. Surrounding you and everything you knew in those sublime seconds your lips were pressed against one another. Heavenly, carefully, gingerly, Harry slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you welcomed him completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. He pulled you to him, devouring one another unapologetically. Now that you were kissing, dragging out the delicious moment, you weren’t holding back anymore. The kisses were hungry, desperate, wet. Nothing had ever tasted better than Harry, nothing had ever felt better than him either. You wondered why you’d waited so long to kiss one another, what had taken so long. Because now you couldn’t think of not doing just that.

You wanted to kiss him till the end of time. Wanted to feel as his hands roamed your body, how his tongue swirled around yours, how his lips got more and more swollen as you continued on making out. Forever, and maybe even longer than that if you were allowed; you wanted to kiss Harry forever. It felt so good, so right. Like tasting every good thing that had ever happened to you all at once, combined into one thing. Harry.

Moaning your name, you felt him grip your bum, squeezing it hard as he dragged you over him. He wanted some friction as bad as you; wanted you. It felt so good knowing Harry was as desperate as you, that he felt the same way and wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he did. You had no idea where your infatuation had begun, had no idea how you had fallen in love with Harry. You just were and that was how it was supposed to be. It had always supposed to be the two of you. Whenever something feels right, you get a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, like it’s your soul telling you that you’ve reached your final destination; you’ve gotten where you’re supposed to be. And you felt that very feeling right now, in Harry’s arms, kissing him, feeling him hard against you.

You pushed him back down on the bed, bending over him to continue kissing. He instantly gripped your arse again, begging you to rock against him so he could get some small friction. You refused however, and instead buried your hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, Harry thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to force you to do anything as he didn’t want this moment to be over. If you wanted to drag this out, then he would not stop you. He was making out with you, you were almost naked on top of him, he got to touch you all over. He wasn’t going to take this for granted.

There didn’t seem to be an end to your kisses, they seemed to be going on and on and on. Not that either of you were complaining, but at one point it was hard to remember how the rest of the morning had gone before you’d started snogging. You suddenly realised just how naked you were, that only your cream blouse was covering your torso, that the rest of you were on display for Harry. But he was way too busy kissing you to pay notice to anything else.

You tugged at the end of his tee shirt and he quickly took it off, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning his attention back on you again. You ran your hand down his front, wanting to feel his skin under yours unashamedly. Every time you’d touched him before had been under a work setting, but this one was quite different. The hands touching him now were those of a lover, not his tailor. They were the hands of a desperate woman who wanted nothing more than to be with Harry in any way one human could be with another.

Resting your hands at the top of Harry’s boxers, Harry frantically followed your lead, being there to help you get them off. He was ready to do exactly as you told him to, knowing that he was and always would be at your complete and total disposal. As his boxers came off, his cock sprang loose, and you couldn’t help but look down at it. Harry watched you as you took him in, finding you checking him out like this incredibly hot. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through him, so captivated and altogether in love with you that he was sure in that moment and every moment that followed, he would lay down the rest of his life and himself to you wholly.

You took a grip of his cock, looking into his eyes after positioning him right at your hole. He didn’t take his eyes off you, knowing that what was just about to happen would change everything for you and your friendship. Not that all of last night and the rest of this morning hadn’t done that already, but sex complicates things. It’s hard not to form an emotional attachment to those you choose to have sex with, and it’s even harder to forget said person you have sex with if you’re in love with them. But regardless of that, both of you wanted to do this. You wanted to shag; wanted one another.

You guided him into you, holding onto him till he was all the way in. Your lips parted and Harry let out a low moan, your warm walls around him almost being too much to take. Positioning your knees well on either side of his waist, you sat up on his lap again, and started moving your hips over him. Harry gripped your thighs, squeezing them tight and looking up at you with his mouth agape. Your blouse hung loosely off you, unbuttoned to the point of one of your tits showing. It fell off one of your shoulders as you rocked over Harry, revealing even more of you to Harry in the bright morning light.

He moved one of his hands upward, running it up your arm, over your collarbone, to your neck. His thumb ran over your jawline, wanting to feel all of your soft skin under his fingertips. You looked down at him, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes met his. Already the familiar burn of a climax started building up in your core, reminding you of how long it had truly been since you’d found yourself in this position prior to this. Not that it even mattered, because right now you were having sex with Harry and he felt so fucking good inside you and underneath you, you would never get tired of this feeling.

You slid your hands down his front, dragging your nails along this skin till you reached his abdomen, where you let them rest. Harry’s eyes fell to your hands, relishing in the feeling of you touching him everywhere, of you being everywhere. Nothing mattered but you and the magic you were creating between the two of you. The soft skin of the inside of your thighs resting against his hips and ribs, his tattooed arms caressing your entire body. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

He moaned your name, hand sliding down your chest, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple. The burn in your core was really starting to build up now, and you knew it would burst any second. Harry sat up, wrapping an arm around your middle. You gasped a little in surprise, but your heart instantly started beating faster at him being so close to you. His grip was tight, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening, it sent a wave of butterflies straight to your tummy. All of them flew directly to your core as Harry started moving his hips more with yours.

“Look so good on me like that, you do.” He whispered against your lips, his voice still having that morning rasp to it that sent a shiver up your spine.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, resting the other one on his shoulder as you continued to rock your hips against him. His eyes were hooded, but there was something in them that was so soft it took your breath away. When you know someone inside and out, you notice every single little change in their behaviour. This wasn’t tiny, though, because there was a type of vulnerability in Harry’s eyes that you hadn’t seen there before. He was laying himself completely bare, both physically and emotionally, wanting to connect and attach himself to you on every level a human possibly could.

Being this close, your movements got shorter and quicker. Bending his knees, Harry brought you flush to his torso, your hips and his moving rhythmically, hard against one another. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. You wanted to melt into him and have you two sitting like this for eternity. Wanted to stare into his eyes, feel his warm breath on your skin, have his arm around your waist and the other hand on her cheek. Having him inside you like this, feeling him grip you hard, whimper against your lips, moan your name, you felt incredibly powerful and so, so good. There was something so magical about this moment, about you two joined like this. Something words lacked the ability to articulate and something your hearts didn’t quite understand yet but wanted to. He reached his hand down to your bum, squeezing you hard.

“Harry.” You moaned, feeling your hips and knees begin to ache from sitting like this. Not that you cared much, because the wild look in Harry’s eyes was enough of a reason for her to endure it a hundred times more.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against you. “You like that?”

Biting your lip, you glanced into his eyes, letting your look speak for itself. Harry moaned, letting his hand fall to the bed and the other to your thigh, pressing you harder around him. You were both close, clinging harder onto one another. The heat in the pit of your stomach grew bigger and bigger, threatening to burst with every grind, every moan, every touch. He thrusts harder into you, entranced as he watched you gasp and moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” You said, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as you want me to, baby.” He kissed your jawline, nails digging into your thigh. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You gasped, feeling the heat get more intense. Harry felt your movements get more frantic and he moved his hips quicker, meeting yours and creating a friction so heavenly it caused you to lose all control.

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, looking into Harry’s eyes as everything started to blur.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling your legs start to shake around him. You came hard. Harry watching you intently, holding back his own release to watch every last second of yours; to make sure you were done before he allowed his own climax. You gasped for breath and moaned ad repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it felt like it was the only word you were able to pronounce.

Harry came right after her, a furrow appearing between his brows and lips parted. His hands tightened around her, holding onto her for dear life as he came in her. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. It was so hot, he sounded so sexy. You watched him till he came down, feeling his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as he slipped out of you. You breathed together for a few moments before looking at one another, suddenly laughing a little at what you’d just done. He rested his forehead against your chest, feeling you breathe with him.

“That was a thing that just happened.” You said, making Harry laugh.

“That just happened.”

“We just did that.”

You both laughed, holding onto one another still, not willing to let go. For the time being, you two were the only thing that mattered, nothing outside your room existed. But then you laid your eyes on the clock by the nightstand and jumped off Harry. He watched you, wide eyed and confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m supposed to be at Alessandro’s hotel room in five minutes to go over yesterday, and some other stuff.” You said while you ran to the bathroom, needing to get washed up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Harry got out of bed, quickly putting his boxers and tee shirt on. “When’re you done?”

“Dunno.”

“Meet me for breakfast.” Harry said as you ran back out, new pair of knickers on and rummaging through your wardrobe. “I’ll text you the location.”

“Harry, I-“

“-Please.”

You looked over at him as you put your trousers on, smiling at his pleading words. “Text me.”

He smiled back before looking around the room. “Where are my trousers?”

“I’ll find them later, just piss off because I need to leave.” You ran towards the door with your laptop in hand and Harry – looking quite mortified – followed. He pulled his room key out as you were closing the door, about to run down the corridor for Alessandro’s room when you felt a hand around your wrist. Harry pulled you back toward him, pressing his lips against yours. You both smiled into the kiss, feeling absolutely elated and still not sure how to process what had just happened.

“Hurry.” Harry mumbled against your lips before kissing you again. “I’ll be waiting with that morning after pill.”

“Good.”

Harry smiled. “Now, be off.”

You giggled, giving him one last peck before running down towards Alessandro.

Everything that happened between you and Harry over the last 30 months had culminated to this point; you rushing out of the room after sharing an unexpected, intimate morning together. Looking back on it, you knew that each longing look you gave him had a hidden meaning behind it. You wanted this. Maybe not right away, but the more you got to know Harry, the more you wanted to be more than just his tailor. There had always been more between the two fo you, you just had not figured it out till now.

The way he watched you with admiration while you worked, gave you praises when you were feeling down - quite literally shouting them from the streets - and spoke to you in a way that had your mind in the clouds, it all slowly built over time.

It built until you couldn’t handle it any longer and needed to show Harry just how deeply you were falling for him.

Knocking on Alessandro’s door you quickly tired to fix your hair, aware that you looked like a right mess. Because of your morning antics and inability to keep track of time, you hadn’t given your appearance a single thought. Once Alessandro opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there panting and looking distressed, instant regret hit you for not at least brushing through your hair. Alessandro would know something had happened, having known you for so long, he’d see right through you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Alessandro smiled knowingly, nodding his head as he let you in. You just raised your eyebrows, but Alessandro didn’t make another comment. You’d told him enough.

“I stopped by Harry’s room last night, wanted to congratulate him on the show and how well he did, but he wasn’t in. Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. None. Maybe he was having a wee.”

Alessandro nodded again, walking over to sit down by the table in his suite along with his event manager, head stylist, and fabric coordinator. Tons of sketches of new outfits and plans for upcoming events laid out on the table, ready to be discussed. You sat down with them, ready to take notes. You had already been a little late, so you didn’t want to do anything else wrong today. Full on concentrating, you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop for almost 30 minutes, and when you did, it was to check your phone. You’d gotten two text messages, both from Harry.

Harry Don’t forget my yellow trousers. They’re my favourite pair. x

Harry Had an amazing time this morning, by the way. Can’t wait to see you later. x

You couldn’t help the smile that spread out over your face at the messages, and you didn’t realise just how wide your smile was till Alessandro cleared his throat beside you. You looked up, turning your phone around and looking right back at your laptop as if nothing had happened.

“What’s got you smiling?” Alessandro questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You answered, trying to refocus on the document before you.

Alessandro looked down at your phone, smiled, and went on with the meeting. There would be no hiding what happened between you and Harry. Somehow, someway, the man sitting before you would hear how his ‘two prodigies’ had finally gotten together, and when that day happened, you’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he constantly reminded you that without him, the two of you would have likely never met so it was his doing that you had a best friend in Harry.

So what was he to say when he found out you and Harry were now more than friends?

[lucyhblack]

Encyclopedia Pokesans

This is my ambitious Pokemon x Undertale project, From Pockets to Monsters. 

Here, through Prof. Stretch (US! Papyrus) I will try to detail the idea of how my universe works and explain what the Pokesans are and the details about each of them.

Again, thanks to @damnedxfate for inspiring me and allowing me to play with the idea of pokesans.

I hope you like it and please forgive any mistake (English is not my default language)! ^^

Summary: Welcome to the Beginner's Guide for Master Pokesans. I'm Prof. Stretch and I will be your instructor in this fascinating world. Then hold your pokeballs and let's go!

Introduction

* A tall skeleton monster wearing an orange hooded sweatshirt, beige capri pants under an open white coat and slippers appears *

Hey! Welcome to the Beginner's Guide for Master Pokesans, it's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Prof. Stretch a Pocket Monsters scholar specializing in the genre Sans, popularly known as Pokesans, and I'll be your instructor in the fascinating world of these creatures .

You're new here, not you? (obviously, if not, I would not be going through this introduction) No problem, I will guide you so that you can become the master pokesans you have always dreamed of.

So let's start?

What are Pocket Monsters?

(Yes, yes, you probably already know what they are, but I have to follow a script here partner, or they will make me re-record everything ... again)

In our world we have two dominant races, the Monsters and the Pocket monsters, and as long as the Monsters lose their ability to use magic, the Pockets have kept it and have become capable of extraordinary deeds!

Pocket Monters (as the name suggests) are mostly small, some being so tiny that they fit in the palm of the hand, while others can be as big as a house.

They have characteristics more "animalistic" than their Monster counterparts, not only physically but psychologically too.

Both species have developed a symbiotic relationship, with Monsters and Pokémon living in harmony (almost always) and helping each other, either to reach their full potential or to facilitate life on a daily basis.

Some Monsters have pokémons as mascots, others as helpers and even as romantic partners, but more popularly they are used by Monsters to confront each other in battles and competitions.

This may seem strange (even horrible in some ways), but battles are the easiest and most effective way to make pokémons hone and develop their powers, sometimes even evolving.

We classify Pokemon by: Gender, Family, Class, and Type, and Classes may vary depending on the Pokémon Genre.

There are many genres of pokemons such as the little lizard monsters called the Pokealphy or the stuffed animals known as Poketemmies and, of course, those of the genus Skeletons called Pokesans.

As a researcher of the latter I will delve deeper into them going forward.

(After all this is a guide for Pokesans!)

What is a Pokesan?

Pokesans is a Pocket Monster skeleton genre.

Um ... that did not help much, did it? Well then (again) let's go to the long explanation.

Pokesans are small bipedal skeletons (with the exception of the evolution of a Class), with large rounded skulls, wide ocular openings with apparent focal lights (mostly), a large jaw bearing an almost permanent smile and a tail.

These are the basic characteristics of all pokesans, but they also sometimes have other physical characteristics such as claws, horns, fins, wings, etc.

Every pokesan has a great magical ability, this variable being according to his Type.

If it still is not clear what are pokesans (* sigh * Why did I apply for this job anyway? Oh yes, I did not. Thanks, for reminding me Sans) okay, maybe with a comparative be easier to understand.

Monster x Pokesans

To best illustrate I will now list the key features that differentiate the Pokesans from their Monster counterpart.

Body and Magic

As stated earlier, a characteristic that distinguishes pokesans is the presence of a tail. ALL pokesans own a tail, even though it is so short that it does not appear beneath the clothing, or it is "all" a tail, like the lamas pokesans (pokesans snake), or the merskeletons (pokesans mermaids).

At first glance, pokesans may physically even look a lot like Skeleton Monsters, but it's not just the presence of a tail or other "paraphernalia" that sets them apart, it's their magical ability that makes even their biology different.

For example, skeleton monsters have fixed physical bodies, while pokesans have something called ecto-magic that form certain parts of their body (especially "soft" parts), such as flippers in aquatic pokesans, "feathers" and "leather" "In flying pokesans or even tongue and sexual organs.

Because of this the pokesans also do not have a fixed physical gender, being able to summon what best suits their desires.

The parts created by this ecto-magic (the ecto-body) can be summoned or discarded according to the need or will of the pokesans.

Pokescan magic is not only meant to create body parts, pokesans have the ability to use their magic for various things, such as magical attacks (often linked to their Type, like spitting fire, generating electricity, etc.), summoning bones ( which can serve a myriad of purposes other than attack and defense) or "magical servants" (usually in the form of sentient animal skulls that can launch a plethora of magical attacks on their own).

Quite different from us Poor Monsters, whose magic is basically restricted there is physical maintenance and some ability to influence intention (and yet it takes a lot of training to have the ability to use it properly).

Also, due to magic, pokesans are able to evolve.

Evolution is a state generated by the magical development of the pokemon that causes it to change not only physically but sometimes type (change in magic type or implementing it), plus a considerable increase in its magic (and often in its size) in an instant.

I'll go into more detail about this later. Just know that this ability belongs only to pokemons.

Intellect and Behavior

But it's not just the physical and magical differences that set us apart. Pokesans have their own behavioral and social patterns.

Intellectually pokesans are as capable as any monster (even more than some I know), being able to learn advanced notions such as reading and math, as well as full understanding of concepts, rules and laws (now how much the application varies from pokemon to pokemon and from situation to situation).

It has been proven that they can learn to write, but most seem to find it too laborious. They also have the ability to understand any spoken Monster language, almost instantly (we'll get back to communication shortly).

Pokesans possess the knowledge and skill to build, creating rudimentary forms of accommodation, but most prefer to live outdoors, sometimes creating burrows or using caves as shelters. They are also fully capable of creating utensils (carving or magically creating) to facilitate tasks such as cooking, sheltering or hunting and just as most civilized beings use fire to cook their food (although there are those who prefer their raw foods).

While many pokesans form flock and even communities (with leaders and rules) among themselves or among other pokemons, they do not demonstrate interest in creating an "advanced" society of their own. No one has yet been able to understand the reason for this, being they with knowledge, skill and power, to choose to live in the wild to build their own civilization.

Some researchers have already suggested that it is due to the high magical level that makes their instincts stronger and wilder, and what makes the cooperation necessary to create an impossible base society.

While this theory has certain merits (many pokesans have strong territorial behaviors that hinder group conviviality) it seems rather weak when we can see many pokesans working together, whether with their own gender or not, and even leaving their differences aside to achieve objective in common.

The most accepted theory is due to sheer laziness. (I know, unbelievable is not it? And people still say I'm lazy!)

The pokesans seem to be satisfied with the life they have and those who prefer a life with more "stewardship" end up counting on a Monster to provide that to them.

This assumption has more support because not even they (the pokesans) have an appropriate answer to that question (no Sans ... shrugging is not an appropriate response ... it does not matter if I use it often too!) .

I will better detail the behavioral patterns when we come to Families and Classes.

Language and communication

Pokesans do not have a language vocal or writing own (if known).

Pokesans can learn to speak a few words or phrases, with more or less difficulty, in the Monster language (although there are some who have managed to develop the ability to communicate perfectly in Monster language). They are also able to understand any variation Monster language after only some time of exposure to it.

It is believed that this is due to the unique ability of communication that Pokémon have. This ability is called Pokémon communication (it's not very creative) or "language" Pokémon.

This "language" consists of something like a mental interaction between the Pokémon, which causes them to communicate freely among themselves without emitting any sound.

We believe that this ability to communicate mentally facilitates the absorption of the meaning of spoken words and your understanding of the Monster languages.

Any pokemon genre can communicate with another pokemon using this "language", but between a pokemon and a Monster it is necessary to have a link so that there is this mental understanding. The greater the bond, the greater the understanding between them (so do not worry the pokesans can not "read your mind" ... at least not most).

I know you should be curious about the Master / Pokesans link, but for now we will continue with what sets Pokesans apart from Monsters and we will come back to that subject in the future.

Mating and Breeding

Pokesans have periods of fertility (mating seasons) and these periods trigger a series of symptoms called Heat Cycles.

Heat happens when the monster's body accumulates enough magic to allow the development of a new life. It has as symptoms: increased body temperature, increased libido and release of soul resonance (often perceived as a powerful odor or attraction) that can even affect Monsters (but in a much more gentle way).

These cycles are triggered when a pokesans reaches maturity of reproduction, which is variable according to each Family / Class.

In the Lust class, for example, the pokesans are in a state of permanent Heat (only the symptoms and not the fertility).

Although this period has a high level of success, it is not 100% guarantee of a conception.

Although a relationship between Monster and Pokemon is acceptable, all these differences make us reproductively incompatible. It means that even if a monster and a Pokemon become romantically and sexually involved, they will not be able to generate offspring.

This is due not only to magical level differences, but also to the biological forms of reproduction that both species possess. Pokesans spawn eggs while Monsters spawn their offspring into their bodies.

While there is usually one egg per mating (which may even contain twins), it is not uncommon at times to have more than one egg. This can happen more easily if the pokesans in question have more than one partner.

Pokesans can spawn an egg with other Pokémon Genres, but it is more complicated how much more different is the form of magical conception that Genres possess (so a pokesan is more likely to generate an egg with a pokealphys, which also generate eggs, than with a pokeflowey that generate seeds).

Like many things related to pokemons, everything depends on the intention of the pair (or pairs) involved.

Pokesans can have a permanent link, where the pair (or pairs) stays together all of life or only until the puppy (s) are old enough to be independent (again it depends on pokesans for pokesans).

The puppies of pokesans also differ from children Monsters. While a Baby Monster will be born helpless, babies pokesans are already born with their powers (though little control over them) and they have reached maturity much faster than a child Monster.

Clothing

Another curious factor of the birth of a pokesans is their "clothing". Pokesans are born naked (like most living beings), but in a short time their magic will have covered them with a kind of "uniform" a kind of "body overalls" that follows patterns and characteristics of each Family or Class (even in aquatic pokesans ).

Although this outfit is created by magic, it is not a part of your body (like the magic that forms ecto-body), so it will not do damage to the pokesans if in a battle it is damaged.

If the overalls become too damaged the pokesans can discard it and summon a new one, the old one will disappear in a short time. The overalls can also be discard it and summon a new one by the will of the pokesans. Many creators (especially the Coordinators)  like to decorate their pokesans with custom clothing.

The overalls always follow the same pattern, only changing when the pokesans evolves (and then permanently stayed in the new form). The pokesans have no control over their colors or patterns.

Pokesans do not usually use any form of footwear (in the wild at least). Sometimes the overalls themselves will cover their feet (and also the tail in some) giving the impression of shoes (often in a pattern of boots or slippers).

Longevity and health

We believe (we pokemon scholars) that due to their magical ability the pokesans (all pokemons to be exact) can live for many, many years beyond the expectation Monster. While a Monster may be lucky enough to reach 100, there are pokemons documented for hundreds of years, in the case of Legends even millennia (it is speculated that the Legendary are actually immortal, but there is no proof of this).

Due to magic they are also very resistant and immune to most of the diseases of Monsters (although we share some similar symptoms sometimes when ill), but may still contract magical types of diseases, including a so-called "Fall."

The Fall occurs when a pokesan enters into something like a depressive state that causes him to stop eating, protect or move that will weaken him to comatose, almost always fatal state.

It may seem like a psychological rather than a physical illness, but it also affects their magical levels. A "Fallen" pokemon (as it is called a falling pokemon) has fall magic levels (hence part of the name of the disease), to the point that the pokesans can no longer use their magic, ultimately leading to their death .

The "Fall" is a process that can last a long time (depending on the strength of the Pokemon in question) until its end. A Fallen Pokémon can rarely recover and what can lead to a "Fall" is variable, but usually linked to a great emotional loss. Despite this, fallen Pokesans are very rare (Pokesans are very resistant pokemon, both physically and mentally).

Like Monsters, Pokesans have their bodies turned to dust when they die.

[under-atomic-skies]

The Crooked Kind. Ch. 3

Sleep Walking

Summary:  Fiddleford is a student at Backupsmore University. He meets a stranger at a payphone and makes an unlikely friend who, unbeknownst to him, has a long, complicated relationship with his roommate. The pair become close and eventually, a romance buds between them. What could possibly go wrong? (Tags will be updated as fic is updated)

NOTE: Please check out the warnings for this chapter. It might spoil some of it, but be safe! Also, there’s some mention of prices in this chapter, and considering it’s around 1970 in this fic, I converted the price to match how much it might have been in the 70’s. I’m not entirely knowledgeable on how stuff like this works or is priced for that matter, so keep that in mind. Happy reading!

Warnings: [ sex work Negative views of sex work Explicit sexual acts

Word count: 3,756

AO3

Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 (HERE) || Ch. 4

I got a picture on the mantle piece Of the way that I thought that we’d end up But this shows no resemblance to that

When night finally fell, the students emerged from their dorms and apartments, donned in their best bar clothes. Stan envied them in a way. He wished he could be so carefree and able to put his worries out of his head in favor of having a good time with friends. But life had not dealt that hand to him, and instead of finding himself joining them, Stan would take advantage of them.

It was around 9:30 as Stan approached one of the bars he had picked out that previous morning. As he anticipated, there was a bouncer by the window. For years, he had needed a fake ID to get in, and while he still used a fake ID to keep his real name concealed, he had turned 21 last summer and was technically legally allowed into the bars now.

As he approached the large, intimidating bouncer, he flashed his ID and a grin and the man merely nodded and stoically stepped aside to allow him entry. This man was used to college kids who wanted to drink, dance, and find someone to work out their stress with. However, this was not Stan’s first time, and he wasn’t the bars average patron. He stepped closer to the bouncer and whispered under his breath, wanting to work out a deal with him. The bouncer glanced down at him, as if scrutinizing him. Luckily, with Fiddleford’s new coat on, he didn’t look nearly as seedy as he had with only a warn t-shirt and stained jacket. He gruffly nodded and motioned to another man standing just inside by the door to come over. The initial man whispered something to this new man, who also took a look at Stan before nodding and motioning for Stan to follow him.

He hadn’t noticed the tension in his shoulders until he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that this first bar was so far working out well. The man led him through the mostly empty dance floor, though the music was still loud and the lights flashed in beat with the music. It was dark in there and apart from a few people by the bars getting drinks, it was empty.

Stan understood college bars well by this point. It wasn’t until around 10 that people really started to fill the place, and by 11 it was packed, sweaty bodies rubbing and brushing against others as they danced their cares away. Stan usually preferred to get before the crowd so that he could have time to set up shop, get comfortable (i.e. prepare himself) and wait for the first customers.

The man led him past the dance floor and down a thin hallway to where the bathrooms were located. He opened the door and wordlessly pointed inside. Stan had to practically squeeze past the man to get inside, seeing as the large man didn’t leave much space for him to get through.

Once inside the bathroom, Stan turned towards the bouncer again, waiting to hear the terms of the agreement. “You can charge whatever you want, but at the end of the night, the bar gets 40% of your earnings.”

The man said it as a matter of fact and Stan understood that there was no room for negotiations. 40% was a steep price, but considering he usually made a fair amount of money, he’d let it slide. Not to mention he had his ways of pocketing more than what he was technically ‘supposed’ to.

At Stan’s nod, the man merely eyed him one more time before letting the door close. Now alone in the bathroom, Stan looked in the mirror. Luckily, most of the ‘customers’ wouldn’t see his face seeing as most of the people coming to him were just wanting to get off quickly after an unsuccessful night of chasing ladies. However, there usually were a few that weren’t shy. They wanted the full deal, so with this in mind, he made sure he at least didn’t look like complete shit (luckily, he had already shaved and washed his hair that morning for Fid-- nope, he wasn’t going to think of him here.)

It wasn’t hard to find the stall that was meant for him. It had a mark on the door and the wall that bordered another stall had a spherical hole cut into it. He let himself in and after shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the knob on the door, he turned back around. Resigning himself to wait for the first person, he closed the lid and sat on the toilet, idly twiddling his thumbs.

This part was always the worse. When the night picked up in pace, he didn’t have time to think. He just had to focus on the money he was going to make, but now that it was still early, he had plenty of time for his mind to race, wondering how he had come to this.

Making millions hadn’t seemed so hard at first. He’d been practically bursting with ideas after he had been kicked out, not to mention he’d still had the hopes and ignorance of a man who hadn’t been beaten down and trodden upon. Now nearly four years later, all of his prior ideas had one by one turned out to be dead ends. He had learned that the world wasn’t a kind place to people like him, and the hope that one day he’d earn millions so he could go back home was still stubbornly kicking, but he knew realistically that he was never going to achieve it.

Still, what else was he supposed to do? Having that goal was one of the few things that kept him going, no matter how much life threw at him. As more of his plans turned out to be busts, he steadily got more and more involved with seedy people with dangerous offers. He was a desperate man with a hopeless dream so he couldn’t turn down the offers for long.

Those offers soon found him in all sorts of dangerous situations. Colombian jungles, smuggling, selling guns, gangs, you name it, Stan’s done it. Selling himself had, oddly enough, come as a last resort. He had grown weary of always being on the run from people he owed debts to, tired of always looking over his shoulder. Selling himself had turned out to be easier than he had thought. He had lost his sense of modesty and pride a long time ago, and once that was out of the way, he had no qualms making a quick buck by offering services to desperate losers. Of course, this was true most of the time. He tried not to think of it in the daylight hours. He had cash in his pocket for gas and occasionally food, so he just blocked out how he got that money. But as he sits on the toilet seat, waiting for the first john, his mind couldn’t help but travel down the same self-deprecating path every time.

No, this was not his first time. It was far from it, but that didn’t mean it got easier.

Knowing how the night would inevitably end up, he took a moment to prepare himself. He had brought some lube in a tiny container from his car, and only needed a few moments to work himself open before sliding his pants back on.

Finally, the door creaked as someone came in. Stan watched the bottom of the door as footsteps entered into the small bathroom. He couldn’t decipher whether or not he wanted the feet to stop by his door or keep going, so when the footsteps stopped outside his door and knocked on the stall, he was indifferent.

“How much?” the man asked, voice quivering. Stan couldn’t help but feel a mixture of sympathy and relief, the later being the dominant of the two. The guy was a newbie. They had a tendency to over pay, as well as be more gentle.

“$10 for a blow job, $30 to fuck me,” Stan replied back, matter of fact. Hearing the person behind the door sputter, he didn’t have to see him to know what expression he had.

“Uh---I’ll just,” He must not have been able to get himself to voice his desires but instead offered a ten dollar bill under the door. Stan took it, folded it and stashed it away in his shoe.

“Alright, in this stall.” Stan replied, reaching his hand over the wall blocking off his stall from the next and pointed into the neighboring stall. He heard the man shuffle his feet before closing and locking the door behind him.

“What do I d-- oh.” the man replied, apparently just noticing the hole between the stalls. Letting out an exhale, Stan could hear the sound of a zipper and the soft ruffle of clothing before the john inserted his cock into the hole. It took all of his self-restraight to not sigh. The one downside of newbies was that they had a tendency to be loud and come fast. That made the job easier on him, but could also be frustrating after a while.

Stan turned on the toilet seat, finally looking at the poor john. He could see his shoes under the wall and knew from their slight tremble that he was nervous. He wasn’t hard, not that Stan expected him to be, but Stan would fix that.

Hands cupping as close to the base as the wall would allow, he guided the man's cock into his open mouth. After that initial movement, he moved as if on autopilot. He barely thought of what he was doing anymore, now way more practiced then he would like to admit. Soon the sound of Stan’s slurps (hearing them always made himself feel even worse about selling himself) was chorused by the other man's loud, poorly constrained moans. He knew that the other movement he was hearing was the man moving against the wall, maybe gripping the roof of it desperately, and that thought at least gave Stan some small sense of pride that he could at least do this well.

The man was hard now, which made Stan’s job easier. At this point, he lost himself again, focusing on his task. In moments like these, time seemed to stretch on, making the task more arduous. Luckily for him, the man was obviously not used to this kind of sensation, and the sound of his strangled moan broke Stan’s train of thought, warning him not a moment too soon as the man came, spurting cum into Stan’s mouth. Milking the man through his orgasm, his breathy gasps only increased until Stan retracted his mouth with a ‘pop’. When it came to his first ‘customer’, he always made sure to do especially well, seeing as the man might possibly spread the word to other potential customers. Stan shuttered silently as he swallowed. The guy on the other side was still panting, but was already tucking himself back into his pants.

“Uh.. thanks.” The john replied hesitantly, obviously not knowing what or if there was protocol for this kind of thing.

“Sure thing,” Stan grunted out, voice harsher now from the abrasions against the walls of his throat.

The man left and soon enough the stream of customers increased. Stan’s night followed pretty much in the same way that first man had. College kids were green. Many of them just wanted to get off, and the alcohol in their system allowed them to make the bad decision to fork over their money to some faceless man on the other side of the bathroom stall. Stan’s jaw got more and more sore as the night went on, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He reminded himself of the steadily growing wad of cash he was stuffing into his shoes and he forgot about the jaw pain.

A few hours later, the night was finally winding down. Customers were still coming in, but the amount had decreased. Stan wiped his sleeve across his jaw, wiping away what was left of his saliva and his latest customers cum when he heard a heavier set of footsteps come into the room.

There was another knock at the door, “How much?” the voice asked, voice much deeper than any of the others so far. Somehow it made Stan’s gut coil in apprehension. He had been able to get off mostly lucky; newbys only wanted to have their cock sucked. This guy didn’t sound like no newby.

He repeated his mantra, “$10 for a blow job, $30 to fuck me.”

Waiting with bated breath, his gut sunk as the man offered a twenty dollar bill under the stall door. Gulping, Stan silently took a deep inhale to steady himself. He took the bill, pocketed and unlocked the door, revealing a tall, burly man. He certainly wasn’t no college kid. Word that he was there must have gotten around town. The man's lips curled into a smirk.

“Well aren’t you just a cute little bitch.” he replied, closing the door behind him. Thank God he was practiced enough to not let his apprehension show through. Instead, his eyes lowered, looking up at the man with lustful, lidded eyes.

The mans hands moved up, grasping his jaw tightly and angling it up towards his face more as his other hand moved to undo his fly. “Drop em, whore.”

His hands around his jaw dropped in favor of tugging his pants down enough so his dick could be pulled out. His expressionless gaze continued to watch as Stan dropped his pants, meanwhile his hand curled around his cock, pumping himself until he was erect. Stan’s gaze dropped to the man's dick and gulped. He was going to be sore after this.

“Turn around,” The man demanded. Stan mentally was glad that he had taken the time to prepare himself whilst waiting for customers earlier in the night. He could only help that he was still ready. He did as the man said and turned around. Before he had time to bend down, the man’s hand tangled in his hair and thrust him forward until he was practically gripping the toilet. Stan’s hands came to grip the sides of the bowl, trying not to think about how dirty this bars bathroom was.

The man’s cock brushed up against his hole, and Stan couldn’t help himself as he let out a needy moan. It was times like this where he didn’t entirely hate what he did. He pressed back towards the man ever so slightly, silently begging him. This earned a harsh laugh.

“You desperate already, slut?” he said, guiding his dick to teasingly circle his hole, earning another whine from Stan, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re yelling by the time I’m done with you.”

With that promise on his lips, he thrusted into Stan, fast and hard, forcing his way into Stan’s hole until he bottomed out. Stan jerked forward, closer to the toilet bowl with a gasp at the strength of the man’s thrust. He scrambled for purchase on the bowl as the man’s hands gripped his hips like vices and began pounding into him, sliding almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Stan gasped loudly, each thrust forcing him to scramble for purchase on the toilet.

The erotic sounds of their coupling filled the empty bathroom, Stan’s needy gasps, and the man's own gruff grunts. He grabbed a fistful of Stan’s long hair and tugged it, forcing Stan’s head to angle backwards, exposing his neck as the man continued to pound into his hole. By this point, Stan was also hard himself, and his neglected dick was dripping with need.

“Let me hear you, whore.” The man whispered as he leaned close. His breath ghosted over Stan’s earlobe and he couldn’t hold back any more. Each thrust was punctuated by a loud moan. Stan’s hand moved towards his cock, but the man stilled his hand.

“You gotta beg for it.” he growled back. Stan wasted no time. He begged and pleaded with the stranger, begging for him to be able to touch himself, he needed it so bad. Deciding he was pleased by this, he released his hand. Stan instantly curled his hand around his cock, stroking in time to the man’s thrusts, his moans growing louder. As the man continued to fuck into his hole, Stan’s thoughts drifted, imagining someone else behind him, someone a lot smaller and whos voice had a southern twang to it. He imagined this man would be more sensual, whispering words of how good he was, how hot he was into his ears. As if he could hear those words, he let out a particularly loud moan.

Within a few moments, the mans thrusts sped up, losing its normal rhythm. Stan knew he was going to cum soon, so the hand on his cock sped up.

With one, final deep thrust, the man came deep within Stan with a loud grunt. He continued to move though, subtly milking himself as he rode out his orgasm. Stan could feel the sensation of the warm cum filling him and with a few more strokes, came as well, shooting ropes of cum across the closed toilet seat.

The two were still for a moment, just merely panting from the task. Finally, the man pulled out with a wet sound and grabbed some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucked himself into his pants, and without a final word, turned and left, leaving Stan bent over the toilet, cum dripping from his hole.

After a few moments, he straightened up on shaky legs and retrieved some toilet paper to wipe up his own mess. He could tell he was going to be sore by the next day, but now that he was alone to himself, he thought back to just a few moments before.

Had he… had he really imagined that it was Fiddleford who had been fucking him? That imagining the sweet southern man fucking into him had made him moan louder than the actual man who had done so? He didn’t know what to make of the whole situation, his thoughts merely traveling around in circles wondering when did he start thinking of his new friend-- not even that, acquaintance-- in such a way? Surely if Fiddleford knew the truth about him, he wouldn’t want to even be associated with him.

His thoughts continued to swirl around in his head, until finally, the door opened. He half feared it would be another customer to add to his inner turmoil, but instead he heard the bouncers voice. “Bar’s closed.”

Stan sighed thankfully and stood up, wincing as he did so. He shrugged the jacket back on and unlocked the door. He came out to greet the bouncer, who looked at him with a face of disgust. Silently, he extended a hand, obviously expecting him to fork over the bars share of his profits. He pulled out his wad of cash, thankful that he had hidden a few bills in his coat pocket. He counted out the money before forking over the 40% (though in actuality, it was more like 25-30%) he owed the bar. The bouncer pocketed the cash and motioned to the door.

“Scram.”

Stan didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled out the door and back to the street, yet again thankful that he actually had a real winter coat to wear. It was even colder than it had been the following night. He quickly retreated to his car, parked in the familiar parking lot, to count his earnings. After pulling out all the cash from his jacket and shoes, he had close to around $300. It wasn’t a bad night, especially considering he only was fucked once. This should hopefully be able to buy him gas, food, and maybe even a motel room whilst he was here. Hell, maybe tomorrow, he’d treat Fiddleford to a cup of coffee if he was feeling generous enough.

He tucked the money into a safe place and leaned his car seat back, wincing as he leaned back down against the seat. Hopefully he wouldn’t still be too sore when he saw Fiddleford tomorrow.

He tried to ignore that he had been thinking about the kind man in such a way. He felt dirty. What he did was already dirty by most people's standards, but thinking about the man who had shown him more kindness in a day then he had received in the past four years? It made him feel lower than low.

Unable to help himself, and having masochistic tendencies when down, he pulled down the sun visor from the roof of his car, revealing the photo he had taped to it. Fingers gently traced the shapes of the worn images, looking at the smiling faces of two boys. They had been so innocent back then. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for breaking that damn machine, even if it hadn’t been intentional. If he hadn’t been such a fuck up, Ford would have never missed his shot to go to his dream school, and Stan would have never been kicked out of the house.

Distantly, Stan wondered what Ford was up to now. No doubt, he probably had been able to get into another school. His Ma tried to tell him about Ford sometimes on the phone, but Stan always tuned her out, not wanting to think about how he wasn’t apart of his brothers life anymore. He told himself that one day, he would make millions of dollars so he could make it up to his family and come home. He just-- he just needed to wait for a break.

He closed the visor with one last look at his twin and sighed. It was a good thing Stanford couldn’t see how low his brother had gotten. He doubted Stanford would even want to look at him if he knew what Stan had to do in order to survive. But luckily, Stanford would never find out. Once he made his millions and apologized to Ford, he’d never have to think about what he had to do ever again.

He could leave this all in the past; he just had to be patient and keep working towards his goal.

[thenarcolepticone]

Sanctuary

By TheNarcolepticOne

Day 1 and Day 4: Cozy Weather

(AO3)

Summary: It's in the middle of a rainstorm when Alfred gets an unexpected visitor who had been missing in action for the last couple weeks.

Warnings: None

A/N: This story was meant for the @aphfallfandomweek (2018) but I was too caught up with school work to be able to post anything relevant within the first 3 days. I'll post those days sometime later (but I'm cheating this entry to count both as Day 1 and Day 4 since it's relevant LOL). I was in the middle of writing it for Day 1 before realizing this prompt fit both days. Hope this is okay.

Expect some new stories finally seeing the light sometime soon; I'm getting back into the writing mood again, but out of practice enough to not be able to participate in NaNoWriMo.

This story was formatted and edited over an old Omegle RP in 2012. 

##

Alfred was absolutely bored.

The storm had completely defeated his short-term plan of staying home for the weekend and completing his planned Achievement Hunter video game marathon. But the lightning had gotten the better of this plan, and Alfred groaned, rolling over on the couch. 

Thankfully, his phone was still at a solid 91%, which indicated that he was still able to answer some of his students’ emails. But Alfred already had a rule in place that physically disallowed him from answering such emails: he worked his ass off so much in the week that he kept that rule strictly followed to stop himself from accidentally forgetting to eat his meals again. Treating himself was not a practice that he felt accustomed to, but he was forcing it upon himself before he ended up too focused for the next 18 hours.

But that didn’t necessarily solve his primary dilemma: Alfred was still bored. 

There was nothing in the house that he felt he could physically do, and honestly killing his phone off would be the worst thing that he could end up doing right about now. So, for now, Alfred had decidedly turned off the phone’s LTE status and let it sit silently in his pocket while he waited impatiently on the couch for the storm to end. 

Alfred could hear the rustling of the fall leaves outside, with the rain hitting his window like a coordinated attack. It caused instances of randomized droplets to hit his window. This was paired with the wind as if it were knocking gently on Alfred’s door to open it for him. And Alfred mentally exhausted himself thinking about all the leaves he would have to rake up later. Alfred exhaled through his noise quietly, turning over to lay on his side as he stared at the television. Come on, Jones. Where was the creativity he had when he was a kid? What would his 8-year-old self even do in this situation to make it less boring?

After having almost talked himself to make a pillow fort, Alfred sat up at the sound of angry knocking on his door that didn’t sound at all like the weather outside. He blinked, sitting up as he stared in the direction of the sound. He tugged his phone out of his pocket for 2 seconds to read the time. 

10:49 PM

Alfred frowned. Well great. This was the most opportune time for someone to rob his house, isn’t it? In the middle of a rainstorm? Where no one would hear his screams...
The knock was heard again, causing Alfred to jump. In an instant, he stood up, grabbing his University sweatshirt on the couch as he made his way to the door.

“I’m coming,” he called to the door lazily. ‘Oh well,’ Alfred thought. Honestly, if a person did come to rob his house directly, it would at least give him something to do. Maybe he put those PUBG skills to the test. Something. Anything.

Using his phone, he turned on the flashlight, opening the front door and shining the light down on the man’s feet. The wind almost blew the door enough to slam into the wall, had Alfred not caught it.

The light had made it a lot easier for Alfred to see his visitor’s face; it was one that looked too adjusted to the darkness enough to cringe from the sight of the brightness.

“Oh!” Alfred smiled, turning the phone away from the other. Not a robber. “Hey, Arthur. I didn’t expect that you’d be here.”

“Of course not,” Arthur murmured irritably. His rain matted hair had a scent of earth to it as he pushed past Alfred quickly to get into the house and out of the rain. Without permission. Alfred closed the door as he locked it tightly with three locks for good measure, though a bit bothered by the sudden intrusion.

“Nice to see you too,” Alfred said tiredly back, going to follow him.

The Englishman hung his coat on the side of the leather couch that Alfred had lain on ear-lier, dripping rain all over onto it. Alfred rolled his eyes, retrieving scooping the coat up and bringing it to the clothing rack he had next to the door to let it drip dry there instead. When Alfred returned, Arthur was found lying on the couch where he previously was, and exactly the same position Alfred was too.

“Okay, time out,” Alfred said suddenly, arms crossing as he went to then go up to Arthur. He couldn’t quite see his face well in the darkness, so he grabbed his phone and shined it directly into his face. It caused the other to wince, holding a hand up to cover the beam. 

It’s from this decision that Alfred was able to see that Arthur looked absolutely tired and at the same time, soaked. His clothes were sticking to his skin and his face looked absolutely pale from being outside. The raindrops that were on his face were reflected from the light, and it showed just how drenched he was.

But this did not make Alfred any more sympathetic.

“Dude. I know I said you were welcome into my house anytime,” Alfred said exasperatedly. “But literally crashing inside of my house without even explaining what the fuck happened to you in the first place... I could report you for trespassing.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Arthur apologized laxly as he kept swatting the light uselessly away. Alfred turned off the light and Arthur opened his eyes again to meet Alfred’s, revealing half-lidded, unfocused eyes. “I wouldn’t have come here if I had known your power was out. But I didn’t know where else to go.”

Alfred sighed loudly at that response. “Come on. I was going to take a shower before the water got cold later. But I guess you can have it. I don’t want your dirty germs all over this place or else Matt’ll have my head next time he visits.”

“Right.”

With a heave, Arthur eventually got up from the seat, wobbling a little in his stance on the way out of the living room. Alfred caught him before he was able to lose his footing, arm around his shoulder as he began to help him stand up straight.

“Okay,” Alfred exhaled as he began to help him step by step. “So, you’re getting fatigued from being outside in the rain for too long. How long were you even out there?”

“Oh, you know,” Arthur sounded hoarse when he began to speak again. “A few hours.”

“Hours?” Alfred almost shouted incredulously. But before he could inquire more, Arthur began to wobble again, causing him to stumble with him to catch him. And with some effort, the two of them made it to the bathroom. Alfred set his phone flashlight on and placed the device on the sink counter. It’s then that he began to start smelling something else faint from Arthur’s breath. Alfred deadpanned.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you.”

“A little.”

Alfred just let Arthur sit down on the toilet as he began the water and gathered towels. It was a thunderous noise that rivaled that from the rumbling outside.

“Why?”

“Stress. Why else would anyone drink?” Arthur snorted, leaning back against the toilet seat frame as he watched Alfred tiredly.

“Well yeah. But everyone has a reason.” Alfred said passively, pulling the knob to turn the shower on. He let Arthur undress, though he was familiar with helping him if he needed. Alfred’s brother hadn’t been too much different in high school with his marijuana addiction; always lethargic and slow.

“Alistair,” he said as he got into the tub as if it were an explanation. Alfred closed the curtains and sat on the toilet seat, finally taking a moment to catch his breath before waiting for him to finish. The sounds of flowing water were heard against the curtain, just like the windows. 

“He finally kicked me out,” Arthur finally clarified. The sound of a stressed, squeezing bottle was heard. “Gave him a good shiner for being a selfish spaz and letting his girlfriend take advantage of him again. She’s ugly too.”

“... well, no wonder why he kicked you out.” Alfred commented. “You know you don’t just call your brother’s girlfriend anything worse than ‘a bitch’ and expect to get away from it without an injury.”

“He deserved it though!” Arthur complained. “He’s been playing into her selfish demands like he doesn’t have his own sense of restraint. I already told him off once about it and he didn’t want to fix the problem. Kept saying that I was the problem.”

The water shut off immediately and instinctively, Alfred tossed in a towel from the top of the curtain. Arthur grabbed it.

“Well, anyway,” Arthur continued as he pulled the curtain open and stepped out; towel wrapped around him comfortably. “I was hoping to get to Francis’ by bus. But I had the unfortunate luck of standing outside for a good thirty minutes before decidedly walking here for an additional 2 hours.”

Alfred frowned. Hmm.

Alistair and Arthur had shared an apartment together in the hopes of saving some money and the trouble of putting up with a new roommate who might potentially be a worse candidate. But Arthur had eventually been unable to keep up with the pay, last Alfred had heard. The University’s English Department recently began some budget cuts that were more than just a few thousand dollars. And because of this, Arthur had gotten the short end of the stick and was fired immediately, even after recently being hired for the last few months.

Which was a waste, honestly. Arthur had become a quick favorite amongst others in the department. But since getting fired, Arthur hadn’t been himself lately. And Alfred knew that his own choice of words of ‘my house is open for you’ seemed appropriate at the time. And he definitely needed that help, evidently.

Alfred, as well as Alistair, didn’t think it would take this long for Arthur to find a job, of course. But after about two weeks, Arthur stopped texting Alfred on updates. Alfred already assumed the Englishman had gone away to a different state by then, or even back to England.

Alfred stretched his legs in the seat as he went to retrieve the clothes for him.

Arthur followed his stance a bit better after the shower.

“Sorry I ain’t got nothing to entertain you with; power being out and all.”

Arthur shivered visibly as Alfred went to his bedroom, swinging the closet open. Inside was a stockpile of University-sponsored clothing but a healthy amount of professional wear which were reserved for when he had to teach.

“Perhaps it was a bad idea to come to your place in this weather,” Arthur was heard grumbling, trapping his hands under his armpits in an attempt to keep warm as well as keep the towel around him. “And I assume that means you aren’t spending your weekend on your consoles again?”

Alfred practically threw his sweatshirt and striped pajama pants at Arthur, letting it plop against his face.

“I don’t wanna hear you start disrespecting me after I just let you use my shower,” Alfred huffed. “And video games are completely valid as a way to relieve stress. You know. Instead of drinking.”

“Touché.” Arthur agreed as he took the sweater and wrestled the sweater on. But even after this, he was still visibly shivering.

“You’re still cold?”

“No.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll be right back.”

Shutting the closet door, he began for the living room again, opening up a drawer right next to the fireplace that held a stash of ridiculously thick blankets reserved only for the winter. Arthur trailed behind again like a lost puppy.

“Even now, you still don’t like to listen to me,” Arthur murmured, sitting back on the couch. “But thank you.”

“I never like listening to stubborn people anyway,” Alfred retorted back. “And you’re welcome.”

Alfred went over to sit next to him, now realizing that he was starting back again at square one and staring at his blank television screen. After a few moments, Arthur interrupted the silence.

“Well? Aren’t you cold?

“It’s not like I was out in a storm,” Alfred snapped back, already irritated that Arthur was still talking.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Right. Then what exactly were you even doing here before I got here? I was hoping at least you could think of something for us to do.”

“How should I know?” Alfred was annoyed now. “I wasn’t expecting company before you got here. All I really did was sit here and planned to wait until the power went back on. Or maybe make a pillow fort.”

“Well, that’s hardly anything productive. I would have thought someone like you would stay organized. I mean. You’re the one who still has a job.”

Alfred ran a hand through his hair and groaned. The last thing he wanted as a fight with Arthur when he was being unreasonable and tipsy.

“You know, I could also kick you out too.”

“I know.”

Silence followed.

“Have you any flashlights?”

Alfred closed his eyes. “No batteries.”

“Not even the batteries?” Arthur gawked. “I thought you were the engineer type and owned at least a few backups.”

“Geez, keep your voice down,” Alfred flinched, turning his head to face the other. Despite the harshness of Arthur’s voice, he was found leaned back against the chair with the recliner up, eyes closed. He still looked angry, even with his eyebrows furrowed.

“And I was going to get some tomorrow the next time I went shopping,” Alfred continued. “Which was going to be tomorrow. My bad that I didn’t know the power would get blown out by tonight."

“That’s entirely inexcusable,”

“Like I said, how was I supposed to know that I needed batteries the day before I planned to get the fucking batteries?”

Arthur opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling a moment before turning his gaze to Alfred’s. Alfred briefly wondered how he even had the energy to retaliate responses being so sluggish.

“Then do you want to talk then?”

“Huh?”

“It’s an idea,” Arthur sighed. “Sorry. I’ve just been... very quiet about everything for a while. At home with Alistair. I just want to talk. You’re the first person who’s actually held a civil conversation with me within the last week.”

Alfred sighed. “Every time we talk, it ends up in a fight, remember? Back at the coffee shop when we hung out after work?”

“Well, fighting is at least something to do, isn’t it?” Arthur remarked. And Alfred couldn’t help but actually crack a smile at that.

“That’s true.”

It’s at this moment that Arthur was seen moving again, turning to meet Alfred’s face as he shifted in his lain position to look at him. Alfred just pulled his feet up, looking at Arthur curiously.
“... so,” Arthur began first. “What’s been going on with your life?” 

“Not a whole lot,” Alfred admitted, leaning his head on the side with the cushion. “Organizing my teaching schedule. Playing video games. Sitting around.”

Arthur crinkled his nose. “And eating at McDonald’s?” 

“Well, not so much. I haven’t been feeling like leaving the house lately. Hard to when all the budget cuts keep happening and all your colleagues move away from you. Friends are hard to make.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to be avoiding the opportunity being social. Why?”

Alfred averted his gaze, staring at the blank television. “I just haven’t been in the mood. Do I need to have a reason?”

“Rationally,” Arthur was heard shuffling in his seat. “But I mean. Me myself as a bit of an introvert, I can’t necessarily condone you for wanting time to yourself. I would much rather spend the time reading on weekends than attempting to find a teaching job.”

“Well, reading makes you a lot smarter and all that jazz, so I don’t really think it’s a waste of time.”

Arthur yawned. “Perhaps.”
“Sleepy?”

“A little. I’m still cold.”

“Still??” Alfred sat up. “Well, I don’t know how many blankets you need, Art. But...” his eyes went to the fireplace. And in a few minutes went to collect some paper and a lighter.

Arthur, sensing what Alfred was doing, eyed the man around the pace of the room. And when Arthur noticed the fire, he began to stare at it. Alfred blew onto it, starting it enough to begin a flame. Arthur got up, going over to the fire and sitting on the rugged floor. And Alfred went to sit down next to him, staring at it. And after a while, the flame built itself up to get larger, warmer.

“It’s really cozy,” Arthur mentioned, keeping his gaze on the light. But not before giving Alfred a look.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s go find you a job tomorrow, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Hey,” Alfred gave him a serious look. “You’re staying at my house so my rules.” Arthur couldn’t help but feel himself smile at that. “... you’re too good for your own good, you know that.”

“So, I’ve been told. But I heard downtown, they opened up a new elementary school. Wanna go check that out?”

“Maybe,” Arthur sniffled as he rubbed his nose. The congestion was starting.

“Though, I’m not good with kids.”

“Kids are a lot better to handle. At least they act their age. It’s more frustrating to deal with adults acting like kids in a college classroom.”

Arthur laughed. “Honestly.”

Alfred smiled back, eventually giving Arthur a light punch to his shoulder. Arthur stayed smiling now. 

“I’m here for you, dude.” 

“I’m very grateful for it. Thank you.” 

“But also, if the power doesn’t come back on by the morning, I’ll blame you for taking all the hot water in the shower.”

Arthur’s smile faded. “Fair enough.”

[coffee-for-himchan]

Cake (Daehyun)

Word count: 3.1 k+

Genre/warnings: fluff ❤

Summary: A quick scenario to celebrate Dae’s birthday, involving disaster, cake and sweet clumsy sweet confessions.

Well this was bad.

It was 5 PM already as you scanned over the mess surrounding the kitchen, running a hand through you hair just to realize that your hand was coated in layers upon layers of flour and your hair now probably looked like you had just walked through a snowstorm. But did it really matter at this point? Glancing at the clock, you saw that one more minute had passed since you last checked. Great. The clock was still ticking.

And Daehyun wasn't getting any younger.

Why did today have to be the day that you had decided to unleash your inner culinary beast just to realize that it hadn't been tamed yet and was running wild? Sure, Daehyun's birthday and cake were two things that complimented each other well, but couldn't you have just bought the cake? In the morning you had considered this idea - there was this lovely bakery just a few blocks away that sold amazing red velvet cake, the one Daehyun himself had actually taken you out to get a few weeks ago. He himself had told you how there’s nothing better than a red velvet cake. Maybe a cheescake. Or chocolate cake. Or vanilla cake.. Cake as a whole was a good thing, but red velvet was a must.

And since he loved red velvet cake so much.. Was it stupid to assume that he'd love you at least a bit if you brought some over for to him too?

Your cheeks tinted red and you felt embarrassment for having come up with such ridiculous thoughts, but you didn't let it distract you. There were still more hours to the day, and your stubborn mind was telling you to attempt making the cake again. The bakery was still open for an hour or so, but you doubted they'd be able to just whip out a whole big cake for you this late in the afternoon, and if they'd have to make it from scratch it would take too long. Still, you texted Himchan to hop by there and check - but just in case. You were not about to face failure just yet though, so with flour in your hair, a spoon in your hand and determination written all across your face, you went at it again. This time, not accepting failure.

Had Daehyun been serious back then when he said he wanted himself a girlfriend who could make nine dishes per meal? Those had to be just jokes, right? The whole thing about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach... Of course it was just absurd banter. But still, that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to make the cake for him. To impress him by your skill maybe. To just make him happy and all that stuff.

And besides, maybe making a cake rather than buying one would show him that you cared enough to put in efforts. Because you did care. A lot. And you wanted him to kind of know at this point.

You sighed as you looked at the consistency of all the ingredients in your bowl. This time, it looked somehow promising. No time to waste here, you thought - you had to move on.

How comes that you had never viewed Daehyun in this light before rather recently? You wanted to slap yourself for going from being a good casual friend of his to becoming a lovesick and tongue-tied fool when even thinking about him, but at this point there was no way back. Somehow, you started noticing these little details about him that made your heart beat a little faster every time he was around. And then suddenly, boom - he's standing across of you and laughing a lot, and you realize that you want to be the cause of his laughter. The one who takes up the space in between his chest and arms that are wrapped around you tightly and all that cheesy stuff.. You want to be there. But you're just friends. Just really, really good friends.

Himchan texts you back, saying there's no proper cake they could offer him but he bought a few slices that were still on display just in case. He also nags at you for making life hard for both him and yourself and sarcastically asks you if you hadn't set your apartment of fire just yet. You shove your phone back into your pocket and promise yourself to give him a piece of your mind, but later. Definitely not a piece of cake. At least none until he behaves.

You put the batter evenly between the cake pans, looking at your creation once more before you slid it into the oven and turn up the heat. Now onto making yourself look presentable, because you had close to no time left and still so many things to do..

Daehyun better appreciate you after this.

When it's already close to nine and the party's in full swing though you're nowhere to be seen still, Himchan suspects something bad.

"Where on earth ARE YOU?" he squished his frame through the few people in the hallway, trying to find an appropriate spot for conversation in Daehyun's now crowded apartment as he hisses at you the second you pick up your phone.

"Houston, we have a problem," he heard your answer, and tried to use the background noise of your end of the line to determine what you’re doing.

"Are you.. Are you drying you hair!?"

"Is that really the thing you’re going to focus on now!?" you asked him in an annoyed tone, though you knew he has a point here.

"Well yeah," he answered, and you could hear the ultimate sass his voice projected, "If you're doing that, it means you have wet, non-styled hair, don't have makeup on yet and definitely don't have your dress, shoes and the rest on either," he started nagging again, making you roll your eyes at him. As if you didn't know already.

"And that means you'll still need at least an hour for all that-"

"Well what was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to face reality and buy your beloved Daehyun some proper cake, not attempt the impossible," he said, his tone softening as he heard your disappointed sigh from the other end of the line, "Look, just forget it. You tried, that's what matters. If you want to, once you get here we can make it seem like I went downstairs to help you bring the cake in and tripped on my way, messing it up so we got rid of it. I think I can allow myself to take that one bullet for you-"

"But Himchan, I promised to bring the cake."

He sighed, feeling a crease forming in between his eyebrows. You could be so stubborn at the worst of all times, honestly.

"Well, if you still want to make it in time for at least some of the celebration, I'd advise you to move now," Himchan simply answered, not sure what he wanted to achieve anymore, "That's good advice. Take it into consideration."

You knew he was right, and simply resumed drying your hair as fast as possible after ending the call. It was such an absurdly stupid situation, with the previous cake having burned due to you accidentally turning up the temperature too high and leaving the oven unattended for literally a minute or two too long, and then with the mixer malfunctioning and sending it's contents flying all through the kitchen... And back onto your clothes and into your hair..

You would never attempt to make cake again.

Grabbing everything you had - yes, even a cake that you had managed to somehow make last-minute, with the last bits of strength you had left inside your body and the last bits of ingredients found in the kitchen - you sprinted to your car, fancy shoes long forgotten. Whatever was comfortable and could get you from spot to spot fast would work now. You had limited time left.

By the time you got there, you felt horribly bad about the whole situation. The boys had early schedules the next morning, so Daehyun wasn't about to stay up too late, and having arrived at a quarter to 11, his friends were saying their last toasts, some of them already about to leave. Himchan arched a brow as you placed the cake on the table, but said nothing about it. Instead, he brought up something else.

"Birthday boy has asked about you like twice already," he said, continuing to scan you up and down as you were trying to fix a few strands of your hair while looking at your reflection in the glass of a nearby cupboard.

"About where you were, why you weren't here," he continued as he saw you turning around at the mention of Daehyun, looking at him with wide eyes, "He sure looked like he couldn't wait for you to come."

You didn't answer, and simply kept looking at him, your expression sulking more and more with every passing moment. He shouldn’t have said this, it made you feel even worse.

"Okay.. How about you just go and find him now?" Himchan tried to turn the situation around for the better, seeing how you nodded in response lightly, "Just go grab your gift, put a smile on your face and charm him to death, or maybe not that much-"

"The gift.."

Himchan watched your world basically crumbling in front of your eyes as you realized you'd left the gift that you'd bought for Daehyun in your living room on the coffee table. All wrapped up nicely, ready to be taken along at any moment, except.. You forgot to do that.

If it.. If it wouldn't have been for that goddamn cake, everything would've went well..

"Hey, take it easy," you felt Himchan's arms wrapping around you protectively, but more than that, understandingly. Only then you noticed the single tear that had slid down your cheek. And the one that followed.

"There's nothing like ruined makeup before there's even a proper reason for it to be ruined. So come on. Get it together."

"Himchan, that goddamn cake," you sniffed, earning a compassionate "I know~" from him in response as he lightly swayed your frames from side to side, "You don't know how much I've been through today."

"I can imagine."

"All the cleaning, the disaster.. Just to forget everything else.. To mess up my looks and what’s more important - the gift, and.. I'm such a failure."

You let yourself sulk in his arms for another half a minute until he told you to simply accept your fate and try to make the best out of the situation - there was nothing you could change now. Himchan said that Daehyun would understand anyways, and sent you off to find him immediately after, glancing at you as you left first and then at the infamous cake that now oh so innocently graced the center of the table.

He wondered if that thing tasted good.

You found Daehyun on the balcony, knocking against the balcony door frame to catch his attention before walking in on him. He was leaning against the railings on his forearms, and he head turned around to face you. A mild smile was gracing his lips, though his eyes seemed a bit tired. 

"Hey, you made it."

Your heart burst into pieces from that single phrase and the intonation it was said in, but you contained yourself and simply nodded, standing next to him and watching as he smiled at you again and then looked back ahead at the city in front of him. The buildings were so beautiful when they were graced by the regular nightly sky, accompanied with the shine of all types of lights and illuminations from all around.

"I thought you wouldn't come," he said first, hearing out your silent disagreement and excuses about being late before continuing, "And then I saw you in the living room and I wanted to come and talk, but you were busy with Himchan hyung.."

"E-excuse me..?"

He rose a brow, looking back at you and seeing the surprise in your eyes, leaving him puzzled. He was sure he had seen you with Himchan just now. Being all cuddly in the middle of his living room.

"I saw you like hugging and stuff. Did not want to walk in on something I wasn't supposed to walk into-"

"That godforsaken cake, I swear to god!!!”

Daehyun jumped at your sudden tone, and turned to you completely, straightening out his back. A cake? What were you even talking about? Whatever it was, it was clearly bothering you, because you sounded really irritated when you mentioned it. And very upset too.

"What cake are you talking about-"

"The cake that I was trying to make for you all day!" you exclaimed, at this point just letting all of your frustration out, not filtering your sentences at all, "I'm horrible at baking, but no, I had to make a cake for you, aah, I'm so stubborn! And now because of it I've stressed myself out by trying to remake the same thing countless times in a day, have ruined my hair twice today and it still probably does not look any better, have skipped on half my makeup routine, have forgotten your gift home like the true worst friend that I am and plus to all that you now think that I have a thing for Himchan, which is so absurd, considering the fact that the only reason I ever wanted to make the cake in first place was to maybe make you realize that I like you, and.."

And what?

Oh god, oh god no no no no no this had just happened. You watched his widening eyes and thought that this was it. The last big failure of the day - the ultimate one. The one you wouldn't be forgiven for, the one that wouldn't be forgotten. He looked terrified as he was staring back at you, which meant you had just basically told him something that creeped him out. And that meant that he didn't like you back-

"You.. Like me?"

You felt a wave of anxiety coursing through your whole body and cold sweat enveloping your palms as you slowly nodded in reply, realizing there was no way back now. The secret was out now, on display for him to see. No need to hide the truth.

"Oh my god, is this.. For real?"

Suddenly, you heard a loud bang coming from outside that scared you, and yelping, you somehow stumbled closer to his side. Daehyun did the same, and only then you realized that the thing that had scared you had been fireworks. Beautiful, stunning rays of light gracing the sky in different shapes and patterns, writing some colorful light into the summery darkness that had enveloped the city skies. This was either a joke, a prank, a well-planned setup or a total lucky coincidence, but fact is that it had happened just in time.

You looked back just to realize how close you were standing to Daehyun. His face was still lifted up to watch the beautiful lit up skies, the fireworks reflecting in his eyes and making him look so, so beautiful. It was hard not to look at him like this now, especially when it felt like all your ties could break apart any given moment. 

But then, you felt his hands taking your own in his just to trail up your forearms the next moment, remaining comfortably rested on there. You thought you maybe even felt him pulling you a little closer, although maybe that was just imagination.

"You know you could've just bought the cake, silly," he slowly turned his head back, his face so close all of a sudden, his nose almost bumping into yours. His eyes still displaying affection, which gave you hope.

"I swear, you're the same as Himchan," Daehyun chuckled lightly as you rolled your eyes at him, and he bit his bottom lip, "He kept telling me the same."

"And you still gave it all to make it..”

"Because I wanted you to.. Know that I cared enough," you almost whispered, a little ashamed of your wording of the situation, but more confident in your feelings now that you had been a minute ago. If he hasn't ran off yet, that meant something.

"Daehyun, I-"

"(Y/N), I love you so much right now."

The words caught you off-guard, and so did the second round of fireworks that started firing just after a moment, but what immediately caught your attention was the way he silenced all of your replies you'd been thinking of telling him in return for that confession with something simple yet effective. With a kiss, that is.

It was a little bit of everything. A lite bit of sparks falling above and over your heads, a little bit of the hot summer evening that enveloped you two as you stood in the middle of his balcony doing things that hadn't been done here yet, but definitely would at times from now on. A little bit of the way you felt your grip on his jacket tightening, a little bit of how his arms slid around you to coax you into his warmth and hold you in a manner that told you to stay. A little bit of the taste of champagne what was still present in his mouth and a little bit of the smooching sounds that his lips made every time they disconnected from yours just to impatiently and longingly lock again a second later. 

Those sound were adorable. He was adorable. He was a great friend. Something told you he would be better as a lover.

You were so thankful for making that goddamn cake at that moment, you promised to make it a monument or something once you’d be done here. Not that you could think about it too much while Daehyun was kissing you like that, but you decided to spare it a thought later.

"That was.."

"Amazing," Daehyun murmured, his forehead pressing against yours as he looked back at you, a little amused grin spreading across his face.

"I'm sorry for being late, and for the gift and everything."

"Forget it," he chuckled, leaving a tiny peck on your lips before smiling fondly and speaking on, "This is the best gift I could possibly imagine."

For a second, it seemed like he was about to lean in to claim your lips again, and you leaned in forwards to meet him halfway, your eyes already starting to flutter shut as you anticipated the moment you’d once again be able to get a taste of him.

Until a shriek from the balcony doorway ruined it.

"Don't mind me, I'm not even here," Himchan was scurrying away, with a mildly tipsy and very giggly Youngjae on his tail, "I saw nothing, you guys just continue where you left off-"

"The cake's good, by the way~~"

"Agreed," Himchan's tone matched Youngjae's for a second, and with a wicked smile he added, "At least it was worth your troubles, hmm?"

"Don't you.. Don't you dare eat the whole thing!?" Daehyun laughed out loud as he watched you screaming after his two friends who had just ruined you perfect cheesy moment, "Himchan, do you hear me!?"

"Ah, just let them go already," Daehyun's voice snapped you back to look at him and relax in his arms, getting back into the right mood as he started leaning closer again, "We were in the middle of something really important that I want to go back to now. Though after this... I wouldn't oppose to getting a slice of cake."

You just laughed at him, feeling so fuzzy and happy all of a sudden. For a disastrous day, it had sure ended well. It sure felt nice being tangled up with Daehyun like this. You sure wanted to do it again.

"Though I don't think the cake can possibly taste better than you~" he teased, and before you could object, kissed you again.

And again.

And again.

For the first time, on his birthday, under the moonlight and right before a much-earned slice of his favorite red velvet cake.

[curlywhirly]

A Night To Remember (Part 6)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

            Jackson stared at the door frame, blank. He stood there, processing… processing…

            A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, rekindling his senses. He yelled through the doorframe, “Y-You have a lovely home!”

            “Why are you still here!?” yelled Eric back. Fast, thundering footsteps then came running closer to the door.

            Jackson ran.

            He ran as far as his legs would take him. He was out of breath, out of time, with no remorse for air or for himself. He was lost in this cruel existence and he knew it. Doomed to suffer and suffer and suffer and run. Run. Running away from his problems and desires. Running away from his reality and innate, animalistic tendencies he so craved to relinquish control to. If it weren’t for one thing, however.

            He was scared. He was so scared of what would happen. He was so scared of how he would morph from then on. How he would destroy his foundation and come out possibly worse than before. The chains on his neck getting tighter, a wave of relief washing over him. He cried, the pain in his legs unbearable and numbing. The perverse, flittering imagery of Derrin, undressed, hunched, miserably beautiful smeared itself in Jackson’s vision. Oh wow.

            He was floating suddenly. He was weightless; suspended in hell for ages it seemed. The tears fell, and something broke. Jackson felt it. A deep pinging that called for him to hurt. Willingly he placed himself before his lord for judgment.

            “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

            The world was bliss, the world was pure. And in his soul, he felt peace. Like swimming in his own heavenly sky, he flew. And he crashed. On to flat earth. His face brutally scratching against the concrete again. The nick in the sidewalk, and his shoe a mere 2 feet away. In his craze, he tripped… apparently. His palms were peeling, his knees bleeding, his heart aching. Something in him was burning. He looked around his environment: An empty park. How did he get there?

            Jackson lifted himself up onto his feet and limped away. He needed to keep going.

            As he turned the street corner, a large sign reading “Etcetera Etcetera” pulled him closer. It was the restaurant Derrin took him to on their initial meeting. He was running towards the entrance- when the door opened, a young woman in a black sleeveless collared top stepped out, effectively slamming the door in Jackson’s face.

            “Bloody Hell!!”

            She gasped, “I’m so sorry!” Stepping outside completely and closing the door behind her, she rummaged through her bag, rambling. “I didn’t notice you there, my mistake. Here, I think I have some tissues in case you’re bleeding. Again, I’m really sorry, I should have seen you.” She looked up and immediately froze.

            In that moment he forgot everything. Jackson stared back at her, surprised, to say the least. It was Ana.

            Clearing his throat, his straightened himself. “G-Good Evening, Lady Anastasia. How do y-you do?” Jackson blushed, trying to hide the pain he felt. He hadn’t thought of Ana once since That Night, and now she was here, reminding him of his mistake.

            Ana was more than annoyed to be reunited with her least favorite admirer. She sighed and kept looking through her bag. “I’m fine.” She said pointedly, pulling out a mini tissue box and taking two out. She handed them to Jackson, who was bleeding from his lip, “Here, clean yourself up.”

            Jackson thanked her silently and wiped his lip. He folded the two sheets and tucked them in his inner coat pocket. Combing through his hair, he was antsy to keep moving, the restaurant no longer pulling him in. He could feel a discomfort in his stomach, and he needed to run.

            Ana had questions though. She put two and two together and asked, “So how are things with Derrin?”

            It was Jackson’s turn to freeze. He was speechless. He knew it was her who sent Derrin home; the guards told him as much (along with his address), and so she must have known something was amiss when she saw Jackson was missing from Derrin’s side. She must have known by now and yet, Jackson couldn’t bring himself to confess. He nodded and lied, “Much better now, definitely.”

            “Bullshit. Tell me the truth. Did you guys have a fight?”

            He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Ana rolled her eyes.

            “He hasn’t been able to do his job for two weeks now, you know,” she said, “He was crying earlier today- I had to force him to go home and sleep cause he’s been throwing himself into his work and ignoring his problems. Kind of like how you look right now, you know? Except deserving of it.” Ana couldn’t help the need to insult Jackson. Derrin was by no means her favorite person, but there was something instinctive about her hate for Jackson that made her somewhat protective of Derrin. As if she felt the need to ward off against any form of influencing from the fool before her.

            Jackson was too busy reeling to be hurt. Images of Derrin crying on his office floor, hunched over like at his house were racing through Jackson’s mind. A cacophony of what the past weeks must have sounded like spun Jackson around and dizzied him. He tripped backward and landed against a wall. He gripped his hair, feeling the wretched discomfort of his stomach, expand into a thundering heartbeat that had him hyperventilating. He was on the floor now, dry heaving as memories of Derrin’s smile took their turn at the front of his mind. His vision was blurry, he couldn’t hear, he felt hands but was acutely aware of nothing. Derrin’s laughter soared through his mind like a song. Jackson was horrified. He couldn’t get away, he was being consumed. Derrin’s lingering stare. His Ashy Blond hair. His hands. His neck. His back. His tears. His beautiful, beautiful voice. Jackson screamed. He was suddenly under an umbrella.

            “Count with me. Ten, Nine, Eight…” Ana had covered them for privacy and was counting down in a soft voice. “Count with me, Jackson. Ten. Nine…”

            Jackson was muttering out the words, his breathing steadying out as together, they reached One. He was still shaking, but the blue tint of the umbrella was calming. He was slowly coming back.

            Ana took the opportunity to practice her skills. “What do you need?”

            Jackson couldn’t talk, he was staring at her.

            “Can you move your arm above your head?” She demonstrated the action, moving it up and down several times until Jackson did the same. “Focus on your breathing, stay present,” she added, trying her best to help the man get through his sudden attack. She felt immense guilt at that moment and was adamant about fixing the situation.

            Eventually, after 20 minutes, Jackson was back to normal. For the most part. He was having trouble standing, as his legs still felt like gelatin. He could feel Ana’s glare boring into him, the sweat on his brow trickling down as he tried to fix his clothes. Ana was at his side in an instant, straightening his tie and dusting off his coat. She sighed, looking up at Jackson.

            “I apologize for having caused this. I really am. I let my anger get the better of me, and put you through an awful situation.” She backed away, clutching her bag, “I know you and Derrin were close, I didn’t stop to think that you might be hurting just as much as him. Please forgive me.”

            Jackson tightened his fist, a soft warmth flushing over his chest. He managed to mutter out “I forgive you…” but there was something pressing on his mind; something on the tip of his tongue that he needed to let out.

            “Do you need me to walk you home?” asked Ana.

            No. That wasn’t it. Jackson shook his head, tightening his lips. His eyes fixated on the ground.

            “Are you worried about Derrin?”

            He stopped, head snapping up to meet Ana’s eyes. There was a burning in his throat, and suddenly there were tears. He took a shaky breath, nodding. Ana took Jackson’s hand, holding it firmly in hers. She sighed.

            “Before you came here, Derrin was angry, isolated, and lost. He didn’t have any friends and… as much as I hate to admit it, I was worried for his well being. He was just so overbearing and hot tempered, so I shut him out. I’m still worried for him, but I think there’s a chance for change this time.” She let go of Jackson’s hand, smiling at him for the first time. “He smiles more when he’s around you. No matter how annoying you can be, it’s obvious you make him happy. Don’t let whatever fight’s happening between you two be the end of a good thing.”

            Jackson’s face was practically emitting steam. He was without thought, marveling at the serene expression on Ana’s face. In a flash, he had her hand in his, thanking her over and over and over like a machine. She had to pull her arm away to be free.

            “Go talk to him before he shuts you out.”

            He was back to normal. “I’ve… already attempted that... His father was with him and wouldn’t let me apologize. I don’t think he ‘likes’ me.”

            “Well, then you’ll have to figure out a way to apologize to them both.” Ana leaned in for the last time, whispering, “Between you and me, Derrin has always been a huge nerd for Nintendo. If you want to get him to at least not slam the door in your face, I’d suggest buying him a game.”

            Jackson was rubbing his chin in thought. Derrin had once told him about Video Games, he had even brought his “3DS” to work the next day so that Jackson could play. It was admittedly a bewildering experience, but Jackson was grateful to Derrin for helping him speed up his adjustment process. He couldn’t help the small tint on his cheeks, even if he tried to erase the thought out of his head. “Thank you for the suggestion, Lady Anastasia. I will put it to use!”

            Ana nodded. “Are you okay now?”

           “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for helping me through this.” Jackson bowed, a genuine smile on his face.

            The two said their goodbyes and parted ways, Ana going home, and Jackson going to the nearest GameStop. There was a weight in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of, but he knew not to let it bring him down again. He combed his hair and pressed onward, brainstorming ways to get Derrin’s and his Father’s forgiveness. The faintest flash of earlier that day appeared in Jackson’s mind, except he didn’t fear it, nor took perverse indulgence. He took a deep breath and erased it from his mind. He had a plan now, and nothing- not even himself- was going to stop him.

            “Wait for me, Derrin… and please forgive me…”