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hoopdiddies · 6 years ago

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I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 10)

A/N: I am so sorry that I have not been on for a full week. The phone I had used to edit this in broke and I had to buy a new one plus this is the last chapter and apparently the longest, regardless of my recent claims of the previous ones being the longest lmao. I hope this won't disappoint, I couldn't think of a more consistent flow due to the days I've been without my phone to type some ideas in. I hope you guys will enjoy this last part anyway, and thank you so much for supporting this entire series! I have a new series in mind but it's a WIP. Thanks again for all the love! IMPORTANT NOTE: I WILL BE CUTTING A PART IN THIS CHAPTER AND PUTTING IT UNDER A PART 10.1 IMMEDIATELY AFTER I POST THIS FOR THE SAKE OF THE LIMIT. TAGS WILL BE MENTIONED IN THE COMMENTS

Summary for this part: A wedding brought you apart and it will be a wedding that will bring you back together.

Warnings: A good balance of fluff and angst, mention of injuries and alcohol and some long ass writing.

WC: A whopping 10k

Parts: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

You are painfully a feet away from the door and yet here you are, frozen after having turned 180 degrees only to stumble upon those eyes you had hoped to gaze into again. One swallow from you and you begin gliding along the tiled surface towards him, checking through every pad whether or not he's really awake.

After stopping at his side, you are now certain you're not anywhere close to dreaming. "Ben?" His name leaving your lips like an answered prayer. He's staring back at you with his left eye half-open – taking into account his current sensitivity to light– but with the same energy he exudes everytime you're together.

His chapped lips curl into a smile so slow yet so sweet at the same time; almost an upgrade to his classic 'Benny beam' which you had fun dubbing back in the days. "Y/N..."

And once again, you disrupt the orderly function of your tears and let them gush down, quickly but carefully wrapping your arms around him in bittersweet joy, exclaiming his name thrice into his hospital gown. "You...you bloody idiot! I thought you'd never wake up..."

Having just woken up from a coma, his voice comes out extra breathy and brittle but full of life, chuckling at how you're greeting him back into the conscious world. "Is that...is that how you welcome your best mate back?"

You shake your head ardently, sniffling against his chest and taking in the scent of mint. "Shut up. You frightened us!"

He really wakes up seconds before the clock strikes 'it's too late'. The convenience is hardly believable.

"I'm gonna call the doctor and tell him you're up." You act swiftly on your feet but a grip as strong as you least expected it to be hinders you from taking a step away and you turn around at Ben who's woven his fingers around yours. You give him a concerned yet quizzical look for it.

He sighs deeply, closing his logy eyes for a brief moment before opening them to you– gazing up at you meaningfully as he draws you close with the little, physical strength he has left. "You frightened me, rather."

"What... are you talking about?"

You won't admit it now but the way his fingers are currently snaked around yours could make your heart palpitate any second now.

His green eyes bore into yours effectively, suddenly invalidating your surroundings and making it seem like it's just you and him on the face of the entire planet.

He struggles to swallow before repeating. "You frightened me. You're still leaving..."

His voice crack as he said 'leaving' obliterates the fragments of what was once your soul, punching a gaping hole as a replacement. How is he able to remember your emotional outburst at the after party when he has just woken up and should at least forget a few details?

But then you realize you've been talking to him a lot as he was out of order.

You nod unfortunately, laying your hand on his which is still fondling your other one. His skin has warmed up a notch and that's a progress. You need to clarify this to him again since the last time you did, you both ended up in disarray and in the middle of the road.

"I...I've already told you everything."

"I don't wanna- I don't wanna lose you."

"Ben..." You cut off as your hopeless gazes meet like lightning, his irises darkening at the manner in which your eyes have transfixed on his.

"Please..."

Worried that his stable condition might shift due to the rising agitation he's showing, you sit beside him and bring his knuckles up to your lips, hearing the beeping of the heart monitor quicken which sounds incredibly alarming, an indication that his heart rate has elevated due to his induced stress.

You press your lips into his pale knuckles with your eyes thoroughly shut hoping to soothe him through it, tears trickling from your cheeks and onto the back of his hand as you choke on your words. "Ben...come on. You know I can't stay, you have to understand that."

He slowly shakes his head, biting his bottom lip as he grimaces at the bitterness, softly but agonizingly begging for you to reconsider. "You have to. Please, love. I need you to. I want you to."

Do the short term effects include stubbornness? Cause he's really determined to get you to stay no matter what. Joe must be tortured with waiting by now and at any given moment, he's bound to consider barging in.

You kind of hope he would. God, you should be out there notifying his attending physician about his regained consciousness and for goodness sake, Rosy ought to be here for this. She can't just wander out whenever she likes when her fiance's an injured man struggling to recover.

While keeping his trembling knuckles close to your lips, you move closer and question him, your voice downsizing to an unsteady whisper. "Why? Ben, I'm leaving primarily to pursue a career. Not just because of some heartbreak, this is a dream come true. I'm finally a stair close to reaching it. Why aren't you at least happy for me?"

"I am..."

"Then you have to let me go."

"It's not that easy..."

"Do you think it's any more easier for me? No! But this is what must be and you have to trust me on this," it's as if your heart is in your mouth from feeling so harrowed by all of this, but you have to make him see that this is the only way and that it is also important that you leave, "I'm sorry if I said some things that night that weren't exactly the way I felt. But I have to leave. You're getting married to Rosy soon, you know. Don't worry about me..."

He wishes he could just sit up with ease and cage you in his arms but all his incapacities at the moment are inhibiting him from doing so. Knowing he can't do anything about it emotionally deflates him.

He withdraws his hand a little and presses it to your flushed cheek, kneading your delicate skin as he shakes his head gently to prevent the dressing around his head from becoming less taut.

"I think I know well enough who I want to marry now..."

You can't distinguish what present beating has accelerated; the heart monitor's, your own heart, or at best both. But you're sure as hell his words weren't a product of your own imagination, your eyes drifting from one of his orbs to the other in a daze, looking for any sign that would prove that it's not you he's directed it at but it does otherwise.

"What are you saying?"

The skin of the front of his neck moves along as he swallows dryly to assure you the realness of his words, his thumb traveling up your face to wipe the moist corner of your eye. "I'm a bloody wanker for taking so long to see...that you're the one who has always kept me grounded, who has always made me feel more like myself. Even as far as making me feel like I don't need all this fame to lead a good life, " his breath shortens between each sentence and your jaw goes slack as he exploits the atmosphere to continue, eyes buried deep into yours as if the space in between doesn't even matter anymore.

"I'm an idiot...for not realising sooner that it's always been you."

"Ben-"

"I love you too, Y/N L/N, more than the way I used to. How could I ever be happy without you? We promised neither of us is going anywhere, right? "

Definitely not in the context of mere friendship. For a moment, you make it your quest to find your voice to react and you do.

"You can't. You can't- I mean, what about Rosy? Surely your feelings for her wouldn't just go away like that-"

"It's been doused for so long with the ones for you growing," he's thumb is now gingerly stroking circles on your cheek, the green in his eyes gleaming, "that dance at the after party put me in my place and I asked you if you were still coming to my wedding because...it was my way of telling you how I felt at that moment."

Despite the idea coming off a little incoherent, you immediately get the bottom line. It would've been like coming to your own wedding. You study his gaze confusingly before coming to believe that he actually does love you back in the way you always have.

The words have been built up from the moment he whipped out his share of the polaroid and reestablished his promise as the way he felt towards you took a dramatic turn.

Yet no matter how badly you want to stay and finally work some things out with him, he's engaged and you're leaving in 45 minutes.

And what of Rosy? Hopefully Ben wouldn't think of just fragmenting her like that.

Your deafening silence puts Ben under a heap of worry as he painfully anticipates for your reaction. You shake your head at the unlikelihood of your present situations, bringing your eyes shut as you respond in the only way you can without any words needed to express how sorry you are and how much you've waited for him to say it.

Against your better judgement, you lean your body towards him and catch him off guard with the most bittersweet, goodbye kiss anyone could ever exercise on a moment's notice.

You can tell his positive response with how rapid the heart monitor pulses are becoming and how his lips have begun moving passionately against yours.

His eyes flutter shut in return, tangling his fingers in your hair as he dares to deepen the kiss, eager to feel every inch of your lips as he knows that you still won't be staying after this.

Wait for me to come home...

You pull away catching your breaths as you rest your forehead on his, his hand stroking the back of your hair for the little time you have left in your hands.

This feels so wrong yet so right at the same time. Howbeit strong the desire to stay put, you break away before the spark between either of you becomes magnetizing enough to change your mind.

"Please tell me where you're going...please." He pleads yet you refuse to tell him where you're headed to avoid a fuss, shaking your head apologetically with the space between you both increasing.

"I'm so sorry." You whisper, retreating quickly to the door as you ignore his broken pleas and just in time to be welcomed by the doctor, Rosy and some nurses who are here to conduct another assessment. Your pulse picks up at the sight of an uneasy Rosy along with an extra glimpse of a tuft of red and a head of blonde hair overtopping from behind her, eager to check up on whatever is occurring.

Joe and Lucy.

You clear your throat as you utter quickly to the doctor, unable to set your gaze steady. "He's awake." Your update stirs them to hasten on their steps inwards and you don't bother to stop to give Rosy a glance as she brushes by you, with you feeling the slightest, if not an immense amount of guilt for kissing her fiance– your best friend, who now has to make a troubling choice in choosing between you and her. Most importantly, you wouldn't dare to contend with Rosy over this, you'd rather let it happen naturally and see where it would lead but that's the least of your priorities.

You've whizzed a meter past Joe and Lucy but freeze in your spot at Joe's frail call of your name, your shoulders relaxing after a brief pause. "Y/N...how did- how did it go?"

You remain static in your spot, just wanting to leave the building and basically see past everything.

"Let's just go."

Of course he and Lucy half expected your last conversation to be balanced on a scale of nonchalant to vehement but it went off the boundary of vehemence. With one more look at the closed door, the two catch up with you on your way out with a plan on revisiting Ben on their way back from the airport.

You lengthen the sleeve of your sweater and dab your eyes with it, striding towards the car and slipping into passenger's seat gracefully with the two trailing from behind. Once they climb in after you, they begin bombarding you with questions you'd expect them to drop but being so exhausted from all of drama just lessens your likelihood of elaborating your answers. With a few questions dismissed, you ask Joe to just step on it and he complies sadly.

Lucy gives you a sympathetic, lopsided smile and however stagnant your expression is at the moment, you return the favor as the car accelerates on the road ahead.

You bother to give the distancing hospital one last look; giving him one last look.

At the same time the doctors are asking Ben some questions and performing a few physical tests on him, you make it to the airport with some time to spare. Joe and Lucy accompany you into the waiting area agreeing to stick around just until your flight number is announced.

Propping your luggage bag against a vacant seat next to the ones Joe and Lucy are seated on, you dig through your pocket and pull your phone out to check if there are any calls you've slept on. So far nothing of the sort but a dozen texts from friends and acquaintances wishing you the best on your flight to Spain, though you still have to return to London to collect your essentials.

Their words coax a small smile on your lips and after pressing the button to your home screen, the wallpaper brings a small tear to your eye– you and Ben with your arms wrapped around each other beaming goofily at the shutter of the camera.

In this instance, you begin wondering why photos and pictures

have become such a recurring emblem in your friendship. Joe and Lucy notice the sadness spring out of your eyes and cloud your features as you gaze one last time at your phone, and they instantly figure out what you were looking at. Lucy gets up and turns you around softly by the shoulder, prompting you to talk it out to them prior to leaving. If it unloads the stresses you're under then you agree to it, telling them what went on inside the room not too long ago.

Upon mentioning the bit where Ben confessed to you and was insistent on not letting you leave, Joe breathes out a firm, "I knew it" and Lucy shakes her head incredulously at Ben's 'perfect' timing but overall they're both glad he's opened his eyes– in a metaphorical and physical sense– to the person who has always been worthy of that spot in his life. As your conversation comes to a close, the announcement of the boarding of your flight number limits your bittersweet goodbyes however you do promise that you'll call them as soon as you touchdown.

"You better do well out there! Don't forget to call us every once in a while. Or everyday, damn it!" Joe calls out after blowing multiple kisses to you, he and Lucy bidding you an effective farewell. You wave back at them with a reassuring grin before disappearing into the crowd of bustling passengers, huffing sadly underneath your breath as you trail your finger smoothly across your bottom lip– where Ben had left his precious, goodbye mark for you. Something you ought to hold on to dearly for the moments you'll be missing out on.

Many months later

During your first day in the University of Barcelona, you could've sworn it was all but a dream and at any given moment you could've awakened; but it wasn't. It was right before your eyes and you were standing upon the solid concrete that held those opportunities. In the first days you were but a foreigner; merely wandering around the campus with your textbooks in hand making your journey to the lab and cafeteria a noble quest. Like your life depended on finding your way through every twist and turn on a day to day basis, asking fellow students where particular rooms were as you struggled to maintain good eye contact.

It was an everyday uphill battle for everyone.

However things have improved immensely in the following months, you have gained new friends in most of your classes, developed a good sense of direction around the campus and you've scored solid 90's in your classes which you thought would be bumpy the first time but attainable anyway through nights spent with ounces of coffee, extensive reading and episodes of academic agony.

Despite the pressures in your first year, you still keep in touch with your friends and family back home, especially with Joe and Lucy to whom you had once swore to always call. They're glad to know you've been at your peak in the past few months plus they wouldn't stop making a fuss about how much they miss you and long to have some sort of reunion once you decide to go back for a break. They've been well too– Joe's planning on producing a new movie although he's not certain with the details yet, Gwilym has talked to you as well and he's thriving with new projects which you were quick to congratulate him on and Lucy - oh, darling Lucy- apparently Rami had taken her out of the country again and popped the question out of nowhere just two months after you left.

Of course, when she told you the news the hot brew you had nearly swallowed came spewing out of your mouth in surprise thereby catching the attention of the people you were with at that time. But that was out of happiness too, she's invited you to her wedding –a few months after breaking to you the news of her engagement– which is to take place two weeks from now, something you're unfortunately unsure of attending since you are steadfast on getting heaps of classwork done.

But you promised to update her if ever you found an opening on that week to squeeze in a flight.

"Aren't you coming with us? They're waiting downstairs and it's our only night off this week. " Ava, your roommate and closest friend among the others, asks as she slips on her cardigan, ready to leave for a night out. You've got a book propped up in front of you and you were just getting immersed in the lines you've taken your eyes off of. "Er, it's kind of a cold night out. You girls have fun anyway."

"You sure?"

You nod, flipping your pen in your fingers. "Just bring me home a smoothie while you're at it."

"Get your butt off the chair and do it yourself!" She whines as she throws a nearby ball of cotton at you and you giggle lightheartedly, wishing her and the girls good luck as she heads out, shutting the door behind her.

You're just relieved they can communicate fluently with you or you never would've gotten around the city easily. Just as you begin turning your attention back to your book, you suddenly lose the interest to continue and just close it for the night, picking your phone up and tossing yourself on the bed with a small jounce as you land.

You shift on your spot as you check through your messages, emails, some posts from friends and whatnot to pass the hour, eventually noticing a message from an unknown number sent just earlier today. Curiosity peaks in you and you don't think twice before clicking on it to read.

You've changed your number weeks prior anyway so it could be from someone you know whose phone number you haven't asked for yet.

Hey, Y/N.

I know this is out of the blue but it's been a while since I've heard from you and in all honesty I didn't even bother to contact you the first time out of the assumption that you might have busied yourself a lot and don't have the time to check your phone. But I've become so worried then that I had to decide to ask you how you're doing. How you're holding up wherever you are. If you're not overworking yourself since you tend to do that a lot. I know it's been months since we've last talked to each other but I just miss you. I miss seeing you, having those late night conversations that got you late in the morning for work, hanging out and your voice. I kind of want to call you but you might be occupied and I don't wanna be a bit of a bother.

I miss you so much, love. Every single day. I'm trying to distract myself with the new project I've taken but you're just impossible to sleep on. When will you ever be back?

Why does the tone of the message seem familiar?

You reread along the last lines and your heart comes to a stop at one word that gives away the possible identity of the sender.

The lingering silence in the room making it possible for you to hear the elevated throbbing of your heart. It's been a while since he's slipped into your mind and even until now, the love you have for him is still flourishing wholly. Even when you had your mind set on your studies, your heart unknowingly had some other priorities.

So has he called things off with Rosy because if he hasn't yet, the tone of the message wouldn't come off as sincere as this.

That's a question you don't need answered for the meantime however you wonder how he was able to text you when you've pretty much changed your number.

You hope he's fully recovered from that head trauma though it's been nearly a year since that happened. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, thinking about replying.

Hey. Ben if this is you, it's great to hear from you again.

Your eyes dart to the send button, taking a brief pause before hitting it and discarding your phone to the side at least hoping he wouldn't respond immediately because then it would lead to a conversation that might just turn awkward.

Never have you had an awkward talk with him so it's something you wouldn't want to acquaint yourself with.

You grab your pillow and press your cheek against it in uncertainty.

"Don't even start...thinking about him." You mumble groggily into the pillow and lay flat on your back as you begin wallowing in your own doubt, your eyes becoming droopy at every second spent on staring at the pale ceiling with your right arm and leg thrown over the pillow like you're never gonna let it go.

You never even considered seeing someone else because deep down, you still hoped for him. Though you had exchanged some stares and 'interactive' words with a few guys in your classes, none of them ever came or would ever come close to Ben.

- - - - - - -

This week's lab work gave your brain a mild whiplash with all the hustling you were required to do.

Every morning, you either had breakfast or not and it all depended on how early you had to be there. Provided that you had to take off in the early hours, you had to skip a good bite nearly every morning; plus you were all being assessed closely by your professor and so a downshifted movement was every bit as unacceptable.

At least now that you had just gotten off from your last period you can reward yourself with some good Mediterannean food that should be the ultimate dinner of your night.

You and Ava are seated around a table laughing and enjoying each other's companies with your plates and glasses half-filled with leftovers after a quick chow down, but your attention is quickly divided as a text from Lucy surfaces. She's asked you about your availability next week and you ought to re-check your schedule for it. Once again upon pressing your home screen button you can't help but let a longing smile take form on your lips at your wallpaper and with you being oblivious to Ava noticing, to your demise, she takes a sly peek at what you're looking at and disrupt your train of thought.

"Who's that?" Ava asks with a cheeky grin to which you quickly recoil with your phone held loosely in your hand.

"Nothi- no-one. "

As nosy as she is tenacious, she swiftly

snatches your phone from your weak grip and dares to unlock it, the wallpaper of you and Ben making her swoon in delight. "Y/N, how on Earth did you get Ben Hardy to hold you for a photo like this?" Squealing like a schoolgirl, Ava grills you with an inquisitive look. You've never bothered to tell her or any of your new found friends anything about your friendship with him and so now she thinks you're a fan who merely got luck in her favour for a picture.

If only she knew.

"I don't know? How'd you know it's him?" You speak up your mind, a fleeting blush crawling its way to your face.

" Bohemian Rhapsody was a hit, of course. Queen rocks and I was all for it," she gesticulates as a matter of fact and winks playfully, "and later on we were all for the cutie who played Roger Taylor."

You try your very best not to let a single squeak of laughter escape your lips as she begins drooling over him. What are the chances of her finding out, right? You would tell her about it and have her meet him however your situation is too dire to act in. Come to think of it, you haven't received a reply to your reply to his message. He could be juggling a lot in his hands at the moment, perhaps.

"Cutie. Yeah, he's cute. But the guy seems clumsy enough to drop your heart." Here you are throwing a sportive shade all the way from Barcelona.

As if she's taken a fake offense at your comment, Ava overdoes a gasp. "Is that how you say thanks?"

You respond with a one-shoulder shrug, your voice neutral to keep yourself from giving away the screams of your heart. "I'm just saying. What are we doing next week by the way?"

"As I've been told by Mr. Gomez, the school will be hosting an array of meetings with the BOD and so we're given a time off."

You blink thrice at her. "Seriously? Like a week?"

She forks a tapa from her plate and bites down on it, nodding at you. "Three days max." So you don't have the entire week off, but that's great. Given that you had told Lucy you'd update her about your availability during that time and now that you have a few days to spare, you're conditioned to go. You quickly get up from your chair and excuse yourself from Ava, making your way to the terrace to dial Lucy who you hope is reachable at the meantime.

"Hello?"

"Lucy, hey!"

"Y/N, thank goodness you called!"

"About my weekly update?" You bite down on your lip in excitement, swinging your leg back and forth aimlessly.

"What about it?"

"I'm free next week."

- - - - - - -

"And cut! Okay everyone, lunch break. We're not cleaning up the rubble yet so we'll leave it there for the next scene." At the sound of the clapperboard slamming, all stunts have been ceased until the next roll and the main actors retreat individually to their own trailers, one of which is Ben who is walking back within beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as a result of a car stunt he had to perform on set. He's glad he can finally swing his left arm with unbridled ease after disposing of the sling just two months back although he's left with a few scars; the primary one on his forehead from the trauma he had.

A PA hands him a bottle of water and he thanks her for the save, cracking the lid off and chugging away. He waves at his fellow co-stars before entering his trailer and slipping out of his sweaty shirt, dumping it on the edge of the bed.

He places the bottle on a coffee table and swipes his phone from his drawer, being welcomed by a heap ton of messages, one days older than the next. He scratches his head at the result of his constant business; not being able to find time to reply thereby impregnating his inbox with miscellaneous messages.

Three from Lucy which he is 'obligated' to check first and foremost. Ben's lips twitch to an uneven smirk as he reads her messages, amused that he's been invited to her wedding, along with other people.

He replies with a simple yet sincere, "Thanks, I'll mark it on my calendar" before proceeding to put his phone down on the bed. He sighs, taking out his wallet from his drawer and opening it to pick out something, the dual polaroid he's folded in catching his eye and all of his attention; and for a moment, his heart stops.

He pulls it out from its slot and unfolds it, the tape used to stick it together crinkled but still an effective adhesive. Without taking his eyes off of the polaroids, he plops down on the edge of the bed and wipes his forehead, hiding the ridiculous smile he now has on his face behind his hand. The memory still does things to him apparently and he has never let go since the day you kissed him goodbye. He can still feel the touch of your lips linger on his and admittedly, he traces his finger across the spot every time you cross his mind. The things you had said to him while he was unconscious ultimately stuck in his mind and he just longs to hear your voice once more. There are multiple times he forgets that you're not around to vent to or watch a good game of rugby with or do whatever you used to do together, no matter the trouble.

Generally speaking, he just yearns to be with you.

On a side note, he had long called things off with Rosy, exactly a day after he had awakened. Of course, she didn't take it easy but he knew damn well who he loved.

A heavy sigh leaves Ben's lips as he lowers his head at the frustration he feels for never owning up to his feelings.

She probably has some other guy in her life now. What are my chances? He thinks dryly to himself. "Hey, Ben? Break is over." The assistant director knocks on his trailer door and he tells him that he'll be out in a few. Tucking the polaroids back into his wallet, he snags the fresh shirt that's been laid out on the sofa across him and pulls it on, combing his blond hair back with his fingers before heading out to get the day done without realizing that he has skipped your reply.

With the days leading up to Rami and Lucy's wedding, they have never been more busier about any other event in their entire lives. They've decided on a beach wedding and to hold the reception there as well. Lucy has made you one of her bridesmaids yet you declined at first because that would mean you would have to fly in early for a practice down the aisle but she's assured you that practice wouldn't be necessary. She has taken care of the dresses and such and all you need to do is just fly down to California, again, to attend. Speaking of dresses, you bought her a little wedding gift yourself. It's something small but it's bound to suit her look.

You've told Ava about the wedding– excluding essential details like whose wedding it is specifically– and she's a little disheartened that you wouldn't be around to hang out with for the week but you've reassured her that you won't be long; considering you'll also be reviewing for upcoming tests.

"Okay, so it's a beach wedding? Drastic times call for some drastic measures, chica!" She exclaims and throw her arms up in the air, springing out of her bed and rummaging through her wardrobe as you throw what you can into one, just one luggage bag.

She pulls out a black two-piece bikini from the drawers and upon beholding it, you feel your eyes burn to a crisp. "There won't be any swimming, as far as I'm concerned."

"You'll never know. Just toss this in, it might come in handy." You swear you saw a mischievous glint in her eye as she said that. You press your lips into a tentative, hard line before surrendering, grabbing the pair from her and stuffing it in the unreachable depths of your luggage.

"Happy?" She nods vigorously and you sigh in defeat, zipping your bag close.

The day came and the jet lag is still real. You've flown in a day prior, exactly the day of Lucy's bridal shower and well, a literal bone crushing hug welcomed you on your way into the arrival area. She looked really fresh and bloomy before you arrived but afterwards, it was a messy head of hair and a waste of makeup, not to give it a stretch but it was. She's shed a few tears from how long you've been gone and you couldn't help but shed a few yourself, awfully missing her and the rest.

She's prepped a hotel for all her bridesmaids to stay in and you had some thoughts on how much she's spent but it's her wedding so who are you to question? As she helps you settle in your room, she pauses and brings you in for another big hug.

"Aww, Luce." You chuckle over her shoulder, rubbing her back.

She snaps her eyes shut and hums. "Oh Y/N, I've missed you. We all have. I know we call a lot even from a distance but it's been so long since we've last seen each other."

You sigh heavily, still holding her close.

"LAX. Yeah. It's only been a year but it feels like forever," you pull away deliberately, hands still firm on her shoulders with a heartfelt gaze, "Congratulations, Luce. You and Rami better make wonderful babies."

She smacks your arm lightly as an appropriate response to your little tease. "Shut it. Tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"Yeah," she planks down on the edge of the duvet and crosses her legs, leaning her body forward, "how's Spain? How's the school? The agony? Been seeing someone?" The last bit catches you by surprise; as if she's emphasized the question enough for it to be the main thing you have to answer. You disregard it for a few seconds until she brings it up again. You turn to give her an incredulous brow lift, something she returns with a curious grin. "Are you seeing anyone?"

In your mind, she should know that you've only ever had one guy in your heart but knowing Lucy, she just wants to hear you say it yourself .

You huff underneath your breath, planting your hands on your hips as you perpend on saying the following. "Spain is amazing. School is both heaven and hell. The agony exists in every divot, and no, I'm not seeing anyone."

"That's good."

You glance sideways awkwardly. "Okay? Is what good?"

"Everything, except the agony part, especially the last."

"I'm not seeing anyone?" You repeat and she nods with a blossoming smile. You don't say anything else since it's obvious that she's keen on letting you talk about Ben but today's not the day that you do. It's the day before her wedding and every present air particle should be all about her.

"Regardless, Miss Boynton. This week is all about you so," you alter your stance and skip to your luggage bag, unzipping one compartment and pulling out your wedding gift for her, "it's not much but I figured this looks better if it's on you." You hand her the palm-sized object and she lets out a little gasp at what you got her. It's a hair comb adorned with two, white roses and pale rhinestones that glimmer under the spilling light.

Something that would upgrade her sun-kissed beauty on a clear day. You try it on her and step back to picture her with the full ensemble as she walks down the sandy aisle tomorrow. "Good lord, look at you all grown up." You pretend to tear up and she tilts her head back in a burst of laughter, walking to you with welcoming arms and green eyes that are nearly brimming with tears.

"Oh I love it, Y/N! I knew something was missing in the outfit but you've completed it. It's perfect." She mumbles happily against your shoulder and her contentment tickles your insides.

"I'm glad you like it."

After giving you a look of what you'll be wearing tomorrow and a few, friendly introductions to the rest of the bridesmaids, the bridal shower is where everything is at. Ranging from colorful streamers to champagne to cake strippers, the latter putting you under uneasy situations when you just wished to enjoy your drink and your own space. At the same hour you're enjoying yourselves, on the other side of town is where Rami and the boys are on full swing with his bachelor's party. It has the same vibe, only without the strippers and streamers and constant belly-aching movement.

You just pray none of you will be waking up with hangovers at the hour you'll be fixing yourselves.

And indeed none of you have.

You've all waken up like ladies but clumsily as the realization of the time nudges you out of your beds. Ceremony starts at 9 and you're 5 hours early to ensure that everything progresses smoothly.

It's a condensed hustle within your separate rooms; the pattern of getting ready ever so similar. Shower, makeup, hair, dress, and retouch; all done in complete unison. With all the bridesmaids, including yourself, conditioned outfit-wise, you all gather in Lucy's room to assist in psyching her up for the big day. Her mom's in too to witness every precious second of seeing her daughter fly off on her own.

She's still in her robe but her hair and makeup have been beautifully done by one of her makeup artist friends. She's about to step into her gown, a sight the girls are just dying to see.

"Alright, Lucy. Let me just zip up the back." Says one of the girls who has helped with her makeup as Lucy stands confidently but nervously in front of the mirror, scanning her reflection. You fold your hands together in anticipation, gasping as she turns around slowly with the skirt of the gown gracefully following her turning motion. Her radiance could put the sun's to complete shame.

"Well, say something, girls." She prompts with a chuckle and as expected, it is followed by the uproarious squeal of everyone in the room including yourself. Rami is guaranteed to have his gaze super-glued to Lucy the moment she reveals herself. After having a dozen compliments shower her, you and the rest of the girls retreat outside to give her and her mother a time to talk. As you lean against the door frame, you fish out your phone from your purse and check your messages; coming across your reply to Ben which hasn't received another one from him yet.

You wipe off the downhearted smirk on your expression as the girls' murmurs increase as Lucy steps out holding a bouquet of flowers with her mom on her arm and the edge of her gown lifted by two assistants. She turns her head to find you and crooks her finger at you upon seeing you inclined against the frame, letting you walk by her side.

You notice she's sporting the gift you've given her and the sentimentality makes you want to tear up but in doing so would ruin your makeup and so you decide to save it for the kiss.

You lean in close to her and whisper in a flat but playful tone, your words making her giggle. "Rami's totally getting it."

"I'm not the only one who's getting it today." She winks at you and leaves you questioning what she meant. She made it sound like it's something you have to find out for yourself later on. The weather is fine and not as humid as you thought; the ideal atmosphere to marry under. The bridesmaids are to ride in a separate vehicle that will follow up behind the one Lucy and her mom will be taking. To say that your ride with the the girls to the resort turned out fun and noisy is an understatement; you couldn't be any more conscious about smudging your makeup as you busted your guts laughing at your topics. The driver had given you weirded out looks but you know he was just trying to feign a laugh. By the time you arrive at the resort, a gust of wind from the seaside welcomes you out and nearly messes up your hair though you've put it up in an elegant bun with your tendrils hanging loosely from the sides of your head. You traverse closely behind the rest of the girls and find the venue nearly packed with attendees in their most sophisticated dresses and suits. The altar is set meters away from the shoreline and a red carpet has been rolled out to serve as the aisle between lines of pillars decorated with tropical flowers. A gentle music piece is being played by a violinist and a cellist situated on the left side of the altar with waiters serving some four-seasoned refreshments for the guests to enjoy as they wait.

With all these people around, you can't help but wonder if either Joe or Gwilym made it. You haven't contacted Joe about arriving, given that you wanted to surprise him with your arrival. You peer down at your wristwatch and it's only an hour before the ceremony starts. Rami's nowhere to be seen and you badly want to congratulate him on this, but either way, he's probably attending to some other people and so you put that chance on hold.

As you had wished for yourself to be void of any mishaps today, you bumping into a tall figure as you turn around to walk away deters that possibility and mortifies you for a moment.

"Oh man, I'm so sorry-" You quickly apologize but cease as a familiar face meets your lifting gaze.

"What- Y/N?!"

"J-Joe?!"

"Y/N!"

"Joe!" After shamelessly screaming each other's names, you put no thought into the action of jumping into his arms for a tight hug. He's crushing you in one anyway. "Oh my g- what- when did you arrive, you little sneak? " He exclaims and lets you go for a split second, careful not to ruin your satin outfit. "You're going to murder me for this but yesterday."

His brows furrow in disbelief as his mouth hangs agape. "How dare you not tell me? I mean, I knew Lucy would invite you but...actually how dare you both for not telling me." He whines in a joking manner and you respond with a quick shrug. "Surprise, surprise."

"You sure did and wow," his eyes travel up and down your outfit and you click your tongue at him as he does, pointing your finger to your eyes that are aimlessly roving around his suit in the same manner. "Hey Mazzello, eyes here."

"Hypocrite, eyes here." He mimics your action mockingly and you take eye-rolling to the next level.

"Damn it Joe, I've missed you."

"Missed you too. Been a year but it feels like a decade and you look beautiful, by the way, in that outfit as a bridesmaid." He places his hand on your upper back and leads you into the lounging area that is close to the pool but not far from the event area.

"You don't look so bad yourself for a groomsman. "

"How'd you guess?"

"This is Rami's wedding. I'd know."

You got an hour to talk before you take your positions anyway so catching up would be vital. You settle down on the sofa and fit your talk into the time limit, telling each other about what went on in your lives for the past few months. A lot of interesting stuff has happened to Joe and he's absolutely lively as he talks about it however yours hasn't been much, just adaptation to a new environment and the academic agony. Your talk takes an interesting turn as Joe asks you a question related to something you haven't thought about for a few days.

"Since you're pretty much still on the market, you ever think about...you know."

Your brows crease at him. "What?"

"You know," he lifts his shoulder in a half shrug, "Ben."

"Oh." Is the only thing you can say. The answer is pretty clear, you do think about him but not on a daily basis. He comes across your mind when you've drifted off into oblivion with your thoughts or when something that may remind you of him catches your eye.

"Sometimes I guess. But not as deep as I used to."

"I know you miss him, Y/N, and he misses you too. Believe me, he tells me everytime he calls."

You cast him a short gaze but look back at your fingers, a little comforted by the thought and it motivates you to ask. "Is he still with Rosy?"

Joe scoffs, mildly amused and wholly relieved at the contrary. "That's the good news. He's broken things off with her long ago. Just a day after he regained consciousness."

"Really?" You won't admit it but part of you feels bad for her.

"Yeah and I'm not spoiling you the rest," he rises from his spot on the sofa and reaches out for your hand, pulling you up gracefully. "The thing's about to start." He gestures to the chairs that are beginning to get occupied by the people as the priest arrives. You walk back out alongside him, leaning in to ask out of curiosity. "What do you mean you won't spoil me the rest?"

"You'll see, now go skedaddle to Lucy. She needs her crew." He pats your shoulder with a crooked smile on and you sigh inwardly, waving at him as you divert paths; with you headed to where the rest of the bridesmaids and the bride herself are gathered.

"Gwilym! You're just on time." Spotting Gwilym making his way to join Sami – Rami's brother– at the front row of chairs on the right wing as one of the groomsmen, Joe greets him with a brief hug and takes his place next to him. Sami greets the two men as well, exchanging some remarks before being joined by Ben who had been caught in traffic on his way. "Benny!"

"Ben!"

"Hey, you guys! Am I late? Did I miss the vows?" He asks with a hint of irony as he takes the spot between Gwil and Joe, shaking hands with Sami at the same time. Not a minute longer they are joined by the remaining groomsmen and Rami who has finally garnered up the physical strength to stand on the altar without breaking a sweat.

"You got this, mate. Just don't look down. Your boutonniere looks nice if I might add." Gwilym simultaneously advises and compliments an already nervous Rami hoping to appease him yet earns a quick yet teasing smack from Joe for making a small joke out of the situation. To show them that he's actually better on every possible level, Rami stands tall and rests his hands on his front to exude that confidence and excitement of being minutes away from watching his soon-to-be Mrs. Malek grace the aisle with her presence.

The guests simmer down with their chatters as the first ones who will be walking down the aisle take their positions. The musicians stop playing as they wait for the cue to initiate the main piece in accordance with the first walk.

Among the ones that will be walking before Lucy's big entrance is you and though you'll be joined by your fellow bridesmaids, it somehow just quakes your nerves, tightening your grip around the small bouquet of flowers you've been given as a prop.

You can't understand why you're feeling nervous; you're not the one that's getting married but you just don't know why. The musicians are given the cue and they begin playing a familiar song, something contemporary but heart-achingly romantic.

"You okay?" Asks a fellow bridesmaid and you nod, telling her that you're a bit anxious. She reassures you with a smile and it unknots your tension. The guests and attendees turn their heads towards the threshold of the aisle and the sponsors begin walking down first. Next are some of their relatives, then you– the bridesmaids. There are at least seven of you and you come in fifth. As you begin sauntering down the aisle, you feel relaxed yet piercing eyes trail your movement yet you beg to differ and keep your head up with a mellow smile on your face as you keep your eyes ahead, your unsteady gaze fleeting from the altar and to the groomsmen seated at the front row of the right wing.

Your eyes land on Joe and Gwilym who start giving you bright beams as they notice you in an instant. If you weren't trying to walk sophisticatedly with all these people staring, you would let out the loudest, most awkward giggle. It's nice to see Gwilym again though. Just as you begin turning your unwavering attention away, you take a subtle double take at a certain pair of eyes that has found you long before you found them. You are meters away from reaching your end of the aisle and yet it seems as if you've only started walking with how the music has turned up and how you're exchanging astonished yet longing gapes with Ben who knows he is seconds away from exploding with who he's finally seeing. You're here as a bridesmaid for Lucy and yet ridiculously, you feel like the bride.

Of course he's here. Of course he's one of the groomsmen. Of course Lucy and Joe wouldn't tell you. Of course this is the thing Joe didn't want to spoil about. Why didn't you think about any of this earlier? It would've saved you the shock regardless of it being so obvious.

You gather the strength to break away from the trance you've put yourself in and stand next to the girls, using up all the willpower in your body to avoid risking a peek at the groomsmen– at one groomsman rather. It's the same struggle for Ben who is every bit as stubborn as the next person and does the contrary, going as far as tilting his head to one side just to cop a longer view of you, an action Joe notices and slaps his hand for. Ben winces a bit and gives Joe a questioning look for two reasons.

"Save it." Joe whispers flatly and yet Ben dismisses it and feels his breath hitch in his throat as the sight of you appeases his worries yet makes his heart run a mile. With the ring bearers and flower girls at the edge of their walk, everyone rises up at the reveal of Lucy. The music slows down to fit the pace of her walk with her mother by her side, her eyes finding Rami's and establishing a home in them. You glance at both of them and feel your heart inflate at how strong their love for each other is, something that usually only exists in novels and fiction. Lucy's eyes well with joyful tears as she reaches the altar and her mother finally surrenders her hand to Rami.

It's too much.

With you being too distracted by the spark between Rami and Lucy, you overlook Ben's unbreakable gaze at you. The moment you grew a smile, it invalidated everything else surrounding him.

The priest requests everyone to finally sit down and witness the lifetime commitment blossom. Throughout the ceremony, you can't help but feel his eyes sear through you yet you stand your ground and fix your gaze at the happenings on the altar, briefly failing every once in a while by finding yourself looking back at him. The moment has come for them to exchange their vows and you listen intently at every word sincerely uttered by the two. There are parts in their vows that make the people giggle and tear up at the emotion put into every word expressed. It seems surreal to you that the moment Rami tells Lucy that he's never going anywhere, your gaze meets Ben's and it becomes undeniably bewitching, Rami's words acting as a call back to your promises. As the rings are exchanged and the "I do's" are said, the priest pronounces them husband and wife and you tear your focus away from Ben just in time for Rami and Lucy to share their first kiss as a married couple. Cheers and applauds fill the air and even more tears of joy are shed at the start of their lifetime bond. They both couldn't look any more blissful, with the pair of them giddily flaunting their rings with grins so radiant and bright it undermines the power of the sun upon them.

The cheers and excitement continue at the reception which, of course, is hosted at the very same place. After the ceremony– you, the girls and Lucy took off to the rooms you've booked in the resort for the meantime to change into the appropriate apparel to match the vibe of the venue and even the venue itself. Rami and the boys drove back to their respective hotels to change as well and it was a bit hard for the newly weds to go their separate ways for a few hours just to change clothes. Now that you've all rejoined for the reception, lively doesn't even begin to cut it. It's just like any other wedding reception and like any other wedding reception, it's upbeat, smooth and a little haywire on the egdes. After going through with dinner and a couple of toasts and remarks about the funny side of Rami and Lucy's relationship, the dance floor is open for business. At first glance, the girls take you for someone who is in need of a lot acquainting with the dance floor and they're right; because of that they haul you in themselves and you end up enjoying moving around to the music. You decide to refreshen yourself with a glass of iced tea before returning to your fun. One gulp is all takes to replenish the energy lost and you turn around to head back but freeze in your spot at the sight of Joe with his hand out, asking you for a dance.

"Seriously?" You're not surprised but your brows shoot up in question.

"It's my way of saying 'I need to talk to you'. "

"We can do that outside." You gesture to the vacant space yet Joe insists that he dances with you as you talk. You purse your lips together, letting him take your hand and he pulls you along with him almost too abruptly, eliciting a ticklish squeal from you.

"Don't do that!" You whine as you both settle among the multitude of dancing people. He lowers his head in laughter and twirls you under his arm, drawing you close afterwards. You rest one hand on his shoulder as he holds up the other. "Where's the fun in talking outside now, huh?"

"Alright," you grin ridiculously, spotting Rami and Lucy in each other's arms as they slow dance near the mini stage, looking and feeling at one with the other. "Hey, doesn't it just warm you?" You poke Joe and gesture to the newlyweds. He peers over at them and hums in a heartwarming way. "Yeah. Man, it's like they're communicating with each other merely through their close-knit heartbeats."

"Speaking of communication," you clear your throat and give him a direct look, " what did you want to talk about?"

He snaps out from gauging at the two and leads you on a gentle sway as he swallows, increasing the volume of his voice just loud enough to cut through the music and for you to hear. "Right. About the thing during the ceremony," you immediately catch on to what he's trying to say and interrupt his next words.

"Okay, thanks for implying, but are you kidding me? Giving me stroke by hiding Ben's attendance?"

"It was for dramatic effect," your eyes flatten puzzlingly at his defense. "What was so dramatic in that besides the awkward... staring?" You know the truth and it really wasn't awkward; in fact it felt like time dilated between you both.

Joe ping-pongs his gaze from one end of the place to the other and back to you. "You paused after 'awkward'. You liked it." The smile on his face teasing you. He's really that sensitive to the nuance of your voice, making it easier for him to figure out how you actually feel about anything.

You evade his prying look and clear your throat, trying to keep up with the transition of the rhythmic music to a slow tune. "So what if I did?" You mumble intentionally.

"Nothing bad. Just Ben wouldn't stop fidgeting in his spot after seeing you. He was this," he makes small jerky movements with his upper body as to imitate Ben's inability to keep still during the ceremony, "antsy and I was this close to losing it."

You snort as you let an explosive laugh overcome you, recollecting yourself shortly as you are flattered by Joe's report. "I felt the same. It took every cell in my body to prevent myself from launching at him honestly."

"I'm glad we sat in separate tables or else neither of you would function like regular...human beings." The grin on Joe's face fades in the same manner as his last words, staring off at a figure approaching from behind you. He regains his voice in a matter of seconds, only with a sly twinkle in his eyes this time.

"You okay?" You ask him, slowly removing your hand from his chest and he nods vigorously, taking position to whirl you off but with a sneaky twist.

"I'm fine. Just... Gwilym wants to dance with you and he's right behind you so I'm going to spin you off to him, sound good?" He lifts your arm up and you shrug in agreement, going with what Joe's planning to do.

"Ally oop!" He twirls you around and releases your hand just in time for you to cling onto a firm frame, giggling at the rush you felt. "Hey Gwil! Good catch, that was a strong spin-" You take a hard pause the second you lift your eyes up with the expectation of meeting Gwilym's sapphire blues, greeting a pair of forest, green orbs instead and it becomes more than what you've bargained for. His veiny arms have caught you with ease and you're sinking, both literally and metaphorically, your arms awkwardly thrown over his shoulders for support.

He helps you regain your balance and smiles the smile you had craved to behold again, breathing out your name like he hasn't said it in a long time. "Y/N, hi."

You find your voice just in time to reply. "Ben...h-hi." He's looking quite good in an all white attire. His white dress shirt is tucked in and has three buttons undone, exposing a lot of his clavicle and a preview of his pecs and the way his white pants just hangs loosely around his legs– you've lost the proper words to describe the sight.

Joe, you crafty asshole.

#borhap #queen #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap imagine #ben hardy fanfic #imagine #fanfic

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lizord-lord · 7 years ago

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The Invisible Language

(This is a vent fic. I was struggling with having to dump a friend yesterday and it got me dwelling on my social struggles..and so I tried my hand at actually writing a fic to project all my problems through! XD)

(For anyone who doesn’t know, I have autism-Aspergers specifically, and I totally 100% headcanon Logan as an aspie. I have this post detailing why. So..for those of you who also stan autistuc Logan (and maybe a bit of ADHD Roman) here is this, me basically throwing my entire life story on our poor nerd and I am so sorry but also not XD. Also, the book I mentioned is very real, and I actually own it. It’s really useful, if a bit dated and heteronormative)

Warnings: Descriptions of sensory overload (similar to a panic attack) social struggles, very brief mention of selfharm, mentions of fistfights and minor physical violence.

Ships: none, but you can probably see my logicality heart in there lmao

The Invisible Language.

It was all just so complicated now.

Or rather, now he knew how complicated it was.

Before, Logan had always just thought he was bad with people. That was fine. It fit, with his habit of staying inside with his nose in a book. The socially awkward, introverted nerd who wasn’t good with kids.

It was simple.

But that’s the thing. Life isn’t simple. And neither was Logan. Even as a six year old.

The socially awkward, introverted nerd, from what he’d seen on tv, would have cried or just silently tried to make due when another kid ‘accidentally’ spilled tomato juice all over his copy of Alice in Wonderland. Logan Sanders leapt from his desk, grabbed the kid’s wrist, and yanked him down so his head smashed into the wood.

The socially awkward one was laughed at. Logan was sent to the office.

Time and time again this would happen. Until he turned eight, and his parents pulled him out of school. He was homeschooled after that, and it was simultaneously like a breath of fresh air and entering a stifling hot room. He was free of the children, free to discover on his own, but he found himself itching for more, to ask questions about things his parents could answer, to do projects he’d heard about online but often ended up screaming in his attempts to recreate them because it wasn’t explained, why this, why that, how do I do that, it doesn’t make sense!!

Homeschooling was a blessing and a curse. He made due. He did well in fact, almost all of his online courses were marked complete with a neat 100 for the score. It was enough for them, but not for him. Eight year old Logan hated it. Ten year old Logan was used to it.

Eleven year old Logan dug his heels into it.

Middle school. His parents wanted to send him back. He understood their reasoning, the rational half of his brain did. Middle school was a big change, adolescence, and the middle ground before high school, which he always knew he would be going to-you can’t get college credit from online courses and library books after all, not the ones he was using. It would give him time to prepare. And yet he was a creature of habit, so used to his solitary life..

Logan has no choice however.

On the first day he stepped inside, armed with only the knowledge of American Girl books he’d skimmed through (who cared if they were meant for girls, they didn’t write helpful guides for boys!) and distant memories of elementary school. The first weeks went by as a blur, and Logan ate it up. The assignments, the grades, the smirk he always found himself wearing when he placed his assignments in the bin. That triumph didn’t even compare to the rush of pride and satisfaction he felt when the teacher told the class that he test they’d been given was apparently too hard, many kids failed and only one student actually got a perfect score, and his paper was handed back with a 100 written on the top.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hold the paper up a bit and catch the eyes of the numerous people who stared at him with no surprise in their eyes.

Logan even found friends in those first few weeks. A darkly dressed kid who, much like him, never really knew where to go during paired projects and ended up working with him. He found that Virgil was actually very bright, a relief when he looked around the room to see people talking and not doing anything useful. The pale boy was quiet, but listened as Logan chattered away about his plans for the assignment.

Patton was next, a round-faced boy who seemed to share at least a few words with everyone he saw. Logan didn’t mind that. He wasn’t a lazy student, maybe a bit easily distracted, but when he was sat next to Logan in science his work quality was always at least a solid B, as long as he was shushed every now and again. He seemed better with people too, and Logan found himself enjoying his company.

Then there was Roman. He was introduced to their little trio by Patton, who apparently shared a drama class with the tanned boy. He was..a handful. And yet Logan found himself challenged by him. Their friendship was an unusual one, full of debates that more often than not ended in yelling, but at least they started off with intelligent points and interesting ideas-and if often Patton had to break off their passion so neither of them landed with lunch detention, well that was the price to pay.

He was enjoying himself here.

Then the second month. Logan remembered where he was when a redheaded girl told him he was wrong in that ‘you’re a moron’ tone when he told her that actually, the word for the study of space was astronomy, not astrology. When a boy in a green sweater had blatantly ignored him when he asked him to stop scooting his chair across the hard floors. When an entire group of people had continued to call him Logie even though he’d told them over and over he hated it. Many of them seemed to do it just because it annoyed him. This went on. Every day another simpleton would disrespect him. Every day he’d tell him to stop. Often he’d snap at them, or swear. That always got him snickers in return. And Logan found himself clenching his fists as his whole body burned red hot.

It happened again a week after this started. A boy with a Minecraft t-shirt cut him off in the lunch line, and when Logan told him to go to the end, the boy only scoffed and responded with “Are you in kindergarten?” in a tone that made his blood boil with how fucking snotty it was.

Logan’s hand was fisted in the back of that obnoxious t-shirt and pulling back with all its might before he could think.

The boy ended up on the floor crying, and Logan ended up suspended.

There were more incidents that year. Mostly yelling or swearing, but minor physical violence was not unheard of. It was common even.

Logan didn’t want that. He wanted to be cool, to drop the bullies and idiots with bullets of intelligence from his tongue, but everything he tried a witty comeback they’d give him either confused looks, no acknowledgement as all, or retort with ‘Your mom’ jokes, a sort of ‘insult’ that required barely a single brain cell to perform.

They never listened. They were stupid, childish, disrespectful. Logan stuck only to his three friends and the many teachers he’d grown quite friendly with, They liked him after all, he was precocious and that was something teachers always found fun. with adults, he also found he could make himself actually heard, his theories, ideas, suggestions, it was a glorious freedom he had previously only had with Patton, Roman, and Virgil.

But things didn’t get that much better.

In fact, in seventh grade Logan found his outbursts getting worse. They were farther and fewer between, but the eventual rage that would explode was far worse than before. It was like the dam that held back his rage had grown stronger, but that meant it took more water to barrel it over, and that sent far more devastating floods down the peaceful valley of his mind.

In eighth grade, he got into a fistfight with a boy who had called Roman gay as an insult, not knowing that it was true or that the word should not be used in such a manner. When the boy refused to listen to Logan’s explanation of what the word meant and instead switched tracks to scoffing every time he said it was a normal and perfectly acceptable, beautiful thing. And by the time the midget of a bigot tossed in the dreaded f-slur Logan’s mind was so crimson he only felt a rush of relief when his fist connected with the boy’s head.

It was two weeks of suspension for that. And it was during that time that Logan’s mother revealed something to him that he had never expected.

Tales of his childhood-or babyhood rather, where he had exhibited strange behaviors no other parent seemed to have seems.

“I think you might have Aspergers,” she had said.

And now, here he was. He couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to tell him of her suspicions. But now Logan was sitting on his bed, the blanket covered with constellations, staring at the cover of a book.

It was a familiar scene.

But this wasn’t a book chosen by Logan’s own hand, or by the school, or even a recommendation from his parents or a loan from his younger sister Abby.

It had been gifted to him by the man at the Autism Center.

The Asperkid’s Secret Guide to Social Rules.

He’d read the whole thing.

Before, he’d thought he was just awkward.

But no. Of course it couldn’t be that simple. It wasn’t that he just didn’t know that w to say. He was. missing an entire way of communicating that people his mind now knew as ‘neurotypicals’ spoke in without realizing it.

The secret language. Body language, facial expressions, tone, he knew that all existed yes..but he’d never seen it. At least not in the subtleties the book described. And all these double meanings of phrases? So the dark-skinned girl who had asked him what he was reading during math class didn’t want to just read the back and learn Sherlock Holmes’ latest mystery? She’ wanted to get to know him?

Why didn’t she just say so!

It was so much more complicated now. The vague, yet simple term of ‘weird’ was replaced by the vast, yet specific, confusing, and multifaceted word that was autistic. A word he’d never have expected to apply to him. Mental health went really a subject he’d looked into, feelings were too wound into it.. and feelings had always been his greatest vice.

So now, with that book in his hand, he thought.

There was a whole other world he couldn’t see..that’s what he had been missing all this time? was the specific shifts in tone in posture people made-what he’d always thought to be absently-something his parents expected him to understand and that was why he always seemed to have to be elbowed when running his mouth?

It was like….like telepathy. Yes, to Logan, the cues he now found himself putting extra effort into finding; his sister’s slightly hunched shoulders at the dinner table, his dad’s slightly turned up nose when he mentioned his history teacher, were a sort of telepathy that the ‘normal’ population all shared. But it wasn’t as if it was that simple. Of course, it was tauntingly, agonizingly complicated. You see, these people were all telepaths, sharing cues in an invisible tongue-and yet, none of them knew they were telepathic. And yet still, they all expected everyone else to be.

So that was why he was strange. Logan had looked up how much of communication was non-verbal - he felt his eyes go wide when he saw the percentage dedicated to ‘body language’.

Fifty-eight percent.

What else could he have missed?

Logan was both happy and uncomfortable with the diagnosis. He now knew terms, words, blessed reasons for his little ticks, why he felt like something was terribly wrong for at least an hour just because he’d had to take an alternate route to school (routine disruption), why was such a picky eater (finickiness caused by sensitivity to textures and certain flavors/smells), why people always responded with confusion whenever they saw him pepper the science teacher with question after question, challenge after challenge like he was trying to understand how the universe wove itself in the span of five minutes, and looked surprised when Roman asked him if he knew why Patton was being quiet. Logan had responded with a simple no, informing the other that Patton hadn’t told him-and when the slightly taller boy had suggested that he ask, Logan realized the thought had never occurred to him.

Most importantly, it explained what Roman had dubbed ‘The Fitness Fiasco’. To sum it up, Logan had thought of a new game for their groups to play in gym class—something besides basketball for once in their lives, and yet as he tried to explain, the girl who seemed to have taken charge of the group he was trying to explain the idea to kept talking over him, ignoring him, challenging what he said—and the noise. The noise, how all the chattering and the sound of balls bouncing on the floor, the rage he felt at being slighted in this way, how it had attacked him. How he’d suddenly found himself tensing, wanting to run or to yell, unsure which, how the sound turned solid and pressed in-his muscles going taut, his hands twitching with every word from the students mouths, how his arm violently jerked away as Patton tried to comfort him- And then the scream. He’d screamed at the top of his lungs for quiet, falling to the ground and sobbing in the fetal position—eyes screwed shut behind his glasses and hands clamped tight to his ears, unsure of what was even falling from his mouth aside from the fact that he was begging, begging for silence. It had only quieted a bit as people turned to stare, and then he’d felt hands on his shoulders, ones he jerked away from—but no one knew what to do. Virgil’s low whispers for him to breathe, to use the 4-7-8 method that the emo always used to calm his own panic attacks, was only met with more incoherent begging for silence. It had been Patton who rescued him, who brought the teacher over and ended up guiding the sobbing Logan to an empty classroom. There he had been met with silence. There he felt his terrified bawling turn to weeping with relief. In the silence, he’d recovered, his muscles lost the tension, and he allowed the freckled boy to wrap him in a hug.

He’d only been able to call it a panic attack before. But now he knew the term. Sensory overload, brought on my the noise and the stress.

It had been a relief just to know that. To know that in moments when he stood among too many people, feeling his muscles clench as their shoulders brushed his, that his hands should not go out to push them away, but to his ears, to block out the trigger.

It became a cue, when debates with Roman got heated—they were friends after all, if rivals as well, and it was understood that if Logan’s jaw suddenly clenched and his hands went up to cover his ears, they had to pause for at least a minute.

But of course, knowing where the holes in his social skills were led to Logan compensating, and it didn’t..always feel natural. He found himself staring at people, trying to read their faces, for a little too long on many an occasion, or overreacting to something because he’d overanalyzed the tone. He found himself having to bite his tongue on many an occasion to keep himself from simply explaining why he did what he did to his parents, who would only take it as making excuses.

It was a balance of the good, the bad, and the ugly. He understood now that his all-or-nothing attitude was why he found himself simply not doing projects if he couldn’t grasp the material—and this led to him having to more often than not, swallow his pride and ask for help when he was getting frustrated. Yet the same black-and-white philosophy got him gasps of shock from Roman when he explained that, in the story Roman had been iterating to him, the whole second half of the plot could have been avoided if Leealli had simply decapitated Sorcerer Kai while they were trapped in her dungeon. Roman had protested, saying it would make her just as terrible as they, but Logan had frowned, explaining that yes, the act was cruel, but if a single act of evil by her direct hand was all it took to stop countless others by her indirect hand, wasn’t it worth it?

But he had also been the one to convince Patton not to remain friends with Oliver, when one day, sitting on the cotton candy clouds that patterned Patton’s quilt, the smaller boy had confided in him that Oliver had vented about his habits of self-harm to the kind soul for three hours the night previous, yet refused any help Patton gave, shot down any attempt at saying he was worth more than he thought.

It was Logan who had took Patton’s hand and told him that people like that could only be helped by themselves and a therapist, that he should not take it upon himself to bear others’ problems in that way. Who had given him a hesitant hug and told him that his mental health was just as important as theirs.

His friends were his lifeline. Maybe they tripped him up—well, they definitely did, yet as much as he found himself apologizing to Virgil for seeming angry when he was simply tired and being a bit blunter and more insensitive with his words than usual (not that he usually was tactful or sensitive when it came to criticism, even constructive criticism) he found himself sighing in relief as the anxious boy shared with him his own experiences in worrying about the negative undertones in the words of others too much to be considered healthy. They would sit and talk about it, the same experience for two different reasons, one of them due to the irrational fear of people disliking him or being angry, and the other due to worrying he was doing something incorrectly that he was not aware of, failing to pick up on a crucial piece of information.

As much as Logan found himself and Roman butting heads, even shouting at each other during friendly debates gone sour, name-calling and snapping fault after fault, he reflected fondly on the time he had been ecstatic to discover that Roman’s own ADHD-riddled brain hyperfixated on Disney just as his own did on Sherlock, and they would both go on for hours about their obsessions while sadly recalling how old interests had faded.

As much as he often found himself hurting Patton unintentionally, and even worse, learning that Patton had been hiding that fact from him for weeks as to spare his feelings, as difficult as it was to convince (well, more plead with) Patton to tell him these things, as he wouldn’t be offended much and he had no other way of knowing what he was doing wrong, he found himself sitting by his side, all attention completely fixated on what to him were mindblowing truths about people and yet seemed common, boring knowledge to Patton, as the freckled boy explained cues and rules, that invisible language Logan did not speak.

Those friends stuck by him, even though others did not. With all the walls Logan had built up around his emotions, to protect himself and others, few could breach the fortifications—except for those who had already been on the inside as he built them. And he was fine with that.

Going to a therapist was...awkward at first, but it helped. Mr. Picani understood his aversion to talking of his feelings, and instead cleverly tricked him every time, asking questions about events until Logan was off on an angry rant. With that expelled, they’d talk through possible solutions.

He kept the book. And most of the other books he was given on the topic, eager to learn and understand more things about himself, knowing the reasons behind behaviors, quirks in things had always been one of his favorite things, and now he found it was possible in people.

As Logan worked through his discovery during the last semester of eighth grade and through that summer, with his Virgil, Patton, Roman, his parents, Mr. Picani, and occasionally even his rainbow-haired little sister, he found his mind shifting. He was truly calm now more often than not, able to express his rationale...well, rationally, rather than through insults. His debates grew calmer, and while he certainly had his slip-ups..he was improving. Slowly. Steadily.

His viewpoint of the world was unusual, like an outsider, and while that could be isolating, if he explained it well, people were often interested to hear it. It was different, his own; the metaphor Logan found himself using was that everyone else was a Macintosh computer, and he and his fellow spectrumites were PCs, capable of all the same things, though in ways the world was not wired to accommodate. Also, clearly superior in many a way.

His core programming was different, even if his exterior seemed the same, and Logan was okay with that. He’d never know the invisible language, not as a native would, but he could learn it—the same way he learned slang, through help, a lot of online research, his friends, and some study notes here and there.

It was complicated, they way he figured things out, the systems he’d devised. But complicated problems would never be solved with simple solutions.

And he still had plenty of time left to learn.

(Thanks to @poisonedapples for betaing this and basically screaming RELATABLE every two second, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear!)

(...I don’t really have a general fic taglist so imma just- y e a here)

Tags: @royallyanxious @whatwashernameagain @sandersmarvel @the-incedible-sulk @supremestoverlord @hanramz-the-fander @childhood-wishes-and-dreams @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @madly-handsome @galaxy-warping @extremist-water-agenda @ierindoodles @princeanxious

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