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jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 3 years

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the way I love you // tom holland x reader

a/n: hello my lovelies! it’s been a little while since I posted something, this piece has fully been kicking my butt but she’s finally here and I hope you like her even if she is a little rough around the edges. as always, love to know what you think. also, I will do an official post regarding rules but from here until I close them my * REQUESTS ARE OPEN * my 10th piece of writing (WHAT) is a requested piece that I'm so excited to share with you guys and the lovely human who requested it, so stay tuned for that but in the meantime, sending all the love, and I hope you're all staying safe out there, please enjoy! x

word count: 2.1K warning: swearing, lil bit of angst if you squint summary: your best friend tom is helping you move in, but you have a secret and it’s been making things difficult. it’s time to fess up.

The rain thumped against the windows, droplets eagerly chasing each other to the bottom. The wind whistled, branches reaching out as the trees shook. Soft wispy curtains were pulled tight to keep the cold, stormy weather locked outside. Yet the sounds of cars speeding through the flooded roads could still be heard from the storeys above. The room was almost bare, the orange glow of the streetlights casting warm shadows upon the wooden floorboards. A couple of unopened cardboard boxes were stacked up against one wall. One section of the room was lowly lit with battery-operated soft, twinkling fairy lights and flickering candles. The floor was decorated with a few cosy blankets and pillows. Half eaten cartons of sushi sat abandoned alongside a takeaway pizza box full of cheesy crusts. A laptop balanced precariously on one of the boxes, movie already playing. “Happy move-in day,” a voice whispers, just grazing past your ear. You lay on your front on the floor, wrapped up in an exceptionally fluffy blanket. Your best friend is sat semi cross-legged with his knees up, arms hooked around them, the pair of you only a breath apart. You turn your head lazily in his direction, unable to hide the grin from your face as he cocks his head, mimicking you with his own cheesy smile - noses almost touching. “Thanks for helping me out. Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite?” “Oh, not nearly enough.” He nudges your side, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. You laugh, causing his face to soften at your expression before you focus your attention back to the small screen. Tom frowns slightly as you turn away, keeping his eyes on you as he drinks you in slowly. Your hair was almost completely dry from the rainstorm, and had begun curling at the ends and around your hairline, one piece had fallen across your face which he ached to tuck back into place behind your ear. You had a light flush across your cheeks, eyes shining bright as your face slackened, concentrating on the film. He let out a soft sigh before swallowing, dragging his eyes away from you and back to the movie. **** It hadn’t taken long for you and tom to gravitate closer to each other, a chill making its way through the apartment as you were yet to install a new heating system. You were tucked into his side, head resting gently against his shoulder, breaths synchronising. You shifted slightly, yet Tom kept a protective arm around you. A black screen took over the laptop as the credits started rolling. Tom let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he slowly sat up, bringing you with him. “I better go, it’s late and I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow. Plus you still have unpacking to do…” he teases, collecting some of the empty cartons. You nod, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and gathering it around your waist as you hit pause on the laptop. Stretching your body out, you could already feel the twinges in your back from sitting on the hard floor. The sky had darkened considerably, storm worsening behind the curtains, rain lashing down hard. You glance across at tom, watching as he steps foot into the kitchen, tiding up the rubbish into a neat pile. You bite your lip slightly as you give him a once over. His hair was unruly, eager for a styling from Rachel as it attempted to curl against his forehead, and you could see where he’d been running his hands through it all day. You loved how relaxed he looked in your presence, allowing himself to be slightly unkempt and messy. You watched his mouth and eyebrows twitch animatedly as he cleaned up the kitchen, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie rolled up his forearms. Suddenly he looked up, eyes directly locking with yours and your felt your face flush. “Stop staring at me you div,” he teased, as his face breaking out into a grin, eyes creasing at the sides, still locked with yours. “Calm down movie star, you ain’t all that,” you laugh nervously, internally berating yourself for getting caught in a trance as you pick up the rest of the rubbish and join Tom in the kitchen, blanket slouched around your shoulders and trailing behind you. Truth was, something had changed during the last film Tom had been away filming for. Tiny butterflies would dance in your stomach whenever your phone pinged with a new message or silly photo he’d sent you. You brushed it off at first, thinking you were just missing his company. But by the time he got back, you felt nervous and giddy around him and everything was weird. It wasn’t until one day you found yourself waking up with a start as he began to infiltrate your dreams when you realised you were feeling very differently for your best friend than you’d ever felt before. “This place is nice, but I still don’t know why you turned us boys down though? Harrison said he asked before I came back and you said no?” he wondered aloud, miming an arrow through his heart as the pair of you make your way downstairs. You laugh at his antics but wrap the blanket that little bit tighter around yourself, finding the floor of your building suddenly extremely interesting. “Don’t tell me you’re sick of us lot already? We’ve been together too long for you to ditch us all now.” He gives you a little nudge in the arm with his elbow. You took a deep breath, shaking your hair out of your face. “I’ll still be round all the time. I literally live on the other side of the park,” you laugh as he pouts, “Tom, it’s not even 20 minutes away.” “Still doesn’t explain why you won’t move in with us?” You sigh, your frustration building. “Just leave it,” you snap, adding a quieter “please” after a beat. There’s a stifling silence as you both walk down the concrete staircase, you twist the mechanical lock on the front door and wait for the buzz as it clicks and opens up to the world outside.

Tom whistles at the torrential storm as he steps outside, trees were bending over, leaves billowing in the wind. The steps up to the building were gathering puddles of water and you could already see the road ahead was beginning to flood.

“Oh my god.”

The pair of you quickly throw the trash into the bin that was sitting at the bottom of some basement level steps.

“Listen, but I only ask because...it’s just, you’ve been a bit off since I came back from Atlanta. if it wasn’t for Harrison telling me he couldn’t make it today, you wouldn’t have even asked me to help you move in? What’s up with that?” he asks, standing behind you, shielding you from as much of the rain as he could.

“I just thought you’d be busy, y’know. What with being away for so long.”

“And? It’s not like that’s ever stopped you before. Seriously though, did I do something wrong? Did the boys? Because you can tell me.”

“Tom it’s nothing. Seriously, quit it.” Avoiding his stare, you shake your head and turn on your heel in an attempt to push the door back open but it stays firmly shut. You twist the handle multiple times as it jangles in response, remaining firmly locked. You freeze in immediate panic, feeling your pockets for your keys which were still sitting on your kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, no. No fucking way.”

“What? What is it?” He reaches a hand over your shoulder and gives the door a shove, “Is it stuck?”

“No tom, it’s locked! The wind must’ve closed it! I’ve left my apartment open and the keys are on the kitch – fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey it’s fine. Calm down. Hey, maybe if you lived with us we wouldn’t be having this problem…” he joked, pulling off his hoodie as thunder rumbled in the distance, the rain bouncing down onto the two of you.

“Now is really not the time Tom!” You exclaim, feeling your heart-rate spike, anxious about being locked out on your very first day living alone.

“Would you calm down, we’ll sort it. Your doors just unlocked, it’s not like you left it wide open.”

“If you hadn’t been asking so many stupid questions, I wouldn’t have forgotten my keys in the first place!”

“Really?! You’re blaming me for caring about you? Alright listen, I just wanted to know what’s going on with you. I know you, and I know when something’s wrong! Why won't you just tell me?!”

“Oh my god, fine! You want to know so badly? It’s you, okay!” You shout, whirling around now standing chest to chest, you could feel your eyes burning with the tears you were fighting back, “You’re the reason I can’t move in with you guys! Because I hoped that this feeling would go away. If I avoided you it would go away and things would be normal and nothing would change. But that’s not the case!” You gulped in a breath, refusing to look into the deep brown eyes that were staring at you, so wide and confused, “That’s not the case, because every time I’m with you I feel like my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest. I get these stupid knots in my stomach whenever you so much as send me a fucking text. Sitting together in there side by side, alone together, casually watching a film and all I can think about is god, I wish he’d just kiss me! I don’t want to fall in love with you because this,” you gesture between the two of you, “what we are, it’ll all be gone and I’ll have ruined everything. And I can’t Tom. I can’t deal with that. So, there you go. I’m in love with you, and I hate myself for it. So, what? Are you happy now?! Does that clear everything up for you!”

Tom froze.

Your chest heaves, the tears that you let fall mixing in with the rain, leaving you sniffling. You push your soaking wet hair out of your face, roughly wiping your cheeks as you turn and hit the buzzer for the apartment block, banging your fist on the main door.

“C’mon!”

Tom stood silently, still frozen outside your apartment entrance, the rain so heavy it was bouncing off of his clothes. His curls were flattened, droplets dripping from his hair, his nose, his eyelashes. his t-shirt was already drenched by the rain, fabric clinging to his frame. He blinks, once, twice then once more, his jaw unclenching.

He reaches forwards, fingertips lightly caressing your hand, his featherlight touch pulsating through your entire body.

You tear your hand away from him, a gasp letting loose, “Don’t.”

He perseveres, pulling you round, more forcefully this time until you are nose to nose again.

Your body shivers in the cold, wet air as you stare at the ground. Tom’s firm grip around your wrists.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as you exhale breathily.

He lets go of you, your hands curled into small fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

One hand lifts your chin to his level, his thumb softly collecting the mixture of tears and rain from beneath your eyes and brushing them away.

“I wish you’d just told me. It would’ve saved you all this hurt.”

His left hand comes up and tucks the soaking wet pieces of hair that has been whipping around your face in the wind gently behind your ear. Stroking the stray strands.

Your teary, glistening eyes connect with his. They were alive with such care and concern. Before you knew it, that feeling was back in the pit of your stomach, pulling and twisting in knots as you stared into the eyes of the boy you loved.

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering when all of a sudden, the hand that had brushed your tears away cradles the side of your head, bringing your faces together, the other hand lightly fluttering to your waist, pulling you in closer.

The rain continued to fall, the two of you completely oblivious as your lips brush, foreheads pressed together. It’s soft and slow, almost uncertain at first before immediately intensifying, the two of you pushing your bodies against each other. You take a breath as he strokes your cheek and your lips with his thumb, pulling you back in for another gentle kiss with a hand to the back of your head, tangling in your soaking hair as he presses your faces closer together.

The pair of you pull away, both your chests heaving as you exhale.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, voice raspy.

“Because. that’s the way I love you. Not just as a friend. And for years, I sat on it, too scared to ruin what we have.” You shake your head, as a couple of bubbles of laughter spill from your lips. Tom’s face brightens up quickly, those little creases that you loved so much appearing at the outward corners of his eyes as he whispered, “C’mere. I got you.”

He pulled you in, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist, his body cold under your hands. You could hear and feel his heartbeat, still in perfect time with your own. He tucked his chin so it was resting atop your head. His arm hadn’t moved, still cradling the back of your head, pressing you ever so carefully into his chest, the two of you just resting in each others embrace as the rain eased up slightly around you.

There was a beat, as you both relaxed into each other.

“So, I'm glad we solved one problem, but you do know we’re still locked out, right?” Tom says as the pair of you burst out laughing.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom x reader #friends to lovers #lisa writes #this has taken me a ridiculously long time and gone through 12483 rewrites istg but I really hope you guys like it #I always get so nervous posting my work AHH

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nocturnalazure · 3 years

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Ma favorite story shots from 2020 -SECOND PART- because obvs, I can’t do a search on my own blog

This is random af but I suddenly woke up the other day with that horrible horrible thought that I had forgotten to post a wrap up of my favorite shots back in January.

Spoiler alert: I hadn’t.

But by then, the below post was already written and I can’t be bothered to just delete it.

It’s actually slightly different because I chose whole scenes for the January recap while here, it’s about actual shots. Yes, that’s my excuse.

Soooo.... you get ANOTHER throwback of old shit from 2020, everyone’s favorite year. There are a lot of pics and who gives a flying f*ck about a yearly recap in June anyway, so it’s under the cut.

I kept telling myself that this post was not about my favorite scenes, but about my favorite shots. Yet I couldn’t help include this one, of Sam tearing up because it’s so like Sam to keep everything bottled up then have an emotional outburst. This was the last update on the Sam & Ash storyline. I shouldn’t have dropped it so abruptly...

This one I love too because it’s, like, the first time that Seth, that mountain of a man, actually needs support from his wife just to be able to make it to the door.

You might think there is nothing special about that pic, but I just like the way I decorated their cabin abd it’s a very cosy family dinner, such as Laurie actually never had before. His time in Twinbrook taught him the simpler things.

Omg, this one. I remember about 4 years ago when those poses by @starsha-sims came out and I tested them on Nathaniel in exactly that same setting with the caption “I need to find a way to use those poses in my story.” Well, there you go. That pose is perfection.

This one unexpectedly turned out almost like a movie poster.

I think this one is my favorite of all the pics I took for that very difficult fire scene. This is the exact moment when Laurie realizes that it’s too late, that there is nothing they can do (which is surely what Erik must be whispering) and he stops struggling. The way Erik is holding Laurie is like he’s trying to keep him from falling apart... gah. (I like breaking my own heart)

I never thought I would ever shoot a scene in a laundromat but here we are! I loved that décor. The whole scene was a last-minute addition by the way.

Chin up, Laurie. (T_T) The funeral was one of the most difficult shooting I’ve ever done.

I love that pose and I love Laurie in that pose. I see so much determination but also fatality in his eyes. When he fired before Laurie could, Erik only pushed back the inevitable.

My Tarantino shot. :p And black-haired Laurie!

I could not NOT include Erik’s smile at that moment! It’s so spot-on I could die of contentment.

Love that sky, love middle-aged Noah.

I really like those two, okay? And it’s also the first time we see Omar without his sunglasses. What’s up with my gangsters and them wearing sunglasses day and night, huh?!

Laurie’s nightmare... I still don’t know how I pulled it off but I did. And boy, do I like that pic.

The Sunrise on Pluto concert in Dronningslund took me AGES to set up... But I’m really happy with the result.

That little kiss on the nose after Uli told his story is just so damn cute.

Louise, Uli and Jessie’s moody daughter. She’s only a kid right now but on that pic, you can tell that she’s going to be beautiful (and emotionally unstable). Remember her because she’s going to have a major but difficult part in what’s to come. I hope I will manage to make her interesting despite her faults.

#text post #sims story #simblr stories #sims 3 #sims 3 story #year in review

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aesthyuckic · 3 years

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AVENOIR | l.dh - VIGINTI TRES

(gif not mine - credit to rightful owner)

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence(??), mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

KNIGHT OF WANDS: action, adventure, fearlessness

The birds could be heard chirping clearly that morning. The sunlight that came through the white curtains was warm and refreshing as it had kissed Donghyuck’s skin. Something about just made the half awake boy even cozier in the sheets of the bed as he wrapped the blanket around him more as he snuggled his face into the soft pillow.

Usually the autumn mornings were gray and colder but this one was almost perfect as is. The boy realized shortly after he wasn’t going back to sleep. His slowly opened blurry and out of focus as he saw the familiar window on his half of the room. Though, maybe it wasn’t ‘his half’ anymore as much as it was now a shared space since him and Cosimia were officially together. He remembered that every morning and it still made him smile to himself in his groggy state.

With that he sat up in the bed and stretched. He rubbed his eyes while yawning a bit before he even noticed Cosimia was sitting on the other side of the bed looking outside the other window. Her mother sat beside her, staring at her daughter. What an odd thing that she wasn’t annoying the boy for once. The quietness almost made him uncomfortable, yet it was still nice.

He turned his attention back to the girl and found it a heavenly sight to see the way the morning sunlight cascaded over her. Her hair had reverted to a natural brown that seemed to go red in the sun while her eyes turned a beautiful gold color under the light as well. She glowed like an angel... The scene had caused him to smile lazily at him in his half awake state, still feeling the familiar fluttering of his heart when it came to her.

He only then noticed the books that laid all around her on the bed, one she even held in her lap as she just seemed lost in her stare outside the window. They were his old ones about witchcraft. She had been reading them lately and he stopped practicing since he had gotten out of the hospital. He knew she didn’t want to be like her mother in the regard she didn’t want to be a witch, she said it many times. Yet, she read the books and he knew it was because since her abilities were given to him, she no longer felt anything was special about her. Just something that was a big part of her identity was ripped away and she felt hollow in places she kept trying to fill with other things and one of them was trying to take after what he use to do.

She never looked pleased reading them, always had a frown on her face and he always got why... He felt a pit of guilt within him at times like these even though he knew it was out of his control, then and now. But he remembered every time how she said she’d rather have him here above it all...

They were back in Southern California to rest for the season and only in spring would they start traveling again. Though, the good thing was it tended to be warmer there so they’d still be working regularly even if it wasn’t as busy as it would be. Luckily, they were given the day off to settle even though it had been a couple of weeks since they got back. It seemed peaceful that morning until the sound of fireworks started to go off occasionally.

She didn’t notice the boy until he gently wrapped his arms around her waist while he rested his cheek against her shoulder, comfortably half asleep. The familiar sound of young laughter could be hear outside along with the running footsteps and more fireworks.

“Did they wake you up?” She asked, referring to fireworks that were being set off by their friends.

He shrugged as he sighed dreamily, “Maybe.”

She hummed in response she continued on with the book in her lap. Her mom had said something to him about how upset she was that morning. He guessed it was one thing he was thankful for.

“Hey,” He said as he came to sit beside her on the bed before he took her hands in his which left that book forgotten for the moment. “Why don’t we go do something fun?”

She laughed, “Huh?”

“The others sound like they’re having fun...” Donghyuck pointed out. “Why don’t we join them? That’s sorta what the day off is for, right?”

It didn’t take much more persuading for her to surrender to him and get dressed. When they stepped outside, the sky was cloudy and yellow, similar to the color of dust. Hand in hand they followed the noise that filled the morning and the sky with brief moments of light. She seemed preoccupied in what was above her, the dusty yellow color reflecting within her own brown eyes, full of light themselves it seemed like glass. Though, Donghyuck was lost in that image alone, it left him with a smile and that familiar ping in chest he felt whenever she did something he adored.

They had made their way to the dry, desert clearing where all their closest friends’ trailers were. It seemed like everyone else was there by the amount of people they say running around with sparklers and setting off fireworks before running away. There was also quite a few kids with water guns and water balloons chasing each other around as it was a warm day despite it being November.

Jaemin, Jeno, and Xiaojun were sat under an umbrella on a blanket in front of their trailers that were now decorated with lights and other things you might’ve found at the party supply store. Kun was cooking on the barbecue with Jaehyun helping him. It looked nice and inviting in all honesty. Donghyuck had looked over at Cosimia and she seemed to look happier than before which made him feel better.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Hendery were having a water gun war with one another and some of the other younger ones. He was laughing and smiling as he sprayed the others around him. Though, it wasn’t long before he was surround by everyone against him and ended up drenched. His hair stuck to his forehead and his clothes to his body while he was out of breath from the combination of running and laughing. He could heard Hendery yelling out of victory with the others and celebrating with them.

He was catching his breath when he noticed something in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see it was Donghyuck and Cosimia standing there, holding hands which wasn’t unusual to see. Though, it was when he saw the two give each other a quick kiss before she went off did his smile drop. It was only second though before a new one came about.

Donghyuck only noticed when his girlfriend left his side that Lucas was looking at him from far away. The older waved at him and he was hesitant to return it but he did in the end. The boy was quickly knocked out of the awkwardness when he felt something cold and wet on his clothes that startled him. And there she was with a water gun in her own hands just with a mischievous smile on her face.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it.” He muttered.

She started to run but he was quick to gently grab her waist and pull her back while she laughed loudly as he hugged her. She escaped rather quickly and he grabbed a water gun before he went chasing after her to get his pay back. Lucas has watched it and it made him chuckle to himself before he went to go hunt down Hendery.

The whole thing went on until dusk. Everyone started to retire to the fire in front of the trailers with towels in an effort to dry off and be warm. Some kids were still setting off fireworks, mostly with the help of the Jeno, Jaemin and Hendery at that point who were doing most of the work. Cosimia was off talking to some of the other girls since it was really the first time anyone was really aware of the relationship being official. Of course, people wanted to know more.

Her boyfriend was leaned up against one of the trailers alone, eating some of the steak Kun had cooked that tasted so good. He happily ate away while he had no knowledge of who was talking about him and even chuckling at how cute he was.

Lucas had come over to stand next to the other boy which he acknowledged right away, “I’m happy for you guys... You both seem to make each other really happy... Its nice to see, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cosimia smile the way she does now or be so comfortable with someone.”

“Oh...” He said, mostly because he was nervous on what he’d say about the matter after the brief talk they had in summer earlier that year. “Thank you...”

“Listen,” The taller boy said. “The guys put a little something together for you two behind of Hendery’s and Xiaojun’s trailer. It’s kinda a surprise sort of thing but you can look it before you bring her or don’t... You know, that’s up to you.”

He gave the other a thumbs up and a wink before he walked away. What he talked about in all honesty left the boy incredibly curious but also very nervous at the same time. It was long before he went to go look at what it was simply because he couldn’t help himself. All he saw behind the trailers was a ladder that lead up to the roof of one of them.

He couldn’t find anything else around so he decided climbed up the ladder. His peaked his head up to the roof and was shocked to see a nice, knitted blanket spread out across the top as well a picnic basket, presumably that had food in it made by Kun.

“You can take credit for it if you want.” He heard Xiaojun say which startled him and almost resulted in him falling.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” He huffed as he climbed down.

“Sorry,” Xiaojun chuckled. “Didn’t mean to but again, you can take the credit. We just wanted to help you out a bit...”

“Thank you, honestly. The fact that you did means a lot to me. I know Cosi is really special to everyone and y’all want to make her happy but nonetheless, thank you again.”

“It’s not just for her, you know? We’re friends too, duh. Why else would do this if we weren’t friends as well?”

The words made him smile slightly and just feel comforted. He just nodded in response to the older. Shortly after, he went back out to where everyone else was and he saw his girlfriend was still with her friends, talking. He had to step in between groups of other people to get to her. It seemed like all them became quiet as he tapped the girl’s shoulder to which she turned around to see him.

“Oh, Hyuck.” She smiled as she grabbed his hand and looked up at him. “What’s up?”

He bent down to whisper in his ear. “There’s a surprise for us so when you’re ready meet me behind the trailers, okay?”

She nodded as she let his hand go so he could walk away. He could hear the girls’ hushed ‘oohs’ and teasing as he walked away which kind of just left him chuckling.

“Be quiet.” Cosimia blushed. “He can probably hear all you guys.”

“Go on!” Lia encouraged the girl, pushing her lightly.

“Yeah!” Choerry chimed in. “Who knows what the surprise is. Haechan is a really sweet boy.”

“And you’ve constantly brought up how he’s a romantic.” Giselle scoffed.

“Shut up!”

Her friends all giggled at how red her face got at the teasing.

“Seriously, though,” Giselle said. “Go.”

“Are you sure?” Cosimia asked. “I didn’t even really get to say much.”

“Definitely.” Choerry nodded. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Plus, there will be more to tell us then too.” Lia added with a grin.

They waved goodbye as the girl as she stumbled passed the people that surrounded them. It was much quieter as she rounded the back to see the boy leaned up against the metal of one of the trailers. She noticed there was a ladder next to him that shined a little with the moon light. He turned his head at the sound of gravel moving and a big smile appeared on his face as she got closer.

“So, where’s the surprise?” She teased.

He gestured toward the ladder behind him now, “Up this way, m’lady.”

“What a gentleman.” She giggled, playing along.

She approached the ladder in which he helped her up by holding it with one hand and holding her hand with the other. He could hear her let out a small gasp from the roof before he came up. He sat beside her and she seemed too speechless to say anything. He could see the faint pink in her cheeks even though it was dark. Her friends had spotted her and waved with such assuming at the scene. To him, seeing her like this was such a treasure. All blushing and shy because of the teasing from friends, taken back by the gesture... Mostly because he never really got to see that part of her before or see her act her age because she was too busy with other things that hadn’t allowed that to be a thing.

He didn’t check what was in the picnic basket before and was shocked to pull out a sparkling cider bottle along with a piece of cake they ended up sharing in the end after the small dinner that was prepared for them. They sipped on the cider for the rest of the time being while looking up at the moon, the stars and just the sky the girl had always had such a liking too.

It was as if the others had caught on to the little plan when the starry night sky was light up with fireworks displayed in such a way it showed a pink heart. Her eyes seemed to light up as her jaw dropped before fading into a smile.

“Hyuck, did you really do all of this?” She asked, almost breathless as she sat up and put her glass down beside her.

“Mm... more of a happy accident.” He answered. “The boys did most, actually all the work... They said I could take credit but I really can’t, honestly. It gave me ideas, so next time it will be me. It was nice though anyway, right? Really nice of them too...”

He couldn’t look up, kind of embarrassed at the fact that he wasn’t the one that came up with it but treated like such at first. He ran his finger around the rim of the champagne glass in an attempt to distract himself. He was surprised when he felt the girl his cheek.

“Thank you.” She murmured, softly in the night.

“For what?” He questioned.

“For bringing me up here.” She started with a shrug. “For not lying to me, even when it’s a little lie. For pushing me to come outside today. For making me feel better. A lot of things...”

“Is it... kissing rewarding thankful?”

He smiled, sheepishly at the girl. She rolled her eyes before leaning over and giving him a kiss that was long than expected. She couldn’t seem to help herself, not that he’d ever complain about it. He felt like he was floating whenever they shared a kiss and his heart would feel so light. Her lips were always so soft and warm and they tasted so sweet like sugar every time. It just made him feel like he was in heaven.

“I love you, too.” She admitted.

“What?” He breathed.

“I love you, too...” She repeated. “You said it that one night... Hopefully it still reins true... I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how-“

He lean in and captured her lips, gently, one again. Though, it was him getting lost in it this time. Something about the passion in it made her whole heart skip so many times before he pulled away, slowly to rest his forehead against hers. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to apologize.” He cooed. “I said it really soon... and it’s different for everyone, you know? But of course, it’s still true.”

“Really?” She asked.

“Really,” He reassured. “I can say it again if you want. I’ll say, I love you. I’m in love with you, Cosi. I’m positive of that. Do you want me to say it to everyone? Because I can. I’ll stand up and shout it right here, right now in front of all of our friends if you want me to.”

“No, that’s fine. I believe you.”

It was always nice to hear her laugh. He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“Okay.” He shrugged with a moment of slience before he sat straight up. “I love Cosi-“

She was quick to grab him and cover his mouth before pinning him against the roof.

“Shhh!” She whispered to him. “Everyone is gonna hate us because we’ll be that couple!”

“So, let them.” He giggled. “We deserve this don’t we? I’ll gladly make them sick to their stomachs with how cute we are.”

“You’re something else.”

“You’re really beautiful.”

She looked down at him in silence, his eyes wandered around her face as he looked up. Her hair hid them as she was on top of him, pinning his arms down so he couldn’t get up to go yelling again and she so happened to have more strength than him. She leaned down and laid a kiss on his lips as her gripped loosen on his arms. His hands had found their way to her waist to pull her closer. He smiled into the kiss and she was left breathless by the skipping heat in her heart he caused with what he did. It wasn’t long before they felt each other soft lips on one another again. Something about the whole thing was so easily to get lost in and so intoxicating. One thing lead to another and they ended up making out, which was the first time they went beyond passionate, long, loving kisses since weeks prior.

Though, it was cut short when a empty soda bottle was thrown at them and bounced off the roof which startled the both of them out of each other’s embraces.

“Get a room!” Hendery yelled. “And no baby making on my roof!”

“This is your fault, deal with it!” Donghyuck retorted.

“You can keep the blanket!” Xiaojun added. “We don’t want it back.”

Luckily for the couple, most people had gone back inside with how late it was. Their stay was cut short after the moment of embarrassment but they still thanked everyone for the surprise. It was eerie walking home, but in a good way. It felt similar to walking home after trick or treating on Halloween as a teenager. It felt like one too with how happy and bubbly they were on their short walk... To them it felt surreal,. They’d never been in such a place, let alone together before. They laughed, trying their best to be quiet with the people sleeping as warm of each other’s hand keep their fingers from falling off.

The air was cool and the night sky was noticeably a deep purple color as they walked away from the light. The wind started picking up as soon as they stood in front of the trailer and it seemed to get worse once they were inside, sheltered from the cold. It howled outside the windows in a creepy manner.

The boy threw the blanket on the chair near the door once they were inside.

“Haechan.” Cosimia’s mother called to him.

Before he could even ask her what it was, Cosimia had wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him down a bit just to continue where they left off before they were interrupted. His hands were quick to find her waist once again just to bring her closer as he tried to not smile against her lips. He’d never felt such a way before and he just felt so high...

“Haechan!” Her mother repeated herself again, only louder while stomping her foot on the floor.

He tried to waved her off as his arms had wrapped around the girl’s waist. He could hear the woman scoff and presumably roll her eyeballs as well at the sight as the kiss just seemed to get deeper. He could feel Cosimia smile too at that point. It was unfortunate that they were interrupted, again at that, by the sound of something hitting the floor. The both of them stopped to turn their attention to the noise.

A shadow started to stop out from the darkness of the small hallway. The two of them both went pale and wide eyed at the sight of Cosimia’s dad only standing a few feet away from them. Donghyuck was the one to notice that large knife in one of the man’s hands that glinted under the dim light from the lamp in their living area that barely reached that edge of the kitchen.

“I was trying to tell you.... The mother sighed.

The boy’s breath hitched in his throat as his anxiety and adrenaline raised within a moment. His grip on his girlfriend’s hand tightened. He stepped in front of her once he saw the distraught expression on her face as she froze in her place. She looked much like a ghost, like her mother with the way the color drained from her face. He looked back at her father, who hadn’t moved but now had a sinister grin. His eyes were black, full of darkness and death... Everything about that man screamed ‘lunatic’ and it was absolutely terrifying with the way he started to twirl the knife in his hands.

It was his turn to protect her now though.

19 notes · View notes

loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry XXXII. The End of the Road

A/N: This is it folks! The end of the road... I want to thank you all for every message and for that, especially my love anon (now not anon anymore) because seriously you’ve been the wind blowing on my sail.

Also like I’ve said, I’m all in for blurbs into Harry’s and Indie’s life together so I might surprise you with some when you least expect them ;) Thank you thank you thank you

BLUE’S POV

My hands are sticky and trembling as I wait on the line. The dim lights really give the café such a cosy sense to it and the dark brown of the furniture and the bricks also make it look like you were inside an auburn tree. It also smells delicious, like cookies and cinnamon and berries deliciously mixed with the strong scent of coffee.

My heart stops beating as I stand before her with just the desk and the vintage looking cashier between us. She hasn’t yet looked at me when she asks.

“What would you like to have, dea-?”

Her tone dies down when her hazel eyes finally set on me and mine investigate hers as I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Indie.” She whispers.

I give her a timid smile. Dylan’s mum calls someone named Molly and asks her to take care of the cashier as she comes out from behind the desk. She’s wearing an apples-pattern apron tied around her waist and her hair, shorter now than ever, is barely coming out of a low ponytail on the back of her neck. She lets out what could be described as a nervous chuckle when she stands closer to me. I can tell she doesn’t know how to greet me so I give her a hug. Her arms wrap around me and I feel her sighing against my chest.

“Let me get us a cup of coffee and a muffin.”

I stand there watching her work and hold the cute lilac plate with the huge muffin when she tells me and she takes both our coffee cups with tiny plates underneath to a table near one of the windows. It’s raining outside but it’s nice to watch and hear the rain from inside the café. The fire is lit so it’s nice and warm inside too.

“The place looks lovely, Amalia.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “You look stunning.”

I smile at her before I add some sugar to my coffee and stir it with my teaspoon. She does the same.

“It’s very nice to see you. This muffin right here is called Indie Blue.” She grins. “It’s got vanilla and blueberries.”

I nod and smile at her but I’m sure she can tell my eyes get teary. I don’t deserve this. The fact that after three years, Dylan’s mother still makes a muffin and names it after me, when all I’ve done is… Move on just breaks my heart.

“How are you, love?” She sets her hand over mine. “Tell me about Med school.”

“I’m good.” I lie. “Med school is fine. It’s getting harder every year but I like it more every year too so that’s good. I feel like we’re all growing up so fast though. I mean Olivia’s leaving, Jason too…”

It almost surprises me how I can still talk to her as if we were family. I guess in a way we are. We went through the loss of Dylan together. She helped me and I think I helped her too, so I think we will always be somehow connected.

“Where are they leaving?”

She grabs a fork and eats some of the muffin after she took the paper of it and I eye the fork she set in front of me. Her kind eyes don’t leave mine and she looks so much like Dylan, even though the colour of their eyes is different, the way they look is the same so I can’t look into her eyes for too long. They look at you as if you were the most interesting person in the room, it doesn’t matter what you’re saying, you can talk about garden dwarfs and still be interesting to them.

“Olivia’s going to Paris. She’s very excited. She wants to be a gynaecologist and she got an internship on the maternal unit so she’s very happy. And Jason’s going to the States. He’s only going to be gone for three months, thank God.” I chuckle.

“Not long.” She grins.

“What about you? How are you and Robert?”

“We’re good, yeah. Robert’s back on the road. He went back last year and I’ve been good, pretty busy with the café and the organisation.”

My eyes drop to the muffin between us when she mentions that and I take a forkful and bring it to my mouth.

“I’m also babysitting now. D’you remember the Holts next door?” I nod. “Well, they had a baby and I stay with her sometimes.”

“Nice. I bet she’s cute.”

“She is so cute, so chubby too.” She giggles.

I giggle and fear the moment when our conversation will die enough so that she would ask me why I came. I don’t need a reason to come see her and I could always say I just wanted to catch up with her, but this woman knows me like my Mum does and I know she knows there’s something I want to tell her.

She asks me about my Mum too but I know they still talk and she tells me about Caroline, Jess and Sean. She keeps in touch with them too and it’s nice to hear life’s good for them. Sometimes I’m sad I lost contact with them after Dylan’s loss but it was just too hard to see them. It was like I couldn’t stop thinking about who was missing.

“How are you, really, Blue?” She asks.

I know what she means. I take a deep breath. There goes nothing.

“I met someone.”

My voice croaks and I didn’t know the tears were so close to falling until they roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away and try my best not to sob and even though her eyes are teary too, her hand rests on mine again and her thumb caresses the back of my hand.

“I’m very happy for you.”

My eyebrows meet and I shake my head. I knew she would be.

“I just wish I could talk to him. I want to tell him I haven’t forgotten about him. I never will…” I let the tears roll down my cheeks. “I love him but… I’ve just been… So lonely and it’s been so hard and I wasn’t looking for him, he just… Showed up and… I don’t know, I guess you’re the closest thing I have to Dylan now… And I needed to take this off my chest, to explain myself to you, I… I wish he hadn’t died, I wish that every day, but he did and I have to stay here and live without him and I thought I had to that alone but… Maybe I don’t?”

“Indie, Robert and I want nothing more than for you to be happy. We love you. And so did Dylan, I know he did, but like you said, you have to live, darling.” She smiles. “He’d be happy.”

I can’t hold it in anymore so I hide my face behind my hands and full on cry. She brings a chair next to mine and wraps her arm around my shoulders and just let me cry like she has done so many times before.

“I miss him.” I confess. “There are so many things I want to tell him every day, you know. I want him to see that Coco’s in love, that I got an A in Paediatrics, that Rio is working at the bank.”

“He is seeing that.” Her arm squeezes me closer to her. “He’s taking care of us. I know you miss him, honey. So do I, but he would want us to go on.”

“Yes, I know.”

“He would be very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

“I just want him to know I love him, I always will, even if I love someone else. It doesn’t change who he is to me.”

“I know.”

She gives me some tissues and I cry over her son’s absence as she rests her cheek on my head and caress my arm. She’s always been a lot stronger than I am and she’s always been a rock to rest upon when I felt I couldn’t go on anymore. When I calm down enough, she sits back in front of me and gives me a small smile.

“Will you tell me about him?”

I can see him in her and somehow by telling her, I feel like I’m confessing it to him too.

“There’s not much to tell now” I raise my eyebrows “it didn’t work out.”

“What? Why?”

I shake my head and shrug as if I didn’t know why when I perfectly know what happened. I tell her a little about him though and she asks mum-like questions and even laughs at some of the stories I tell her.

After about an hour of chatting, we both call it a day and I go home to my dad and siblings. I didn’t tell them the real reason why Harry didn’t come. I told them he eventually got caught up with work and if they didn’t believe it they pretended they did.

The Golden Girls have been checking on me daily but even though I’m heartbroken, I’m somehow calmed. I talked to Amalia and I told Harry what I needed to tell him so I guess I just have this feeling of having been honest with everyone and I don’t feel guilty anymore.

I’m brushing my hair on my pyjamas after the shower when Ollie calls.

“Hi, babe” she chirps. “How is everything at Capitol? How’s your dad?”

“Good.” I tell her. “Yeah, he’s doing great. You wouldn’t tell he had an aortic dissection.”

We both chuckle.

“I knew it. Your dad’s strong like a bull.” She giggles.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. I got a call from Paris. Do you remember I did the interview on Skype?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, they just called me.” She sighs. “I got it.”

So she’s officially leaving. Oh, man, I’m going to miss her so much.

“Indie?”

“Yes.” I get my shit together. “Well, that’s great, Ollie! I’m so happy for you! I won’t lie to you, I’m going to miss you like crazy but I’m happy for you.”

“Maybe you don’t have to miss me…” She says.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I rejected it.”

“WHAT? Where does this change of heart comes from?”

“I don’t know… I’ve just been thinking… Paris is so far away…”

Oh, no. She’s as head over heels in love as I am… It must be the time for us Golden Girls…

“You did it for Mario, didn’t you?”

There’s a certain silence on her end but I can hear her breathing.

“Maybe.”

I smile.

“So you guys are like together for real?”

“Yes… Aren’t we?”

I chuckle.

“Oh, no, don’t ask me! Did you two talk about this? Does he know you took the internship down for him?”

“Of course not! I didn’t do it for him! Olivia Bassot doesn’t reject internships for anyone! I did it for myself.”

“Because you want to be with him.”

“That’s right but still it was for me, not for him.”

“Okay, yeah, great.” I laugh. “May I know what made you change your mind?”

She sighs.

“Actually, I don’t quite know. It’s just when they told me I got it, I wasn’t happy, you know? So I thought wait, I don’t have to go, I don’t have to prove anything to anybody.”

“That’s right.” I smile. “I won’t lie, Ollie, I’m fucking happy.”

She laughs.

“Me too, babe. Now I gotta go, I’m telling Mario tonight. Wish me luck.”

“What do you mean wish me luck? He’s gonna be thrilled!”

“He better.” She laughs. “Anyway, gotta go. Love you!”

“Love you.”

Well, at least there are some good news. Wrapped up on my thick woollen stay at home cardigan, I make my way downstairs where I guess my family awaits. Rio’s reading a book near the fireplace and Coco’s walking towards the door.

“Are you expecting someone?” She asks me.

I shake my head and stare at the door from the bottom of the stairs. My dad shows up at the kitchen door and tells me he made pumpkin and sweet potato cream and I’m about to thank him when my sister opens the door.

“Blue, look who’s here!”

My mouth and my eyes open wide. My heart beats hard and fast against my ribs and my breathing stops until I feel tingling all over my skin.

It’s Harry.

“Hello, Blue.”

I deflate like a balloon when I hear his voice and my breathing resumes. I almost have to hold on to the railing of the stairs so as not to fall. There he is, calm and unfaced, standing right next to my sister and looking stunning on blue jeans and a dark brown sweater underneath his opened grey coat. His hair is a messy mane of curls on top of his head but his warm signature dimply smile is nowhere to be found. That’s the only reason that I don’t run towards him and kiss him.

Hello, Blue. No hello, baby or hello, love. Hello, Blue. Anyone here in Capitol could have said that… But he’s here. He’s cold, but he’s here. That’s already something and I don’t know why I’m complaining.

“Oh, Harry!” My dad walks towards him and offers him his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Blue said you got caught up with work.”

His green eyes search for mine before he looks back at my dad. I don’t know what he’s thinking.

“I was indeed caught up with work but… I got off the hook last minute.”

“That’s great! Isn’t that great, Blue? But get in here!” My dad urges me. “Greet him, honey.”

I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair as I walk closer to him. Harry doesn’t take his eyes off me but he’s seemingly unaffected by my presence. I’m afraid of his greeting. If he flinches I might cry. I don’t know whether he read my note or not but if he did, I don’t know why he’s acting so cold and if he didn’t, I don’t know why he’s here.

Coco’s closed the door after him and I see a small trolley behind him. My heart warms up at the thought that he came to stay. When I get to him, the habit takes the best of me and my lips search for his but he discreetly pulls his face away and instead gives me a hug. I don’t know if he did it out of respect for my dad or because he didn’t really want to kiss me. Something tells me it’s the second.

His hug is short and superficial and when he pulls away I feel like crying. His green eyes avoid staring into my own and I wonder if he came all the way here just to torture me with his coldness and distance. As I turn around, I see Rio standing a few feet behind me.

“This is my brother, Rio. Rio, this is Harry.”

“Hi, mate.” Rio shakes his hand and Harry gives him a lips closed smile.

When my brother pulls apart, Coco slips her thin, woollen covered body and gives Harry a hug. He gives her a dimply smile and I feel jealousy burning on my belly. What is he doing? That smile was for me!

“I’ll put another plate on the table.” Dad smiles.

My siblings follow him inside the dining room and Harry and I both hear the drawers opening and closing and plates and glasses being placed on the table.

“How did you know where my dad lives?” I whisper to him.

“I asked Olivia.”

With that he walks inside the dining room and I hear him asking Coco how he can help. Wait, so Olivia knew he was coming and she didn’t tell me anything? I literally just talked to her!

At least during dinner I get to sit next to him even though I doubt it was his choosing but rather where he was supposed to sit. I feel clumsy with my cutlery as I try to cut the steak. My Dad’s been asking Harry and me questions all dinner and Harry’s answered those about himself but has let me answer the ones about our relationship so he doesn’t have to tell everyone we’re nothing now, I guess.

My dad brings homemade yoghurt to the table and even after the sweetening effect of my dad’s dessert, Harry’s still distant and cold but he only punishes me. He’s all smiles and cavalry to my family and even Rio seems to like him.

“And Harry” Rio asks “do you know my sister Coco’s boyfriend?”

Coco rolls her eyes and blushes and Harry chuckles.

“Yes, I do.” He nods. “His brother works with me. They’re nice guys, good people.”

“Cool.” Rio nods. “Podrías traerlo tú también a casa, Coco.” (You could bring him home too, Coco.)

“Sí, claro. Harry es mayor que tú. No es lo mismo. El está a salvo porque no podrías con él, pero Guido tiene 21, como Blue. Te lo comerías con papas.” (Yeah, right. Harry is older than you. It’s not the same. He’s safe because you couldn’t take him but Guido is 21, likewise Blue. He’d have nothing to do.)

I don’t think Harry’s understand most of it, but I’m sure he got the part of Harry’s older than you and Guido’s 21 and he’s smart enough to figure out the rest.

Harry’s phone screen illuminates as he gets a text and my heart gets warm when I realize he at least hasn’t change his lock screen photo. I can’t help the grin.

“You didn’t send me that picture of the wedding.” I half whisper to him.

“Did you see them?”

“So there’s more than the one…”

He lets out a little giggle that warms my insides and makes me feel like a teenager.

“You meant my lock screen, right?”

I nod.

“Who took it?”

“The photographer. I think he had a thing for you.” He smirks. “He took lots.”

I look down at my empty yoghurt bowl and smirk. I think that was progress. Baby steps, but it’s better than the cold stare and the minimum hug he gave me when he got here.

After dinner, Dad moves the party to the living room and we all take seats on the couches and the armchairs by the fireplace. Harry doesn’t pay attention to me but my family doesn’t find it weird, mostly because they haven’t really seen us together before, but also because Dad and Rio seem so invested into learning about him. They find him as interesting as I do and I think Harry is at ease too, despite all the questioning. I can tell by his body language that he’s grateful for the way my family welcome him. His eyes avoid mine, but I can tell there’s gratitude on them too and I wonder if he’d ever look at me like he used to.

Dad gets up from his armchair and walks towards the record player and Rio and him start a conversation about which album to play. I take it as my chance to have Harry to myself so I jump from my spot on the coach and sit down next to him. His eyes warn me not to sit too close and most importantly not to touch him, so I keep my hands to myself despite my yearning.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“Yes, I am. How are you?”

His interest both surprises and softens me and my heart flutters with hope.

“I’m happy you came.” I confess.

“I’m happy you invited me.”

His words are conciliatory but his tone is still dry and I can’t read his expression. His body is tensed though.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

I snort. He’s impossible. We both fall into silence after that and I wait for him to explain himself but he never does so I speak again.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

“I am talking to you now.”

“Harry, please.” My bottom lips come out of its own accord. “Can you stop torturing me?”

His jaw clenches and he looks ahead, away from me. I swallow my willing to yell at him and look down at my feet. I feel belittled and abandoned and I hate that he’s so close and so far away.

“I… Did you read my note?”

Only then he tilts his neck so he’s facing me. His green eyes look at me and for the first time since he arrived, I can see the battle inside him. I can see the part of him who wants to forgive me, maybe there’s even a part that already has; but he’s still holding back. I can work with that, I can respect that.

“I am sorry. I already wrote that to you but I can say it out loud in front of my family if you want. I’ll do anything, please. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t want you to do that or to keep apologizing, even.”

“Then what do you want?”

I watch him blink. I can tell he’s flabbergasted. He probably wasn’t expecting this behaviour from me and quite frankly neither was I but after talking to Amalia and after getting the peace I needed, I need him to know I would really do anything to take back all the pain I’ve caused him.

“I want you to be fully honest with me and to be yourself for real.”

“Pardon?”

“No more lies, no more hiding things.” He whispers. “You tell me the truth and you tell me what worries you and you tell me when you’re scared and you tell me why. I’ll do the same. I think it’s a fair deal.”

I swallow. I can do that. I meant it when I said I’d do anything. If that’s what he wants, then that’s what he’ll get. I just hope he won’t run away when he hears it all.

“When are you planning on saying it to my face?”

I almost laugh. Is he serious? He came all the way here just to hear me say that? I didn’t think he would want to hear me say it with such fervour. Isn’t it obvious? Is it not enough to show it? Is it not best to show it? I would rather have someone never telling me they love me but showing me every day that the other way around.

But okay, I can do that too. If he wants me to say it that bad, then I’ll say it… But in my own way. From the corner of my eye, I can see my dad’s still busy with the records and Rio’s back on his book and Coco’s on the phone. No one’s paying attention to us. So I get closer to him and I act brave despite the fear of his rejection. He frowns but he gets visibly nervous and he doesn’t flinch and he doesn’t pull away so I keep getting closer, like a kitten, and his eyes drop to my mouth. My lips look for his and Harry relaxes his face and for a moment it seems his guard is down and his lips part. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are set on my lips.

“Blue! I got an A on my essay!” Coco celebrates.

Fuck you, Coco! I mean- good for you but fuck your timing! Harry pulls away from me and I straighten my back despite the way my chest deflates. I give my sister a smile.

“Enhorabuena, hermana.” (Congratulations, sister.)

Dad and Rio congratulate her and ask her on her essay, as if they would understand anything of her engineering, and I try to gain back my reconciliation with Harry but he pulls back this time.

“Wait, Blue.” He whispers. “I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t touch you until you figure your shit out.”

Great. That could take years, genius.

It shouldn’t make me so frustrated. I remind myself of a dog in heat or one of those men that get mad when women reject them at bars. I frown and straighten my back so I sit farther away from him, but after a second I can’t take it anymore.

I stand up and without saying a word I make my way upstairs. Harry’s been all talkative to my family and ignoring me all night, they can show him to his room now or give him conversation. I don’t care anymore.

When I climb the stairs, I open the door to the balcony and make my way outside. It’s freezing out here before the mountains, so I turn on the heater and wrap one of the blankets on the basket between the couches around my body. Looking to the side, I can see my part of the balcony, the one that belongs to my room, and I remember last time I was here, when I sat there with Jason and we talked and talked about Harry and about Dylan and about the same fucking story once and again.

It was all for nothing. After all, it was all for nothing. I tortured myself with the thought that I was leaving Dylan behind, I looked at myself in the mirror and felt guilty and couldn’t recognize myself and all for what? All to be now sitting down all alone because the man who turned everything into a fucking mess doesn’t even want to touch me.

I hear the balcony door opening and my sister’s soft voice almost whispering she’s here and the next thing I hear are footsteps coming my way. The door closes and Harry stands beside me.

“It’s bloody freezing in here.”

I nod but don’t dare to look at him.

“Baby”

His tone sounds tired but the nickname makes my heart flutter. My eyes search his, desperately, and I think he’s done with giving me the hard look and the cold façade. I don’t like that Harry, that’s not him. Harry is kind and understanding and a good listener. He’s not harsh and hard and cold. That’s me.

“I think I’m acting like such a spoiled brat.” I confess. “You’re just giving me a taste of my own medicine and I don’t fucking like it. I didn’t really need you to show me how insufferable I am though. I already knew that.”

He sighs.

“Can we go somewhere alone and not freezing?” He asks. “We need to talk.”

I look into his eyes. He’s standing tall right next to the heater and I’m sitting down with my knees to my chest and the blanket around me. My heart is pounding on the back of my throat and I can feel my pulse on my brain.

“I love you.”

The words come out clean and clear, despite my nervousness, and my eyes don’t leave his until the weight of them fall upon us. That’s the first time I have ever said that to a man different than Dylan, that’s the first time I’ve meant those words in a romantic way after him. I can’t yet read him. He’s just looking at me and I don’t know whether on the inside he’s grinning or whether he’s about to cry.

“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” I am whispering now and I guess all my strength and my bravery have gone with those three words that got no answer.

“Is that why you said it?” He raises his eyebrows.

“No” I look down at my knees and think I’m about to cry “I said it because it’s true. I already wrote it down for you.”

He offers me his hand. I don’t understand his silence or why he is barely moving but I take his hand and he gives me a timid smile.

“Will you show us to your room?”

I leave the blanket a mess on the basket and walk with him towards my room. My dad played Miles Davis downstairs but I can still hear the fire and the keyboard of somebody’s laptop.

Once in my room, I take a deep breath and try not to think of what happened here before I met Harry. I try not to see Dylan on my bed, I try not to listen to his voice making fun of me for my decorations. Harry has a look around but he stands right there and he doesn’t move until I tell him he can.

“After your boyfriend passed away” he starts.

I feel my shoulders tensing and my breathing catching on my throat. No, no, no, no. I can feel his green eyes on me, studying me carefully, but I can’t look back at him.

“Did you go to therapy?”

I swallow. I don’t know why it is so hard to talk about this yet I manage to nod.

“How long for?”

“Two years.”

I see him nodding his head before he sighs. I guess he’s figuring out I’m actually really broken. I suppose if I hadn’t been to therapy, then he could hold onto that and he could say well she’s crazy now but she’ll get better but I bet after knowing I am actually the product of two years of therapy, he might give up.

“You said I wasn’t your second boyfriend. How long did you stay with him for?” I don’t answer. “How long ago was this?” He gives me some time to answer but I am still silent. “Why did you two break up?”

I am embarrassed to tell him and I don’t know why that’s even important. Javier is not something that bothers me. He’s in the past and I don’t think he has left any trauma in me and even if he did, Harry doesn’t have to worry about that. He is nothing like him and not even for a second have I doubted that.

“You’re not gonna speak?”

I want to fix things with him and I want to give him what he wants from me but I am embarrassed.

“Say something.”

“I don’t want to sleep here.”

The second I step out of the room, everything seems easier. I hear him taking a deep breath and sighing deeply before he follows me and when we enter the guest room in a second he’s behind me. His proximity covers my skin with goosebumps because I can feel his breathing against my ear shell and I can smell his scent and I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my mouth.

“When you found out about my shit you shut me out and I chased you day and night so you would let me explain. You were mad and, despite the way you treated me, I didn’t stop until I got you to listen to me because you’re important to me and I care. Now, you’re the one who’s hid something from me and instead of getting mad, I’m here, trying to get you to talk to me and you can’t even look me in the eyes.”

His proximity disappears as fast as it arrived and all he lets me se is his back as he sits down on the edge of the bed. I swallow and don’t know what to do. I look at him before my eyes set on our reflection on the glass of the window. He is looking down so he can’t see it but I can see us two and all of a sudden it’s like I know what to do.

Harry doesn’t deserve my silence. I owe him. I owe him a lot, even if he doesn’t know that, because in the last five months, I have laughed a lot more often and a lot harder and I have respected myself and I have actually wanted things. He gave that back to me and he deserves to see me, he deserves to know me and if after that he wants to leave, then I will take that but he will know who I really am.

I take a sit on the bed and cross my legs so my ankles hid underneath my thighs. I have never done this before outside of therapy and I don’t even know where to start. I take a deep breath.

“I met Dylan in this house when I was fifteen years old. Until then I had just been a posh spoiled girl like you thought I was when we met and, to be fair, I think if it hadn’t been for him, you would have been right on every stupid assumption you made about me that day in your kitchen.” I swallow.

“We started dating a year later but really I think I fell for him the very same night we met. I’ve had a… happy life. I mean before the accident. My childhood was good, my family never struggled and I was loved and wanted. I think I’ve always had everything I’ve wanted and still before I met Dylan I always felt like I was never in the right place. It was an uneasy feeling but I just never felt like I belonged anywhere. And then… He gave me that.

He didn’t think of me as a spoiled rich girl, he saw me and to him I was just… Indie. And he made me feel like the most interesting person in the world. I told him once when I was little my friends’ mothers wouldn’t let me play with Rio and the rest of the boys so I never learnt to climb a tree and he took me to his grandparents’ house and had me climbing to this huge tree on their backyard before he got the ladder down from his tree house.” I giggle nervously and hear Harry snorting a chuckle too.

He has turned around and is now staring at me and he’s silent but his body language has completely changed. I have his undivided attention.

“He was my first everything. My first love, my first boyfriend, my first best friend, my first time… And also my first fight, my first heartbreak and my first reconciliation and I guess… There was a part of me who wanted him to be the last too.”

I bit my bottom lip so it stops trembling and Harry patiently waits in silence until I get my voice back.

“When I left for Uni, he stayed in Capitol. His dad had cancer and his mum had to work so he decided to postpone Uni for a year or two until things got better. I admired him for that but then…” My eyes look away but now that I’ve started it’s like I can’t stop. “He changed. He became short-tempered and harsh and we started fighting a lot. I think he felt as if his life was stuck among cancer and poorly paid jobs while mine was moving forward and getting better and I was having fun when he was… I think he felt as if I have abandoned him and in a way, I…”

My face contorts and my throat closes on me to the point where my voice and my breath get stuck inside. I feel pain and guilt and embarrassment choking me and my eyes shut as hot, salty tears roll down my cheeks.

“I did.” I confess. “I was tired of being sad. Whenever I saw him, we ended up fighting and I saw my friends and everyone around me living their best lives and going to parties and I was just the girl with the sad boyfriend and I…” I shake my head. “I wasn’t there for him when he needed me.”

I take a deep breath.

“One day he came to see me and we had a fight and he left for hours. When he came back…” I lick my lips dry after all the talking. “He was high. That was the first time I saw him like that but then it all started to make sense: his mood-swings, his depression, his irritability… I tried helping him.” I wipe my tears and sob before I clear my throat. “I talked to his mum, to my parents, to his friends, to him… I asked for all the help I could get but… He wanted me to go with him to one of his new friends’ party. I didn’t like those people and I was trying to get him away from them because they all smoked and he wasn’t acting himself when he was around them…”

I swallow again but the lump in my throat is getting bigger and bigger and harder to swallow.

“So he went alone. I was in Grad. It was me who called him. I felt bad that I hadn’t gone with him to the party, even if they were the wrong crowd, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do to be there for him… And… He was driving.”

I dare to look at Harry then. His green eyes meet mine but I can’t take it. It’s hard enough to tell the story, doing it under such intense stare would be impossible.

“I lost it.” Even if I had wanted to look into his eyes, everything gets blurry before me now as a new army of tears rolls down my cheeks again. “I begged him to stop the car, I yelled at him, I… I even said if he didn’t then I’d break up with him.” I sob. “And he was mad and he yelled back and then… I heard the crash.”

I stop and my eyes set on the wall. Harry’s hand gently rests on my knee and it surprises me that my body doesn’t react to it. My mind wasn’t expecting that and yet my body seems to be so used to his touch, it didn’t flinch or even jump.

“The doctors said he died on the spot so the last thing he heard before dying was a threat.”

I look at him expecting to find the judgement on his eyes. Maybe he’s disgusted by me. Maybe he thinks I’m a terrible person and he doesn’t want to see me again. But all I find is pain and sorrow and love. I frown.

“I was depressed for six full months after that and when I started talking again, I started going to therapy. I wish I were dead too.” I admit.

I can see the pain flashing through his green eyes but he lets me talk. He doesn’t shush me or tells me don’t say that and I love him for that. He lets me say and he lets me feel and I know he didn’t want me dead but he gives me this moment, he gives me this silence, these words. He lets me owe them.

“And somehow I was; some part of me was. I thought I was never going to feel even remotely close to how I felt when he was with me. For years I felt like I didn’t want anything. I just did things, but I had no desires. I wasn’t hoping for anything or even trying anything… I was just waiting… And it might sound ungrateful or selfish but I honestly was just waiting for the day I die. I felt like some part of me was already dead.

When I met Javier I wasn’t much better than that. It had been almost two years since Dylan’s accident and I guess I just wanted to feel something. We met at a club and fucked the same night and after that he was sweet at the beginning, I thought he was protective but really he was just jealous, possessive and controlling. He was… Bad. He was an abuser and he came across someone dead inside so he could do anything because I didn’t care and he did. He made me feel disgusting and fat and lazy and powerless but I guess in a way it was what I wanted. I have tortured myself for what happened to Dylan for years now. I feel guilty for not having been there for him enough… I guess part of me thought I deserved Javier to some extend… Until one day he tied me up to the headboard of the bed and left me there for three hours.”

Harry’s eyes horrified at that. His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches but he still doesn’t say anything. I swallow and go on.

“I was done with men when I met you but you…” My voice croaks but I want to tell him. I think this is the most important part. “You said I could have blue cheese” I chuckle nervously and so does he “and I… I wanted to see you.” I don’t know why I’m crying now but I feel salty tears on my mouth and my voice croaks all the time. “I hoped you would be in your coffee break when I went to the cafeteria. I mean at the beginning it was just… Orgasms.” He laughs. “But even then, I felt… Alive. I felt my heart beating and the air on my lungs and I felt my blood rushing through my veins and then it was all the time. You look at me and my pulse accelerates and when you’re close my breath gets stuck on my throat and I don’t know what to say and my skin gets covered in goosebumps and my stomach does somersaults…”

I have barely taken a breath while telling him all that but now he’s blushing and his lips can’t help the small smile and his dimple is out and for a moment I thought I would never make him smile like this ever again.

“So… I got scared.” I shrug. “I got scared that I was forgetting about Dylan. I didn’t want to leave him behind. You know, I’ve… I’ve never been able to go to his grave. I don’t think I can see his gravestone.” My voice breaks and Harry’s hand moves from my knee to my shoulder. “I don’t… I can’t remember his voice.” I sob. “I could hear him on tape but I think it would make me depressed again.” I let the lump in my throat win for a second before I fight it again. “I just want to be able to remember him without feeling my heart break into a million pieces. I mean how long does grieving take? It’s been three years and I can’t talk about him.”

“Come here.”

I let Harry pull me to him and in crying to him about Dylan I find a comfort I never thought possible. His hand carefully and lovingly rub my back and his lips press soft kisses against my hairline. I don’t know how long for he lets me cry but he only pulls away when I’m sniffing and my breathing has gone back to normal.

His green eyes investigate mine for long seconds before he takes a deep breath and speaks.

“I don’t know how to say what I want to tell you without sounding harsh.”

I purse my lips. I don’t know either but I get ready to hear it. I know this is too much. He already said I had to figure my shit out before I was in a relationship and he didn’t even know all this shit so now he’s gonna leave for good. I understand. I wouldn’t wanna be with me either.

“When you were depressed, I suppose Coco was there for you, right?”

I nod but frown. I do not know where he’s going with this.

“Did that make you feel better?”

“Of course.”

“Did that heal you?”

I frown. I guess… Not. My doctor healed me, I healed me. Coco just loved me.

“You can’t love someone out of depression, Blue.” He states. “What happened to Dylan was a terrible accident and it’s normal that with accidents we always feel as if they could have been somehow prevented but that doesn’t help anyone.” He sighs. “Death is terrible but it’s also a part of life. We all have to die. Dylan was taken too soon and I can’t imagine what that felt like, baby… Really, I am amazed that you went through that and that you… survived that and came out this… Incredible.” His eyebrows raise on his forehead as his head shakes, as if he really was amazed. “And I am sorry for what I said to you. I wish I had known this sooner but I also wish I could take back the moment where I blamed you for your… Things. This is fucking hard and I wish I could tell you how long grieving takes but I don’t know, love. Yet you don’t have to do this alone.”

My heart restarts and my eyes search for the trap.

“You’re not going to leave?”

“Where?”

“I…” I shrug. “I thought this was going to scare you away.” I frown. “That you’d realize I have deep severe issues and you would just walk away.”

Harry frowns and it’s the first time a gesture of contradiction wakes butterflies up in my belly.

“Sometimes I don’t know who you take me for--.” He shakes his head. “I love you, Blue. And I want to see you happy. I love seeing you smile and laugh and I feel… Important when I make you laugh. You’re intelligent and kind and funny and mesmerising and beyond gorgeous and… So young, love. Why would I ever want to walk away from that?”

My eyes move frantically between his and I choose not to ask him whether he really thinks that. I decide I’ll try to believe him. He shakes his head. I think he can read my mind.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” He smirks. “Could you please tell me what would be of your friends without you? Do you think Mario and Olivia would be together if it wasn’t because of you? Do you think Marie would have dared to go out with Adam? And what would be of Jason? You helped him get out of an abusive relationship. Do you know how hard that is?”

I guess he’s right. I do contribute on The Golden Girls.

“And what about me?” He chuckles. “You make me not hate myself.”

His green eyes bore into mine after he said that and I know the nodding of his head is just a way to try and swallow the lump on his throat. I can see the tears he’s holding back now.

“Before I met you, I was just waiting too and now I want to live and I want to love you and you’re gonna let me.” He persuades me so I giggle.

“Promise me you’re gonna let me.” He whispers.

“I promise.” I smile.

He nods, satisfied with my answer, and we both stare at each other smiling despite all the emotions we just shared.

“I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for you to be able to remember Dylan without feeling your heart breaking... But what I do want you to know is that I don’t think you need to stop loving him to love me or anyone else.” He shrugs. “I mean... When I think about widows remarrying, I never think of it as a bad thing, I don’t think it means forgetting... It just means... Your heart is big enough to love twice.” He smirks.

I let the tears roll down my cheeks and meet my lips.

“I don’t know why I thought you’d... Like... Not understand.” I shake my head. “I thought you might even get jealous.”

He frowns, like I was speaking some foreign language and it’s his little understanding that makes me smirk despite my tears.

“Getting jealous of that is like... I’m afraid it’s literally sick.”

I even chuckle.

“You’re strong and wonderful” he says “and I have no doubt you’ll get there. I hope it’s me the one you tell about Dylan without having your heart breaking too.” He smiles.

My lips are curled into a timid smile but my head is shaking because there’s a part of me that’s beyond happy, there’s another part of me that’s heartbroken, there’s another part that can’t believe someone this kind can exist; and in the midst of all these feelings, my mind doesn’t have control over my body anymore.

“I love you.”

I let my lips hug every syllable and my heart own every word. Harry’s lips curl until he’s grinning and I think I’ll tell him I love him every morning if he’s going to look at me like that.

I am not scared anymore.

I feel liberated and I love this man in a way that makes my heart skip every second beat. For the first time in three years, I feel like there’s not a single part of me that’s not full of life and love and plans and hope and calm.

“I love you too. And now get ready because I’m going to kiss you.”

The air leaves my lungs through a desperate smile as his hands rest on the mattress next to my thighs and he gets closer to me.

“I’m ready.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles and reader #harry styles love #harry styles #harry styles new

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heeytwelve · 4 years

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A mundanity that creeps into your very soul

Insidious Humdrum is he most intriguing and controversial character in Simon Snow books. It also one of the main characters of “Carry On” book, and, (as unpopular opinion) - he is still appears in “Wayward Son” - he mentioned by Simon, Agatha, Penny, Baz multiple times as nightmarish memories.

I believe Humdrum will make his appearance in third book and I want to dig on why he is so important in “Carry On” set and why Simon might be not quite done with him.

Humdrum is “official” antagonist of the first book, the prophesy which gave Simon “The Chosen One” title also implies that his only mission in life is to banish the Greatest Threat of World of Mages.

It’s important to notice that Simon himself is not really invested in fighting Humdrum, he strangely detached from his life mission:

“When the Humdrum comes after me, I fight him. When he sends dragons, I kill them. When you trick me into meeting a chimera, I go off. I don’t get to choose or plan. I just take it as it comes. And someday, something will catch me unawares or be too big to fight, but I’ll fight anyway. I’ll fight until I can’t anymore—what is there to think about?”

Excerpt From: Rainbow Rowell. “Carry On.” Think about it - he never create strategies, he never tries to understands what is it he tries to fight with, he never initiate the battle, he accepts battles, when he can’t avoid them. You’d think that he just escalate this part of job to The Mage, but then, (say to compare with HP) he doesn’t exactly bothers The Mage with questions or he doesn’t try to find out what Humdrum behaves like this and what is he plotting.

Oh, yes, plotting. See, we could say - you know, Simon is just like this, he’s quite passive, he hates to think or take action, but it’s untrue. Simon, in fact, has 3 antagonists: first one is Humdrum, which was given to him, second one is Mage (which as Voldemort in HP both created him and destroyed) and third is the only one antagonist he actually chose - Baz, the handsome vampire. Because Simon chose him (and Baz accepted). it is this antagonist he is really fighting and very passionate about: he thinks about his plotting every day, he cracks his secret/superpower, he finds his weakness and “defeats” him. Simon is capable of active fighting, thinking and strategising.

WHY Simon is so NOT invested in fighting Humdrum?

Let’s take a look at Humdrum and Simon, using Penny’s method, aka - what do we know, here I gathered a small table of data for these two:

So clearly, you can see that Humdrum is very unusual antagonist. Yes we can see that like in many pairs protagonist-antagonist there are a few opposite qualities of them, and it’s normal, it is trigger to fight dynamics. But at the same they are sort fig leaf to hide from Simon (or reader) who Humdrum really is. Humdrum - is Simon’s doppelgänger. And that is VERY important, let’s look at this from writer point of view, it is not your usual antagonist-just-a-person-who-have-opposite-beliefs-or-hates-you-for-some-reason. This antagonist is VERY attached to protagonist, he is in fact his continuation.

WHY would you want to write exactly this type of antagonist, what do you want to say?

I have multiple answers to go through.

1) To show Simon’s complexity. To show _protagonist_ complexity and somehow preserve the certain image of him. In “Carry On” Simon (at least for me as a reader) associated purely with soft and positive features, he is the definition of the good and kind hero. Yes, he’s impatient and short tempered, but he is empathic, he is thoughtful, he cares about most of the people around (he protect and shield his _chosen_ enemy, Baz. He won’t end him without second thought when he finally has opportunity - the scene in catacombs), he doesn’t hold grudges or avenge betrayal, he always tries to think above the things, see the whole picture, kinda look past himself. It is very high EQ and it is my dream character. But realistically for kid who had no one to raise him to love and understand people; with tough childhood - it is impossible to have no dark sides. Again, remember how annoyingly for reader neurotic HP would be in books? Well, guess what, his dark side is still in a book, it’s just detached from him, to not spoil his image for reader. Perhaps, because at this point (introducing the character) his dark sides are not allowed to make impression and they are not important YET. 2) To allow protagonist to do things he want to do, but can’t. This is “Jekyll and Hide” type of protagonist and yes, this is fair for Humdrum too. He destroys things and doesn’t feel bad about it. He “mundane” and again, he doesn’t feel bad about it. He doesn’t have to go to magic school and still - he is known, strong, dangerous. But most importantly - he can express his negative feelings. He is unhappy to be forgotten - he attracts attention (quite brutally); he is unhappy to be the only one who left to deal with trauma - he reminds about it - he summons Simon exactly at the place where bad things were happening (Lancashire) and he takes the form Simon probably tries to push away from his mind; he dislikes Mage - he talks to the Mage harsh and dismissively and laughing at him; the only people which Humdrum snatches/damages away from Simon are Agatha and Baz - it might be some sort of jealousy expression, and surely he express his jealousy about Simon’s skill and development. And IF he really hates the magic - he sure express his hatred good too, by literally destroying and he allows himself to feel pleasure from act of destruction (the face expression Simon never saw on his own face). And often, this reasoning for introducing doppelgänger goes with implying that protagonist has hidden desires to not be as good as he currently is. What doppelgänger does, it is what protagonist secretly desires to do.

To sum this these 2 points - they _usually_ lead us to the point that protagonist is not as good he thinks he is. And while it is partly true - I believe, it is NOT Humdrum purpose.

3) While Humdrum is surely threat to magic, is he Simon’s antagonist, really? Does he hates Simon? Do his actions have purpose to destroy what Simon have/created? It is a big no, to all these questions.

Humdrum is metaphor for Simon’s trauma, he tries to shove away from himself.

Many people talk about Humdrum in the book, but most informative are - Penny, Mage and Baz, Simon and Humdrum himself.

Penny, I believe, is an author’s reflection in the book, so her words are clues), and she tell us - that Humdrum face is his real face (he is Simon), he’s childish and Simon’s dealing with negative emotions frustration/fear/annoyance/going off brings him joy (genuine childish laugh). She also tell Simon, the reason why he have to fight Humdrum - cause he the only one who can (and have to) do it. Which is true. Mage - who is the real Simon’s antagonist and evil in the book - is the one who setups the reality “Humdrum is evil, you have to fight it”. Which can be easily translated to “Your feelings/experiences are not valid, you have to get rid of them”. He also setups example of not being important as a person, but being important as a weapon, to sharp your blade constantly if you wish.

“Look at me, Simon. Have you ever known me to indulge myself with a normal life? Where is my wife? My children? Where’s my house in the country with my cosy chair and a fat cocker spaniel to bring me my slippers? When do I go on holiday? When do I take a break? When do I do anything other than prepare for the battle ahead?

Excerpt From: Rainbow Rowell. “Carry On.”

Again - it translates to these old methods of dealing with trauma: fight it, ignore it, experience more trauma to make yourself numb. It doesn’t work. Mage doesn’t care about Simon. But in a way, Simon follows his instructions.

Baz - he is the symbol of healing love Simon needs (one of his defining quotes is “I chose you” - returning Simon everything what was taken away by Mage at that point) he have experienced Humdrum only one time, but it’s enough for him to figure it out precisely. He understands that Humdrum is Simon (or his part) and he does not hesitate to confront Simon with it, because it is important. And he the one who tell Simon the aftermath of ignoring Humdrum. Baz is the one who - finally - triggers Simon to act. He also the first character who sees Simon (and Humdrum) and accepts them as whole. And still loves him. Simon - he doesn’t talk about nature of Humdrum a lot. He hardly bothers to describe fighting scenes in a past. But he clearly indicates how he avoids Humdrum, thinking about Humdrum, thinking about time he will need to deal with it. He doesn’t want to have any touch points with it, even when he’s confronted about it. He shouts at Humdrum when he sees his own face on him, but he never thinks that Humdrum is him. Because it’s all painful. Humdrum - is pain he released and locked himself out of it. That is why he reluctant to deal with Humdrum, though it his life mission. He only do it if he have HAVE TO. And then - he will take the pain/fear/negatives and lock it in Humdrum again (make magic holes bigger) and leave. So he can stop thinking about him again. And finally, Humdrum. He thinks a lot, he has time for it. And he know exactly who he is. And when Simon is ready, when Simon’s is finally ready to face him by his own will, he tells him who he is:

“It’s the Humdrum,” I say. “It’s you on the day I found you.” His eyes are wide and soft. “My boy—” “I’m not him,” the Humdrum says. “I’m not anybody’s boy.” “You’re my shadow,” I say to the Humdrum. I’m not afraid of him now. “More like an exit wound,” he says. “Or an exhaust trail—I’ve had loads of time to think about it.” “The Insidious Humdrum,” the Mage whispers. “It’s a crap name,” the Humdrum says, bouncing his ball. “Did you come up with it?”

Excerpt From: Rainbow Rowell. “Carry On.”

He is willing to talk about himself and all this scene he is strongly communicating on Simon’s side, but not on Mage’s. He behaves like he is Simon’s ally and they have the same goal. He’s open about his wishes (to evolve, to be like Simon, to be the one with Simon), he is open about what happens if Simon’s continued to follow the Mage’s instructions ( “He’s right. End everything. All of the magic.”).

The scene of dealing with Humdrum doesn’t feel like Humdrum eliminating, but more like becoming one with him, finally accepting what was shoved away, belated debts payment. It is very sad but beautiful scene.

“I’m sorry that all the good stuff happened after I left you.”

“The Humdrum puts his hands over mine and gives me a small nod. His jaw is set, and his eyes are flinty. He looks like a little thug, even now. I nod back. I give it all to him. I let it all go.”

At the end - Humdrum and Simon became one, like it was before Simon first went off and got his magic at 11 year. Now he back to the same state and next book he is dealing with trauma (not the way he should, unfortunately).

Maybe the key of getting powers back is to learn how to live with Humdrum and not ignore him. To accept yourself, to find yourself. Maybe use Humdrum powers too. “Someday dragon. Someday ferocious.”

p.s. The negative power of sucking off magic reminded me about Dementors in HP a bit, in a way, that’s what made me think about Humdrum as trauma or depression. At the same time, sometimes, Humdrum would show us, that he is still a doppelgänger of Simon’s and have the same thoughts - like his phrase about “it’s it better than fighting” about Baz is quite the same as Simon’s.

#humdrum #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #the mage #penny bunce #penelope bunce #the insidious humdrum #wayward son #my texts #carry on meta #simon snow meta #humdrum meta

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nostalgiabones · 4 years

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Each Other // M.C

This is a fic for our second Writers Collab, put together by @h0tsos & @maluminspace! Thank you both for arranging this amazing event again and bringing together so many writers! My AU was Neighbour!Michael but I’ve added a single dad spin on it. I’m hoping to create a world on my blog out of this AU so I’d really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think here! ♥️

Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

AU: Neighbour!Michael

Event Masterlist

“Dad, look! There’s a truck like mine outside!”

Michael’s attention turned to the scene outside of his window, noticing a removal truck turning up in the drive of their apartment building. It had clearly caught Levi’s attention too — the four year old curiously sat in front of the window, small hands pressed against the glass as if it would bring him any closer.

“I see, bubs. That’s so cool, huh?” He replies, a hand running through Levi’s blonde hair — the texture so similar to that of his own. Sometimes looking at his son was like looking in a mirror — the same full cheeks and green eyes looking back at him. “Don’t put your hands on the windows, please. I spend enough time cleaning them as it is.”

Michael looks around the cosy, albeit messy, apartment. Levi’s toys were scattered around the wooden floor — his son has a short attention span and would move from one game to the next, without putting the previous one away until Michael declared it was bedtime. He tries his best to make the apartment feel like home — decorating it with warm colours and framing the many memories he had made with his son, there as a constant reminder that they have each other.

Each other — all they both have.

It had been, ever since Michael had legally been granted full parental responsibility of his son three years earlier. He loves his son more than anything else in the world, would move the earth for him — yet he always worried he wasn’t enough for him. That the absence of a maternal figure was something he could never make up for.

“Sorry.” Levi replies, knowing it was something Michael reminded him of many times. Michael smiles at his son and drops a kiss to his forehead, silently forgiving him.

He resumes his place on the sofa, picking up his acoustic guitar and quietly strumming the tune in his head as Levi gets back to playing. He didn’t get the chance to play properly as often as he’d like to — the studio he used to spend hours on end in a distant memory. His days were now filled with children’s TV shows, Levi’s favourite turkey dinosaurs, and many many toy cars and trucks. He’d find them where he’d least expect to — he couldn’t get into bed without finding a surprise underneath his pillow.

He wouldn’t have it any other way though.

Even though his life had drastically changed from what it used to be — it was also filled with so much love. He can’t imagine waking up without his son pulling at the edge of the covers to join him for cuddles, or having anything less than at least ten hugs and kisses everyday. He loves watching Levi grow up and change, as well as discovering more about the world with him by his side.

“What else is going on outside, bud?” Michael asks Levi, noticing his son was curiously peering outside once more.

“They’re taking things from the truck.” He tells him. Michael knows he wouldn’t care about anything other than watching the vehicle so similar to the plastic one in his hands. Michael glances outside once more, spotting two people lifting boxes from the back of the van — wondering if there would be a new resident in the building.

It was then he remembers the empty apartment next door to his — it had been a few months since their previous neighbour left, and he had been wondering when somebody else would be moving in.

“Levi, come and get your shoes on please bud.” Michael instructs him, grabbing his small waterproof jacket from the hook next to the door. Grocery shopping was something they always do every Friday morning together. Well, they do everything together, but groceries were a part of their routine. “Shall we have another try at tying your laces? I know you’ve been practicing since last time.”

Michael was always looking for something new to teach his son — the most recent task being teaching him how to tie his own shoe laces. He has never been forced to put on his shoes so much in his life, due to Levi asking to practice on him.

“Then that goes there...” Levi’s voice is quiet as he concentrates. Michael watches as he tries — it wasn’t quite right, but he’s definitely closer than the last time he tried.

“Almost, bud! You’re getting better every time.” Michael praises him, kneeling down to securely tie his laces himself. “We’ll keep trying.”

Michael makes sure he has his wallet and keys before taking Levi’s hand in his. He’s met with two people outside of his apartment — the same two people he had seen unpacking boxes outside. The door next to his apartment was propped open, assumingly so it was easier for things to be unloaded inside.

“Look dad! A puppy!”

Levi pulls away from Michael’s hand and runs over to the brown labradoodle sniffing around the hall, making himself familiar with his new environment. Michael turns around quickly, calling Levi’s name to attempt to stop him from getting in the way, or from bothering the dog minding their own business.

That’s when Michael sees you.

“Milo,” You call, worried he would get over excited and jump up at the little boy currently trying to pet him. “Sorry, the attention gets her a little excitable.”

“Don’t worry.” Michael replies, laughing off what you said. “She was minding his own business before my son got involved. I’m Michael, by the way. Are you moving in next door?”

“I am! I’m glad I bumped into you, actually. Much less awkward than me just randomly knocking on your door, I guess.” You reply, chuckling out of nervousness. Michael holds his hand out for you to shake, as you introduce yourself too. “It’s good to meet you. What’s this little guy’s name?”

“My name is Levi.” Levi pipes up from where he was still entertaining Milo. One trait Levi hasn’t inherited from Michael is his confidence — or thereby lack of. Levi would talk to anyone that interacted with Michael, which was something he would never have done at his age.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Levi.” You reply to him, smiling as he stands back next to his dad and grabs a hold of his hand. “Thanks for keeping Milo entertained.”

“We have some grocery shopping to do, but I’m sure we’ll see you around.” Michael tells you, hoping that it was true. He’s happy to have a friendly neighbour moving in, especially since you have a dog — he’s sure Levi isn’t going to forget that. He had been begging for a pet for a long time, but Michael didn’t feel like the time was right. “Come on, bud. Say goodbye!”

Levi waves goodbye to you as you continue into your new apartment, setting the box of your belongings down along with the rest. Looking around your new home, there’s a lot of cleaning and decorating to be done — but it’s all part of the moving fun.

“Looks like we have some nice neighbours, huh Milo?” You think back to the friendly man and his adorable son that you had met moments ago. They had made moving into the building a little less daunting. “I think Levi wants to be your friend, too.”

The last of your belongings were brought into the apartment and you thank the removal company for their help, knowing the move would’ve been much more difficult if you had done it yourself. The apartment already felt homey — the neutral, warm decor giving it a cosy atmosphere. It would feel more like home when you unpacked and added your own spin on it.

In the supermarket, Michael is going through his usual shopping list and making sure they got everything they would need for the next week — as well as a few extra treats for Levi. He’s good at disciplining him when he needs to — he’s learned how to say ‘no’, but he couldn’t lie and say he isn’t a soft touch towards his son.

“Dad?” Levi asks, sitting in the child friendly seat at the front of the trolley. He has a toy car in his grasp, something to keep him entertained whilst Michael shopped — grocery shopping isn’t the most exciting way for a four year old to spend a Friday afternoon. “Do you think I can play with the puppy when we get home?”

Michael chuckles at his words, whilst grabbing his favourite pasta sauce from the shelf. He wishes he could be four years old again — his biggest concern being the ability to pet the dog he had met half an hour ago. He isn’t surprised that it had been the only thing on Levi’s mind since meeting you and Milo.

“We’ll have to wait and see, buddy.” He replies, not wanting to continuously bother you on your first day in the new apartment, knowing you needed to unpack and settle in. “Our new neighbour needs to unpack first I think. We don’t want to bother them.”

“Can we take her some treats?” He asks, knowing it would give him an excuse to see Milo again. Michael isn’t too mad about getting to see you again, either. It would be nice to have some adult company — he’s forgotten what it was like to talk to someone other than his four year old. “Please? Maybe then she’ll want to be friends with us.” Night

He loves the way his son thinks through things — four year old logic just made sense of the simple things in life. Being kind makes people want to be friends with you. It’s something he never wants his son to grow out of.

“Sure, bud.” He agrees, knowing it would be a nice gesture for Milo — even if it wasn’t the best housewarming present. “We’ll pick some up when we get to the pet aisle, okay?”

Levi is satisfied with his answer.

***

“Who’s that Milo, huh? Do we have more visitors?”

A knock on your leads you out of your bedroom, where you were finally making up the bed. It was the last thing you planned on doing that evening — the living room and kitchen were still full of boxes, yet they weren’t going to be unpacked until the weekend. Anything not essential could be done at another time.

You look through the small peep hole in the door — spotting Michael and Levi on the other side. It’s nice to see a familiar face, even though you had only had one conversation with them. As soon as you open the door, Milo runs past you, jumping up at the little boy who had been so eagerly waiting to see her again.

“Sorry to bother you again,” Michael starts, the expression on his face telling you that he had been reluctant to call round — yet the little boy next to him had won the battle due to wanting to see Milo. “Levi here has a present, well for Milo. Not the best housewarming gift, I know.”

“That’s so sweet, thank you so much!” You take the small bag of dog treats from Michael’s hands, opening it and handing one to Levi. “Would you like to give it to her?”

Levi nods and happily takes it from your hand, offering it to Milo and giggling when she ate it from his grasp. They continue to play together, Michael turning his attention back to you.

“I would invite you in, but there’s more boxes than anything else in there currently.” You tell him, closing the door behind you slightly to hide the mess. “I’d be happy to have you round when it looks a little less than a dumping sight though.”

Something about you intrigues Michael. It’s so easy to talk to you, even in the two conversations you’d had.

“Don’t worry, we just wanted to bring the treats round. Levi hasn’t stopped talking about Milo since earlier so I knew he wouldn’t sleep until he got to see her again.” He explains, a hand running through Levi’s messy blonde hair. You can’t help but notice there had been no mention of his mum, yet you’d only bumped into them twice — you don’t really know anything about them at all. “We’ll let you get on with unpacking, but feel free to knock if you need anything. C’mon, bub. It’s bath time for you.”

Levi waves goodbye and they head back next door — leaving you in your own company once more. Something about them is intriguing. They seem like a very sweet duo, although you aren’t sure of their exact situation. It makes you feel more comfortable knowing you had someone next door that you could speak to though.

You spent the rest of the evening making the bedroom more able to sleep in. About to head to bed after a long day, you close the blinds in the living room — a quiet strumming catching your attention. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering what the sound was and there it was coming from.

“‘Cause I’ve got a jet black heart... and there’s a hurricane underneath it, trying to keep us apart,”

It’s Michael singing.

The sound is oddly comforting. It’s only a soft strumming, his velvety voice a quiet murmur — assuming it was to avoid waking Levi up. Yet somehow, you could hear it through the wall. You wonder if it’s just a hobby, or whether that’s part of his job. You can’t help but be curious about their situation.

Michael is stuck.

Ashton had called him in the middle of the afternoon, following a minor drumming incident — a drumstick had slipped out of his hand whilst practicing too hard, splitting mid air and cutting the palm of his hand. It’s not too bad, he’d managed to stop the bleeding — yet he knew it would need some stitches, and that’s where he hoped Michael would come in.

He’d already tried both Calum and Luke, both tied up with something, so they couldn’t help him out either. Michael didn’t fancy taking Levi to the hospital with him, yet he isn’t sure what else to do.

Then he thinks about you.

It had been around a week since you moved in, and he’d bumped into you a handful of times — the conversations flowing just as they had the first few times. He doesn’t think it would be fair to leave Levi with you, since he barely knows you. Yet he isn’t sure what else to do. Levi is napping — it’s not often that he sleeps in the afternoon anymore, but after spending the morning at the park, it had knocked him out.

It led him to your door. He knocks lightly, desperately hoping that you were in and not busy, although he feels guilty for even asking you to help him out.

“Hey, Michael. What’s up?” You ask, a friendly smile on your face as he stood anxiously at the door. He doesn’t have the same relaxed demeanour as he usually did. “You okay?”

“I’m so sorry to ask, but is there any chance you have an hour to spare? Levi is asleep, there’s something I have to go and do and I don’t know who else to ask but I can’t take Levi with me an—“

“Michael, Michael... calm down.” You interrupt him, seeing how he was getting so worked up over something so trivial. “Of course I can, no problem at all. Levi is a sweet boy, and I’m sure Milo will appreciate the attention.”

Michael sighs in relief.

“Thank you so much.” It seems like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Levi is asleep, he might wake up but he’ll just play with his toys, probably. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I really appreciate it.”

You grab your phone and whistle for Milo, making sure you had your key before following Michael into his apartment. The layout is very similar to yours, although he had decorated quite a lot — the living room was calming and comfortable, mainly black and white, with a deep blue feature wall, and wooden furniture. Toys are littered around the room, as you expect, the trail clear from where Levi had moved from one to the other.

“I shouldn’t be too long.” Michael explains, throwing on a jacket and grabbing his phone. “Can I give you my number so I can keep you updated?”

You nod, handing your phone over so he could add his contact into it. He says goodbye and you watch him leave, before awkwardly lingering in his apartment — not really sure of what to do in the unfamiliar space. You consider watching TV, yet you don’t want to wake Levi up. You’re slightly nervous as to how Levi would react to waking up with you there, instead of Michael, although he had been nothing but friendly with you since meeting. He’s a very confident child, you had noticed.

Taking a seat on the plush brown sofa, you can’t help but look around the room.

It’s obvious Michael had put a lot of effort into decorating. The photo frames lining the shelves and hung on the wall catch your eye — filled with photos of Michael and Levi together. One where Levi was a tiny baby, cuddled up in Michael’s arms, another where he was on his shoulders, tiny hands holding onto a hat that said “MC” in white letters on the side. There’s a few family shots, with people you assumed to be Michael’s parents. Yet, none with someone who could’ve been Levi’s mum, or Michael’s partner. At that point, you’re 90% sure that Michael and Levi live there alone.

Milo curls up next to you on the couch, making herself at home after exploring the apartment. You run your hands through her soft fur, wondering how else to kill time before Michael returns. His record collection catches your attention too, stacked up on a shelf way above ground level — seemingly out of reach from Levi. Maybe the music was just a hobby, an escape for Michael in his spare time. It’s something you want to ask about in due course.

“Hello?”

A soft voice appears from behind you, making you jump slightly and turn around from your spot on the sofa.

“Hi, Levi.” You greet him, smiling at the sight of the four year old — standing in his dinosaur print pyjamas, cheeks rosy and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. “Your dad had to go and do something, so I said I’d stay here and hang out with you for a while. Is that okay?”

He nods, still not comprehending exactly what was going on but agreeing all the same. In his sleepy state, he hadn’t noticed Milo wagging her tail and making her way over to him. He giggles excitedly as she nudges her nose against his leg, hoping for the attention he usually gave her.

“Milo is here!” He exclaims, kneeling down so the soft puppy could jump up at him.

“I thought you might like to play with her.” You tell him, smiling at their sweet interaction. “She’s probably more fun than me.”

Levi is happy to give Milo all of his attention — giggling when he's smothered in puppy cuddles and kisses. She’s a good way to break the ice between them, even though Levi isn’t a shy child — Milo gives them something easy to talk about.

“Where did my dad go?” Levi asks a little anxiously — twiddling one of his toy trucks in his hands, his nerves coming out in his actions.

“I’m not sure actually,” You reply, realising Michael actually never said where he was going. “He said he wouldn’t be too long, but it was an emergency.”

He nods slowly, almost like he didn’t believe you.

“Me and Milo will keep you company until then, okay? I won’t leave until he gets back.” You reassure him, hoping to put his mind at ease. It makes you wonder why he’s so worried about being left alone. You hand him Milo’s favourite toy. “I brought this for you to play with.”

“I want to get a dog, but Dad says we can’t,” Levi says, throwing the ball across the room and watching as Milo chases after it. It gives you the chance to ask a few questions. You don’t want to overstep, yet do want to get to know them.

“Is it just you and your dad that live here?”

“Uh huh.” He replies. That confirms to you that Michael is a single dad, if anything. “He’s my best friend.”

You don’t get the chance to ask him any more questions before Michael bursts through the door.

“Hey, you.” Michael smiles at his son as Levi runs towards him, wrapping his arms around his legs. “Did you have a good nap? Sorry I wasn’t here, bud. Your uncle Ash had a bit of an accident.”

“It’s okay.” Levi replies, throwing his arms around Michael’s neck as he picks him up. “I had fun playing with Milo!”

“I’m glad you did, bubs.” He smiles, reaching down to greet Milo too. “Thank you so much for watching him. I really appreciate it.”

You wave off his thanks, reassuring him that it wasn’t a problem — you enjoy spending time with Levi and want to get to know them more.

“Don’t worry about it,” You say. He sits down next to you on the sofa — Levi cuddling up next to him. “Is everything okay?”

Michael thinks back to the chaos of the last hour — having to drive Ashton to the hospital in a hurry and then hang around in the waiting room whilst he got it stitched up.

“Yeah, my bandmate just had a bit of a drumming incident. He’s fine, though.” He replies, and the word ‘bandmate’ catches your attention. It makes you think back to the previous few nights, when you’d heard him playing guitar through the wall.

“Oh, you’re in a band?” You ask curiously, hoping it doesn’t seem like you’re prying, but you’d been wanting to ask about his musical abilities.

Sometimes Michael forgets he’s in the band, especially now his sole focus is Levi. They hadn’t been able to tour for a long time, leading to them all focusing on their own personal interests — it had given Michael some space to breathe and focus on being a dad.

“Yeah, well, we’re kinda on a hiatus at the moment.” He explains. It’s not a lie. It’s an unofficial one — they never collectively decided to take a break, but life had just turned out that way. They were all itching to get back into the band, though. Michael just wanted to get Levi in school first. He didn’t want him to have to spend his days cooped up in a studio whilst Michael worked. It didn’t seem fair. “We’ve been together a long time, but we all kinda took a break for a little while to focus on our own things. I had Levi to take care of, so it kinda worked out.”

“I see,” You nod as he speaks. “That explains the guitar then?”

He furrows his eyebrows at you, like he knows what you mean, but he’s not sure.

“You heard that?” A blush arises on his face. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you awake. It’s just the only time I really get to practice, after Levi is in bed.”

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s nice, actually. You have a nice voice.” You reassure him. Michael seems to worry a lot, you had noticed. He always felt the need to explain himself, or apologise for what he was doing — it made you sad in a way. “I don’t mind at all.”

Something about you made Michael feel as though he could breathe a little more. He wants to spend more time with you. It feels comfortable and easy.

“Dad, what’s for dinner?” Levi’s voice pulls Michael’s attention from thinking, back to reality.

“I’m not sure bud, what do you want?” Michael asks him, running his hands through his fluffy, sleep tousled hair. He turns his attention back to you. “I have to get his dinner, but you’re welcome to come round later tonight, if you’re free? We can talk properly then.”

“Sounds good to me,” You stand up, whistling for Milo so she’d follow along behind you. “I’ll see you tonight.”

***

It’s around 9:00pm by the time Michael texts you.

He could’ve knocked, but he didn’t want to disturb Levi. It had taken him a little longer for him to settle — almost as if he knew that Michael had plans. It was often Levi was plagued with nightmares, ones of Michael leaving him alone or him being somehow abandoned. Michael assumed it came from his mum leaving at such a young age. He had some memories of her, since he was just over a year old when she left — he knew her. He knew her enough to know that she was gone.

“Hey, sorry it took so long to get Levi to bed.” Michael apologises once more. “It sometimes takes a little longer to get him to sleep.”

“It’s no problem.” You reply, walking into the homey apartment — the floor now clear of evidence of Levi playing all day long. It has a relaxing energy. “Is he okay? And are you?”

“Yeah, it’s just ever since his mum left…” The words trail off as he realises what he's saying. He doesn't want to offload on you, yet something about you made him trust you. “He has nightmares a lot, we’re trying to deal with his fear of the dark too.”

“It must be tough doing it alone.” You comment, sitting on the end of his sofa as he stands in the kitchen, opposite you. “Levi is such a sweet boy though, if that’s any consolation.”

Michael smiles as he thinks about his son.

“Thank you,” He replies genuinely. “I’m used to it being just us now, but it was really rough in the beginning. I just worry that I’m never gonna be able to give him what a mother could, you know? Well, what she did.

“I think you worry about a lot of things.”

Michael chuckles at your words.

“Probably,” He sighs, yawning quietly as he adjusts his fringe over his forehead. “Another thing I’m used to doing. The band used to help me get out of my head, but I don’t really get the chance to do that anymore. Well, not until late at night.”

Michael used to spend his days locked up in a studio, perfecting harmonies and recording guitar solos over and over. He loved it, though. It was his passion, the one thing he truly loved — yet none of that compared to how he felt about Levi.

“Did you want to get back with your band?” Michael moves around the kitchen, pouring himself a drink before offering you one too, as he thinks about your question.

He did want to. A part of him aches to get back to being creative, to satisfy the lyrics and melodies floating around his mind. He has a lot to write about, that’s for sure. After the time he had taken away, he’d never be short on inspiration.

Ashton, Luke and Calum feel the same way too.

They’d be back in the studio in a heartbeat if Michael agreed. He’d have to agree for any of them to go back into it as a band — it was all or none. They understand though. The last few years had been rough on both Michael and Levi, and they’d never rush him into anything if it wasn’t the best thing for both of them.

“Yeah. The guys really want to, but it’s just when I can.” He explains. “I don’t want Levi’s life to turn into being stuck in a studio all day, it’s not fair on him. I was planning on waiting until he starts school in September.”

You don’t know Michael that well, apart from living next door to him for the past week or so. Yet something about him made you want to help him. He’s just a single dad, trying to do the best for his son — yet he's trying to juggle far too much at a time, leaving no time for himself. You want to help with that.

“This might be completely crazy since we don’t know each other that well and I just moved in next door…” You start, Michael cocking his eyebrow at you — unsure of what you were going to ask. “I’m still looking for a job, I don’t really have much on during the day. I could watch Levi for you if you wanted to go to the studio again. If Levi would feel okay with that, of course. And as long as you’re comfortable too.”

Michael thinks about your proposal for a moment.

On one hand, it seems like a crazy suggestion. You had only lived next door for around a week, and hung out with them a few times, yet Levi did seem to be comfortable when you had taken care of him that day. Milo would help too. Levi could be convinced to do anything if there was a puppy involved somehow.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Michael sighs, already feeling the ‘dad guilt’ at the idea of leaving Levi with someone else. He’d have to talk to Levi before agreeing — he had to make it clear that he wasn’t leaving him, since that would do nothing to help his abandonment issues. Michael couldn’t do that to his son.

“You’re not asking me to.” You move a little closer to him, resting your hand on his thigh, as if to ground him. Michael looks directly at you, suddenly feeling emotional over how much you wanted to be able to help him. “I’m offering to, because I want you to do something for you. I know I don’t know that much about how you and Levi ended up in this situation, but I do know that it’s about time you did something other than be a parent.”

“You’re sure?” He asks again, tears lining his eyes at your words. It had been a long time since he felt able to do something for himself. He had wanted to find someone to babysit Levi for a long time, yet he worried they wouldn’t bond and it wouldn’t work out. He had been too worried to reach out to someone. Maybe it was time he did something for him, now that he had the opportunity.

You nod.

“Me and Milo need the company anyway.” You tell him, moving forward when he holds his arms out towards you, to pull you into a grateful hug. His touch is gentle as his hands settle on your back. He’s warm and smells like clean cotton, fresh and comforting. It had been a long time since Michael felt so comfortable around someone, and he doesn’t know what makes him feel so secure.

“I need to talk to Levi about it.” He pulls away from the hug, but didn’t move further away. “I need to make sure he’s okay with it before we arrange anything. I just… I need to make sure he knows I’m not leaving him.”

“I understand, Michael. Take as much time as you need.” You assure him, squeezing his hand in yours in a comforting and reassuring gesture. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“Your bed is all nice and cosy, ready for you to have a good sleep.”

Michael pulls back the soft astronaut—themed duvet as Levi yawns, climbing under the covers. It’s an earlier bedtime than usual — Michael hoping it would be a good time to talk to Levi about your proposal of babysitting him.

He had spent all day thinking about it — what to say, how to explain that it was okay if he didn’t want it to happen. He just wants Levi to be happy and comfortable. If that meant him never being able to make music again, that’s what it would have to be — yet he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“Levi,” Michael started, pushing his damp fluffy hair away from his face — drying after an evening bath. “I need to talk to you about something, okay? Me and your uncles have been thinking about making music again, which would mean me having to go into the studio for a few hours sometimes.”

He continues to explain what would happen — that you would take care of him when he had to go.

“But if you don’t want to, that’s okay, I promise. I don’t want you to be sad, bud. If you want me to stay here with you then I will. You just let me know, okay? I promise that’s okay.” He reassures him. Levi’s big green eyes looked up at him as he spoke, melting his heart. He tries to ignore how much he looks like his mum, even though she had always told him Levi was a clone of him. He did look like Michael in many ways, yet he’d never stop seeing her in his son. “I love you so much, you know that. I’d never leave you. If you’re not ready for me to start making music again, I won’t, okay?”

Levi had grown up listening to Michael playing the guitar. Back when he was a baby, it soothed him — he had spent hours by his crib just playing soft songs to soothe him back to sleep. He loved hearing Michael play.

He looks at Michael for a moment, as if he was trying to take in all of the information he had just received. Michael can almost see the cogs turning in his mind. He isn’t sure what his response was going to be.

“Does that mean I get to play with Milo all day?”

Michael laughs at his son’s words, whilst simultaneously sighing in relief. As long as there was a puppy around, he’d agree to anything.

“Yeah bud, it does.” He replies, smiling at him as he tucks his covers up to his chin. “Is that okay, though? You’re sure?”

“Uh huh.” He nods, cuddling up to the various soft toys surrounding him in his bed. “I like hearing you play guitar.”

“Maybe I can write a song about you.” Michael bops his nose on the ‘you’ and smiles at the giggles he receives in response. “Love you, bub. Have a good sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

They don’t quite make it to the morning before Michael sees Levi again.

It’s Michael’s least favourite way to wake up. He hasn’t been a deep sleeper since long before Levi was born, so any sound would wake him — especially the familiar cries of fear from his son in the middle of the night.

“Hey, hey.” Michael murmurs, voice heavy with sleep. He’s met with the sight he had seen many times before — Levi sat up in bed, sad sobs escaping as he rubs his heavy eyes, as if it would remove the awful sights plaguing his sleep. “You’re alright, bud. It’s okay.”

Michael perches on the edge of his bed, scooping him up from the soft mattress and setting him down in his lap. Levi instantly clings to him, curling up in his arms and hiding his face in Michael’s neck. His cries make Michael’s heart ache. Especially when he has an idea of what has caused them. He worries if the conversation they had before bed had led to his distress.

“Shh,” Michael whispers into his hair, rubbing his back softly. He just has to let him feel it out, let him calm down and realise he was safe. “You’re okay, Levi. I’m right here, okay? I’ve got you.”

He needs the reassurance that someone’s there, since that was the main theme of his usual nightmares — that he would be left alone forever.

The soft night light in the corner of his bedroom did nothing to soothe him. Michael knows there’s little chance of him going back to sleep in his own room — waking up from a bad dream usually resulted in a night in the big bed.

“I know bud, I know.” He murmurs to him, fingertips running up and down his pyjama covered back as Michael carries him into his own bedroom. His heart aches with the sound of his tears. “You’re okay, I’m right here with you.”

Michael sets him down on the bed, Levi immediately crawling under the covers and pulling them up to his chin. Levi’s tears reduce to quiet sniffles, rubbing at his heavy eyes as he cuddles into Michael’s pillow.

“What’s scaring you, huh? Do you want to talk about it?”

Michael had always encouraged Levi to talk to him about how he was feeling. It was so important to him that Levi knew he could tell Michael everything — he had been through his own mental health struggles, and talking was the one thing he knew that helped. Even when Levi had tantrums, he’d always take the time to help his son work out exactly how he was feeling, so he could understand and process it. He wanted him to be able to talk openly about how he felt and why.

“Everyone left.” His voice is quiet against Michael’s shoulder. Michael was expecting that answer — it wasn’t the first time he’d experienced that particular dream. “I couldn’t find you or anyone else.”

“You know I wouldn’t let that happen.” Michael reassures him, fingertips grazing his cheek to get him to look up at him. “I promise you, I’d never leave you alone or not tell you where I was going. You’re stuck with me, okay? Whether you like it or not.”

Levi smiles at his words. He nods, cuddling up to Michael as he fights sleep — his eyes eventually winning the battle. Michael stays awake until Levi is fast asleep — stroking his hair and holding him close. He thinks about how badly he wishes he could take his fears away. He hates that Levi has ever had to go through the pain of abandonment, his own mother being the one to cause it.

***

Michael decided to stay home for another week with Levi before leaving him alone with you.

You had spent more time with the two of them, knowing it was important that Levi knows and trusts you. He hasn’t had any more nightmares since the night that Michael talked to him about what would be happening, which was a good sign.

“Okay, you have my number,” You could see Michael going through a mental checklist of things he was meant to remind you of. “He’ll probably want a snack soon. If you need anything at all, please call me. I can be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Michael, don’t worry.” You know the words are meaningless, as Michael will definitely be worrying for the rest of the day. “We’ll be absolutely fine, I’ve got everything under control. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

He nods, taking a deep breath before Levi hugs his legs.

“Bye, buddy. I love you, alright? Have a fun day.” Michael kisses the top of his head and ruffles his hair before grabbing his car keys and leaving the apartment.

Levi waves with a small “bye, dad” before sitting on the couch, almost as if he’s waiting for you to do something to occupy him.

“So Levi,” You start, catching his attention. “I thought we could hang out here for a little while, have some lunch and then take Milo to the park. Does that sound okay to you?”

You’re met with an excited nod, Levi happy at the prospect of spending the day with you and Milo especially. You didn’t want to bore him on your first day together, not if you were going to be able to give Michael the chance to make music once more.

“Do you want to play dinosaurs?” You ask, trying to think of something that can occupy him for quite a while before taking Milo out. Michael had told you that it’s one of his favourite games.

Levi looks at you with a reluctant gaze.

“We don’t have to.” You reassure him, unsure of whether he was going to say anything.

“That’s mine and my dad’s game.” He says, almost like he’s worried about offending you. “I only like playing it with him.”

“Oh,” You reply, sending him a warm smile as a reassurance that you understood. “That’s okay then, we can do something else. You choose, okay? Whatever you want.”

It made you think about how close Michael and Levi must be, after it being just the two of them for so long. There was a lot you didn’t know, that you wanted to ask Michael about.

The afternoon was going smoothly — Levi happily holding onto Milo’s leash as he walked her, happy to be in yours and her company. Michael texted you every so often, just to check in — it was clear he was worrying about Levi and whether he was okay.

Levi was curled up in your lap when Michael got home.

He bursts through the door like he was expecting something to be wrong. You could see the relief in his face as his eyes fall upon the scene in front of him, seeing Levi be so relaxed cuddling up to you.

“Oh,” He sighs, quietening down in order not to wake Levi up. “He’s okay.”

“Did you think something was wrong?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at why he looked so panicked.

A bashful and slightly embarrassed gaze tinges his face.

“You weren’t answering your phone, I just… I panicked.” He admits, gently smoothing his hand over Levi’s face as he watches him sleep. “That’s the longest time I’ve been away from him pretty much since he was born.”

“You did it though,” You remind him. “It’s only going to get easier from here.”

Michael wants to cry at the feeling, knowing Levi was okay without him — it made his heart ache a little that he was growing up so fast. He also felt relieved that he was able to get his own life back to some degree.

“I’ll go put him in bed, then we can talk.” Michael murmurs, gently scooping Levi up from the sofa and cuddling him in his arms. He whispers a soft “it’s just me, bub” against his hair, making sure he has a good hold on him before moving to his bedroom.

“Hey,” You reach out for his hand when he sits next to you on the sofa, squeezing it gently. He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours as he finally allows himself to relax. “He’s fine, Michael. Although he wouldn’t let me play dinosaurs with you, that’s your game, I was told.”

Michael laughs at your words.

“Really? He said that's our game?” His eyes lit up at the thought.

“He also said you’re his best friend.” You informed him. Michael worries far too much about his relationship with his son. Levi thinks nothing but good things about him. “You’re the centre of his world, Michael. He loves you so much.”

“I always think that no-one is ever going to be able to replace his mum.” Michael admits, nervously running a hand through his hair. “I try to give him everything, but I know I can’t replace her.”

“You’re right, you can’t. You don’t need to though.” You squeeze his hand in yours once more. “He has everything he needs in you, trust me, Michael. He’s a very happy child and that’s down to you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as Michael takes in your words, reassured that the day went smoothly. There was something else he wanted to do, too.

“Can I tell you something?”

You narrow your eyes at Michael, with no idea of what he was about to say. You nod, waiting for him to continue.

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it too. With him right in front of you, being so open about how he feels is almost too much to take in all at once.

Michael almost regrets the words as soon as they come out. That’s until you lean forward, your face so close to his that he can’t help but focus on anything but your eyes. It feels like forever until he moves closer, softly pressing his lips against yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks gently as he kisses you.

“What are we doing?” You giggle softly against his lips, pulling back for air for a second before kissing him once more.

“This, apparently.”

You have no idea where things are going to go with Michael, what would happen between you both after the moment ends. Yet as he focuses on kissing you, you struggle to think about anything else.

The moment ends far earlier than you wanted it to, Michael pulling away as he murmurs “maybe you shouldn’t go home tonight. It’s too far to walk.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, leaning forward to rest against his chest and bury your face in the soft material of his hoodie.

“I think you’re right.”

***

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Text

day 6 - cosy

24 days - 24 oneshots | a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | prompt list can be found here

read on ao3

rated: g | words: 1492

Riza curled further in on herself as Roy reached to rearrange the thick blanket he’d draped over them both. It wrapped around her body, pulled right up to her chin, then spread across Roy’s legs, the ends falling off the edge and trailing on the wooden floor. Once satisfied she was covered completely Roy settled back with a sigh. One of his arms stretched out down Riza’s arm and rested respectfully atop the blanket on her waist.

She’d never sat with him like this before. He was lying stretched out on the couch and she was on her side, wrapped up tight. Roy had pulled her across his chest. Riza had suggested after their cold walk they should get underneath a blanket to warm themselves up. In theory it was the best idea but in practice it was embarrassing. Imagine thinking it was a good idea to curl up against her father’s apprentice!

Roy had blinked at her for a second before shrugging and nonchalantly agreeing. “If that’s what you want to do Riza,” he replied. His teeth only chattered once but a violent shudder overtook his gangly teenage frame.

Before Roy could see her flushed cheeks Riza darted upstairs to grab the thickest blanket she could find. With her father out of town for research purposes at least she didn’t have to worry about being quiet for him.

The radio filled the quiet room with mellow and relaxing notes. The fire crackled opposite them. The warmth was threatening to send her off to sleep. Outside the window the world was a winter wonderland. Snow continued to fall steadily and silently. It would not stop until late afternoon tomorrow the weather report revealed. Despite the frustration of her errands being put on hold, she also wasn’t stupid. Venturing out and getting caught in a relentless snowstorm would not be a good idea.

Her and Roy had gone into town that morning for supplies while there was a lull in the storm. The mile walk through snow that reached up to their knees was exhausting. By the time they reached town Riza was panting heavily, but it had become easier to walk. Roads had been cleared and the remaining slush was being churned up by horses’ hooves and the wheels of their drawn carts.

By the time they were done, snow had started to fall once more, and the world took on a blueish tint as small flakes fluttered down from the sky. When they were halfway home the snowflakes were heavier as they paused for a much-needed rest, but the storm was nowhere near as violent as it had been initially. There was no howling wind and no biting cold. As Riza rested her paper bag for a second on a crumbling stone wall, her breath escaped from her lips in a steam as she shook out her arms to rid them of cramp.

“You okay?”

Riza nodded, breathing too hard to speak just yet.

She picked up her bag before the paper could get soaked with the residual water on the stone. Her arms were already protesting loudly to carrying it. They still had half a mile to go but they were almost home.

Despite the tiring trek, they both rejoiced in the beauty of the landscape. Roy’s eyes were wide with wonder, sparkling as he looked around, and he marvelled at how deep the snow was. He’d never seen snow this thick before, he revealed. Not in Central.

They’d even thrown a snowball or two. Roy had smirked, thinking he was being sneaky, and had subtly packed the snow together behind Riza’s back while she trudged on ahead. He was not as stealthy as he hoped though. As his arm reared back to throw, Riza whipped around and hit him with her own. Square in the face.

Spluttering and clutching at his face Roy stumbled and dropped his snowball.

“Ow!” His complaint was loud but accompanied by a laugh.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit your face!” Riza hurried over, reaching to grab his shoulder to support him. The bag in her arms dropped into the snow, the paper already turning darker as it wet through. She dipped her head worriedly as she tried to assess the damage she’d done. The skin around his eye was very red and when his lids blinked open the eyeball looked irritated. Concern and fear coiled in her gut like a spring, jumping out of it and into her heart and throat.

“Your aim is ridiculously good,” he complimented. “Good shot.” With one eye squeezed closed in pain he still shot her a toothy grin.

So, now, they were both curled up her father’s couch. After collecting the blanket Riza had wrapped some ice up in a towel for Roy to press against the swelling around his eye. His body shivered still from the biting cold of the ice. Every so often he’d jerk underneath her. It made guilt settle inside her heart and grip it painfully.

“Sorry,” she mumbled into the blanket that was covering her lips.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry about your eye.” Her voice was a little stronger but still quiet.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he dismissed.

“But I am,” she insisted.

“Riza, it’s fine,” he chuckled fondly. “I’ve had worse than snowball to the face.” He settled back on the cushions further with another sigh. “Honestly, it’s okay. Compared to snowball fights with my sisters this is nothing.”

“Snowball fights?”

“Oh yeah,” Roy gushed. “We get split into teams and everything. Aunt Chris officiates it. Some of them have deadly throws. Kind of like you do,” he winked then laughed as her cheeks grew red with shame. “It’s a big family thing. It’s neat.”

“What else do you do?” Her question was quiet and spoken into the brief silence that had enveloped them. Her father had forgotten about Christmas, so they never celebrated it. It was just another day. However, hearing Roy’s stories of dinners with his large family, full of warmth and laughter, made her yearn for it. She wanted that. And she wanted to hear all his stories about it.

“What do you mean?”

“On Christmas.” Riza cleared her throat. “Or around Christmas. What else do you do together?”

“Oh, well, we wake up on Christmas Day and fight to get downstairs first.” Roy snickered, “my aunt quickly tells us to shut up and stop causing a stampede, but it doesn’t stop some of them. We exchange gifts all together then Aunt Chris shoos us away to get washed up. Once everyone is showered we go back and play with or try out our new gifts while Aunt Chris makes us all breakfast. The older siblings are called in to help her. Being the only boy I’m usually roped into it too,” he grumbled, “but sometimes I can find ways to get out of it,” he added with a wicked grin.

Roy continued to regale Riza with tales of his Christmas traditions. He made her giggle quietly, snort unexpectedly, and caused her eyes to open wide in wonder and shock. Every story he shared she cherished and wondered what their Christmas together would be like, if they ever got the chance. Riza hoped to experience it one day. Her father would never let her go home with Roy for the holidays, but it would be nice to dream.

“I would love to experience that one day,” Riza whispered wistfully. Realising she’d spoken aloud, horrified, she groaned internally and buried her face underneath the blanket. It also meant she was nuzzling against his chest and that made her face turn even more red. However, she stalled for just a second. Just underneath her ear, Riza could hear Roy’s heartbeat. It thudded steadily as she listened.

She’d never heard his heartbeat before. She’d never really listened to anyone’s heartbeat before. Riza found it instantly comforting, despite her embarrassment.

“I would love it if you could too.”

Riza jumped when Roy started speaking. She’d been so focussed on the revelation of hearing his heartbeat that it startled her.

“Really?” She dared to be bold and ask the question.

His hand gently rested upon her shoulder. The weight of it was another source of comfort. When he squeezed it, Riza felt her stomach somersault.

“I would really like it,” he confirmed, voice low in a murmur.

Her wide smile was hidden underneath the blanket but Riza did shift so she could rest her ear back over his heart once more.

Roy continued with more stories, his voice low and soothing, and it caused Riza’s eyes to close without her realising it. Underneath her ear his voice rumbled in his chest as he continued, lulling her into a warm and relaxed sleep. Exhaustion had taken its hold over her and her body grew heavier the longer she listened to him talk.

It was the most comfortable sleep she’d ever had.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #royai advent calendar #emma writes #idk what this ended up being tbh #but it gave me warm and cosy vibes so

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years

Text

Fight or Flight, Rider [4]

Poe Dameron X Pilot!Reader

A/N: MEET THE SILVER SQUADRON PEOPLE! My babies, my pet project, my post precious creation! - Nemo

Summary: (y/n) has never been so excited - today she gets to meet her Resistance Squadron. She finds they all are rather different, but at the end of the dy they still get the job done.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

[Gif isn’t mine, t’was a Google find. Credit to it’s creator.]

You and Poe didn’t really talk about what happened last night. As cliche as it sounds, you didn’t need to.

You both decided not to bring it up, not because you were embarrassed or avoiding it, but because it would simply be easier that way. Word spread fast in the Resistance, for better or worse, and that could get anywhere by the end of the day.

Today you weren’t worrying about it though, because today was a big day.

Today you officially met your new Squadron, and today you got to fly with them for the first time.

You were even more excited now than what you were when you raced Poe. Joon, your fellow Nephimmian, stood beside you, shaking his head. Not only was he assigned as one of the Lieutenants of your Squad, but you pulled him out of his bunk at daybreak just to get him to wait around with you for the past hour.

“You’re being too loud,” he said, “You need to calm down.”

“Oh,” you scoffed, “I’ve barely said anything since I greeted you!”

“You think very loudly.”

“Shut up Joon, look they’re coming!” you said, ignoring him as he rolled his eyes, looking over at a crew of pilots headed your way.

A blond man approached your first, holding out his hand for you both to shake as he introduced himself.

“Hey, I’m Commander Gareth Longo, Poe’s told me a little about you two and your venture to help everyone off Creit. Very noble thing for you to do.”

“It wasn’t just us, sir.” Joon said, staying professional as ever, while you rolled on the balls of your feet.

“It’s appreciated just the same Lieutenant. Now let’s introduce you to the others.” Gareth said, turning to the others that came with him.

“That’s Captain Dalyn Menryth,” he said, gesturing to a man with greenish hair, “He’s from Naboo, one of their pilots.”

“One of Naboo’s best pilots, don’t forget!” Dalyn said, catching your eye and sending you a wink.

“Sure. Next to him is Lieutenant Grey Saeth and Cadet Amry, they both came together from Tatooine.” A taller man waved at you with a very wide grin - he seemed as excited as you - and next to him was a much smaller woman - she seemed much less excited.

“We’re a team, Amry and I.” Grey said, pulling Amry to his side as he grinned down at her.

She shot him a smile, before pulling herself away from his side.

“Over there is Lieutenant Lup’ia Tetsuu,” a yellow Twi’lek looked over at you nodding, “She’s a little more of a mechanic than a pilot, but she’s just as useful either way.”

“I’m Cyro Sythen. Cadet. I can introduce myself.” A teal Mirialan stepped forwards, thrusting her hand out to yours. “I heard about you - you almost beat Commander Dameron in a race. You’re cool.” she said as she shook your hand.

You looked back at Joon, smiling.

“You hear that, I’m cool! Sadly, Dameron just happened to beat me by that much.” you said, sucking in a breath through your teeth. “He’s just too good.”

“No such thing Major,” Gareth said, turning his helmet over in his hands, “You can never be too good, only too confident. Now get your ships in the air, let’s get this thing started!”

__________

“I must say, you all were pretty good. Saw some nice moves out there today.”

Your Squad - the Silver Squadron - had all been out for hours, practicing moves, perfecting comms, and learning how each other flew. More training would be needed, but for a first day you all did rather well, even if you thought so yourself. Poe seemed to agree.

“You can all get out there and do it again tomorrow. Fun, right!” he said, enthusiastic as ever.

Grey was bouncing in his seat across from you - which you could already tell was normal for him - while Lup’ia was stuck in the seat next to him, rather unimpressed at being placed next to the human embodiment of sunshine and optimism.

She wasn’t a people person at all.

At least not until Finn came in. Then she brightened up - ever so slightly.

Joon was by your side, tapping his fingers on his leg as he always did when his superiors were droning on about post-flight checks. While on your other side was Dalyn, he’d practically stuck to you since he got his ship in the air next to yours.

“... And I think that’s about it. You’re just about free to go clean up or whatever.” Poe said, dropping the datapad on the table as he smiled everyone’s way. “See you this time tomorrow.”

“You busy tonight Rider?” Dalyn asked, slinging an arm around the back of your seat. “I know a really cool place just down the hall that serves some of the best food in the base.”

“It’s the only place with food in the base, you fool.” Amry said, as she stood from her seat, leaving promptly after with Grey trailing after her.

“Pfft, sure it ain’t exactly delicacies, but maybe we could snag a table and chat for a bit?”

“No thank you.” You said, shaking your head with a light smile.

“Why,” he asked, suddenly going a little quieter, “You busy?”

“No.” You stood, making your way behind him also. Joon was holding back snickers from his seat, while you were caught between sending sympathetic looks at Dalyn and smirking over at Poe.

“Okay.” he drawled, “So you’re not busy, you just don’t wanna eat with me?”

“Listen, Dalyn, you’re a decent guy, and a hell of a pilot, but you’re also a serial flirt.” You said, letting out a quipped laugh at the knowing smile that reached his face. “The other gals and I in the Squad all pulled together before we came in here. You’re a ‘no’, but if you wanna hang over dinner then that’s cool - I’m sure you have more than your fair share of stories to tell.”

“That’s true!” Dalyn said, practically dismissing you and leaning over the table to speak to Gareth. “Did you know, this scar came from a lady -”

“- Captain, I couldn’t care less.”

“Nonsense, of course you’d wanna know, it’s one great story!”

“Joon,” you leant down to whisper in Joon’s ear, “Let’s scram before we get caught too.”

You’d never seen him get out of a chair quicker.

___________

You’d barely gotten out the hallways when footsteps came after you.

“(y/n)! Jeez, you and Joon are fast walkers.” Poe said, finally catching up to you both. “I was gonna ask you something but now I’ve forgotten what it was.” he huffed, resting his hands on his hips.

“So what, are you gonna stand there and breathe really heavily, or are you gonna walk with us to get some food?”

“I was actually contemplating retracing my steps to see if I could remember my question, but I like the sound of food a little more.”

“Ayee,” you smiled, “I knew we were similar!” With that you went back on your quest to the cafeteria.

It was a decent sized place, although smaller than the one back of Nephimm, but it was cosy and snug like that. You rather liked it. The food even tasted a little better, despite the fact it looked a little less appetizing.

Practically as soon as you were seated, Rey came over and took the spot on your left, while Poe was on your right. Joon was unimpressed at his seat being taken, but decided Finn was probably a less rowdy person to be sat next to anyway.

“Dalyn was trying to pull one move on you back there.” Poe said, smirking at you as he sat sideways facing you in his seat.

“Yeah, well, takes more than a wink and a good-looking smile to get me to do things for you.” You said, looking over at him while stuffing your mouth full of food.

“Did you know you’re a vision when you eat (y/n)?”

“It’s her goal in life, I’m sure.” Cyro said, stepping up to the empty seat next to Joon. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

“I’m always a vision, so it doesn’t matter what I’m doing.” you said, holding back a snicker. Poe looked over at you, resting his chin on his hand, and just smiled over at you.

“What is he doing?” Cyro asked Joon, the two of them looking between Poe staring at you and you unceremoniously eating your dinner.

“The common name for it, I think, is called ‘giving her heart-eyes’.” Joon said, looking up at Cyro. “In other words he just really, really likes her.”

“What?” Both you and Poe looked up at the duo across from you, you cast a glance beside you to Rey - she only smiled widely at you - before looking to Poe at your other side.

“You’re not really making it a secret.” Joon said. “At times you’re both as subtle as a shotgun.”

“Harsh.” you said, smiling slightly.

“I’m not sure I’m following?” Poe trailed off, his chin now back to resting on his hand.

“Dameron! The General wants to see you.” An officer said, choosing to call across the hall rather than make his way over to the confused pilot.

“Later. Poe. We’ll explain later.” Finn said, showing he was in fact listening, despite being more invested in eating than you were.So with that Poe upped and left, shooting goodbyes to your group as he went.

“You think it’s serious?” Cryo asked, both her eyes and yours keeping on Poe and the Officer as they left.

“If they want Poe?” Rey said, snickering. “No one can answer that.”

__________

Series Taglist: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @writefightandflightclub @robindoesntloveme @kiaralein @daniellajocelyn @americasass-romanoff @morgannope @smolpeachees @afootnoteinyourhappiness

Series Taglist is Open!

#fight or flight rider #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars oneshot #star wars oc

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milky-mochi · 4 years

Text

before you (3) | cyj

genre: nerd! yeonjun, nerd! reader, aged up! yeonjun, college! au, boyfriend! yeonjun

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader

summary: falling in love with choi yeonjun was like breezing through the chapters of a book, with highlights of him bookmarked in your head.

listen to: 🎶 me after you - paul kim 🎶

chapters: intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

your first date with yeonjun was unexpectedly perfect.

after you received the news of your award, you were supposed to go out together to celebrate (just as friends) on that same weekend. but the first week, yeonjun fell sick, and you had a family dinner the second week, so the outing ended up being postponed for three weeks.

it proved to be lucky for you, though. during those three weeks, the both of you had the chance to reevaluate your relationship. you were already extremely sure you liked him, but you were still scared at the prospect of being rejected and losing the friendship you treasured so dearly. so, you decided to let this crush pass over without heartbreak, just like you’d been doing all your life.

yeonjun, however, had other ideas. while he was afraid of you not returning his feelings, his fear of rejection was nothing compared to his fear of losing his opportunity with you. it must have seemed foolish to believe so strongly in something without any good reason to. but yeonjun was a hopeless romantic. and he believed in fate.

so as the day drew nearer for your celebration, on one night, yeonjun found himself twirling his fingers around in nervousness as he prepared to text you. he even considered abandoning his plan, but as soon as he looked at your profile picture and saw you smiling brightly, his desire to bring you happiness overtook his fear.

and so he asked you to go on a date with him, to let him take you on one that lived up to your literary fantasies. and with your heart beating out of your burning chest, you said yes.

---

“y/n, hi, um” yeonjun stuttered, “you look great.”

shyly, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. your heart was fluttering with excitement. this was the first date you had read about in all your books and dramas: him showing up at your door, looking handsome as hell, waiting to pick you up. you couldn’t believe it was actually happening in front of your eyes, not in words on a page, but in choi yeonjun.

yeonjun cleared his throat (to try and clear his nervousness, but he figured you didn’t need to know that. he also decided it would also be better if you never knew that he was adopting all of this from every romance book he had ever read because, without them, he would have no idea how any of this worked).

as you stepped out of your house and closed the door behind you, yeonjun offered his hand to you with a sheepish smile. giggling, you laced your fingers in his and let him lead you to his car, a pink blush dusting your cheeks.

“i’m sorry, i definitely remember making a reservation. i even called to confirm just this morning!”

“i’m really sorry sir, but your name isn’t on the list.”

yeonjun sighed exasperatedly and ran his hands through his hair for the ninth time in a ten minute dignified scuffle. his eyes narrowed as he readied himself to bring out his most polite passive-aggressive voice once again, but you grabbed his hand before he could say anything.

in all honesty, you were really pissed too. yeonjun had made a reservation at this upscale restaurant that looked like the backdrop of a classic first date from a rom-com you had probably binged before. he had planned everything perfectly, but right now, the receptionist was ruining it. she kept insisting that he hadn’t placed a reservation, even after he showed them the confirmation email, only because she couldn’t find his name in the list.

“yeonjun,” you whispered, glaring daggers at the receptionist who maintained her devilishly cold poker face, “let’s just go. it’s not worth it.”

sighing once again, yeonjun squeezed your hand in his, and gestured towards the door. on your way out, you made sure to clack your heels as loud as you could, and pulled yeonjun away as quickly as your legs could carry you.

you stormed out of the restaurant and out into the street. you didn’t even know where you were going, you just kept walking, with yeonjun in tow, waiting for your anger to sizzle down.

“y/n, slow down.”

realising your speed, you slowed down and mumbled an apology. you didn’t even realise how long you had been sulking for. looking at you, yeonjun sighed again.

“i’m sorry that didn’t go as planned. and i’m sorry i got really passive-aggressive back there-”

“no! you had every right to be!” you cried out indignantly. “that woman was being a real pain in the neck.”

the ring of yeonjun’s laughter soothed the last bit of fizzling anger in your chest. he draped an arm over you to pull you closer. “you’re absolutely right. we’re never going there again.”

humming in agreement and smiling in triumph, you held his hand that hung loosely over your shoulder. a few quiet footsteps passed between the two of you. you were just enjoying his company, and he was enjoying the feeling of your hand in his. it was like a dream.

until you began to feel pricks on your scalp.

you faced your palm upwards, only to see tiny droplets on water accumulate on your skin. yeonjun muttered a curse under his breath as he took his blazer off and covered the two of you, using it as a very expensive makeshift umbrella.

damn, you thought, ain’t this a drama.

holding yeonjun’s hand, the two of you ran in the direction from whence you came. his polished shoes and your high heels were accumulating water, but for once, you didn’t mind. the sound of yeonjun’s laughter and the feeling of his hand in yours was the most romantic thing you could ask for.

the two of you kept running until you came to an unfamiliar bend. you had forgotten which way you came from, and the rain was too heavy for you to find directions back to the restaurant. you panicked and looked up at yeonjun for an answer, when your eyes fell on the warm amber light emitting from behind him and your ears picked up on the soft meowing of a cat.

behind yeonjun was the new bookshop he had promised to bring you to.

---

“hello welcome to- oh my! look at the both of you! you’re drenched!”

the ding of the bell over the door fell silent as yeonjun led you into the shop. you could have squealed at its ambience. the walls were decked with volumes of poetry, well over a hundred, no, two hundred, copies. there was a cosy sitting area in the middle, and there was one corner with a bay window overlooking a park. and there was absolutely no one in the store.

“are the two of you okay? i’m afraid we don’t have any towels,” the lady behind the cashier continued, “but there’s a heater by the bay window. feel free to sit there and enjoy a book while you wait for the rain to stop.”

you giggled and thanked the lady kindly. running over to the bay window, you glanced out at the view. the light of the street lamps were fuzzy with the rain, and the rain tapped against the window gently. you were so glad this was a warm bookshop, which didn’t force you to buy the books before you read them, because that meant you could take your time to find the book you loved. excitement filled your chest as you looked at the huge shelf stocked with poetry that guarded over the area.

“this is perfect,” you mumbled under your breath.

when you realised you were no longer holding yeonjun’s hand, you turned around to look for him, only to realise that he was right behind you, holding a stack of poetry books. he raised both the books and his eyebrows expectantly, inviting you to take one.

the two of you settled by the window, placing the tower in the space between. you plucked the first book off the look at its title. it was your third favourite anthology by your favourite poet, which you had offhandedly mentioned to him a few times.

and it was with your favourite binding. the one with the large margin before the text starts.

your lips curled into a fond smile looking at yeonjun, who had already found himself engrossed in a chapbook by his favourite poet. taking his hand in yours, you began to pour over the intricate words detailing the pages.

occasionally, one of you would break the silence to read to the other a line that struck home, or one that was so stupidly good that it needed to be shared. you didn’t know how long you stayed like that for, or where the cashier lady was. for a moment, it was just yeonjun, you, the rain and words.

when the pile of books dwindled to one, the both of you decided to read it together. you shuffled closer to yeonjun and leaned your head on his shoulder. instinctively, he curved his body ever so slightly to lower it to your height. then, the words began to pour off his lips, softly and lovingly, until you stopped to highlight a stanzathat struck something in you.

“i like this one,” you whispered gently, placing your index finger next to it on the page.

“you fill me with

calm adrenaline,

(which technically doesn't make sense,

but the feelings you give me

are beyond my comprehension).

the thought of you sends

stardust cracking through my veins

or sun rays igniting my vessels.

your earnest smile,

like the soft morning sun,

is enough

to light galaxies

lacing in my capillaries

or leak happiness

like the sun spreads its beauty

over the reservoir.”

“yeah, it‘s beautiful.” yeonjun looked back at the page. “until recently, i’ve never known what it’s like to like someone so much like that.”

you watched yeonjun’s eyes dart to make momentary contact with yours. shyly, your own darted back to the stanza. “neither have i.”

“do you think you could ever, y/n?”

you smiled up at yeonjun, taking his hands and interlacing your fingers gingerly. “i think i’m starting to.”

---

eventually, the rain stopped, the shop closed, and it was time for yeonjun to drive you home. you left the shop with a poetry book yeonjun bought you because you liked it so much, and a huge smile plastered on your face. his smile mirrored your own as you walked back to his car. the sound of your voices accompanied your footsteps as the two of you were immersed in the comfortable conversations you loved dearly. yeonjun never failed to make you feel safe.

the drive to your house was fairly short, though you wished you lived further away. you wanted to talk to yeonjun for a bit more, but it was already late and you had to go home.

eventually, when he pulled up to your driveway, you were prepared to say goodbye and open the door to leave. but yeonjun got out of the car first and opened the door for you. smiling embarrassedly, he said he wanted to walk you to your door. secretly, you were squealing. this was the classic end to a first date, wasn’t it?

you nodded excitedly. flashing you a genuine smile, yeonjun took your hand and began to walk towards your door. it was probably well over midnight, given the silence of your neighbourhood, save your own footsteps. the distance to your door had never felt shorter. you never wanted this to end.

“i had a really, really great time tonight,” you said (this was what people said at the end of a date, right?)

“so did i. i really loved it.”

“so when’s our next one?” you blurted out, immediately regretting it afterwards.

to your relief, yeonjun’s face lit up with the brightest smile you had ever seen. “whenever you’re free.”

“i look forward to it!” you smiled.

yeonjun smiled again, but his eyes darted to your lips. you felt your heart rate increase steadily at the tension in the air. the familiar scene was playing in real life. you were nervous, and a little scared, but you liked him too much to care. and he was standing so close.

sensing your thoughts, yeonjun gave you a look to ask you for your permission. instead of giving him an answer, you cupped his cheeks and placed a kiss on his lips. it was a short and quick one (you didn’t really know how to do anything else). but you did nothing to widen the distance between your faces, as your gaze lingered firmly on yeonjun.

hastily, his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, kissing you softly and gently. once his lips were on yours, you were paralysed momentarily at the new feeling. it was a scene from your dreams, something you could never imagine happening to you in real life. but his lips felt so real against yours that, before you knew it, you instinctively gave yourself to the kiss, losing yourself in it as the seconds ticked by.

here on your porch, you were living your fantastical date with a boy you adored. and yet, as you felt yeonjun’s soft lips move gently against your own, you realised:

no movie, no book, could ever compare to this.

---

next chapter

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maandags · 5 years

Text

a tune not quite forgotten (John Shelby x reader)

ITS THE DAY LADS

-- -- --

Summary: You did something stupid--something that took your feelings and threw them in a blender--and now you have to try and sort your life back out.

Word count: 8.6K

Genre: angst/fluff but this time i think i did not do a horrible job balancing out the angst and the fluff

Notes: masterlist - my dudes........ today is the birthday of my lovely lovely LOVELY girl Aticus over @panda-noosh !! man i love you so much!! you mean the absolute world to me; i couldn’t even begin to describe all the ways you’ve helped me through bad days and made me laugh and cry and yell about my godchildren and risk my ass by texting you in class. i had SUCH a hard time not giving you updates on this fic--especially since you were the one that got me into peaky blinders in the first place--and i caught myself multiple times already typing out a message and then going “wait. no” and backspacing everything lololol. I want you to know how much you truly mean to me, and suddenly i can’t use words eloquently anymore. so just read the damn fic and have a fabulous day. xx from your bitch Tay :’)

-- -- --

The last person you'd expected to show up on your doorstep at four in the afternoon was John Shelby, and yet there he was.

You almost shut the door on him, but then realised that would probably be a bad idea, as he was a part of the most powerful family in the whole of Birmingham. So you folded your arms across your chest and raised your brows, waiting for him to explain the cause of his visit.

He looked at you, the cap on his head slightly shadowing his face. "Hullo."

You gave a terse nod, not really trusting yourself to speak. John glanced behind you and coughed. "Can I come in?"

"No."

Maybe you were being unfair, but you were really not in the mood to talk to him. You planned to let him know. "I have stuff to do. What do you want?"

The fact that you were able to get away with talking to John like that was due only to the fact that you had known each other since you were kids–that you'd been friends since you were kids. And now you were angry with him, and you were done with always letting him have his way.

John stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Just wanted to see if you were okay, I guess."

You scoffed, managed to cover it up with a cough. So he had just wanted to see if you were okay. In that case, every second he spent in front of you was a second wasted, and his very presence was aggravating you more than you cared to admit. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I don't need you checking up on me like I'm on my fucking death bed or something."

You pulled the door to your house shut behind you and turned the key. You didn't know where you wanted to go. Maybe you'd stop by Rosetta's, two blocks away. If you were lucky, Rosetta herself would be there and she'd pour you a glass of whiskey and tut when you downed it in one go.

"Y/N–"

You knew what he was going to say. What he was going to bring up. And frankly, you weren't ready for it yet. You didn't want to think about it, didn't want to face the truth of the situation. Because it would hurt even more than it already did, and you didn't need that right now. When you had calmed down a bit, you would go to him yourself and you'd say, It's fine. I understand. It's okay.

When really, of course, it wasn't.

"Not now, John. Please, just–not right now."

And you walked away, ignoring the fact that you hadn't brought a coat with you and the wind was biting at your skin and carding its icy fingers through your hair, and if it was going to rain tonight you were probably going to catch a cold. But it was okay. The freezing air shook you awake when you had been foggy a moment before, and you were glad for it.

You brought your shoulders up to your ears, squinting to protect your eyes from the wind as you made your way to Rosetta's. You weren't surprised–though you were disappointed–when your vision blurred with tears.

Walking into the warmth of Rosetta's cosy pub was like walking into heaven when you opened the door and let yourself in. Behind the bar stood the curvy form of Rosetta herself, and you smiled at her cooing when she spotted you. "Oh, love, do come in. It's been ages since I've seen your pretty face!"

Rosetta called everyone pretty. It was one of the many reasons you loved her. You walked up to the counter and pulled a stool towards you, climbing on it and rubbing your hands together to get some feeling back into them.

"What'll you be havin', sweetie?"

You looked up at her blearily. "Something that'll warm me up."

She raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Little early for that, ain't it?" But one look from you shut her up, and she drew a big long sigh as she poured you a glass.

The first sip brought some warmth into your chest. The second gave you back the feeling in your hands, and then you downed the drink and waited for the alcohol to take full effect and loosen you up.

"You're looking like shit," Rosie remarked subtly, and you glared as you toyed with the rim of the glass. She was right, though; you had barely slept last night and you were fairly sure your hair hadn't seen a brush in two days.

"I'm feeling like shit," you amended finally, plopping your elbows on the counter and resting your chin in your palms, watching Rosie bustle around and serve the few other customers who'd already installed themselves at a table or at the bar. There was a guy a few seats on your right who was stealing not-so-subtle glances at Rosie's cleavage and posterior as she twisted and turned, and you had half a mind to kick him off his chair. It was like watching someone hound after your mother, because Rosie had been more of a parent to you than either of yours had been.

"Poor you," she said, patting your cheek and turning around to serve some other man who was tapping his glass on the shiny wood countertop. You narrowed your eyes, the old protectiveness rising up again in the back of your throat.

It wasn't busy yet, so after Rosie had satisfied her small clientèle she turned back to you, refilled your glass and grabbed a pint of her own. "So. Tell me about what's got you in such a mood."

You swirled the drink around in your glass and said, "Nothing," which was untrue, of course, and Rosie swatted you on the back of your head to show that she wasn't impressed.

"I didn't practically raise you since your tenth birthday for you to lie to me like that," she sniffed, and you groaned.

"It's just–I'm really fucking stupid sometimes. And I do... I do stupid things a lot. And, you know. Then I wake up the next day and realise I've been really, really stupid again. And it makes me feel. Like. Shit." You tapped the counter with the bottom of your glass for emphasis.

Rosie sighed, gave your cheek a tap. "Oh, love. You never were great at sorting out your feelings, eh?"

You felt your neck and ears heat up, and your eyes widened. "I never–I didn't say–"

She threw her head back, brushing her long mane of curls over her shoulder. Her brown hair was streaked with grey, but on her it looked ethereal. No wonder nobody could ever keep their eyes off her. "You didn't say, but I know you, don't I?"

She did. She and her pub had been more of a home to you than your own had been, and you'd practically grown up hanging from her skirts. When you were eleven, she'd let you help out with washing the dishes sometimes, and not long after you'd met John, whom she also immediately took under her wing.

You had a closer bond with Rosie than John did, but she loved him just the same, letting him play with you between the tables. Rosetta's became a second home to you before you'd even left your old one.

She then plunked down her glass, and cocked her head, and gasped, and you jumped, thinking she'd seen a man get murdered through the window–at least. But she was looking at you, and said, "Is it John?" And her eyes were wide, and you scolded yourself internally, because Rosie would not have been fazed in the slightest if she'd seen a man get murdered in front of her pub.

You buried your face in your hands, which was close enough to a confession for her and she let out a "Ha!"

Then she got called away by some prick who wanted a refill, and as she grabbed a bottle he leaned forward and pinched her butt, and she immediately whipped around and loudly cussed him out before telling him to Get the fuck out of here and don't you have the balls to show your fucking face again. You really loved Rosie.

"Love," she said a minute later as if nothing had happened, "I want you to tell me what's happened right now."

You sighed, but you did. You told her about the inauguration of the new and improved Garrison, and how John had invited you–of course he had, you were his best friend–and how, after a couple of glasses and songs and teasing words mumbled from slightly-parted mouths he'd pulled you into a corner and kissed you.

It had been sloppy and heated and kind of a mess, to be honest, your hands wandering, wanting to feel every inch of the other's body and explore after years of built-up tension, and yet it had been the very best few moments of your entire worthless life, leaving you lightheaded and flushed a deep crimson.

Then, of course, he'd pulled away for air, and you'd laughed, chest filling for the first time in years–maybe ever–and he'd mumbled, "Wait here," and squeezed your hand before disappearing into the crowd.

And you had waited. You'd waited for what felt like hours, but he'd never returned.

So you'd left. Your clothes were only slightly dishevelled, after all, and when you were sure you could walk home without collapsing you packed your shit and pushed out of the pub. But that hadn't been the worst of it; of course it hadn't. For when you left, you saw John on the other side of the glass panel. Laughing. A drink in his hand, talking with Tommy and Arthur. He never looked at you once.

"I knew what I was getting into," you told Rosie, your arms now crossed on top of the counter and your shoulders drawn up to your ears. "I mean–John hooks up with seven girls a night. I just–I thought–"

"–that it'd be different? Because it's you?"

You looked at her, wondering how she always managed to gauge exactly how you felt and put it into words as perfectly as she did. She looked at you with her head slightly tilted and pity in her eyes, pity and understanding and compassion which left you even more embarrassed and wanting to sink into the ground.

"Stupid, right?" you said, maybe a little too loudly, and you knocked back what was left of your drink. "So stupid."

Rosie took your glass from your limp fingers and put it in the sink. A smart move, you pondered as you plopped your chin back onto the palms of your hands; you didn't know if you could have stopped yourself from just drinking your sorrows away. "Not stupid. A little... careless, maybe. But you're young and you're supposed to be careless and not give a fuck about anything." She wiped her hands on her apron. "So no, I don't think you're stupid."

You rubbed a hand down your face, squeezing your eyes shut. "Rosie. What do I do?"

She was silent for a moment as she washed your glass and dried it, keeping her eyes on a spot over your shoulder. Her teeth nipped at her bottom lip. "John's a Shelby boy, Y/N," she said. "I don't know in how much he takes after his father when it comes to love–or his brothers. I don't know to what extent he can love, or if he just wants a good fuck before discarding you like an old sock." Though you'd expected them to a certain extent, the words still stung, and you tried to hide your wince. "But I do know you. And I know you love him, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not–" you didn't– "and I figure John loves you in his own way. Was a time when you were best mates."

Yeah.

With that, you found that you had enough of Rosie's wisdom for the day. Really, she hadn't given you much advice to what you should do–she had helped you see some things a little more clearly, and she'd leave you to decide how you wanted to handle things on your own. You loved her for it, though it could be infuriating.

She smiled and went back to her work. Some more men had walked in and were clamoring for her attention, and she sauntered over to them, hips swaying. How she managed to keep the lot of them in check when they were drunk, you had never quite grasped, though you knew she kept a gun strapped to her thigh for when things got a little too rowdy for her taste.

Then you stood up, straightened your shirt and slipped behind the bar. You felt around in a low drawer until you found an apron and tied it on, shrugging when Rosie shot you a questioning look. "I need to get my head on straight. A few nights' work would do me good."

She gave a sort of half-hearted headshake, and you rolled your eyes as you turned to your first customer.

"You're not Rosie," the man said, frowning as he tried to focus onto your face, his eyes hazy, and his breath smelling of alcohol.

You shrugged. You felt like you'd made a good choice; two weeks or so of working alongside Rosie could help you get your head on straight. "You can get served by me or you can get the fuck out of the pub, mate."

It wasn't your first night behind the bar.

Things went smoothly, considering you'd only had to deal with a couple more such comments–usually from already-drunk guys who were here probably for the sole reason to catch a glance at Rosetta herself–and there was only a single fistfight you had to break up. After a few days, people started to get used to you, and you started to notice the curious once-overs you were receiving from younger clientèle and older alike.

You smiled. You winked, you treated the customers to a slightly-more-unbuttoned shirt than was strictly appropriate, you responded to flirty comments with witty quips of your own. And it did help. It did distract you from John and everything that had happened that night, but only while you were behind the bar and you had to keep your head cool at all times. Once you got home, you would get hit by everything again in full force, and you would feel bitter and hurt once more.

So you started to work longer days, coming in at noon and getting home at two, three, four A.M. You barely had any time to do anything bar sleep and eat, when you felt like it. You didn't see any of your friends unless they stopped by Rosetta's by coincidence, and you'd have a brief chat, but then you'd get called away by other customers and they would be gone when you got back.

It didn't bother you. Not really. You had Rosie, and the occasional late-night make-out session with whoever had grabbed your attention that night. It never went much further than that, though–and you didn't want it to.

The first Blinders showed up three weeks after you started working there again.

Isiah Jesus and Finn Shelby waltzed into Rosetta's like they owned the place, and Rosie grabbed their attention immediately as she cooed and pinched their cheeks, and they didn't look away from her for a solid minute before they even noticed there was someone else behind the bar. That someone else being you.

"Y/N! Hey," said Finn, looking only mildly surprised to see you here. Isiah and he took their seats at the bar, leaning their elbows on the shiny surface. Isiah was a little red in the face, and you suspected it was not entirely unrelated to the fact that Rosie had just spent a minute fawning over them in all her curvy glory.

You nodded at Finn and slid him and Isiah glasses with their drinks of choice. It wasn't the first time you'd been behind the bar for them, and though that had been a while ago, the Peaky Blinders weren't very keen on variety when it came to drink. They mostly wanted to get drunk as quick as possible and would ask for the drink that had the highest alcohol content. This time was no different, and if it was, they didn't mention it.

"Haven't seen you around in a right while," said Finn after a swig. He sat back in his seat and stretched, cracking the joints in his arms and neck. "You should pop by one of these days. John's been a real pain in the arse last few weeks."

You stiffened, if only slightly. You told yourself it was only because you had tried your best not to think of him since the night you took up working at Rosetta's again, and that hearing Finn talk about him so casually was just a small slap in the face.

"I'm not his fucking nanny, am I?" you muttered, wiping your hands on your apron and leaning your hips against the bartop. "He'll get over it."

"He's been asking about you, you know," Isiah piped up from behind his own glass, grin forming on his lips.

You glared at him and folded your arms over your chest. "I've been here. At the place I basically grew up in. John and I spent our fucking childhood running around in this very pub, so if he didn't think of looking here for me he must not be that keen on finding me." You yanked out a fresh cloth and turned to the sink to dry any glasses that maybe sat there. There weren't, but you snatched one off a shelf anyway and began to polish it, just to give your hands something to do.

That was that about that. Isiah raised a brow and leaned over, mumbled something for Finn to hear while not being subtle at all about it, and you narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips and whirling around to further emphasize your unwillingness to talk about it.

"Ay. Y/N. Y/N."

You sighed, deeply and dramatically, but turned with the most unimpressed look on your face you could possibly manage. "What, dear?"

"Did John tell you about the event at the Garrison next month?"

"I haven't seen John in weeks, Isiah."

"Well, Tommy's throwing this huge party. There's gonna be musicians and shit. Violins and flutes and fucking trumpets and fuck-if-I-know what else."

You waited for the rest, and when it didn't come, you said, "So what?"

"You should come, is what! John's always going on about your piano skills. Real fucking annoying, I'll tell you that; I never took him for a sentimental."

John and sentimental. There's two words that don't belong in the same sentence. You almost laughed. Shaking your head, you said, "I haven't touched my piano in years. I don't even know if I can still play." But you subconsciously flexed your fingers, and started tapping a rhythm on your thigh.

It had been a while since you'd played–but you guessed you could never really unlearn it. You were out of practice, sure, but for the first time in a while you missed it.

The thing was that playing reminded you of John.

You'd tried to shut him out by banning everything that had the slightest connection to him. Playing the piano was one of those things, but you now thought you may have been a little hasty in cutting it out of your life. After all, you had been playing long before you'd even met John.

"I don't think I'll be able to make it," you said half-apologetically.

Finn blew a raspberry. You side-eyed him, figuring this probably wasn't his first drink of the afternoon. "That's such horseshit. Why not?"

You folded your arms. "I'm busy. With work. Here."

"And Rosetta can't give you a single night off?"

You cast a look at Rosie, who hadn't heard the conversation but picked up her name and spun around. "Hm?"

"There's a party at the Garrison next month. Y/N says you won't let them go," said Finn.

You widened your eyes slightly at her, hoping with your entire soul she'd understand the message you were trying to communicate to her through your gaze. She gave a slight frown, but her eyes grew understanding when she saw the look on your face.

"It's busy as all fuck on Saturdays, you know. Just because you've never had work a day in your miserable little life doesn't mean you can just pull other people from theirs," she said sharply, and internally you breathed a little sigh of relief.

Isiah and Finn started protesting–the both of them struggling to find their words, because they had quite a lot of alcohol in their system at that point, and Rosie was glaring at them with an intensity in her eye that would have any other man weak in the knees. You smiled and shook your head, shuffling backwards into the shadows and getting back to work.

Isiah and Finn left after a while, and you sighed in relief as you watched them go. Then Rosie smacked you upside the head and you yelped. "The fuck's that for?"

"For me having to save your ass back there. You can't run from this forever, you shit."

You frowned and rubbed the spot where her palm had connected with your skull. "Sure I can."

Rosie gave a sharp exhale and leaned over to grab a bottle of whiskey. "I mean, of course you can. If you give it little enough thought. I don't know if that's what you want, though."

"Who cares about what I want? Last time I gave into what I wanted, I was ditched in the middle of a party," you hissed. "It's not worth it. It's not worth the trouble."

It wasn't. It absolutely wasn't, and you scrubbed a dirty tumbler with vigor and trembling fingers until it shone like a freshly-polished crystal. "I won't go," you added.

"I know you won't. You don't have to. But maybe go talk to him," she said.

You gave a bitter smile and studied your reflection in the now-clean glass as you dried it. "John's a Shelby boy, Rosie." You plopped the glass on its shelf. "Shelby boys don't do talking."

You woke up at eight A.M. and, yawning, made your way to your kitchen.

Rubbing your eyes and temples, you filled a glass with water and drank it, then you filled it again and drank that too. You had come home at three last night. Five hours of sleep had you feeling woozy and a little unsteady on your feet, and the sleep you did get had been riddled with nightmares and restlessness. Because you knew you weren't going to get any more rest, you figured you might as well stay awake.

You sat at your kitchen table and sipped at your water, looking out of the window and thinking of nothing. Nothing. Not even John plagued your tired mind right now, and as you stretched your eye was drawn to the slightly-ajar door that led to your living room. Through the opening, you only just barely made out a strip of dusty brown wood.

It was your piano, your old piano that you'd learned yourself to play on when you were just a kid and needed the distraction. It started like that–a distraction. The music meant you wouldn't have to listen to the shouting in the kitchen. It became the only reason you would even play at all–to distract yourself, to forget about all the horrible things happening around you and just be.

Never had you felt a particular connection to the thing or the music it made. It was a tool, something you used to escape. It got to the point where you couldn't even look at it without cringing back; where you couldn't even bear to think about the feeling of the keys beneath your fingers until the shouts would start up again and they would start to itch.

You'd told John about this when he finally asked why you had a piano in your house if no one ever played it. He'd frowned and sat down in front of it and pressed down on a key, then two, then three, then plunking keys left and right and grinning like an idiot. He'd looked up at you and you'd rolled your eyes and said, Not like that, you moron, and you'd shoved him off the stool and placed your own fingers upon the keys.

The tune you played was simple but melodic. A little melancholy and sad, perhaps. John had stood and watched and listened and, when you dropped your hands to your lap and looked away because the melody had jarred unpleasant memories–though your parents had been gone for over a year (your father died of pneumonia, and your mother, unable to handle the loss, left Small Heath for a cottage in the hills) and you didn't miss them–he'd clapped. Then he'd said he felt like getting a drink and you'd rolled your eyes and scolded him, calling him all sorts of names, the bad memories buried once more.

You now made your way over to the piano and studied the dust it'd gathered over the years you hadn't touched it. Ran your finger over its surface and swept up a fine layer of dust. Then you lifted the fall board and looked at the keys, still pristine and ivory white despite their age. You pressed a single key.

The note rang out and you winced at how out of tune it was. It made sense, since the last tuning had been somewhere around two or three years ago. You opened up the case and peered down. Maybe you could get it tuned before going to work at twelve. You had some time.

Suddenly wide awake, you freshened up and quickly wolfed down a sandwich, after which you returned to the piano and set your hands on your hips. From somewhere up in the attic you'd unearthed your tuning kit and, after a quick refresher course from the handbook included in it, you went to work.

It was a slow process–even slower since you hadn't done it in years. But after a handful of strings the tuning came easier and you were pleased to note that your hearing was sharp as ever and recognised when the note was right. After about three hours, the piano was completely tuned again and you sat back, admiring your work. Of course, the piano didn't look much different from the outside, save for the fact that you'd dusted it and it now gleamed in the sunlight. You were covered in filth, but the satisfaction settled deep in your chest and you rubbed a spot of grime on your wrist. You were out of time to play–you had to take a shower and get to work–but the very act of cleaning and tuning the old thing had you feeling a bit better. Like you were finally starting to take control of things.

Over the weeks, you'd gotten used to the comments thrown at you over the bar. You told yourself it was the alcohol speaking; not the people themselves, though you knew some assholes who had tried to get into your pants even outside of business hours. You had learned to brush off the words, pay no mind to them and just serve men the drinks they asked for.

Rosie, sometimes, would stare a particularly disruptive guy down until he either relented and made off like a dog with its tail between its legs, or got up, riled up and ready to fight, and would be decked in the jaw by some other poor drunkard before he could make a single move. Rosie had the favour of the people, and she never hesitated to use it to her advantage.

Tonight was different.

You had been tense and jittery all morning–which was probably also due to the amount of coffee you'd drunk to stay awake–and you knew you would not be able to handle much derogatory comments tonight, whether they were directed at you or Rosie. You told her so, wringing your hands and averting your gaze.

Rosie tutted and lifted your chin with her index finger. "Now what's going on with you today, eh?"

You pulled away from her grip. "Nothing. I'm just–I don't know. Not feeling well. I don't trust myself to not commit murder if I have to hear one more remark about my ass–or yours, for that matter."

"So you're gonna leave?"

"No, I was thinking maybe I could switch places with Joe for a night?"

Joe was one of the boys who worked round the back of the pub. He was nice enough, and though he hadn't worked behind the bar yet you could show him around and help him out for the afternoon, until the busy hours started to strike.

"It'll just be for a single night, Rosie," you pleaded when she didn't look convinced. "I'll quickly teach him how to work the bar and he'll be fine."

"All right," she conceded. "One night."

That evening, you spent your time in the back room, stacking crates of bottles and glasses and, for some reason, a single crate of limes. There wasn't much for you to do, but every once in a while Joe would call for you to bring him a fresh bottle of some drink or another, and you would do it before sitting back down again.

It got a little boring after a while, but it was nice to leave the busy pub for once and quietly sit in the back room, leaning against the wall with your eyes closed. It was hard not to doze off, especially since you were already exhausted.

Then there was a bang against the back door, and you started. You got up from your chair and crept towards the door, scanning the room for something to use as a weapon. You guessed you could always smash a bottle over the intruder's head, but then your eyes landed on a metal rod that stood half-hidden in a corner. You gripped it, then flattened yourself against the wall next to the door and waited.

Another bang, louder this time. More impatient. Part of you wanted to yell, "Occupied!" just to see if that would do anything, but you bit your tongue. With a single finger you unhooked the latch keeping the door locked and said, "Come in!"

The door opened and you raised your metal rod and the intruder saw you, then screamed and jumped back. Their scream startled you, and you stiffened, then lowered your rod onto the ground with a clang and scoffed.

It was a kid. A kid, probably not much older than thirteen, and he was staring up at you with big, wide eyes set in a face that was stark white beneath streaks of grime. His eyes darted around the room, and then finally settled on you and he asked in a high-pitched voice, "Where's Joe?"

You folded your arms. You were aware that the rusty metal rod at your side didn't help to make you look any less threatening, but at the moment you didn't care and felt nothing but slightly irritated. "Joe's not here. I am, though. What d'you want?"

The kid looked slightly panicked, now. "Is Joe here?"

You tilted your head. "I'm here. You can say whatever you gotta say to me. Why were you lurking at our back door at ten in the evening, eh? Don't you have a curfew?"

The boy wrung his hands and cast his eyes to the floor. "Can you go get Joe, please?"

Your eyebrow shot up. "Oh, please, is it? What is it you need Joe for? Hey, kid," you hissed, grabbing onto his arm and forcing him to look at you. "I could have you thrown out any second. I'm giving you the chance to tell me what's going on–"

"Y/N, Y/N, it's fine, it's okay, don't hurt him," comes Joe's hurried voice from behind you.

You whip around. "You're supposed to be working!"

"A little hard to do when all I hear's a fucking blood-curdling scream coming from the back room, Y/N."

You scowled. He had you there. "You know this kid?"

Joe nods, tiredly. "He's my brother. What's going on?" That last question was directed at the kid, and you let him go. He scuttled over to Joe and started speaking to him in hushed tones and you went out into the pub, partly to give them some privacy and partly to see how Rosie was doing.

When she saw you, she raised her eyebrows. "You look horrible."

You felt pretty horrible. Not only had you just almost crushed a kid's skull with an improvised metal baseball bat, but you'd been short-tempered and curt with him even after he no longer posed a threat. In fact, you'd been short-tempered all day, and you suspected it was mostly because of your lack of sleep.

In a small voice you asked, "Can I go home?"

She nodded, and you smiled in thanks and told her to say sorry to Joe and his brother from you. She assured you she would, then shooed you out of the pub and demanded you get some rest.

When you got home, you didn't even bother taking off your clothes as you crashed onto your bed and closed your eyes.

The tune your fingers sought out as if on instinct was quite the same as the one you'd played for John, all those years ago. One of the first pieces you'd ever taught yourself. There was never any sheet music in the house except for your grandmother's old books, and you couldn't afford a teacher, so progress was slow–but after a few years you got the hang of it and started to make up your own pieces. This melody was one of them.

You were surprised at how fast you seemed to pick up the songs after not having played them for years. You spent a few hours just tapping away at the keys, and for the first time you felt something as you played.

Not the dread or the bitterness that usually came with the perusing of the keys. Not the anger that would well up and make you punch down harder than intended, and not even the sadness that would take you over every time you were woken up from screams in the night, and you'd know you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep unless you played.

Now you felt something like happiness. Something like contentment as you pressed down on key after key and listened to the notes ring out, untainted by the bitter screams of anger. It was nice. It made you feel light. The last note pinged, hung in the air for a moment after you'd let go of the key. You stayed put on the stool, basking in the feeling for a little longer.

That's how you spent the following weeks. Go to work, go to sleep, wake up, play the piano and go back to work. You started to feel better and better every time you played, because you were getting better with the hours of practice. And you were changing.

You were hearing music everywhere now. In the clip clopping of horses carrying their riders around Small Heath; in the shouting and giggling of children playing in the streets; in the whistling of the wind weaving itself between the buildings; in the bell that rang when you opened the door to Rosetta's pub. And it felt good. It felt good to pick up on melodies you'd never paid attention to before, being able to appreciate the music of life as it bubbled and sizzled all around you.

You hadn't felt this good in a long time.

The only thing that still bothered you–that you just weren't able to get out of your head–was, of course, John Shelby. Because the more you thought about it, the more pissed off you grew.

Sure, he was a Shelby. Sure, Shelbys were basically guaranteed VIP spots in Hell. But you had been his best friend for years. It didn't make sense. And if he had faked it–if everything had been a joke on you, after all–then he should have been able to come talk to you. He would have brushed it off and acted as if nothing had happened.

But he was avoiding you. He was purposefully avoiding you, you were sure of it. You had seen Isiah and Finn a couple more times since they'd invited you to the Garrison concert, you had come across Arthur and Michael twice. You'd even seen Tommy, and had a brief chat with him outside his office. Ada regularly had a drink a Rosetta's, for she was just as fond of the woman as you were. Practically the only Shelby you hadn't heard of in months was John.

The concert was in two days. And though you'd already said you wouldn't go–you'd said you wouldn't go so you wouldn't go–you felt you were itching to attend, if just to see John and be done with this entire situation once and for all. Because you knew he would be there, and he wouldn't expect you to come. Nothing was holding you back from going–except your own stubbornness and mixed feelings.

Because you wanted to get rid of the confusion permanently riddling your mind. You wanted an explanation for the way he'd acted–for the way he was acting–because it was so unlike him and weird.

But you also were reluctant to face him, for the exact same reasons. The doubt was settling in, seeping through the cracks in your composure and burrowing deep into your bones; Did you ever really know him, after all? The thought–the mere idea that the last fifteen years of your life were nothing but a lie, spent with someone who never cared for you at all–made you sick, and had you draw back at the last second.

You were feeling good. Why couldn't you just let this go and feel good?

But you knew that you wouldn't ever be truly free of the thoughts and the doubts if you didn't take this chance to see him. So, really, no matter what you said, the choice of whether or not you'd go was already made.

Everyone was dressed so classy–the men in shiny three-piece suits and ties and shoes polished until they glittered like mirrors, and the women in beautiful shimmering dresses in all sorts of colours, their hair done up and decorated with headdresses matching their skirts. You felt a little underdressed in your plain dark blue outfit. Your shoes you'd borrowed from your friend, and you had done nothing to your hair but brush it. You guessed people would take you for a waiter, charged to log around balancing trays with flutes of champagne in your palm. You wouldn't blame them.

In the middle of the Garrison was a podium. It wasn't that big, but there were still around a dozen chairs arranged in a half-circle formation sat on it–and something that grabbed your attention right of the bat: a glossy black grand piano. In one corner you spotted a small gathering of men and women in black and white, surrounded by instrument cases. You went out on a limb and assumed they were the orchestra supposed to perform later that evening.

You tried not to look like you were searching for someone. You tried not to search for that particular someone, but involuntarily your eyes were drawn to scan the faces meddling in the crowd around you. Some of the people, you recognised. Most, you didn't. Some of them cast you estranged looks, eyes swiftly taking in your rather simple clothes and stiff movement as you waded through the crowd much in the same way a penguin would wade through a herd of walrus; not quite sure if they'll make it through unscathed.

Then you spotted two familiar figures and you gave a little sigh of relief.

When Isiah spotted you, he spread his arms wide–spilling a little champagne over the rim of his glass as he did so–and hooted. You cringed at the sheer volume of his shout, eyes darting around, sure everyone would turn and stare, but apparently this was normal, as only two or three people glanced around and then went back to their own conversations. You folded your arms across your chest and walked up to him, nodding at Finn who, as always, stood next to him.

"So you changed your mind, eh?" said Isiah when you were in non-shouting earshot.

You nodded.

"Was it my irresistible charm that did it?" Finn chimed in, hooking an arm around Isiah's neck.

You shot him a slightly disgusted look. "How are you already drunk? The party hasn't even properly started!"

"Don't mind him," said Isiah, trying to pry Finn's arm off of him. "They're not here for us, you twat," he yelled in Finn's ear. You felt your cheeks colour.

Then Tommy stepped onto the little podium and said loudly, "Ladies and gentlemen..." His speech was not unlike the others you'd heard from him; Thank you so much for coming and I am so glad to be surrounded by such wonderful people and Donate to my company, but he pronounced the words eloquently and raised a round of applause when he finished. You clapped along, out of politeness mostly, when you finally spotted him, half-hidden behind his brother.

You weren't gonna lie: John looked good, and it was more of a shock to see him than you'd originally anticipated. All of your breath left you in one fell swoop, and for a moment nothing existed but you and him–but that lasted only a split second, and his attention was fixated on Tommy. He didn't know you were even here, and your simple, dark clothes enabled you to melt into the shadows. You could not have been more inconspicuous if you tried.

You allowed yourself only a moment of looking at him. Just the time to catch your breath. Just the time to get over the initial shock, the time to regain your footing and make sure your knees wouldn't buckle beneath you.

You drew a breath, focused back on Tommy. He was saying something. He was saying that everyone should please gain their seats and prepare for the performance to begin. You tried to shuffle your way through the crowd to get closer to John, hoping to talk to him before the concert, but the crowd is too thick and everyone was sitting down and if you didn't sit down right this instant he would see you. So you reluctantly dropped into a seat in the back. If you looked straight ahead, over the shoulders of the people sitting in front of you, and tilted your head just like so you could see him, sitting in the front row in between Tommy and Finn.

The small orchestra started to play, and it was dead silent. Everyone was entranced by the melody, the harmonies, the way the instruments perfectly complemented one another; and you swayed with the music, despite yourself. You recognised the piece, although you wouldn't be able to name it, and you quietly hummed along.

Then came the piano solo. You listened, and from your seat you could see the pianist's hands move across the keys, so swiftly, so effortlessly, like he was born to play. You were sitting on the edge of your seat, holding your breath; as if the very act of breathing would spoil the music drifting through the air.

The melody was building up, and the tension in the room rose with the notes and the volume as it slipped into a crescendo; then the music slowed and got quieter, and soon after the violins pitched in, and then the violas and the bass and the brass and the percussion, and the whole orchestra was playing in harmony again.

You sighed quietly, sat back in your seat. There was a prickling feeling on your cheeks, the feeling you got when something wasn't quite right–someone was watching you.

Sure enough, when your eyes searched the audience, John Shelby was looking straight at you.

Your breath caught, and you fought the urge to cast your eyes down. He was looking at you with an indiscernible expression, face void of emotion. Though his jaw was set and his expression was kept carefully neutral, it were the eyes that ruined it. Even from this distance you could see the intensity in his gaze–you didn't know whether it was good intensity or bad intensity but there was a fight in his eyes, all kinds of emotions struggling to take over.

But you couldn't let down your gaze. You couldn't–you had to let him know why you were here. That you weren't going to leave without an explanation. That he owed you that explanation.

And you couldn't go to him. Not yet, anyway; the music wasn't over yet, the performance was still going, the room was so quiet one could have heard a pin drop. So you sat, hands folded in your lap, eyes trained on the musicians while simultaneously being aware of John's gaze on you, and patiently waited for the performance to end. You found you couldn't quite enjoy the music anymore as carelessly as you had before.

And then it was over. It was over and everyone rose, gave a standing ovation. The applause was a kind of music in itself, you supposed; a whipping music, staccato, rapid, matching the speed at which you imagined your heart would beat when standing at the edge of a one hundred foot drop.

John clapped for only a moment, then cast you a last look and drew back into the crowd. You did the same, bowing your head and mumbling apologies as you made your way past the people next to you–you sat in the very last row, but the room was full and sometimes you had to squeeze to fit between the wall and the backside of a well-dressed man or an even better-dressed woman. You frantically sought John out, fearing for a second that you'd lost him; but there he was, at the door, only pushing it open when he saw you following him.

The cold outside air was like a slap in the face compared to the hot and stuffy Garrison. You instantly regretted not taking your coat, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your hands up and down your sleeves. John stood a little bit off, his hands in his pockets, that stupid and eternal toothpick between his lips. He looked up when you approached, then looked down again.

It was that–along with the freezing evening air which made it almost impossible to think of anything else but the cold burrowing itself into the very marrow of your bones–that snapped you out of your stupor and cleared your head at once. You were over the initial shock. There was no reason now for you to let your mind wander to places it shouldn't. What you needed was an explanation, perhaps, if you were lucky, an apology. And then you would go home. You would go home.

"Weather's bloody awful, ain't it?" you finally started, because John wasn't making any indication that he would say–well–anything.

He sniffed, rubbed at a spot on the pavement. Nodded. Still said nothing.

And you were starting to grow irritated. Because he was the one that had been so horrified to see you there, though his own brother had invited you to the damn event, and he was the reason why you were there in the first place, and why you were now standing outside and it was starting to fucking rain. "Are you going to say anything?" you blurted. "Because if not, I'll go back inside. To get my coat, I mean, and then I'm going home."

He looked up now, up and into your eyes, and still said nothing.

You ran a hand through your hair, scoffing in disbelief. "Oh my fucking god. Why did you bring me out here if it's just to stare at me with that fucking look in your eye? Am I not worth talking to?"

Anger flashed in his eyes at that. "That's not it. You know it's not."

"Well, apparently I don't–"

"I didn't force you to follow me here!"

"You wanted me to, though!"

"Maybe I just wanted a fucking smoke, Y/N!"

You pursed your lips, clenched your jaw. "Then say it. Fucking tell me you didn't want me to come to you."

Of course, he said nothing. His lip twitched.

You gave a bitter laugh. "Right. Okay. I get it. Johnny Shelby, too proud to admit he's made a mistake." You took a step back. "I cried for you. I cried–I cried over you."

"Y/N–"

It felt horrible. It felt like someone had taken a rusty nail to your heart and carved his initials there, forever to stay and forever to hurt. Tears started to form in your eyes. You blinked them away, angrily, telling yourself it wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it.

You had cried enough.

"Wait. Y/N. Please."

Please.

You guessed you had a weak heart, after all.

"I'm sorry."

A weak heart and a weak soul, but weak only for him.

"What for?" The anger had evaporated from your voice and your expression, and now you were just... sad. Bitter, a little. Mostly disappointed, in yourself.

"I left. Because... I don't know why. Easier, I guess." He met your eyes. He was speaking the truth, and it was hard for him. Maybe because he wasn't used to speaking the truth, maybe because he wasn't used to speaking the truth about this. "I don't know how–I don't–"

You waited, no longer apprehensive. Hopeful, maybe.

Weak for him.

"Denying it was easier because I didn't think I was meant to feel like this. Because you were my friend–are my friend," he adds quickly, and you choke out a giggle. "But, you know. I thought it would go away, after a while. If I just tried hard enough."

It sounded so much like what you had felt, these past few months. What you were still feeling–what was only just starting to unravel.

"And, well, it didn't work. Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be here." His hand came up, and his fingers brushed your jaw. He leaned forward. "And neither would you."

Weak for him.

Your lips touched and immediately you burned.

You burned, and you let yourself burn, winding your arms around his neck, pressing harder against his mouth. You burned, and the cold of the night did not bother you anymore. You burned, and back inside the Garrison the orchestra started playing again–the party had started, for good–and it was like they were playing just for you.

#john shelby #john shelby fic #john shelby x reader #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #john shelby one shot #john shelby fluff #john shelby angst #peaky blinders angst #peaky blinders fluff

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter 10

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language

Summary: Back on set, Chris struggles to take his mind of things...

Chapter Ten

It had rained non-stop since Chris arrived back in Georgia which was rather befitting for his mood. The unexpected thunder and lightning had delayed some planned outdoor shots from that morning, with weather reports suggesting more was to come over the weekend. Chris was starting to wonder if he’d ever see Boston again.

“I could come and visit if you want? Keep you company?” Scott offered, downing the last of his glass containing whatever he managed to find in Chris’ liquor cabinet. He would have grabbed the next flight to Atlanta if Chris had asked him to. It was just the habit of him now to offer to do so wherever he was filming in the world.

“Nah, it’s OK. I told my Agent to tell them I had a family thing coming up so they know I can’t stay here for long.”

They had been on a video call for the past couple of hours, though not constantly talking. Scott had taken another call from a friend and Chris had been treated to a star-struck pizza delivery guy on his doorstop, but this was a nice comfort for them both. Chris was lounging around his cosy apartment in sweats and toyed with the idea of visiting the building’s gym to relieve come tension; tension that had built up in him since he inadvertently found himself face to face to Jenny 24 hours previous. Among the small production crowd that had gathered on location yesterday evening, they’d exchange brief pleasantries with him successfully dodging a hug she had initiated. Matt kept a keen eye on the media and thankfully nothing of note was registering online other than typical minor fan gossip but he could live with that. He resolved to keep his head down, get the shots in the can, and get out of there as fast as he could.

“Do you think we should look at getting that place booked again?” Scott asked, absent-mindedly scrolling through something on his phone.

“Huh? What place?”

“That cabin we stayed at in Vermont last year. That one looking over the lake? I literally just mentioned it to you. Have you not been listening to me? Mom wants to go again for her birthday.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. Yeh, sure. I think I have the email of the owner somewhere. I’ll dig it out and we can take a look. Why that place?”

“It was nice and she liked having that separate guest house for Carly and the kids. It had that huge veranda with the barbecue pit. Wasn’t that where Shan thought she saw a snake?” Scott laugh at the sudden memory that had come rushing back to his mind, and Chris nearly spat out his drink.

“Oh yeh, now I remember. She freaked and wouldn’t come outside again!” he was laughing louder now and fell back on to his couch. “Jeez. We definitely have to go back now if only for that. She’ll have it.”

“We should probably not say that to Mom, though. Maybe stick to the script on this one.” Scott laughed again. “So, you coping OK?”

Chris shrugged indifferently as if he didn’t know what Scott was hinting at. It was uncomfortably humid and he was fighting off a carb come from his pizza; he really didn’t want to to get into anything too deep at this point in the day.

“Come on, don’t give me that. You’ve been a bag of anxiety for the past few weeks. I take it she’s texting you still?”

“Not really, just the usual stuff. I can handle it.”

“Just make sure you’re careful while you’re there, alright? That divorce looks nasty and you don’t wanna get wrapped up in it any more than you already are. Don’t give her any more rope to tie you with.”

“Have you been talking to Matt about me?!” Chris asked, suddenly feeling affronted. “Cos I know what I’m doing, OK? I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Only in passing. we buy the same gym clothes. And I’m not saying you’re an idiot. You just have a habit lately of thinking with something else outside of your brain.” Scott pushed back. He was leaning into his iPad a little more as if to ensure his words were getting through to Chris, now sitting a thousand miles away.

“Not all of my decisions are bad ones.” Chris shook his head in objection and he may well have believed it had he not also been keenly aware that, deep down, he’d been feeling like he was veering away from the straight and narrow of late and if Scott was picking up on it, then it was definitely a cause for concern. But there was a time and a place to assess his life choices and this was not it.

“You’ve been really, really distracted lately. Mom’s noticed it as well. Is it just this film or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine! I’ve got, what, four more days here and then I’m back home for the rest of the year. You can life coach me then. Honestly, I’m good. You don’t need to worry.”

Scott returned the frown and continued scrolling through his phone. Things were a bit messed up these days, Chris couldn’t exactly deny it. He didn’t know whether he was coming or going, with filming, his career, and wanting to leave LA. behind on a more permanent basis. He wasn’t getting any younger. Work aside, Jenny hadn’t particularly factored into his thoughts as much as his brother and others had assumed she had but he couldn’t very well admit to that given the alternative. In some ways, what had been happening with Sarah had very much been an indicator of what was missing from his life and what he desperately wanted to focus on. As much as they have both promised they would keep things civil and normal, there was something of a distance growing between them now, an ability to talk openly and honestly. If it hadn’t been for him lazing around their apartment the last few days before he flew out of town, he probably wouldn’t have talked to her or even seen her again. She hadn’t responded to a group WhatsApp joke he sent the other day, and she hadn’t responded again after he forwarded a cute picture of a labrador wearing medical scrubs. If there was one thing that always guaranteed you a response, it was dogs dressed as humans. He tried to put her in the back of his mind and focus on getting the film finished.

“We should put you and Sarah in a room together. Might get you both back to normal.” Scott may have intended his comment to be offhanded as he looked down at his phone again but Chris found himself keen to explore what he meant.

“What’s going on? Has she said something?”

“I was hoping you;’d know more to be honest. You practically live with them now.” Scott insinuated. “Mom says she’s been working loads and when she’s not working, she’s sleeping. That stuff with Charlotte’s really messed her up, I guess.”

He felt guilty hearing this. He hovered over her name and contemplated sending her a casual text but what could he say that didn’t sound as fraught as he was feeling? He could be funny and check Shanna hadn’t killed her. Maybe he could fake some emergency? OK, now you’re just being ridiculous, Chris thought to himself. And desperate. But sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures...

Chris 18.02pm: This feels weird

He chucked his phone to his side hoping he would stop thinking about it if he paid it no attention. He got up to get another beer from his fridge and spied the pre-made protein shakes that had been waiting for him upon his arrival. He knew he should be in the gym. He knew he shouldn’t have eaten a full pizza when he was supposed to be maintaining his training plan so he would feasibly look the same as before production wrapped the first time. As he rubbed his hand over his softer stomach he found it increasingly hard to care. He could figure that out another time.

As he stared into the abyss, he heard his phone vibrate on his couch. Against his better judgement he could feel a fluttering start in his stomach and he prayed to whomever was listening that he could just, for once, catch a fucking break.

Sarah 18.14pm: I know. I’m sorry. There’s a lot going on right now

He could picture her typing and deleting messages over and over again like she always did, chronically unsure of herself, and figured he should probably give her a break also.

Chris 18.17pm: I understand. Just miss talking to you. Scott’s not as friendly and he doesn’t laugh at my jokes

Sarah 18.18pm: :)

OK, an emoji. That’s a good start, he would take that.

Chris 18.21pm: how’s work?

Sarah 18.24pm: Busy but good. Today I removed a dice from a kids nose

Chris burst out laughing, leaning back onto his couch. They enjoyed listening to Sarah recount her days and the fairly bizarre stuff she ended up being witness to. He enjoyed himself even more watching his mother recoil in horror and fleeing the room when she was being particularly graphic.

“Woah! What is it? What’s going on?” Scott shouted through the screen, first in shock and then confusion. He’d forgotten Scott was even there. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh it’s...nothing. Shouldn’t you be heading to dinner?”

“Oh fuck, yeh. Don’t wanna give him another reason to be pissed off with me. I’ll catch you later, yeh?”

“Don’t worry about it. If I don’t hear from you again, I’ll assume you lovebirds have kissed and made up.”

Scott huffed. “Fat chance.”

A quick click and he was gone leaving Chris smiling at his phone like an idiot. He wondered if she could tell her was happy to finally hear from her, that they were joking, that a smiling emoji had been enough to lift the funk he was currently in.

Chris 18.33pm: I’m so jealous of you right now...

Sarah 18.36pm: Ha! Georgia can’t be that bad

Chris 18.37pm: I’d much rather be there

That wasn’t even half the story.

Four Days Earlier

He shouldn’t have been looking at her curled up on the couch. He shouldn’t have been focussing on the subtle way her throat moved when she swallowed a spoonful of mint choc chip from the bowl placed precariously in her lap, or the way her eyes crinkled when she chuckled at something funny in the film. Or her toes curling and then uncurling from inside her stripy red socks. What even were they watching again? Oh, The Other Guys. Shanna had chosen it and he’d been stuck ever since he’d arrived at theirs, beer in hand, hopeful for some last-minute fun before he had to return to Savannah.

Sarah leaned down the side of the couch to grab her bottle from off the floor and he blinked away as she took a long drink. He excused himself and got up from the couch. The kitchen windows were wide open and he breathed the fresh air in. This was getting ridiculous. His sister was a mere three feet away from him for fuck’s sake.

“What’s up with you?” Shan asked. She had followed him in without him realising, grabbing some more ice cream from their freezer. “If you’re bored, go out. I’m sure there’s people who’d love to entertain you for the night.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh fuck off, I’m not bored. I’m just stretching my legs is all. It’s not against the law, is it?” he practically spat back at her. He regretted it when he saw her stunned expression. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know what has gotten into you lately but can you please sort it out before you’re back? I really don’t need Mom bothering me every hour asking me what you’re up to while you’re here. It’s getting ridiculous.” She turned and left the kitchen, the full tub in hand, unwilling to allow the mood he was clearly in to mess up her evening of doing nothing.

Maybe it was a bad idea to come here tonight. Shanna was probably right. He should have tried distracting himself with something, or someone, else only now he didn’t much feel like going out. He wasn’t dressed right, his phone only had 5% battery, and he was bored of the local bars which surprised even himself.

“Are you OK?” Sarah asked quietly, unsure of whether he’d heard her at first until he looked up from where he was sat at the table. She placed her bowl on the side of the sink and he allowed himself a brief moment of respite in thinking he decided so come just so she could check up on him.

“Yeh. Sorry for disturbing your evening.” He gave her his best sheepish smile.

Sarah brushed him off, “Don’t worry about it but if you want any ice cream, you should get some fast before Shan finished it off.”

“I think she might stab me with her spoon if I tried that.” He wasn’t kidding.

“I keep forgetting to mention this to you but I still have that dress, um, if you need to give it back to Matt or someone? Shan said she was going to keep hers but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.”

She was nervously playing with her hands and for a split second, he saw her with softly curly hair and the jewellery she wore with it on the night. That night. That night that had fucked him up in more ways than one. He could pinpoint his recent mood shift back to that night at the party, dealing with his drunken friends and the photographs that kept cropping up on the internet even now, so long afterwards, with people carefully dissecting every inch of his place that was on show, trying to work out if he was with someone. It wasn’t Jenny or the thought of being back on that set that was concerning to him but rather that the only time he’d felt happy and alive in recent weeks was when he was existing in the same room as his sister’s best friend. Sarah was somewhat calming to him. She had shit to deal with and so did he but he didn’t have to hide it in the same way he did with his family. And now, as she stood in front of him in her two-sizes-too-big hoodie and sweatpants, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her and let her hold him for a minute.

“You should keep it.” He nodded gently at her after what was undoubtedly too long a pause. “It looks good on you.”

“Oooh you should wear it on your date with Greg!” Shanna announced, making her presence known as she reached up for the chocolate sauce from the top of the fridge.

“It’s not a date!” Sarah denied as quickly as Shanna had opened her mouth. If Chris had been trying to hide the flash of unease that just moved across his face, he’d failed entirely. She turned back to the Chris. “It’s just a work thing.”

Shanna’s eyebrows looked like they were about to leave her forehead in surprise. “It is definitely a date and if you wear that dress, he’ll be all over you.”

Present day...

Shanna had a knack for creating awkward moments. If Chris had focussed hard enough, he could have grabbed the sauce bottle out of her hand and thrown it at the back of her head with unnerving accuracy. Except it wouldn’t have made him feel any better from the needling feeling he was getting in his stomach, it wouldn’t have served any purpose whatsoever. It certainly wouldn’t have stopped Sarah from practically blanking him for the rest of the evening.

He knew it wasn’t a date no matter how hard Shanna had been insinuating it was. According to Lisa, the UAPD was throwing a networking event of sorts to introduce doctors in the North East to medical Reps and unionists from across the country. The website he’d looked at made it seem akin to some kind of political rally that he used to attend alongside his Uncle, filled with men and women in smart but unremarkable suits holding clipboards and throwing their contact details around like candy. It appeared, by many accounts, to be a relatively full affair. He was surprised she had agreed to go. He’d never much figured her for a “company-man”.

Chris 19.35pm: Enjoy your night. Don’t speak to any strange men.

She was probably being bored to death by one as he spoke. He hoped she’d see his message and smile and be relieved that she had the option of someone else to entertain her during the long speeches if she had wanted but after a few hours of nothing he gave up hoping and resigned himself to a long night’s rest. This was probably for the best. He was tired and had a long day ahead of him if they had any chance of catching up on the missed scenes from today, and he’d be damned if he was staying here beyond Monday night.

He enjoyed a long, long shower and brushed his teeth before climbing into bed with his iPad to read over the new sides for tomorrow’s shoot in the park.

Sarah 11.38pm: Nope starange men. Just me lol

Chris 11.44pm: Wow....are you drunk??!!

Bless her. He could imagine her and Audrey giving up the speeches and making the most of the free bar. He’ll have to make sure to invite Audrey to his next gathering.

Sarah 11.48pm: On a school night. Sssssshhhhh

Chris 11.49pm: Shame behaviour, Ms Bernette

Sarah 11.54pm: As if your’e not doing the same

Chris 11.56pm: I’ll have you know I am tucked up in bed like a good boy

Sarah 11.58pm: Thats disappppointing Christopher

He couldn’t explain the thrill he got from her using his full name. He couldn’t recall her ever using it in the years she’s known him.

Chris 12.03am: I’ll have to make up for it when I’m home ;)

Sarah 12.08am: Can’t wait to seee that. I like drunk Christopher

Drunk Christopher was a fucking idiot, he thought, and she was one of a few people who knew that better than anyone. Drunk Christopher was someone who made risky decisions and initiated impromptu dance competitions against people who would wipe the floor with him. He was someone who pulled out his cap shield without anyone having to ask, and enjoyed drinks he could set fire to. What was his excuse for being an idiot here and now? He certainly wasn’t drunk, not even remotely so, but he’d be lying if he didn’t feel slightly light-headed at the thought of Sarah wanting his attention.

Chris 12.12am: Are you wearing the dress?

Three dots quickly appeared then disappeared. A few minutes passed and he saw them again, transfixed by what might have been going through her mind, what was she wanting to say to him then thinking better of?

Sarah 12.21am: Not anymore

Fuck. He knew what he wanted to say back; he’d been at this rodeo many times before. He’d even typed out and stared at his screen before deciding against sending it. She was drunk and clearly not thinking straight, and he didn’t want her to see messages she would come to regret in the morning and push her further away from him. It wasn’t right of him to corner her, not like this. If this was something they were going to explore, they’d need to be face to face and not three sheets to the wind.

It was going to be a long week.

#chris evans #chris fic #evans fic #chris evans x original female character #clear the area #fan fiction #sarah bernette

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robronanniversarycelebration · 5 years

Text

again for the lovely @bitinglip4robert, hope you enjoy

all that i am, i give to you: five times robert has given aaron a gift plus the one time aaron has given him one

1. Coffee:

Robert’s standing there with a cup of coffee in his hand, big hands swooped to hold it tight and drum a finger or two along nicely. He stands there with a small smile on his face like something is funny and Aaron wonders if he’s the joke before Robert’s holding the coffee out towards him.

Then he’s asking to be mates and Aaron burns with this need to know why.

It’s there again and again as he stands, clipboard in hand and a motor that won’t stop squeaking whenever he comes close to it. He’s got things to be getting on with, work, something he’s quickly figured out Robert doesn’t spend a lot of time actually doing.

“I’ll think about it.” He says, he feels something for saying it, for puffing his chest out and watching Robert stare at him in that way that makes him want to use his fists.

It’s smarmy. But he’s also putting a coffee down, he’s giving Aaron something when he doesn’t need to and it feels a lot like the start of something dangerous. He knows it is, he’s been dragged through his stupid schemes and got bruised knuckles for his troubles.

But he doesn’t give him a glare, he doesn’t tell him to fuck off, do one, take his coffee and stick it anywhere he likes. He just doesn’t. Instead he stares down at it and huffs, a shadow of something rushing inside of him as he laughs and a smirk forms around his mouth.

He’s taking his gloves off when Cain comes back from wherever he’s been. He sits against one of the cars and looks over at Aaron.

“You can get off now.”

“Yeah I was going to.” Aaron scoffs before Cain frowns. “I mean yeah … cheers.” He shrugs out of his overalls, kicks them as they gather at his feet and he pulls it over his shoulder before nodding at his uncle.

“Oi. Forgot this.” Cain holds out the coffee, there’s a harsh frown on his face. “Freezing now.” He says and Aaron’s mouth forms an O as he takes it from him.

“Yeah I didn’t …”

“See you tomorrow.” Cain’s already waving him off, his back the only thing Aaron can see as the moon hangs in the air and the wind picks up that makes his teeth chatter slightly.

He feels the cold case of the coffee before walking towards the bin outside the pub, he fiddles about with taking the lid off out of curiosity. Robert looks like an Americano sort of guy, Aaron just prefers the normal kind.

There’s froth though, boiled down into hardly anything throughout the day and Aaron makes out a faint logo on the side. He recognises it as a shop his mum thinks is sophisticated enough to spend hours in once she’s done shopping in town. It’s just a coffee shop, but he’s sure they say it’s artistry with all their fancy signs and marbled tables.

Aaron shakes his head against the lengths Robert’s gone to for absolutely no reason. It travels around him for a second until he makes out an eye on the froth, and then a curve that almost makes out a smile.

He stands over the bin with a frown on his face when he hears heels and a laugh that gets his head up. He doesn’t expect to see Chrissie standing there, she’s holding on to someone. Robert. They’re walking out of the pub and Aaron’s mind immediately travels towards something. Them. Cosy night in. It’s absolutely none of his business.

He doesn’t know why Robert’s looking at him until he realises he’s still holding the cup in his head. The very full cup. Robert’s eyes flicker, a hardening to his face as Chrissie tugs at his hand obviously confused as to why they’ve slowed down.

Aaron feels this rushing need to explain himself, to tell him he was working flat out. But then Robert’s arm is around Chrissie’s even tighter than it was before and he kisses her cheek hard. She giggles, he laughs.

Aaron’s face drops and his jaw clicks tightly as he watches them walk away. He pours the coffee in the bin, Robert throws him a look over his shoulder as they get to his car.

It makes Aaron crumble the empty cup in his hand.

—

2. Dinner:

There’s candles flickering on the table and Aaron’s staring down at the cutlery, there’s four different types of spoons and he doesn’t know which one to pick up first. Robert’s looking at him when he glances up. He’s wearing a navy tie, a blush to his cheeks and his tongue showing as he bites down and smiles.

“The Dingle’s showing.”

Aaron wriggles an eyebrow, his face changing colour as a sense of something peaks between them. He brings a hand out on to the table and then pulls it away when he sees Robert’s are on his lap. “My what?”

“Just follow my lead with this lot yeah?” Robert’s voice is soft, he’s kind with it, there’s a gentleness to him and this swanky hotel he’s bought him to. He watches Robert pick up the smallest spoon and then smile. “I’ve had enough stupid dinners to know what’s what.”

Aaron thinks of Chrissie suddenly and it hits like a wave; leaves him breathless for a second as he imagines her with Robert on her arm at these stupid dinners. He feels something tighten inside him as he thinks of how easy she can be with him, show him off.

Aaron clears his throat, he brings a shake to his head when Robert swirls the small spoon in front of his face. There’s no harshness to his expressions, he leans back on his chair with ease, he smiles when he looks at Aaron.

“The Dingle’s showing.” Aaron says after a second, his face is pink. “Sounds rude.”

Robert rolls his eyes. “You and your mind.” He says before he reaches down, he takes hold of the hand Aaron’s got on his lap and he squeezes. “That’s for later yeah?”

It makes something swoop in his chest in this funny way, Robert’s voice slick and gravel like as he winks. Aaron thinks of his bag in the room, the thick cotton sheets, the way he waited with baited breath for Robert to walk through the door and make him feel alive with something.

He did, he’s doing it again now and then again when he’s ordering for them. Aaron’s having a steak, medium rare, apparently that’s what he’s going to like.

“Control freak.” Aaron says, but there’s nothing in his words, not even the smallest bite of heat when Robert looks at him. “What?” He says, because Robert won’t stop looking at him.

“Are you happy you came?” Robert says, he has a foot close to Aaron’s and he scrapes down and then up and then down again slowly. He looks bare, almost vulnerable and there’s still a charm to it that makes Aaron feel like he’s going to faint.

“Haven’t tried the food yet.” Aaron says, he shrugs slowly and Robert nods his head.

“I’ll take that.” There’s something there as he says it and Aaron feels like he’s got him, that maybe Robert’s as trapped as he is in all of this.

The food comes, Aaron tries not to wolf it down like an animal and yet Robert looks like he’s still finding him attractive. He doesn’t get it, he can’t.

“Why all this?” Aaron looks around the room, there’s couples everywhere, twinkling lights hung on windows and overlooking woodland. Robert frowns at the question like he doesn’t understand. “Fancy dinner, fancy hotel.”

“Don’t really like what the barn does for my back.” Robert says, Aaron goes to say something and he sighs. “And it’s not ‘cause I’m old.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron says, he leans back, laughs when Robert shakes his head and tells him he’s an idiot. He doesn’t feel like one now, he feels happy, he feels like this is a real or something.

Robert orders them champagne and Aaron feels light on it by the time he’s eating some sort of tart for dinner and Robert’s taking his wallet out.

“What’s that for?”

“This.” Robert says, he looks at the table and then frowns. “What’s with the face?”

“You don’t need to … pay.” Aaron says, he sobers slightly at the realisation that he can’t afford to cover this himself. He blushes and runs a hand across his face. “Robert, you’re already paying for the pissin’ room.” He leans over the table and Robert shakes his head.

“Yeah and you’ll repay me.” Robert leans over. “In bed.” He says, and Aaron’s legs are like jelly around it until Robert sighs. “I’m not letting you pay alright.”

“Chrissie doesn’t pay either right?” Aaron bounces his knee when Robert’s face falls like it always does when she’s mentioned. Like Chrissie is someone who they don’t mention, like Robert doesn’t smell like her sometimes when he first embraces Aaron. He know it’s something that will get his attention, comparing them, putting on the same level as if they are. “I ain’t your husband. This ain’t … I can pay my way.”

And it would be easier that way, if they didn’t do this, if they didn’t stare at each other at a candle lit table and look so happy being around each other. It would be easier if they split things when ever ate, if Aaron said he wasn’t hungry in the first place and just fucked him in a hotel room for an hour and then pissed off.

It would be easier, easier and easier than *this.

Robert gulps hard, he knows, he must know. He brings himself closer by scrapping his chair and Aaron feels him almost everywhere. “Let me do this for you.” Aaron looks up, sighs. “It ain’t about money, it’s about being with you. Idiot.”

Aaron blinks back something. “Impressing me more like.” He kicks his leg against his chair and Robert looks flushed with something.

“Something like that.”

Aaron brings his teeth over his bottom lip and tugs as Robert looks at him with heavy green eyes.

“You wear a suit next time, pay me back that way.”

“A suit?” Aaron pulls a face and leans back in his chair, tart forgotten about as he smiles weakly. “Easy to please.”

Robert shrugs. “Maybe when it comes to you.” He calls for a waiter to come towards the table and then looks back at Aaron. “Should we get a couple of beers bought up to the room n’all. We can catch those football highlights you wanted?”

It’s that, it’s a just a smile and a promise of wanting something more, this feeling, this buzz between them to continue. It’s Robert asking, waiting. It’s Aaron nodding his head, wanting nothing more.

“Good.” Robert whispers, and Aaron gulps hard under his stare until they’re in the lift and Robert’s fingers skate close to his in this anticipation or kindness or something.

Aaron is definitely sure Robert has no idea what he does to him.

—

3. Grapes:

Aaron’s eyes open to the smell of the room, clinical and strong and matching the way the white walls close in on him. He closes his eyes almost as quickly as he opened them before twisting at his lip and scrapping the skin back and forth.

There’s a steady beat of something next to him and he turns to see the monitor, turns back to look down at his leg and then up towards the ceiling again. He gulps down something thick, this thumping that won’t stop until he hears the door pull.

He watches a nurse walk in and he mumbles something about whether his mum is still around or not. She’s gone home, she’s getting rest and apparently he should be doing the same. But he doesn’t want that, he wants to forget any of this sad tragic thing happened, he wants the pity in his mum’s eyes to die away into nothing at all.

He’s sick of that, of this, of laying in a hospital bed and being told people love him.

When he opens his eyes again there’s someone over him, he shuffles slightly and then tries to sit up but they have a hand on his shoulder, they say don’t.

Aaron looks up, knows that voice and feels light for a second, “Rob?”

“Yeah.” Robert says, he smiles weakly and then gulps hard enough for Aaron to hear. He looks nervous, there’s his hand still on Aaron’s shoulder and he squeezes for a second before slowly pulling away and sitting awkwardly on the bed. “How’s the leg?”

Aaron remembers him last night, the way he hardly looked at him. He was tightly coiled and jumpy and now he doesn’t seem that way at all. He has this energy to him, Aaron almost wants to hate him for it. He doesn’t, he can’t.

“How’s Chrissie?”

Robert’s jaw locks in place for a second, he shakes his head and sighs. “Don’t.”

Aaron wills himself to not be as open and placid as he was last night, he nods his head. “She enjoy her takeaway? Sweet and sour or —“

Robert looks up at him. “I came here for you.” He says, his face is flushed pink and Aaron tries to stay strong against any of his dramatics. He loves him, he fucking knows he loves him but that doesn’t mean he has to like him right about now. No. He really doesn’t.

“To shut me up about my mum?”

Robert’s eyes flicker like mad and then he looks down at Aaron’s hand, there’s a few cuts from the fall and a bruise forming over one of his knuckles. “To see if you were better.”

“Better?” Aaron nods slowly.

Robert breathes in. “You can’t do that again Aaron, you can’t … do that to yourself.” And Aaron has to look away at that, has to fight this thing inside him that’s telling him to reach out. “You’ll end up dead.”

Aaron looks at him at that, he’s shaking his head, his green eyes are filled with something beyond anger, beyond determination to make Aaron listen.

“I couldn’t …” Robert hesitates. “You know I couldn’t.”

There’s Robert beaten and bloody and he’s saying things, he’s saying he couldn’t handle it if something happened, that Chrissie isn’t enough. He’s saying three words, he’s really saying them.

“I know.” Aaron says, because he does. He didn’t spend days and days in his bed without figuring out that Robert does love him. He’s seen that, and he’s seen this and he can’t breathe against how unfair it is that he can’t have him all. “I won’t go running again, not like that.”

Robert’s eyes flicker. “Promise me?”

Aaron thinks it’s rich, he thinks he shouldn’t be promising Robert anything when he can’t do the same in return. He can’t promise to leave Chrissie. He can’t promise that and Aaron’s got to get his head around that being fine somehow.

“I said didn’t I?” Aaron says, he has a hand down flat on the bed and he blinks slowly as Robert watches him in silence.

“You scared me.” Robert says, shows. He brings his hand over Aaron’s and looks down for a second. Aaron sees himself in him, hesitant, unsure of how to go about showing.

“I know.” Aaron says. “I heard you … yesterday. Your voice.” He was scared, he was panicked and breathless and squeezing his coat down on him. “Coat smelt like you n’all.”

Robert looks up. “It was mine.”

Aaron smiles. “Yeah I know, idiot.” He bites his lip and then strokes a thumb over Robert’s hand, watches him breathe out. “It weren’t your fault.”

And maybe Robert will always think everything Aaron does, all the scary tragic things are down to him. He nods out like he knows it wasn’t and Aaron sees if it meets his eyes. He moves down and then picks something up from the floor, a bag of something and Aaron frowns.

“What’s …”

“Grapes.” Robert looks hesitant as he puts the bag on the bed. “For the patient.” He takes one and then turns the bag towards Aaron. He looks almost so innocent it’s a joke, he smiles for a second like he’s unsure of himself and Aaron’s balled over by this shock, surprise, love. “What?”

Aaron shakes his head. “Nothing.” He mumbles. “Stay with me to eat some or … have you got to …” Robert looks down at his phone and Aaron’s heart thumps.

“No. I’m good. I’ll stay.”

Aaron smiles weakly.

—

4. Canvas:

Aaron walks in to his bedroom, kicks the door open and huffs as he sees Robert sitting on the bed. He’s looking around the place and Aaron can’t help but wonder if he’s remembering times were they’ve been here together. It makes the corners of his mouth rise before the pressure of the box becomes too much and he drops it lightly.

“You going to just let me do all the work?” Aaron says, his face is bright red as he swings the door open and gets another one of Robert’s boxes. He practically kicks it into the room and that’s when Robert looks his way. “Oh now I’ve got your attention.”

“I’ve got a laptop in one of them boxes.” Robert sits up, he’s for a soft look on his face and he smiles when Aaron rolls his eyes. “Come here.”

“We’ve already been doing a lot of stuff where you’re sitting.” Aaron says, he bends down to start un-boxing and looks up to Robert crowding his space slightly.

“Well, we can do something against the wall if …”

Aaron swots his hand away when he reaches down but Robert grabs it, face bright and light as he slowly crouches and looks at Aaron with wide heavy eyes. He looks so in love with him and Aaron feels something swoop through his chest at the sight.

“Give me a kiss.” Robert says, gentle and yet still laced with his confidence, his charm, his stupid fucking charm.

Aaron tuts. “I’m helping you move in mate, you give me one.” He mumbles, and Aaron feels him close in around him until his mouth is stretched over his and Robert’s hand is firmly pressed towards the back of Aaron’s neck. He smiles, deep, light and Aaron can only bring himself to push off when he hears Liv on the stairs.

He’s a little breathless, and Robert smirks because of it until Aaron’s telling him to unpack.

“Someone’s eager.” Robert says, he brings his tongue out a little and bites down before Aaron turns bright red.

He is, he’s so eager and it claws through him at such a rate he feels dizzy. Dizzy and stupid and scared for wanting this so much.

“I said didn’t I? Need to keep an eye on ya.” Aaron says, head dipped as he starts opening boxes and watching Robert bring out ties and shirts and folding them nicely. “Where’s all this going then?”

Robert frowns for a second.

“Not in my wardrobe.” Aaron says, he makes the point of crossing his arms over too and he has Robert fooled for a second before he breaks, smiles and Robert has him sprawled out on the floor and laughing.

For a second he feels like a kid again, happy because there’s not anything to be unhappy about. It makes his heart thump hard, again and again as he realises where he is. The dark walls and the silence of this room and what it felt like to be here years ago.

It didn’t know laughter like this, it didn’t know love like this either.

“You’re an idiot.” Robert says, he’s got Aaron pinned down still and he shakes his head lightly as Aaron frowns at him.

“An idiot you’re moving in with.”

Robert pulls a face. “Free pints.” He says before Aaron lifts his knee up like he’s going to kick and he rolls off him laughing.

Aaron sits beside him on the floor, back against the bed frame as he watches Robert look around the room again.

“What you staring at?”

“Feels different.” Robert brings his knees tight up towards his chest and breathes in. “Being here, properly.”

Aaron closes his eyes, hears one knock and then pulling and tugging and locking the door. He sees fumbling on the bed, mouths covered by hands and moans tight around thrusts.

He remembers belts and zippers and the promise of soon. He remembers Robert still on his pillow, his smell staying even when he couldn’t.

“Don’t need to sneak out.” Aaron says, mumbled as he speaks into the arm he’s for over his chest. “Hmm?” He looks towards Robert, shoves him lightly and then slowly strokes Robert’s hand with a finger.

“It’s for real.” Robert’s eyes are wide, like it’s only just dawned on him really and Aaron itches with the way he looks. They’ve done all the christening the bed all morning, making as much noise as they want as they did the same in the shower. Now it’s just the boring bits. Now Robert looks like he wants to be sick.

“Yeah.” Aaron says. He pulls his hand away and Robert looks at him.

“I’m not saying it’s bad. Of course I’m not.” Robert says, as if he’s read Aaron’s mind or something.

“You’re having second …”

“No.” Robert says. “It’s scary but …”

Aaron takes a chance, figures maybe for once they’re on the same page. “Good kind of scary?”

Robert nods gently. “Yeah. The good kind.” He nods again. “Promise.” He has Aaron’s hand against his thigh and he squeezes down before there’s a knock at the door.

Liv’s holding a box and telling one of them to grab it before she smashes whatever’s inside.

“What is it? God, how much stuff did you have ‘round Vic’s in that poxy …”

“Open it.”

Aaron frowns, Robert nods slowly and then he’s watching Aaron closely as he rips it open and sees a picture inside. It’s a canvas, lights flickered and blown across a setting.

“Thought we could … just a bit of art of something.” Robert shrugs, his hands are waving around and then fall into his hair. “Just something that’s ours, together.”

Aaron studies the picture again, “Looks like a wooden … you know by the beach or something.”

“You like beaches.” Robert smiles weakly and Aaron feels his heart thump hard in his chest again and again. “So I thought …”

Aaron looks up at him, eyes wet suddenly and he holds his face tight as he kisses him. Robert’s head tilts back from the impact and Aaron has his hands stroking gently over his face before he pulls back.

“Ours.” Aaron mumbles, and it still feels alien to him, this security they have with each other, this safety.

“Yeah.” Robert stares at the canvas, and back at Aaron. He smiles and kisses him again and Aaron strokes over the picture lightly.

He still looks up at it in bed that night, Robert’s hung it high up over the bed.

“Ours.” Aaron mumbles, face cushioned into Aaron’s chest as he kisses his skin lightly and pulls the covers over them tighter.

–

5. Ring:

There’s silence drawing out between them and Aaron doesn’t mind laying back against it. He doesn’t want to chase it, he wants to let it simmer and fade out altogether.

He won’t rush a single second now.

Robert’s asleep again, face buried into the bed and hands raised up and laced into Aaron’s tightly. He’s exhausted and Aaron knows it, he feels what Robert feels since he was under water, losing his breath. The thought is enough to shake him slightly and so he looks at his hand and it settles him. There’s a ring there, thick and silver and shiny and his. It’s his and so is Robert.

Aaron can’t help but bring his head down, kiss lightly at Robert’s hair and keep himself there until he’s feeling his fiancé start to stir underneath him. He’s almost panicked as he gets up, face red and eyes wide.

“You OK?”

“Course.” Aaron whispers. “You ain’t.” His eyes flicker down towards Robert’s eyes and looks into them deeply. “You didn’t need to come back.”

But he did, with stories of Charity calling them Suggle or something like that and a bag of grapes just to make Aaron smile.

“Where else would I be?” Robert says, he holds their hands together and strokes gently until Aaron feels tears swell in his eyes almost uncontrollably. “Aaron?”

“I’m sorry.” Aaron says, he brings his hands out of the hold and tightly cups Robert’s face. “I just want you to know …”

“I do.” Robert sniffs. “Why else do you think I stayed with you?”

Aaron tuts, there’s a line, there’s this wall and he can’t bring himself to cross it when Robert even tries to bring up what could have been.

“I love you.” Robert whispers. “And we’re OK. Aren’t we?” Aaron nods his head, feels small circles gently form in his thigh. “We’re getting married.” He sounds like a child, he sounds like someone who’s so happy they could burst.

Aaron’s done that, he’s done that and he can’t explain how light it makes him feel. He smiles, teeth showing and hands shaking and everything moving at such a slow and gentle beat between them.

“You want to marry me.” Aaron says. It’s a fact, it’s certain. It forms in Aaron’s mouth and dies as soon as he says it, as soon as Robert scoffs.

“Sort of the plan, yeah.”

“I want to marry you.” Aaron says, his voice is strong and soft at the same time and it catches Robert’s attention enough for his head to rise slowly.

“Must be why you said yes … twice.”

The twice makes something catch in Aaron’s throat, this feeling that when he was completely out of it all he still wanted to do was tell Robert he wanted to marry him.

“Wanted to for a while.” He admits, because they’re getting married now, because he feels safe in laying everything bare whilst Robert holds his hand in this stupid hospital room. “Thought it’d be too fast though, you’d hate the idea.”

“As if.” Robert says. “As if I could ever.” He whispers, words slow and settled in his voice.

“Even with your track record.”

“Yeah well, there was this annoying idiot who was all stuck in my head through my last marriage so.” Robert dips his head and Aaron looks down at his ring, he can’t help it.

“You got us rings.” Aaron’s saying, he’s sure he’s still a little out of it and the fact that he’s got engaged on top of everything else is enough to make him do this.

“You just stating the obvious yeah?”

Aaron nods. “They’re so cool.” Robert laughs, hearty and deep. “What? They’re mint.”

“Glad you approve.” Robert says, “Glad I jumped back in for it now.”

Aaron’s face falls, a frown curving against his face as Robert tells him it’s nothing. “Don’t lie to me.” He says. “You … went back?”

Robert tilts his head slightly. “I left it.” Aaron shakes his head. “The car was going to sink, what else could I …”

“Not risk sinking with it.” Aaron feels himself getting worked up, he pulls his hand away and they shake slightly before he breathes out. “You’re mad.”

Robert blinks. “I wanted … I just wanted to propose.” He says, he looks almost lost in the idea as he speaks. “Properly. I just wanted to give you the ring and …”

Aaron sniffs, raises his hand. “You gave me a ring.” He says, heart thudding slower now as Robert nods gently, smiles. “Don’t ever be so stupid again but … you gave me a ring.”

Robert’s eyes water. “Shut up and come here.” He says, and Aaron leans down into a kiss, a steady gentle one that rises slightly as Aaron’s hands fall over the curve of Robert’s shoulders. He leans away, smiles. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” Aaron says. “Could have been more …” he tries, tries to tease or say something that’ll annoy Robert but he almost can’t. There’s absolutely no point and he only kisses him again. “It’s perfect.”

Robert’s almost like jelly as he leans back on his chair and smiles. “So are you.”

Aaron bites his lip. “If we keep this up I might be sick.” He says, and he’s back in the room and Robert calls him an idiot.

He looks down at his ring, his engagement ring given to him by his fiance. Aaron’s never been so happy in his life.

—

+ 1 (Inscriptions)

Robert wakes up to the sound of rain hitting the window lightly, just enough to make him stir and roll himself closer to Aaron. He’s a warm heavy weight against him and he nuzzles gently before opening his eyes to the expanse of his chest creeping down towards his stomach.

His blue pyjama top is curled upwards revealing soft skin and making Robert’s eyes wander slightly as they blink open. He catches him completely, finds something inside him swirl as Aaron wakes up.

There’s blue eyes and the sound of a beard being scratched before Aaron yawns down, kisses lightly at Robert’s head and squeezes him in tighter. He has a hand in Robert’s hair a second later and Robert’s hand hangs gently over Aaron’s middle as they breathe slowly and hear the wind whistling outside.

“Weather’s shit.” Aaron tuts, his legs stretch and bend under the covers and Robert chuckles heartily.

“You planning on doing anything today.” Robert says, he places his hand on Aaron’s chest just to feel and then Aaron’s blinking down at him.

“Maybe.” Aaron shrugs. “Maybe today’s important … maybe it isn’t.”

Robert looks up at him, he tilts his head and his chin nearly buts against Aaron’s. “Maybe we didn’t get married a year ago … maybe we did.” Aaron scoffs. “That’s how stupid you sounded.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, lifts Robert’s face up to bring him in to a kiss and it lasts, feels deep and loving and Aaron only pulls away to smile.

“Stay here.” Aaron says, he pulls the covers off and stands on the side of the bed yanking socks on and making Robert have to stare at him in just a pair of boxers.

“This is torture.” Robert says, he kneels on the bed and tries to lean forward but Aaron’s already heading towards the door.

“I’ll be back. Trust me.” He’s out the door and down the stairs before Robert can reply. He thinks of him bringing back a present of the kinky kind and them really starting this day off correctly but he doesn’t.

Robert waits, lays back on Aaron’s side of the bed and plays around on his phone until he’s curling back into a small ball and his eyes close shut. They only open again when Aaron’s between his legs and giving him a really lovely good morning.

“Aaron.” Robert’s whole body jolts as he keeps Aaron’s head firmly in place and only pulls his hands away when they’re curled up against the sheets and Aaron’s coming up for air. “That was very nice, husband dearest.”

Aaron gives this little shrug like the compliment didn’t mean anything when Robert knows it did. He scoots off, hands falling over Robert’s face as he kisses his forehead lightly and looks towards the bedside table.

“Made you a fry up too.”

Robert’s eyebrow arches. “You’re spoiling me here.” He says, there’s something lodged in his throat and it doesn’t move. “I don’t deserve …”

Aaron doesn’t let him say absolutely anything else, instead he holds his face gently and brings his forehead towards Robert’s. “None of that today.”

“Reality.”

Aaron rolls his eyes gently, he pulls himself up on to Robert’s lap and tilts his head towards him so Robert’s listening. “Me and you … that’s happening, that’s real. So was our wedding. This time last year I was …” He chokes, Robert squeezes his thigh and watches. “I couldn’t wait to marry ya.”

Robert nods, it doesn’t feel like a whole year ago, he doesn’t understand where the time has gone. “Same here.” He says. “Again.” He smiles, teeth and lines around his mouth and Aaron looks like he’s about to melt from it.

“No disasters. No arrests.” Aaron gently peels himself off of Robert and gets in to the empty side of the bed before passing Robert his breakfast. “Just me and you.”

Aaron leans over to steal a slice of toast laid out on the side of the plate and Robert watches him with gentle eyes.

“What?” Aaron’s got a mouthful of toast and his eyes still look sleepy and yet he’s still absolutely beautiful. It makes something thump and bump around in Robert’s chest.

“Happy anniversary.” Robert says, “First anniversary.” There’s something in his voice, he doesn’t quite know what it is but Aaron hears it and brings himself forward into a kiss again.

“Happy anniversary.” Aaron says. They sit in silence for a while, the sound of the weather outside filling the room until he’s taking the plate away from Robert and climbing on top of him. “This is worth celebrating properly right?”

Robert nods, body already stretched under the covers in anticipation as Aaron leans down and starts moving his hands over him.

It’s almost midday by the time they actually get out of bed. The weather has cleared up a little and Aaron’s taken him to the make shift rotunda in the village.

“God, feels weird.” Robert says, hand on a beam and a shake to his head. He turns, sees that Aaron’s smirking like an absolute child. “What have you done?”

And really it’s the sweetest thing. Aaron grabs for Robert’s hand and points to where he’s inscribed an A and R in the woodwork around the back of the beams.

“You’re …”

“Romantic?” Aaron elbows him gently, waves a hand out and then Robert holds at his waist and feels Aaron lean back into him.

“I was going to say … a kid.” Aaron goes to pull away playfully and Robert locks him against him tighter and leans towards his ear. “It’s perfect.” He mumbles.

Aaron turns to him. “It’s for you.” He says, shrugs gently like he’s almost embarrassed and Robert will never understand how he worries, how he still worries about not being good enough. He’s everything, annoyingly always has been and Robert wills him to see it all. “I know we said … we weren’t … presents wise, we wouldn’t do anything. I know it’s shit …”

“Well you do know I love you committing crimes so.” Robert shrugs and the air feels light, the clouds seem to part around them and the sun pokes in to make Aaron’s face glow.

“Yeah. Weird that.” Aaron says, he laughs and the sound makes Robert smile instantly.

“It is how I met you, stealing my car.”

Aaron pulls a face. “Didn’t actually steal it though.” He mumbles before Robert spins him around and kisses him gently and then hard enough for Aaron’s head tilts back. “God, petty crime really is our thing.” He whispers against Robert’s lips.

“Yeah. Like our song.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, pushes at Robert’s chest as if he knows what’s coming. It’s Robert, soft hands over Aaron’s waist and a blush to his cheeks asking him to dance with him.

“It’s freezing.”

“Sun’s coming out.” Robert says, he’s holding Aaron already and he won’t be letting go anytime soon. “Come on, for me. There’s no one else around.” The whole village is almost still asleep and it feels like it did the night they got back together, no one but then in the whole world.

Aaron relents, of course he relents and it only takes a minute or so before his head is tilted right down on Robert’s shoulder and he’s swaying with his husband.

“This … count this as your gift too.”

Robert kisses his head lightly and pulls away as they sway. “Yours is whatever you want tonight for tea.”

“Could have stopped at tonight.”

“OK then.” Robert laughs. “Whatever you want tonight. From me. In our bed.”

Aaron nuzzles closer and strokes a hand slowly down Robert’s back. “That’s better.” He says.

Robert thinks of running Aaron a bath, giving him a massage and sticking on Fast and Furious 25 or whatever for him tonight. He thinks of the card he’s got stuck in his drawer and the one he’s seen Liv write out for them placed neatly on the coffee table. He thinks and thinks.

“Aaron.”

“Hmm?” Aaron mumbles, and he stops swaying as the silence drags out. He peels his head up and looks at his husband.

“Whatever happens …” it’s that, it gets stuck in Robert’s throat and he feels like a coward for not being able to get it out before Aaron’s bringing him in to this fierce hug.

“I love you, I love you.” Aaron must say it at least five times, Robert’s head is buried into his chest and he has a hand anchored in place on the back of Robert’s head as he holds him.

Robert pulls back, sniffs as his face reddening and he absolutely hates himself for doing this to him, for making Aaron cry on their flipping wedding anniversary. “I’m sorry.” He says, wipes his eyes.

Aaron bites his lip, steadies himself and then sniffs. “Remember Seb in the little suit?” He whispers. It makes Robert smile instantly.

“He just wouldn’t keep that hat on.”

“Yeah, ‘course. He was only a baby.” Aaron laughs, “Still cute though.” He says before Robert holds at his hand and brings them back to where Aaron’s put their names. Aaron leans his head down into Robert’s shoulder again and holds his arm tightly.

“You reckon people will realise?”

“Yeah.” Aaron says. “Who else were cool enough to get married here hmm?” He puffs his chest out and makes Robert laugh again. “Come on, let’s go home, this day’s about celebrating yeah?”

Robert holds his hand home, watches Aaron unlock the door to theirs. “Celebrating is code for …”

Aaron’s already jumping on him as soon as the front door is shut.

#robron anniversary celebration #robron anniversary 2019 #bitinglip4robert #robron #(2)

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beautifulletdownfics · 5 years

Text

‘someday, someday’ :: tumblr edition, #21

I woke up to Harry.

"What are you—

"Shhh," He interrupted my sleepy confusion, his arms were digging under my body and pulling me out from the back of the sofa I had been sleeping on, "Just hang on a minute ..."

He leaned over me slowly and lodged himself between the back of the sofa and my body, his arms tightly holding around the duvet I was burritoed in. I very much felt like I was about to fall onto the floor and an involuntary yelp escaped me to express the thought. The jolting movement caused an unpleasant rush through my head pointing to the hangover brewing.

"I've got you," Harry reassured me, straightening up and pulling me even closer against his chest. He wiggled his legs slightly to sandwich mine and help us both to sit snuggly. Flashes of our intimate moments the night before rose in my mind as Harry’s cologne triggered a vivid memory. His hands now were soft and gentle but my mind remembered them searching my body lustfully and I couldn’t stop the way my heart started racing from the memory.

"Your hair is wet," I told him dumbly, feeling the cold wetness from a stray lock stick to my cheek.

"I had a shower." "Here?" I frowned, Harry hadn't been here when the girls and I had arrived back at my house sometime around four in the morning.

"No," I could feel him smiling as he pressed his lips to my forehead, "I showered at home and came straight here to make sure you survived the night.”

I turned my head up to meet his, grinning back at him when he seemed surprised by the movement. I went straight for his lips, wanting to feel the same sensation of glorious mindlessness that I had kissing him last night. Harry hummed against me and quickly deepened the kiss, dragging a hand up my back to hold the back on my head. The material of the knitted jumper he was wearing scratched my cheek and I smiled against him when he flipped one of his legs over both of mine to trap me further. Just when my body was starting to get into the rhythm of the kiss Harry slowly pulled back from it. His lips found my chin and my nose and then the side of my mouth before he stopped completely and just looked at me.

He didn’t say anything for a few beats, "That was very nice. How was the rest of your night last night? What did I miss?”

I pressed my pointer finger to his chin, inspecting the way his lips were pinker from having kissed me, “I think I have a bruise on my leg from a bar stool.”

Harry’s laugh exploded out of him before even he could contain it and I lowered my hands back between us against his warm chest to snuggle down in the cuddle, “What on earth did you get up to with a bar stool? Should I be jealous?”

“We ended up at a karaoke bar and Bel needed a boost up onto a stool but she fell off and it crashed into my leg. She has an egg on her head.”

“Jesus Christ, is she okay?” Harry’s chest was shaking with laughter.

“She’s mad she messed up the lyrics to Life for Rent.”

Harry nearly snorted when a deeper laugh overtook him and he settled into a long, deep laugh, “She picked a Dido song?”

I was grinning at the way Harry could hardly get the words out. I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to be the one causing this bubbling of joy from him but I loved every second of it. I closed my eyes and settled into the feeling of being held and tried to forget the headache swirling around my head.

“Life for Rent is actually a beautiful song,” I defended quietly.

“It it,” Harry agreed, “It’s just so left of centre. I was surprised ... I needed that laugh, thank you.”

"My pleasure, but if my leg needs to be amputated, boy, are you going to be sorry your initial reaction was laughter."

"Didn't think I'd ever see a day I could say Nina Lawrence was being over-dramatic," Harry said dryly.

"You've unleashed a monster."

“Sounds like you had a fun night?" He asked quietly, his lips moving against my check, "What time did you get in?"

My mind was running at a million miles from Harry being so close and stumbled on my answer, "I did. Somewhere around four I think."

"And you're a good host so you've let them take your bed?" He asked, referring to the girls.

Yes, but I wish I’d taken you up on the offer to stay in yours last night.

"Four in the bed was a bit too much." I confirmed.

"You looked very cosy out here, I wasn't going to join you but I found I couldn't resist."

"I wasn't expecting you this morning," I said, broaching the topic of why Harry was at my house.

He'd surprised me last night when he stayed with my family after my performance at Royal Albert Hall until midnight. Eventually he’d whispered in my ear he needed to leave if he was going to be able to sing properly today. In the excitement of my performance I had forgotten he had his own to think about.

Soon after I ended up going out with the girls, who were keen to have one last dance in London before going back home up North. I wasn’t complaining about him being here this morning, but I thought we had our Christmas farewell the night before.

Up against Harry’s car. For about twenty minutes.

"I'm here to sneak you out for a quick breakfast before the others wake up,” He said, and I felt myself blush at what I had been remembering from the night before, “I was thinking about it last night after I got home and I just kind of decided I wasn’t particularly happy with not seeing you this morning when if I was organised I definitely could.”

Harry’s fingers were drawing distracting circles on my back and feeling the vibrations from his voice as he spoke from having my head pressed against his chest only made it all feel a special kind of intimate.

A lovely warm feeling filled me at his words. If seeing him hold his own with my family and friends last night wasn't already enough to reassure me of Harry fitting in my world surely seeing the effort he put into getting to spend time with me was convincing enough. If only the dirty voices of doubt in me could see that.

I hadn't said anything, Harry squeezed me slightly, "Can I have one more date before you leave?"

"'Course you can," I mumbled back, dragging my hands up and tugging at the neck of his jumper.

"A true gentlemen would have come over and cooked breakfast for all of you ... My compromise is that we bring breakfast back for the girls, what time do you think they'll wake up?."

"They won't surface before midday. The train we’re getting is at 1:30.”

"Great, we have plenty of time then ... On a scale of one to ten how much does <i>your</i> head hurt right now?"

"A four but growing."

"You need some food. And fresh air," Harry said decisively, "A green juice and some breakfast and you'll be good as new."

At the thought of getting up a heavy weariness fell over me, "Or we could just stay like this all day."

Harry hummed into my hairline and squeezed his arms around me again, "Very tempting. But I'm actually extremely hungry, I went for a run earlier."

"Earlier?" I groaned, "What could be earlier than this?"

Harry laughed and without any warning sat up, keeping his hold on me and forcing me upright as well.

"Wait," I protested meekly, needing a moment to take stock of exactly how bad I was feeling.

"Are you going to vomit? Should I be worried about alcohol poisoning?"

I hit his arm lightly, "No, just give me some warning next time."

Harry gave me ten minutes to creep around upstairs and get myself decent for breakfast. It required sneaking into my room for a change of clothes, the three lumps that were Isobel, Sam, and Georgie taking up all of my bed didn't make a sound or movement while I did so. Still, I scrawled out a note for them at left it on top of Sam's phone where it was charging.

Harry had waited for me on the sofa, and when he heard me coming down the stairs he met me at the bottom of them, all rugged up in this coat and a scarf. I followed him out the door, sneaking a look at his bum in the trendy, loose blue jeans he was wearing. He looked fantastic.

Harry grabbed for my hand when outside I started walking towards his car, "Nope, this way," he corrected, tugging me towards him and starting to walk in the opposite direction down my street, "I Googled, there's a nice looking place just around the corner. I thought we could just walk there?"

"You're a man with a plan," I commented, swinging our joined hands between us.

"I'd hate you to think I don't have my shit together," Harry quipped back, "Besides which, I take you and breakfast very seriously."

Oh boy.

"My brain can't decide yet if food sounds good or bad," I groaned, pulling my sunglasses down from the top of my head. The wintery London chill was in the air but we were being graced with an uncharacteristic sunny morning.

The cafe Harry had in mind was a little busy, but Harry walked in with purpose, asking for a table for two of us. We ended up tucked into a corner, Harry sat with his back to the window and immediately opened the menu reminding me not for the first time just how hungry he was.

I didn’t spend a lot of time looking at the menu, the third thing on the breakfast list was ricotta pancakes with strawberries. I didn’t need to see any further options.

Harry deliberated over two or three options however, looking crestfallen when the waitress came over and he had to make a final decision. He was trying to avoid dairy for the day to help with his voice.

Once I ordered food with a coffee he pointed to the menu and said “I’ll have this one. With bacon,” a small frown, “And mushrooms.”

He also ordered two green juices, promising me it would help with the thudding in my head.

“Is an OJ not good enough?” I lamented after the waitress left.

Harry grinned at me, “You’re a precious drunk.”

“I am not still drunk,” I defended quickly, taking my sunglasses off my head and putting them on top of my phone on the table.

“Precious hungover then,” He edited warmly. "I really like your family and friends. Last night was great.”

“I thought so to. Although they’re all a bit mad too,” I cringed remembering Bel and Georgie singing a very, very old One Direction song at Harry last night at the hotel. Tequila shots made them quite musical.

As if he knew the moment I was thinking of, Harry spoke up, ”I liked it, it was fun. If I was a plumber they’d have made sewerage jokes all night. It’s okay. I can take it.”

"They all went easy on us, trust me,” I was thinking of all the times my mum made eyes at me throughout the night when she’d caught Harry watching me or being sweet in some way.

"I'm looking forward to getting to the stage where they don't. Hopefully."

He was fishing for reassurance, I smiled and squinted at him, knowing he knew what I was going to say but it was important I said it anyway, "They all love you, don't worry."

Harry's smile brightened and his eyes locked on mine, “I like this ... You never used to make eye contact, it would drive me mad.”

My friends forgotten, suddenly I felt I was under his scrutiny, his attention wafting from one line of conversation to another without warning, "What?"

"You'd look at my chin or my nose, and if we made eye contact you'd look away so quickly it was as though it never happened. It drove me crazy."

I winced, "I can't imagine why you bothered persisting. Sorry."

“I could tell you, but I’m not sure your hangover can weather how sappy I’d get,” Harry said, saved by the bell that was our drinks being brought over to the table.

I was sure the waitress had heard the last of the conversation though, and felt her looking between us knowingly. I felt my face heat and when I chanced a glance across to Harry he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

“Are you still buzzing from last night?” Harry asked when we were alone again.

“Yeah,” I smiled at him, “But the better question is are you excited for your performance tonight?”

“I am” Harry provided carefully, adding a perfectly measured spoonful of sugar to his black coffee and stirring it through.

“But?” I prompted

“I’m a little nervous,” He admitted. “I always am when it’s a telly thing, they’re always a bit awkward. Singing to a camera and then an audience that’s not really into it … It feels like work where proper live shows don’t really. But it will be nice to be back up on stage with the lads.”

I nodded at him diplomatically, “A healthy dose of nerves is a good thing I’ve been told, means you don’t take it for granted.”

“You’re telling me even Protégés even get nervous?”

“Are you ever going to drop that?” I groaned.

“Nope.” He said easily.

“I was shitting myself before last night … I’ve never been good at the ‘healthy dose’ part of that,” I said with a slow smile.

Harry’s face dropped just a touch, but I hadn’t meant to berate him in any way. It had served as a reminder of something to him though and I watched him struggle with what to say next. I decided to rescue him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” He answered immediately, looking painfully earnest.

“You were so kind to me, right from before I even realised you knew I existed …” I paused, not know how to ask the actual question part, Harry watched me carefully, “Why?”

Some part of him relaxed slightly, “I’d like to think I’m kind to pretty much everyone. It’s the default, my mum would always tell us that when we were kids: Being kind should be your default setting.”

“And what about if someone is a jerk?”

Harry’s smile returned, “Kill them with kindness.”

“What about if someone is kind of standoffish and disinterested in even a pleasant, casual social interaction? What if they barely give you the time of day to be kind?”

“Are you referring to yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“Wear them down until they date you.”

Now I was left without knowing what to say, and my shock evidently played out in my expression because Harry watched me carefully but smiled at whatever he saw. He’d won that discussion by being honest and I could see Harry knew he had me.

“Nina it was never about polite kindness with you.”

Our food had arrived and the smell of sweet, warm pancakes made my stomach rumble with delight, “What does that mean?” I asked, waiting a moment before taking my first bite. It was delicious.

“I’d heard Rodger and Max talk about you well before I met you. They’re nuts about you and the way Rodger would speak about you used to annoy me, if I’m honest. Early on he corrected my assumption he had a thing for you, I think I told him to just hurry up and marry you already,” Harry shook his head at himself, “I used to think ‘if she’s so bloody great how come she never comes to anything’. I started joking that you didn’t really exist, that everyone had invented you as a wind up.”

“You did?”

Harry was laughing at the memory, “I did. Then I left my hat at your place and Rodger told me you would be home to give it to me.” “I’d forgotten about that,” I said, “I always think Rodger’s party was the first time we met.”

“That hurts,” Harry feigns a pain over his heard, “Standing outside your house feeling as though I’d been stabbed in the heart or I was about to throw up is one of my most memorable moments.”

I winced, “What a memory.”

“The second I saw you I was done for, Nina." He said slowly, his expression sincere but cautious as though he was treading carefully with his words, "I’d had all this build up from everyone about about how incredible you were that as soon as I saw you I got a crush ten feet tall and as wide as the sea ... Everyone had failed to mention you were gorgeous too.”

I knew I was bright red, but I could see Harry wasn’t going to save me from my embarrassment, he held eye contact and waited for me to stop internally protesting what he had said. Hearing that Harry's attraction had been so instantaneous both reassured me and had me feeling guilty, it had taken me weeks to get to that point.

"I should really start paying Rodger for whatever he's saying about me."

Harry laughed and nodded, "You really should ... I wasn't just being nice for the sake of it, Nina. I wanted you to like me as much as I liked you. I had that fun but soul destroying feeling where you're so into someone it's addictive and you just want to see them again. It was so annoying not get enough time with you on your own—I’m sounding like a maniac right now, I know,” He hurried, “But I’d find myself so pissed off at Rodger speaking over you or Max jumping in to save you from having to answer. I knew if I just had the time with you alone you’d open up more. I hated that every time I saw you it was coincidental, I just wanted to get to the point where I could plan when I'd get to see you next on my own. I’d make plans with Rodger or Max not knowing if they'd bring you along as well.”

"Harry," I said gently, waiting his remembered frustration play out in his features.

"I'd be crushed every time you didn't appear," He continued slowly, "And after the Regina show, you disappeared for weeks and I never felt like it was my place to reach out directly. I was pretty sure you hated me. "

"I'm sorry, I never hated you."

"I know," Harry smiled, "I can be a romantic dramatist."

"I think I thought I'd embarrassed myself to Kingdom Come and you'd want nothing to do with my drama anyway."

He deflated a little, "I'm not going to be like him, Nina," Harry paused to make sure I knew who he was referring to, "If you're going through something I want to know."

I sighed and dropped my chin into my hand, propped up on the table, "You're pretty lovely, know that?"

"I'd really like this to work for us, Nina, and I don't want to push you but at the same time I don't want to allow there to be any room for you to doubt it. Or me."

We were both finished eating and I watched Harry for a moment. He never seem phased by anything, so having him reveal his feelings when I was hesitant to assume them was pleasant in an unexpected way. Usually the thought of someone noticing me in a social setting made my skin crawl, but knowing Harry had been watching and wanting to know me better was settling somehow. To also have him acknowledge what I had told him about my last relationship and the dynamic there was also reassuring, if not scary. It was always a heavily guarded secret inside me, and I wasn’t used to having him privy to it yet.

"This means I'm going to have to add you to my Christmas list, doesn't it?" I asked playfully, delighted when Harry's face lit up in response.

"You sure do.”

“I think an M&S voucher should suffice,” I teased, trying to look thoughtful.

Harry raised his eyebrows at me, “That would be lovely actually, I could use some new underwear.”

Harry looked proud of his quickness, and he took his time taking a long sip of his coffee, watching me over the cup. I simply smiled back and tried a little of the juice he had ordered for me, scrunching my nose up at what I could only describe as a green flavour.

“Oh god,” I coughed, “That tastes like a garden.” Harry beamed at me, “It’ll put five years back on your life.”

+++

“Bye Harry!” “Bye Harry, we’ll be texting our review after tonight!”

“Harry,” Bel leaned forward between Harry’s front seats, looking as though she was tossing up between multiple things to say, finally settling on, “Don’t trip.”

Harry barked out a laugh at that, promising her he wouldn’t, “It would probably make great TV though,” he added, “I’m sure there are lots of people that would love to see me land on my arse.”

Bel seemed to consider that for a moment, then seemed to shrug it off, “We’ll see you when we see you, Harry. Thanks for the ride.”

I turned in my seat to watch her slip out onto the footpath outside Farringdon station. Harry had made good of his promise to take breakfast back to my house for everyone. We left the cafe with arms of pastries and coffees, and then he insisted on saving us the Uber fare by driving us to the train up North himself. Harry popped the boot for them and looked in the rearview mirror to make sure it had opened.

“Have a great Christmas,” He said quietly, pulling me back, Harry’s eyes flicked back to the mirror as I registered that we wouldn’t have much time to do this goodbye.

“You too,” I said, turning to face him in my seat.

“Have fun and be safe and miss me loads,” He added, shifting around and leaning on the middle console towards me, he curled his index finger at me, “C’mere.”

I smiled and leaned in towards him, Harry’s thumb and pointer finger met my chin and he gently pulled it up to the right angle for him to lower in for a kiss. Harry pulled back after one chaste attempt, giving me only enough time to lick my lips before we were pressed back together, his tongue giving only the shortest tease. He dropped his fingers from chin and sat back in his seat.

“I’ll see you on the 28th,” He confirmed, turning his head to me, “But I’ll talk to you before then.”

“Yep,” I nodded, “Break a leg tonight. And save me some of that croissant bread and butter pudding your mum makes.”

Harry laughed, “I will. She’s going to adore that you’re so keen for it.”

Georgie’s face appeared next to my window, “I need to go.”

“You do,” He agreed, reaching for the side of my face and pulling himself over the console again to give me one last kiss, “Be good.”

I screwed up my nose at him as I opened my door, “I’m always good.”

“You still need to sign the program from last night for me," He said quickly, just as I was about to shut the door, "I’m getting it framed.”

I rolled my eyes at him, "Bye Harry,"

"Merry Christmas, Protégé!"

"I fucking hate you.”

I did. I really did. But my face cracked into a grin and I walked back into Bel’s family lounge room carrying a tray of teas. Georgie was modelling a One Direction t-shirt she had pulled from God knows where and Bel was busy pinning a Liam badge to her pyjama top.

“Where did you even get those!”

“It was a two for one deal online,” Georgie told me happily, “Sam didn’t think it was a good idea for us to keep teasing you, but if you ask me she’s being unsupportive.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sam said, moving over on the two-seater she was on to make room for me. I linked my arm through hers when I sat.

Bel’s parents were away visiting with her sister and brother-in-law in Glasgow, not returning until the following morning. Her dad had the TV sound system to shame all sound systems which apparently meant we had to watch Harry on the telly there. The empty house was enough to sell me on the idea, mine was full of cousins and family who would delight in teasing me about Harry. But this would be the first time I would properly witness him singing and I didn’t think I could handle it if I couldn’t just focus on him and what I was seeing.

We were making an old school sleepover of it, which we had decided upon on the train back earlier today. We all had gone to our respective family homes and then repacked for a night at Bel’s. The food had been ordered in and it was about half an hour until the program started. While we waited for Indian to arrive we chatted our way through numerous pieces of gossip from our wider friendship group in Blackpool, and back to our family Christmases.

It was tradition that we met at the pub on Boxing day where it seemed everyone we knew under thirty five who was home for the holiday season all went to debrief after surviving spending an extended period of time with their families. The same thing happened on New Years Day before everyone headed back to London or Manchester to their regular lives.

"How's that bruise on your leg?" Bel asked suddenly, looking across at me and nodding at my covered legs.

"It's okay, how's your hea—

"—You should’ve gotten Harry to kiss it better,” Georgie cut me off.

“Yeah,” Bel agreed, a devilish smile on her face, “I bet he’s really good at that kind of thing.”

“What!” I squawked, watching Sam stand up when the doorbell rang. She waved off any help in collecting the food and I was left to Bel and Georgie’s inappropriate giggling.

“Harry’s fit, take it graciously.” Bel said.

“He is!” I defended, “But I don’t need to bloody hear it from you.”

“If I had a guy like Harry I’d be snug as shit about it,” Georgie exclaimed, standing up to help Sam unpack the food onto the coffee table. “I could use some new relationship sex. It’s always so delightful.”

“Oh my god,” I groaned.

“Here we go,” Bel rolled her eyes, “Horny Georgie.”

Georgie had the audacity to look wounded, “Sorry, what year is it? I won’t be shamed for liking sex!”

“Nobody was shaming you, George,” Sam said calmly, “But next time take a breath before you mention Nina’s new boyfriend and then sex, mmm?” “I wasn’t saying I wanted to bang Harry!” Georgie said to me quickly.

“I know,” I smiled, wanting to get as far as I could from this conversation as quickly as possible, “Pass me a plate.”

We already had plates and cutlery ready. I watched as the containers were popped open. Bel moved to kneel at the table and started to serve herself bits of all the different curries we had ordered. Sam gave Georgie one last look, and I wished I knew how to save them from each other’s strong opinions. Really I just wanted to move the conversation away from my sex life. I didn’t have the energy to explain why Harry and I hadn’t slept together yet.

Food was just the distraction needed to reset the conversation.

We spent the next hour talking and eating our way through the first part of the Charity Gala on the telly. There was an all-star line up with all the usual suspects in the London music and comedy scene. We gossiped our way through who was who, who was good and who wasn’t really actually funny.

I felt like by the time it was One Direction being introduced that I had lived half a life time in nervous anticipation. I had been preparing myself for a shift, or for at least seeing a side of Harry that I hadn’t before which had the potential to make me feel uncomfortable.

I knew that the band hadn’t performed together very much in the last twelve months. Harry had said that much himself, and it was a fact that was getting played up all night in the lead up to them performing. The world had missed them, the presenter kept saying, as the moment they were on stage was built up—it was clear they were being presented as the big act of the night.

Finally they were announced to be after the ad break. Which gave me enough time to refill my glass of wine and chew my way through a handful of Dairy Milk buttons.

“Don’t eat your hand, Nina,” Bel joked from her spot across the room.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, “It’s this or projectile vomit on your mum’s good rug.”

"Why are you freaking out so much about this?"

"I haven't seen him perform before," I provided quietly, trying to hide the quiver to my voice.

Sam's arm came around me and she held me in a side hug, "This shouldn't change your opinion of him," she said just to me, sensing there was more going on than I was letting on.

"I just haven't seen it before," I reiterated, wondering what 'it' was and why something about the whole concept of seeing Harry perform made me feel uneasy.

The ad break came to a close and there was no introduction to the act or the song, a thumping drum beat started and panning shots of the audience facing the stage took over the screen. The girls quietened around me but Sam kept her arm around me, giving my shoulder a slight squeeze.

The introduction to the song went too long. I kept anticipating the start but the drums kept going and the intro rolled on. Eventually I heard what was distinctly Harry's laugh through a microphone and then he started singing.

The camera panned on him first. He was grinning and a little red but he stood where he was and sang beautifully in an impeccable upper lower register. He swayed slightly to the beat, the silky material of the shirt that was poorly tucked into his jeans moving softly with his hips.

"That's your man, Nina," Georgie clapped towards the TV when Harry stopped singing and someone else took over.

The camera panned over all the members of the band, holding on the drummer for a little while and then going back to get the shot of the audience with the four members of One Direction facing them.

Harry had lovely tone to his voice. It rumbled out of his chest smoothly and his harmonies cut through the melody perfectly. He looked like he belonged exactly where he was on stage. Each time he was on the screen he was interacting the the camera, the audience or a bandmate. Harry made it all look fun and when the song came to and end he joined the others in happily greeting the people in the room with them, thanking the crowd for having them.

"And all of you at home too," A voice off screen said, I wasn't sure which member.

Harry appeared on screen again, screwing the lid back onto a water bottle, and then leaving it to walk back to his mic stand, "Thank you for having us," He said simply, "This is Story of My Life."

They played through the slower song and I stared at Harry's spot on the stage the whole time, only noticing his bandmates when the camera left him and I was forced to. The girls were making observations around me but I wasn't really listening. It was so strange to be looking at Harry in that setting.

He had slowly become such a strong force in my life and I was finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that there was such a huge part of him, of his life, that I'd not experienced at all. We hardly spoke about his job and I was left wondering why. He was clearly so good at it and I was concerned by the fact he hadn't shared much with me.

The next song started and I turned to Sam beside me, "Harry never talks to me about his job. Is that odd?"

She craned her neck to look at me properly, her brows drawn like she didn't understand where my question was coming from, her features then rose into surprise, "Nina, I ... No, I don't think so. Don't ... Don't psyche yourself out. Harry's so into you, you'd have to be an idiot to miss that."

I looked back to the screen, watching Harry sing his heart out on live National television, "We don't talk about who he is. I mean, look," I waved my hand at the television, "He's fucking Harry Styles ... Why is that only just hitting me?"

"Because he's not that to you, babe," Georgie added gently from across the room, her eyes understanding, "He's just a lad. He's just your Harry. And I know we give you both shit ... Well, mostly me," She half shrugged, "We give you shit about him but if he was some famous fuckwit we wouldn't act like we do." "He's set the tone," Bel jumped in, "He didn't walk in and throw his name around, and now he's sharing it with you. It's probably awkward for him to bring it up with people."

"I think it's my fault," I said. "I've been so bad at asking him about himself, I alway feel so awkward and I didn't want him to think I was digging for that, you know?"

"Don't overthink this," Sam hugged my side, "He's mad about you, and I bet he appreciated not feeling like was a factor with you.."

The only real window into Harry's job and the status that came with it had been my attending the dinner earlier in the year where I'd met some of his friends. Friends, who as it turned out, had sent a photograph of the night to someone working at a media corporation. I'd been distracted by the fact Harry had lied about how we knew each other, and I hadn't focused really on the fact that was what his life was like sometimes, and why.

The 'why' was this, what I was watching, Harry being on stage and a part of this universally known and loved band.

"Nina," Sam pulled me out of my thoughts, "He's really bloody good. Appreciate his job for that, don't get stuck on the rest of it ... You've got music in common, let that be something wonderful."

She was right. Having music in common with Harry was wonderful.

"He's so cool," I said without thinking.

"Right," Georgie huffed, "How do you think we all bloody felt watching you last night?"

"His voice is really lovely," I could feel a blush rising.

"Now we're talking!" Sam said, jamming her fingers into my ribs, "That rockstar is yours."

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I replied softly, hoping nobody would elaborate on the matter. I regretted saying it as soon as it came out of my mouth. I hadn't felt any pressure with Harry on the topic, so why it fell out of my mouth in that moment I couldn't say.

“Ah,” Georgie waved off my comment easily, “You’re whatever the step before boyfriend is.”

I hope so.

#fic #hina #fic: someday someday #1dff #harry styles fic #update #harry styles #one direction fanfiction

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