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mxltifxnd0m · 2 months

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falling foolishly ღ s. winchester

summary: your best friend jess makes you go to a get-together to meet one of her classmates, the thing is, she mentioned two and you don't know which one she meant

pairings: stanford! sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader, platonic! jessica moore x reader, platonic! sam winchester x platonic! jessica moore

requested: yes/no: by @s4wdvator thank you for requesting lovey!!

word count: 4.4K

warnings: modern/no hunting AU, no use of 'y/n', a shit ton of fluff, you and jess being little shits to each other, mentions of sex, some cursing, title is a lyric from must be love by laufey, the prequel to my smau's: must be love and too tongue tied!

a/n: my first request for sammy and its the prequel to my smau's! it was very fun to write and i hope you guys enjoy! and I love sam and jess <33

please reblog and comment! i love to hear your thoughts and it helps out a lot <3

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

The cool, crisp January air hit your cheeks as you exited the lecture hall and wrapped your red wooly scarf around your neck. California didn't see any snow, but you were surprised that the state was capable of dropping below 60 degrees during the winter.

A slight breeze swept through the campus as the dead leaves from autumn skittered and drifted across the grass and pavement. The leaves littered the ground as you walked through the nearly barren quad of the Stanford campus and headed back to your dorm.

You were grateful that you only had two classes today, the one you just took, and you had a four-hour gap before your last one. You had your headphones on as you made your trek back to your dorm, where your roommate was no doubt still there or getting ready for her classes. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you entered the heated lobby of your dorm and quickly made your way to the third floor.

As you entered your room, you set your bag at the edge of your bed while a familiar head of long, curly blonde hair sat at her vanity as she got ready for class. You made eye contact with her blue eyes through her mirror, and you saw her mouth widen into a smile.

"Hey! how was class?" Jessica asked you as she applied a coat of mascara to her lashes.

"It was fine." You said with a roll of your eyes while taking off your scarf and cardigan, leaving you in a thin black long-sleeve and jeans.

A chuckle left Jess's lips. "You're regretting taking this 8 am aren't you?"

A mournful groan left your lips as you kicked off your shoes. "I thought I would be able to, but it's going to be the bane of my existence for the rest of this semester." You walked to your bed and face-planted into it

"Is it too late to drop it?" You heard her ask as her chair moved against the carpeted floor.

"It might be," Your pillow muffled your voice. You moved your head so you could breathe. "But the stupid class is only available this semester and not at any other time."

Your eyes followed Jessica as she shrugged on her black North Face puffer and as she walked up to your bed.

"You have my sympathy and pity." Her eyes were sparkling with mirth as she patted you on your head.

You scowled at her and swatted her hand away from your head. Jess managed to rip her hand away from your head before you could hit her as she laughed at your grumpy mood.

"Just go to class." You grumbled as you sat up and grabbed your laptop out of your bag to start on some work.

Jessica laughed before grabbing her backpack. "See ya later, bitch!" She sent you an air kiss.

"Whatever, bye whore," You sent her a two-finger salute while reading the article your teacher assigned her as Jess left your shared room.

"Hear me out-"

"No good sentence starts off with 'hear me out', Jess." You cut her off after taking a sip of your water.

The two of you sat in the dining hall, eating dinner together as people bustled and chattered around you, absorbed in their own conversations and worlds.

Jess whined your name. "Can't you hear me out for just a minute?"

"The last time I did, you got black-out drunk the day before winter break started and I had to drag you back to the dorm."

"I wasn't that bad."

"You almost threw up on me and clung on to me all night." You deadpanned at her before taking a bite of the pasta you had chosen for dinner.

"What can I say, you're a really good cuddler." Jess winked at you, but all you gave her was a straight face.

She rolled her eyes at you. "Can you blame me? We had just finished finals!"

"Righttt." You drawled out.

"Whatever, just hear me out for just a second and I swear it'll be worth your time."

You pressed your lips together. "Fine, you get a minute."

"I was invited to a small get-together and I want you to come with me as my plus one."

"Is this an actual small get-together or a ploy to get me to another party?" You narrowed your eyes at Jess.

She shook her head. "I swear." Jessica made it a point to cross her heart. "The friend I made in my Philosophy class invited me and two other classmates to their small housewarming in the apartment they just got."

"Are you sure you're able to invite someone else with you?"

Jess nodded. "Yeah, I asked them and they said it was alright."

You sighed. "Fine. I'll come."

Jessica's dazzling grin appeared on her face, and you could see her visibly getting excited. "Yes! I've been dying for you to meet my class mate anyways."

"Which one?" You raised an eyebrow.

Her grin turned into a sly smirk. "You'll see on Friday."

You squinted suspiciously at her. "I don't like that look on your face."

"What look?" She said with innocent eyes and a scheming smile still on her face as she took a bite of her food.

"I'm onto you, Moore." You pointed your plastic fork at her as menacingly as you could, but all she did was chuckle.

"I'd rather you be on top of me instead." Jess cooed as she fluttered her eyelashes at you.

The two of you had flirty banter since a month of living together. You had met Jessica at freshman orientation, and you guys had hit it off immediately, becoming fast friends and stuck by each other like glue until the day ended. You guys traded socials before you guys left. So when the move-in day came around, to both of your surprises, you guys were each other's roommates.

Since then, you guys have been best friends. It felt like you guys have been friends since you were kids. But you've only known each other for about four months, and it's only your second semester of your freshman year. Nevertheless, you have a feeling that she's going to be by your side until both of you kick the bucket.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile grew on your face. "I'd always knew you'd be the bottom out of the two of us." You teased.

Jess scoffed. "As if."

"That wasn't a no, Jess." You said in a sing-song voice as you got up to put away your now empty tray.

"Wait, no! It was!" Jessica said as she got up to follow you, your laugh ringing throughout the already loud dining hall.

You were typing away at your laptop when something was flung at you, and your vision was obscured by a piece of clothing.

"You're wearing that." You heard Jess say before you pulled it off of your face, your hair askew.

You glared at her back as she dug around the small dresser on her side of the room before looking at the offending article of clothing she unceremoniously threw at you. It was a tight, black, long-sleeved dress that had a plunging neckline. It had a skirt that flared out, and it looked like it had ended around your mid-thigh.

"Jess, are you crazy? I'm not wearing a dress in the middle of winter!" You hissed as you were getting ready to throw it back at her.

She threw something else in your direction wordlessly, and it landed on your bed. You leaned forward to grab it and saw it was one of her fleece-lined tights that she would wear if she wanted to wear a skirt in the cold.

You opened your mouth to protest before she whirled around and held a finger up. "Nuh-uh, no complaining. I let you wear whatever you wanted when we went to those parties last semester."

"Are you insulting my fashion sense?"

"Of course." Jess flashed a sarcastic grin at you.

You scowled at her in response before closing your laptop with a little more force than you needed to. You huffed before getting off your bed and began to change out of the t-shirt and leggings you wore for the day since you had no class on Fridays.

"Are you sure you're still the top in the relationship?" Jessica quipped and dodged the stuffed animal that you chucked at her from your bed with a chuckle.

After you changed into the dress and tights, you did your makeup as you usually would but applied a raspberry-tinted lip stain and some black eyeliner instead of the usual brown you did on a day-to-day basis.

You let down your hair from the hairstyle you had on all day and curled it lightly. Once you were with your hair and makeup, you put on your everyday rings, necklace, and a few spritzes of perfume and slid on your cherry red platform boots you had gotten from your sister for Christmas.

As you were bent over and zipping up your left boot, you heard a wolf whistle come from Jess. You looked up to see that Jess was wearing the opposite color as you.

Jess's dress was a frilly long-sleeve dress that ended at her mid-thigh with nude tights underneath; you assumed that they were fleeced-lined as well. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, her makeup made her look angel with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and she was wearing black Mary Janes. If you stood side by side, you'd look like the living manifestation of yin and yang.

"Damn, it's not fair you look better than me in that dress." Jess all but pouted at you.

"I'd argue but I have a feeling you don't want us to be late."

Jess looked at her phone, and her eyes widened. "Yep, we should go now if we don't want to be late for the Uber since its like five minutes away."

You nodded and grabbed the red leather jacket you thrifted a while ago, along with your scarf, and followed Jess out the door as she grabbed her black leather jacket. The Uber to the apartment was brief, but it was filled with awkward small talk between the driver and the two of you.

As you walk into the apartment complex and ride the elevator to the fourth floor, where Jess's friend's apartment is, you feel a little nervous. You had yet to meet these people before, and you were not the most socially adjusted person.

Jessica was the extrovert out of the two of you and did most of the talking while you let her. You preferred listening anyway and chiming in when it was appropriate. You would only let loose around people you knew and were comfortable with.

Before you knew it, you had followed Jess to the apartment door. Her knock on the door broke you out of your slight daze, your body on autopilot before you snapped out of it. You heard the door unlock and swung open.

A girl with long, straight red hair, wearing glasses, and a broad smile answered the door. "Jess! I'm glad you could make it!" She greeted her with a hug before her blue eyes landed on you just behind Jess. She said your name with the same amount of enthusiasm as she greeted Jess.

You hid your confusion behind a smile as you gave her a small wave in greeting before she ushered the two of you inside her apartment.

"I've heard so much about you from Jess! I'm Mel." Mel introduced herself as she led you guys into the living room. You had noticed that there were about six or seven people in the living room, chatting and snacking on the food and drinks that were laid out.

The apartment was spacious and had an open floor plan with the kitchen to your left, the living room in front of you, and to your right, stairs that led to a loft area. You noticed some sliding doors that must have led out to a balcony since you had seen some as you looked up at the apartment complex.

Someone squealed from the kitchen, and out came a girl with tanned skin and brown bouncy curls barrel into Jess, giving her a massive hug.

"Hey, Dinah!" You could hear Jess greet who you now know is Dinah as she pulls away from the hug. "Come meet my best friend and roommate." Jess said before gesturing to you.

You saw Dinah's warm brown eyes land on you, and she smiled wide. You all got properly acquainted before you guys joined everyone else in the living room, being introduced to some of Mel's friends and Dinah's friends. You felt comfortable after being introduced and listening to the conversations that were being had. You even chimed in a couple of times, leading the conversation one time.

At one point, you saw Jess lean over to Mel, who was sitting on her other side. "Where's Sam? I thought he said he'd come?" You heard her ask Mel.

Mel nodded. "He said he was going to be a little late."

Jess hummed in response. "Okay, but-" Jess was cut off by a loud knock on the door.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That must be Sam." Mel said before getting up from her seat and answering the door.

Mel came back with a guy who you assumed was Sam, and your breath hitched as you took in the sight of Sam. He was tall with brown hair and bangs you wanted to brush from his forehead. You couldn't tell what his eye color was from where you were sitting. But he had a cute nose that you traced with your eyes. He was dressed in layers from what you could tell was a dark undershirt peeking out from underneath the navy blue polo, which was covered by a worn, unzipped brown Carhartt jacket, with his hands shoved in the pockets.

Mel introduced him to the group, and everyone said variations of greetings. You saw Sam's eyes scan the group before they met yours, and you could see that his eyes were hazel, and you could tell that they shifted color depending on the lighting. You gave him a small smile, one he returned before his eyes moved to the person next to you.

Jess saw this small interaction and smirked to herself. She stood up and greeted Sam. At this point, everyone had gone back to their conversations, and you were brought into one with Dinah and another guy named Brady. But you were only half listening to them, your mind still stuck on the tall guy with hazel eyes that only stood mere feet away from you.

As the night went on, you found yourself wanting to talk to Sam but couldn't. You always seemed to psych yourself out of talking to him. As people started to get a little tipsy, you managed to slip out of the living room unnoticed and out to the balcony. Which now, you regretted instantly.

The cold night seeped into your skin as you rested your elbows on the metal railing. It was bearable, but you would prefer to wear something warmer than the dress you were wearing in this kind of weather. You were debating on going back inside to grab your jacket.

"Aren't you cold?" A voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you whipped around to find Sam standing at the closed balcony doors.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized with a sheepish smile, which you thought was cute. Sam must have realized that he had scared you.

You shook your head. "You're fine, I was just lost in thought and didn't hear you come out here." You reassured him with a slight smile.

Sam seemed to relax at your words and smiled back at you. "I'm Sam." He introduced himself as he stuck out a hand for you to shake.

"I knew that." You said through a small chuckle as you shook his warm hand, his hand almost dwarfing yours as you did. "Mel introduced you when came in."

There were fairy lights strung on the metal railing and around the balcony, lighting the area with a warm and inviting atmosphere. You could see a blush grow on Sam's cheeks as he realized that she did, in fact, introduce him to the entire room.

"Right, I forgot about that." Sam let out a nervous laugh.

You quickly introduced yourself to Sam, and he said your name like he was testing how it rolled off of his tongue. The way he said your name sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you smiled at him.

"How do you know Mel?" He asked with a gentle smile on his face.

"I don't. Jess asked me to come with her to meet some of her classmates."

"Oh! That's right I remember Jess talk about her best friend a lot before class."

You raised your eyebrow at that factoid. You didn't realize that Jess talked about you that much, which sent warmth to your chest. "Didn't realize that Jess talked about me that much." You said with a nervous chuckle.

Sam's smile broadens as he nods. "She does."

"Well, what's your story, Sam? What brings you to Stanford?" You ask him.

Before you know it, the both of you were launched into a conversation that flowed like a river in a dense forest. You found out Sam was in pre-law; he is from Lawrence, Kansas, with an older brother named Dean, and his brother is a firefighter back home. In turn, you told him about the major you were in, your family, and where you grew up.

You guys were so deep into your conversation that you didn't feel the cold anymore until a shiver racked your body when the breeze suddenly picked up. Sam noticed, and his face twisted with concern.

"Crap, I didn't even realize it was that cold out here. Here." Before you could protest, he shrugged off his brown jacket and stepped closer to you to drape it over your shoulders, filling your nose with a faint woody and fresh linen scent.

You were stunned by his actions momentarily before his stepping away snapped you to the present, and you put your arms through the sleeves. The jacket engulfed you; it was the same length as your dress, and you had to scrunch up the sleeves since they were so long.

Sam had a fond smile on his face as you focused on pulling up his sleeves before he looked away and exhaled a breath. He realized you could see his breath, so he looked back at you. His breath caught as he saw the girl that Sam thought was pretty when he first walked into the apartment, swarming in his jacket before he shook his head to get rid of the thoughts that were forming in his mind.

"We should probably head back inside." He suggested as he shoved his hands into his jeans, no longer being warmed by his jacket.

You agreed with his words, and Sam opened the sliding door and gestured for you to go inside first. You shot him a grateful smile before stepping into the warm apartment.

You took a few steps forward until you were propelled backward as you got a faceful of blonde hair in your face and arms wrapping around your shoulders. You would have toppled over if it wasn't for Sam's tall form and hands landing on your waist, underneath his jacket, and steadying you from behind.

You couldn't focus on anything besides his warm hands seeping through the fabric but were brought back to Jess's tipsy ramblings.

"You're b-back! I was wondering where you went." Jess's words were slurred slightly as she booped you on the nose.

Sam eventually let go of you as you steadied yourself with Jess in your arms.

"Yeah, I am Jess," You chuckled lightly at the blissful smile that was on Jessica's face. "I was out on the balcony with Sam."

Her blue eyes brightened at the mention of Sam, and she finally seemed to notice that he was behind you. "Sammy!" Jess called out cheerfully.

You heard Sam chuckle as he moved to the side so you could see him. "Hi Jess," Sam said with a smile.

How in the hell are you now noticing that he has dimples. Christ, this dude was getting more and more cuter by the second.

"He was the classmate I wanted to introduce you to. Sam is totally your type, you know?" She whispered to you a little too loud, and Sam could still hear her.

"Like he's smart, tall, handsome, and-" You cut off Jess by slapping your hand over her mouth. She continued to speak, her words muffled as you felt your cheeks flush with heat as you dared to look at Sam.

You could tell that Sam was thoroughly amused by Jess's drunken ramblings and your now flustered state.

"She's a clingy and loud drunk if you couldn't tell by now." You said with a tight smile on your face as you thought of the many ways that you could murder Jess.

The smirk on Sam's face was making your heart beat faster. "Yeah, I think I got the picture now. I've never seen her like this."

"Yeah, well, I've seen her like this many times." You finally pulled your hand away from her mouth when you felt her stop talking and nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck.

You sighed and patted her back. "Come on, Jessy. Let's go sit down and get some water in you."

Jessica grumbled into your neck, and you could barely make out the words, but it sounded like she wanted to go home. You looked at Sam with an exasperated expression on your face, making him laugh. You couldn't hold back the smile on your face at the sound of his bright laugh.

"Okay, but let's drink some water, say bye to everyone, and then we can go, okay?" You said gently to Jess as you petted the top of her head, and all she did was nod into your neck before adjusting herself so she could be tucked into your side.

"I'll come with you," Sam said. "Looks like you have your hands full and need help." He gestured to the 5'10 blonde nineteen-year-old hanging off of you.

With some thought, you eventually accepted Sam's help. With his help, Jess drank a bottle of water and ate some food that was still out. You said bye to everyone in the apartment, grabbed your jackets, and Sam called an Uber for the three of you to take it back to the dorm since he lived in the building across from yours.

Sam graciously took the front seat while you and Jess sat in the back. She dozed on your shoulder, and before you knew it, the three of you were back on campus with Jess's shoulder slung over your shoulder as you led Sam to your room. You were okay with just walking back to the dorms by yourself with Jess, but Sam insisted that he'd walk you guys to your room.

If this was anyone else, you would have been creeped out, but you knew Sam had nothing but good intentions behind those eyes that reminded you of a puppy's. So he walked with you and Jess all the way until you made it to the room. At this point, Jess had sobered up slightly but trudged into the room as you unlocked it. You stood in the doorway as Sam lingered in the hall.

"Thanks for helping, you made things easier than it had ever been before."

Sam shook his head. "No problem. Does she get that way a lot?"

"No. Sometimes it's me clinging to her, but more often than not it's Jess." You said with a small chuckle. Sam smiled at the sound of your laugh and looked down at his feet.

Sam looked a little nervous as he looked back at you. "I'm glad we met. I really liked talking to you tonight."

"So did I." You sent him a kind smile.

"Could I get your number?"

Your smile widened as you nodded. The two of you traded phones as you set up new contacts with one another. Once you were done, you guys gave each other's respective phones back, smiles lingering on your faces. You looked down at your boots and remembered that you were still wearing his jacket.

"Oh! here's your jacket." You took it off, even if you didn't want to, and gave it back to Sam.

Sam took it and folded it over his arm as if it were a suit jacket. You both stared at each other for a moment before you spoke up.

"Well, thanks for the help and walking us back, Sam. You've been a real gentleman."

He playfully bowed, bending slightly at the waist as he placed his free hand on his chest, looking at you cheekily. "The pleasure has been mine," Sam said before straightening to his full height.

A giggle escaped your lips. "Cheeky." You said before you bit your bottom lip. You didn't want to second guess yourself, and even in your platform boots, you had to lean up and plant a kiss on Sam's cheek.

"Goodnight, Sam." You said with a shy smile as you drew back from him, a dopey smile on his face as his dimples appeared on his face.

"Yeah," He said breathily before shaking his head slightly and clearing his throat. "Goodnight," Sam said your name before the two of you shared a smile. You stepped back from the doorway and closed the door. You locked the door and turned around to find Jess sitting on her bed with tired eyes but a shit-eating grin on her face.

"You saw the entire thing didn't you?"

"Mhm. Never knew you had the balls to kiss him on the cheek. Maybe you are the top."

Jess wasn't fast enough to dodge the massive stuffed animal you kept on the edge of your bed, and the two of you dissolved into laughter as it hit her face.

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the-whispers-of-death · 6 months

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Home Again

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Most gods would be happy that they were back in the paradise realm after previously being banished and stripped of their divinity, but Fallen God!Ghost aches for you.

His nights are spent dreaming about you, the mortal who showed him what love was. He dreamt of sleeping beside you, kissing you, even cooking with you. He dreamt of your beautiful hair, your breathtaking eyes, your jaw-dropping smile. His dreams were filled with memories of your laughter, your smooth and lyrical voice.

Paradise realm is a paradise, sure, but nothing could compare to you. Your beauty outshines the paradise realm's, your presence calms Ghost in a way the paradise realm can never. The air was always lighter when he was around you, the colors of the world always brighter. You are his light, his world, and everything is dull without you.

He spends week after week searching for how to get back to the mortal realm and back to you. His power is potent, he can just teleport himself down to the mortal realm to see you but that doesn't seem like a satisfying answer to him.

Ghost would eventually have to leave you and go back to the paradise realm, forced to be able to only visit you from time to time. He didn't want that, he can't bear the thought of leaving you. Of sleeping in his own bed, alone.

He also couldn't make you a concubine of his, bring you to the paradise realm. It didn't feel right for him to ask you to leave everything you knew behind just so you could spend hours alone in his temple while he worked. You deserve better than that.

So what else was there to do?

It takes Ghost a few days to realize what he must do. What he has to do in order to see you again.

He is standing in God!Price's temple, all of the deities summoned there for the monthly update of what the pantheon has been doing since they last convened. He can barely hear what the others are saying, it being meaningless as his mind finally reaches an answer to his burning question.

"I'm stripping myself of my godhood and powers, permanently," Ghost says, interrupting the conversation.

The entire temple is silenced at once, everyone turning their heads to stare at Ghost in disbelief.

A god deliberately turning himself mortal? That was unheard of. It was absurd to even those deities who loved the mortals so much.

Price frowns, clearly thinking Ghost has gone mad. "Now, Ghost, let's think about this," he says, his words slow and carefully curated. "You can't just abandon your godly duties, you're the God of Warfare. If there's one thing that the mortals do the most, it's engaging in war."

Ghost scoffs. "My duties can easily be done by our Goddess of War," he replies, gesturing with his hand towards said goddess. "I no longer want to be a god."

His words ignite a flurry of murmurs between the other deities, all of them shocked beyond disbelief. They don't understand why he wouldn't want to be a god, especially after centuries of hearing him look down on mortals.

"Is this because of the mortal you met during your banishment, {Name}?" Price asks, peeved now. "I hadn't thrown you down to them for you to fall in love with them, Ghost."

"No, you did it so I could learn the importance of mortals and I have," Ghost cuts in, his power flaring up as his anger spikes. This isn't up for debate. "I'm doing this no matter what any of you say, I was doing a courteous thing by giving you all a heads-up."

Price shifts in the seat of his throne, itching to get up and slap some sense into Ghost. "Enough of this, Ghost. You don't even know if they will take you if you're not a god. Perhaps that was the only reason they fell in love with you in the first place."

Ghost snarls in rage at the accusation and assassination of your character. "Even if that's the case, which I doubt it is, it is my choice. I'd rather spend the rest of my mortal life heartbroken if they turn me away than spend eternity aching for them," he says defiantly.

Immense power fills the temple, all of it Ghost's as he pools it all in his veins. Stripping himself of his godhood and powers is excruciating, the pain almost enough to stop him, but he keeps pressing on with the action.

It was worth it, for you.

"Someone stop him!" Price bellows at the other deities, but it's too late.

Just as God!Soap reaches for Ghost to try and stop him, Ghost's godhood and powers are stripped from him, his last act of being a god is to send his mortal form where it needs to be: at your doorstep.

His second fall seems euphoric, a laugh bubbling up in his chest as he falls through the clouds and lands on your front porch just like he had done months ago.

He looks to the side just as you open your front door, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of you. The weight on his chest is lifted, everything falling into place once more.

"Ghost?" You ask, surprised. You had thought you would never see him again. "Did... Did you get your godhood taken away again?"

Ghost stands with your help, his skin thrumming at the sensation of your hands on him again. "I took it away myself," he murmurs, breathless as he stares in your beautiful eyes.

Your face twists into confusion, which makes sense since he had been itching to be a god again the first time he fell. "Why?"

"For you, love. I couldn't bear to live eternity without you," Ghost says, secretly nervous that you won't take him now that he's not a god. "I love you, {Name}."

"I love you too," you reply, making him relax. You step closer, happy that this isn't a dream. "I don't care that you're not a god anymore, I only ever wanted you."

"You will always have me, for as long as you will have me."

Ghost steps closer as well, reaching up to gently cradle your face between his hands. He can't wait for you to lean in as well, though you do so as he gently presses his lips against yours.

The kiss can only be described as heavenly, all of the noises of city life fading away until there was only the sound of you two kissing. It's so gentle and slow, Ghost savoring what it's like to kiss you. He pours every ounce of love into the kiss, needing you to be filled with his love.

It feels like you are kissing for hours before you both pull away for air. Your soft pants fill the air between you two, you smiling at him.

"Come on," you say, gently grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together. "Let's go inside and have dinner together."

Ghost nods and follows you inside the house that truly feels like home now. He lets you lead him into the kitchen, not even complaining about having to cook with you.

He had been a fallen god when he had first met you but now, he was neither fallen nor a god. He was just Ghost. A man you loved.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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lukolabrainrot · 18 days

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I went and rewatched all the interviews and there is just no way those songs and the Milk t-shirt photo was not about Luke. Here are my thoughts about what happened, let me know what you think!

Also, yes, it's entirely delulu but...

*N/L had a casual situationship after filming S3, but eventually both want to be sure that their feelings weren't directly related to being in such close proximity for so long. N pulls away because she's not sure that what they felt was the real deal and wants space to figure that out. L (being someone who prefers being in a relationship, finds A). They have a casual situationship. A knows about N/L's situationship.

*In Nov/Dec A and L's situationship gets more serious so N realizes that perhaps it was what was supposed to happen and (since she is guarded and a little jaded about love) focuses on her career and the upcoming WT.

*The WT comes and BAM! those feelings between L/N are back again and they're full force and too hard to ignore.

*L/N have a discussion about their situation and things...happen. *L/N decide that once the WT ends, they're going to pursue a relationship, likely a serious one based on N's family's reaction to meeting L in Ireland (come on, no one responds like that to meeting a co-star!) and the ring N had custom-made, a ring (that looks to have hands with rings that L wears)! This isn't a subtle sign. This ring was custom-made and listed on Chupi's website as an engagement ring (which the engagement part was later removed...another interesting tidbit) and N liked AND favorited a TT (accidentally) that talks about this ring being an engagement ring!! Whether that's the case or not, I believe 100% that L bought her that ring. I also believe the plan was ALWAYS for them to come back to each other (not only because of the song choice she posted with the lyrics 'I'll wait for you') but the fact that N wore this ring in the 'in a relationship' status since the moment she received it. THAT is telling!

*A finds out that things between L/N have heated up and she's upset (Brazillian Bob haircut era) even though L likely attempted to end things with her multiple times, but she won't go away. She confronts L and threatens to go to the media about him wronging her. And since no one knows the BTS situation between L/N, this could make them both look very bad and affect their careers. So they play along and L promises to help A launch her career by continuing their situationship. L gives A conditions though - he doesn't want to be in any photos where it could look like they're a couple. He doesn't mind if there is the assumption they are together, because he is hoping to just ride this thing out and then make a clean cut from A. He will also not publicly claim her, as all of them know that L/N are end game. Because A is who she is (and seeks media attention) she agrees to these terms, but believes she can change L's mind. This is what we see in her taunting N because she's extremely jealous of her. This is also why we see papgate happen and L's comment (we won't let her ruin our night - imo this was to N about A). A (imo) made papgate happen to prolong their relationship and publicly claim L so that she could control the narrative. Which is why L looks so pissed in the photos. Now this prolongs the ability to cut things off cleanly because the entire world has seen A.

*We see some (most) of the fandom react negatively to the papgate situation, which left everyone confused as to why N was coming to L's defense on instagram (since the majority of us KNEW what we saw between the two of them was genuine) and this was a slap in the face to N to bring A to the premiere. But what we didn't know is that she came to his defense because she KNEW the plan all along and knew that A was trying to split them up and foil their plans to eventually be together.

*L/N discuss what happened and there are some hurt feelings and they disagree on how to handle the situation. And we see their frustration with N's SATC TT she posted and quickly deleted and their lack of sm likes/etc. between the two. I think there was a lot more going on BTS that we didn't know about during this timeframe. Maybe N decided to take a break from things because of what happened and because she's focusing on her career and this caused a rift between them. Or L is just biding his time with A while N turns the other way. Either way, they're not together this summer and L looks absolutely miserable with A. My guess is that papgate and A came between them temporarily (A's plan the whole time).

*But then we get Italy. At this point, L and A have been 'together' doing stuff (always shown in friend groups, never alone together) as part of their earlier agreement. A is pulling out all the stops to win L, but he's not responding. A is frustrated and things take a drastic turn in Italy.

*After Italy, we see L's whole friend group (A, S and R) all stop posting and go virtually quiet. We see N's french toast pic (maybe this is a nod to her cooking things for L or maybe she just wanted to post it. We don't know). But then we get the Scrabble pic with the 'HeyA' etc...we also see N post two songs in quick secession with the lyrics "it's nice to hear your voice again, it's been a long time..." If this was about JD, why would she post that? She's been hanging out with him on/off through out the entire summer. The other song is about opening herself up and the other person knowing N entirely. If that's not L, I don't know what would be. He's seen her about her most vulnerable. And THEN we get the Milk t-shirt photo. Which, imo, is a direct tie-back to references to Tomdaya. She knows that we know she follows them and has mentioned them in interviews. There would be no reason for her to post this (Johnny's charity for this was in June). She knew we'd connect the dots and imo, she was soft-launching L and preparing us for what was to come. And after going back through the interviews, there is just no way anyone could convince me that she fell head over heels with him (JD) after looking at L the way she did and wearing a ring (that she's mentioned is related to her time in Bton and has the ring fingers with L's rings!) in the relationship status since she's received it. Why would she use this ring to denote that she's in a relationship with anyone else? Wouldn't that be a little strange?

*But a lot is going on between L and A and his disentanglement from her and to distract from their situation, N starts posting other pics (notice how there are none of JD on her grid and JD mostly likes the ones of L and N together?)

*We see N go to a festival with friends. The paps claim she's with JD. I firmly believe that JD is a friend and nothing more. I say this for a few reasons - no one batted an eye when we saw N pop up around town with JD earlier this summer, she's typically private about her relationships, she has no pics of him on her grid (look at the tons she has of L) and there are questions about who JD's dated in the past. BUT, since this is convenient for both of them atp, N is going to run with it. This is the perfect opportunity to detract from what is really going on BTS. And this is exactly how N wants it until things are completely resolved with A. Meanwhile, L is laying low and dealing with the disentanglement (which may or may not involve legalities at this point). DM backtracks (not out of any favor to N) but maybe because she's received inside info and she's not being paid by A to build a narrative anymore (yes, that's entirely speculation).

IMO, we just have to wait a few and we'll see L and N come out as a couple.

Um I LOVE THIS LEVEL OF DELULU, TYYYY! ❤️️

I agree with a lot of this as well!

#lukola theories #just some thoughts #i will die in my delulu

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vnti-vntiety-recs · 1 year

Text

Destruction In My Mind (M)

★ PAIRING: Toxic! Stalker!Jaemin Switch!Jaemin x Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 8.8k

★ GENRE(S): Smut, Thriller, FWB

☆ SUMMARY: The friends with benefits relationship with your coworker takes a turn for the worse as you realize he's been keeping secrets from you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Toxic relationship, Swearing, Various acts of sexual intercourse, Unprotected sex, DARK THEMES,YANDERE, STOLKHOLMISH?, KIDNAPPING. STALKING, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: This is the 2nd installment of THE POISON ARCHIVES! This series will contain toxic scenarios so beware. THIS ONE IS A LITTLE DARKER THAN THE REST! Each story is inspired by lyrics from the song poison!

PART 2

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♫₊˚.“Maybe you were just bored”♫₊˚.

Honestly, you don't know how you ended up in this relationship, if you can even call it that, with Jaemin. You're not really sure what you guys have going on anymore, but one thing is for sure: it's getting out of hand.

Jaemin isn't your boyfriend, not by a long shot, but you know him well enough to consider him a friend. You met him at work, and although you swore up and down you would never mix work and pleasure, he was too charming, and you were swept right into his current. You knew this was an extremely bad idea. Especially considering the fact that Jaemin was the grandson of the CEO, but you had always liked a little danger.

Work life was getting too boring for you. The constant rise and fall of waking up and going to work was starting to eat at you. You were still young! You should be a little more daring and adventurous! You think maybe that's the reason you took Jaemin up on his offer the night of the office party. You were celebrating the company's 30-year anniversary. Everyone had gone out for a drink that night but passed on the offer to join. You had a few papers you needed to submit by this morning. Your boss assured you it was ok to submit them late, but you knew after she had a few drinks she would completely forget she extended your deadline. You weren't taking any chances tonight. You were definitely getting that quarterly bonus. You don't notice that Jaemin has stayed behind to keep you company until he speaks.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but I just couldn't leave you here by yourself while we all had fun." Jaemin smiled, leaning against your desk.

You thought it was really sweet that he thought of you in a moment like this. That night, he helped you submit your paperwork, and you got the chance to talk to him a bit. Something between the two of you seemed to just click, and it was as you were on the elevator down to the parking garage that he made the proposal. He had noticed how tense you were and how tired you looked. He told you he could help you release your stress and relax.

You're not one for relationships, so when he assured you that it would be strictly pleasure, you jumped at the chance. This was exactly what you needed to spice up your work life. Every day, when you wake up for work, you can barely contain your giddiness. You were excited at the prospect of possibly catching Jaemin's gaze in the hallways, exchanging secret looks and flirty promises. At the beginning, everything was perfect. You guys would sneak away into the bathrooms or storage closets and get lost in each other's touch. Sometimes he would take you home after work in his Bentley, fucking you in the backseat just for the thrill.

But now things were starting to chart in territories you weren't prepared for.

It started about a week ago. Jaemin was his charming self as usual, flashing his perfect smile as a way of saying hello. You were certain that even if he wasn't the CEO's grandson, people would still bend over backward to please him. He was smart, handsome, sweet, funny, and caring. He was so perfect, it was almost scary. But that all changed when you were assigned to do a project report with Mark from the finance department.

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Your days with Jaemin were cut short and your interactions limited as you and Mark busted your asses to meet the deadline of your report. This didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. You weren't dating, so it's not like you were required to give him your undivided attention. Plus, with all the planning you had in front of you due to the project, you had no choice but to put your lust on the back burner.

It was your first time working closely with Mark, but you two worked really well as partners. Plus, Mark wasn't too bad on the eyes, so you spent half your time working and the other half oogling your partner. His ass looked so good in his neatly pressed slacks. Although you wanted to take a bite out of Mark's ass, you liked what you had with Jaemin, so you dubbed him nothing more than a friend. A really hot friend that you use for eye candy when Jaemin is not around because it makes the day go by faster.

One night, Jaemin was finally able to steal a minute of your time. You and Mark had already finished up a few hours ago, but you were stuck staying late again because your boss needed you to organize some reports. She was supposed to do it herself, but she shoulders it off on you like usual. You want to curse her, but in a way, it's because of her stressing you out that you're getting dicked down.

"Prime minister! Miss busy prime minister, please give me just a second of your time," Jaemin jests, catching you at your desk before you pack up to go home.

"Im sorry sir you will have to try again tomorrow," you quip back as you wrap your arms around Jaemin's neck, pulling him in for a quick peck.

"Oh? Only have time for Mark now huh?" He tries to hide the bitterness in his voice behind a laugh, but you can see right through him.

"Oh? that so?" You reply with an amused smile and raise your eyebrow.

"You think I don't see the way you look at him?" He's leaning down over you, just a breath away, his eyes locked on you, making you squirm.

"Someone is jealous I see," you chide, lightly shrugging off his allegations. What was it to him if you wanted to check out other guys? There's no harm in looking.

"No, because That would be against our contract, right doll? I would never jeopardize what we have; I was just checking in on you, making sure you're not thinking of running away from me, right?" He tilts his head slightly, brushing his lips against yours as he speaks against your lips in a hushed tone. He pulls back to meet your eyes with a sweet smile.

"How could I when you treat me so well?" You barely have to lean into him to close the distance between you.

The office cleared out hours ago, so don't protest when his touches start to wander into dangerous places. You hadn't seen him all week and missed his touch. That night, you let him fuck you against the cool window of the 15th floor of the office building.

You were lucky to have had such a good night because when you go into the office the next morning, you're getting your ass kicked left and right. Mark didn't show up today, and since it was the last day of the project, you would have to present it to your higher-ups alone. You had arrived later than normal, so you only had an hour before the presentation to learn his cue cards. You were able to just barely pull it together in time, and when you finish your presentation, the room gives you a round of applause. The higher-ups had heard you were pulling double the weight as your partner was absent, and they were impressed by your ability to adapt to the situation. Your boss commended you for once as you made your way out of the conference room.

"You did amazing! I was really impressed by your presentation. It's a shame Mark couldn't make it today. I wish him a speedy recovery," your boss Sunhee said sincerely.

The last comment really piqued your interest. You were so busy scrambling around the office that morning that you didn't get the chance to ask why Mark was a no-show.

"Now that you mention it, I never got the chance to call him today. What happened?" Your brows knit up in concern.

"You didn't hear? He broke his leg. He said on the way to work this morning, as he was coming up the stairs of his apartment, his foot got caught in something and he fell. Lucky it was just his leg; it could have been his neck!" Your boss exclaims

You shudder at the image in your head and shake it away. "I'll have to visit him after work; he did so much for the project; he was the perfect partner." You bid your boss farewell and go to your desk.

The presentation was the only thing you had scheduled today, so you were packing up to go home. You spot Jaemin a few feet over, watching you from the vending machine. He hadn't said a word to you all day. You chalk it up to the fact that you were busy running around all day, so you walk over to him to update him on the presentation.

"Hey Jaem! Guess what? The presentation went well. It's a bummer though, that Mark couldn't make it today. They say he's going to be out for a broken leg," you say a bit solemnly.

The fact that he showed no sign of worry or surprise should have raised a few flags, but it didn't, because soon he'll be flashing you that award-winning smile and praising you for your hard work. It's almost like he didn't hear the last part.

"That's wonderful, baby! I'm so proud! We should go celebrate tonight," he says, raising a suggestive brow. You can't help but bite your lip in excitement. Your face lit up at the proposition but soon fell once you remembered you had already told Mark you were coming over.

"Im sorry babe! I would love to, but I forgot I had to stop by Marks. I need to check up on him. It's the least I could do after all the hard work he put into the project." You pouted at him.

Just for a second, you see unrecognizable emotion flash in his eyes, but just as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced with another warm smile.

"Should I drop you off then?" he asks sweetly.

"No, it's ok; I'm not sure how long I’ll be over there; I don't want you waiting up," you assure him.

This seems to trigger something in Jaemin, because next thing you know, he's grabbing your arm and dragging you to the old stairwell. It is currently under renovation, so no one comes out that way. You struggle to keep up, and his grip gets increasingly tighter until you yank yourself free from his grasp once you make it into the stairwell. He closes the door behind him and slams you against it; he's in your face now, the wild look from earlier returning full force. You can easily identify it this time.

Jealousy

"I thought you said you didn't like him, huh? Are you lying to me now, baby? You know, I don't like liars," he growls while maintaining eye contact.

"Jaemin, chill out. What's your fucking issue? The poor guy broke his leg!" you snap.

"So why do you need to be over there all night? Why can't I come pick you up? What are you hiding?"

"He's injured, Jaem! He probably hasn't been able to move around a lot. Who knows how much stuff he needs to get done? I'm just going to help out!"

"I don't give a fuck about his leg! He can fall off a bridge for all I care! I hate the way he looks at you; that's what he gets!" He snaps back before he can stop himself.

You were shocked. You had never seen Jaemin as anything less than a sweet man who knew only how to smile. This Jaemin is completely new to you. You push him away and stare at him in horror.

"Have you lost your fucking mind? Who do you think you are? There is nothing between me and him, and there's DEFINITELY nothing between me and you! You're just a good fuck, or did you forget that's all I signed up for?" you state harshly. You take a deep breath before you continue. "We need some time apart; I think you're forgetting yourself," you say composedly before walking back into the main hall.

Jaemin is left alone in the dark stairwell. On the outside, he's cool and collected again, but on the inside, a war is raging, and there's no way he would ever let you walk away from him again.

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A few days have passed, and you see less and less of Jaemin around the office. Mark is still bedridden, and you stop by on your off days to check up on him. You used to go at night after work, returning home late. Some days you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up; it was almost like someone was watching you.

One night, on your walk home after bringing Mark some leftovers, you could have sworn you heard the shutter of a camera. You didn't want to freak yourself out, so you tried your best to rationalize it. You ignored it, hoping that your mind was playing tricks on you, but after another 10 minutes of walking, you could hear the soft thud of footsteps. You had finally summoned up enough courage to check behind your shoulder, but no one was there. You ran the rest of the way home and made sure to lock your doors and windows. You were so spooked that you even checked under the bed, still jumping onto it anyway, afraid someone might grab your ankle.

Since then, you have decided to visit Mark only during the day.

You wish you could say it ended there, but other strange things have happened since then. You noticed while doing laundry that a few of your favorite pairs of underwear were missing, and you also noticed your things moved just slightly off center from how you usually leave them. You're so shaken up that you hardly want to return home.

Today, when you go into work, you see a small teddy bear with a card attached that reads "I'm beary sorry," with a little sad face drawn next to it. Before you can even cringe at the pun, Jaemin pops out in front of you with an even bigger bear in front of his face.

"I'm beary sorry," he says as he tries his best to mimic the voice of a cartoon bear, moving the bear like a puppeteer. "Will you forgive me? I can't bear to be without you," he pouts as he reveals his handsome face from behind the plushy.

"Oh my god, Jaemin," You groan, "only if you promise to knock it off with the bear puns."

He smiles slightly before taking on a slightly more serious look. "Can we please talk? I really want to apologize."

You sigh and snatch the bigger bear from his arms, saying, "Fine, but make it quick. Also get rid of these; I don't want people getting the wrong idea," you whisper.

Jaemin smiles triumphantly as he looks for a place to shove the gifts. The last thing you needed was even more drama and gossip going around. You already had to deal with the whispers about how Jaemin always ate lunch with you. The last thing you needed was every girl in the office ripping you to shreds over him.

"Join me for dinner?" he says hopefully.

Alright, fine, but pick me up at 7. You demand.

"Of course, make sure you wear that dress that I like," he jokes.

"Depending on how much you grovel, I might let you take it off of me tonight," you say, eyeing him mischievously.

You can't help it; it's been too long since you felt his touch, and the quick glances that you steal whenever you think he's not looking aren't enough to satisfy you anymore. Sure, he was an asshole, but he was a sexy one who knew how to push your buttons. It's like he knows his effect on you. One day he's wearing his white button-down with the collar undone and his sleeves rolled up, revealing his toned arm. The same toned arms that used to pin you down on the bed while he fucks you from behind, or the same arms that show no signs of struggle as he hoists you up onto his hips and fucks you against the wall. He was driving you insane! You were supposed to be angry at him for being a rude, inconsiderate, jealous jerk, not fantasizing about him fucking you against every desk in the office. You mentally apologize to Mark for being so weak and try to reason with yourself. This could be a good thing; if you went over to Jaemin's house tonight, you wouldn't have to worry about sleeping alone in the dark, scary house that you once found comfort in.

Dinner with Jaemin is wonderful. He apologizes 100 times over for stepping out of line and also admits he was jealous. He had said that he was just being insecure; he was afraid you had found someone who could make you feel better. He explained that he was stressed more than usual; his grandfather had kept pestering him about taking on a more active role in the company because one day Jaemin was to take over as CEO.

You couldn't find it in yourself to be upset at him. You knew how it felt to have the higher-ups breathing down your neck. He was just stressed; he was having an off day. The Jaemin you knew would never say something so heartless.

After dinner, you hold steady to your promise, and Jaemin takes off your designer dress the moment you step foot through the door of his rooftop condo. His lips were stealing every little bit of air that you had left in your lungs as you both undressed each other, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you tried to make it to his bedroom.

"I missed you so much doll," he barely manages to say between kisses.

You return his fever and trail your lips down his neck, sucking and biting as you go. He's quick to lift you up with his strong arms, and you take this as a signal to wrap your legs around his waist. He sits with you on his lap at the edge of the bed. You push him until he's lying flat, and you take a moment to look into his eyes. His eyelids are heavy with lust, and he is sporting a lazy smile.

In your haste, you only partially managed to unbutton his shirt. His chest was on full display now, and you groaned at the sight of his thick muscles. You could almost cuff him on the spot. How could a man look so delectable? You wanted nothing more than to bury your face in his chest, so you did. You leave bruises and kisses in your wake as you dot his chest with affection. Your kisses trail lower and lower, but your plan to choke on his cock is foiled as he grabs your face in his hands, bringing you back up to face him. He pecks you on the lips a few times, a little too lovingly for a more sober you, but you're so drunk off of his kisses and touches that you don't even care.

"Nuh uh doll," Jaemin tuts, "tonight is about you. Lay back and let me take care of you."

You mindlessly nod, lying in the center of the bed, unable to break eye contact, like you're under some spell.

He helps you peel the rest of your clothes off and wraps your legs around his shoulders. He takes your hand and rests it in his hair.

"I'm not gonna let up on you tonight, so pull all you want baby," he says alluringly.

His once doe-like eyes are sharp like a siren now. He draws you further under his hypnosis, kissing and biting up and down your thighs teasingly. You would be surprised if you hadn't already soaked through his expensive silk sheets. You pull harshly at his hair as a warning to stop his teasing and do something. He chuckles at your eagerness but keeps true to his word.

Tonight was about you, so when he dove in, he made sure to eat it like it was his last meal on earth. The noises that came from his mouth were filthy as he sloppily licked and sucked at your folds. He had just started, and he was already pussy drunk. He didn't even realize how loud he was moaning into you or how desperately he was grinding into the mattress below him. You tighten your thighs around his head and grind into his mouth. In response, Jaemin sticks his tongue out for you to ride. You fuck his face until your thighs are shaking and his face is slick with your juices. Jaemin backs away enough to push his middle and ring fingers into your slick-covered heat, only returning to suck on your clit harshly.

You're losing your mind just from his tongue alone. You don't think you can go back to regular life without riding this face. It doesn't take long for you to cum all his digits, and you can barely bring yourself back down to earth before he's shoving his soiled fingers into your mouth and lining himself up with your entrance. He slides in easily and fucks you like it was the first time. His head is thrown back, and he can barely contain his groans. You almost wonder if he's even touched himself while you two were apart. The way he desperately fucks into you, pinning you down like you would run away from him, stealing his long-awaited orgasm, you wouldn't put it past him. He fucks you so deep that it has you seeing starts. You grab and tug at his hair and use the last bit of your strength to try to meet his thrusts.

"Come on pretty boy, let go and make a mess of me," you pant.

You try to hold on; you want to cum together, but you can't help it when your walls tighten around him, signaling your second orgasm. Jaemin is finishing soon too, after a few more deep thrusts. He shoves his face into your neck when he releases inside of you, his hips stuttering to a stop. You both take a moment to catch your breath. He soon rolls off of you and takes another moment to recoup before he gets up to pamper you. He runs you both a bath, and while you're getting settled in, he changes the sheets and then joins you in the tub. After cleaning up, you both head to bed, unable to fight off sleep any longer.

Just before you could enter into a deep sleep, you swore you saw the bright teal color of your favorite pair of lace panties sticking out of one of his drawers.

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The next morning, you awake to the smell of breakfast. Your eyes naturally fall to the same drawer you spotted last night, but there was no sign of your panties. Maybe you just dreamt that you saw them. You push the thought to the back of your mind, and you get up to find Jaemin in the kitchen, already dressed for work.

"Hurry up and get dressed or we're going to be late," He reminds you, mouth full of food.

"Ugh, can't we call in?" You groan as you pick off some bacon from the arrangement of food on the dinner table.

"And ruin your perfect attendance? No way sweetheart, come on." He insists

You go get dressed and meet him back out to finish breakfast. You two head into the office together but part ways after you exit the elevator. You're walking to your desk when your boss pulls you to the side.

"Hey, I hate to ask you for so many favors, but I need your help," she pleads. "Since Mark is out sick, our new hire orientation team is short a member," she pouts.

You already knew where this was going. Even though Mark was a part of the finance department, he would occasionally help out the hiring department since they were always shortstaffed. He's good friends with Doyoung, the lead hiring manager, and has agreed to be one of his orientation leaders from time to time.

"No ma’am, get somebody else to do it," you whine as you try to walk away.

The main reason why the OLs were always short-staffed was because everyone hated training the new hires. With a billion-dollar company such as this one, you would think they would hire a proper team to train the new people, but instead they resort to pulling people away from other departments and making them help out. Orientation leaders were always behind on deadlines because orientation lasted a week, and there's virtually no time to work on any assignments when you have to watch the newbies. After a week, the new hires are then sorted out into their own departments for their department leads to babysit.

"I'll add extra vacation time. Come on, I'll only assign you one guy!" Your manager tries again, hot on your heels.

You sigh; extra vacation time does sound like a steal. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Great! I'll bring him to you later for introductions," your manager says as she clasps her hands together in joy.

You settle in at your desk and boot up your laptop. After a few moments, you notice a figure looming over you. You peek up and meet eyes with Adonis reincarnate.

"Hello, I'm sorry, I was trying to peek at your name plate. Are you Y/N?" The handsome stranger asks

"I can be whatever you want me to be." You almost spilled. You scramble to your feet and offer him your hand in a handshake. "Yes, that's me, and you are?" you inquired nervously.

"Jaehyun," he adds. "It's nice to meet you; will you be showing me around for the week?"

You nod first before tripping over your words to add an overly enthusiastic "yes". Jaehyun chuckles at your antics, and you can't help but notice his cute dimples.

Maybe something good did come out of Mark breaking his leg. You would get to work closely with this literal god of a man. You could hear the ladies around the office complaining in jealousy at your luck already.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin is watching the entire exchange from across the room, eyes cold and jaw tense, snapping a pen between his fingers as his grip tightens.

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It's day 3 of orientation week for Jaehyun, and by now you two have already grown close. Casually making jokes between the two of you, Going out to eat lunch together and exchanging phone numbers. You barely even spared Jaemin a glance, and when he asked you to accompany him to dinner after work, you made excuses that you were too tired from juggling orientation and your own projects, but Jaemin could tell it was a lie. Jaehyun isn't as incompetent as the other new hires and doesn't need much help when it comes to doing the tasks he's given. You just hover over him because you like his company and his handsome face. You could have finished multiple projects by now if you weren't glued to Jaehyun's side. Jaemin is no fool. Maybe you didn't have a thing for Mark, but you definitely had a thing for Jaehyun, and whatever it was that you were feeling, he was going to crush it.

The next day you go into work, you're not greeted by Jaehyun's smiley dimples. You try to call him, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. You decide to ask around the office to see if anyone has seen him, and you are met with devastating news.

"Haven't you heard? Jaehyun got into a car crash after work yesterday. They had to rush him to the hospital." Your coworker says it mournfully, her face pale.

"Is.....he ok?" You are almost scared to even ask.

"He's stable now, but it was pretty bad," your coworker Yena adds.

You finish up your chat with Yena. You get all the details of what happened and decide to visit him after work.

You run into Jaemin in the hallway. He looks as cheerful as ever. There's no way he hadn't heard the news yet.

"Why the long face beautiful?" he inquired when he noticed your deep frown and somber attitude.

"Jaehyun was hurt really badly yesterday; I don't think he will be able to return to work anytime soon," you say dejectedly.

Jaemin knows not to make the same mistake twice; he puts on his best worried look and tries his best to comfort you.

"I'm sorry doll; I knew how close you were with him. How about I drop you off after work to visit him?" Jaemin adds

You're surprised by Jaemin's reaction; this was a complete 180 from how he reacted last time you showed concern for a male coworker. Maybe he was telling the truth; maybe it was just stress last time. You grin up at him and agree to wait for him after work.

After work, you wait at the front of the building for Jaemin to pull his car around. You're waiting patiently when a Bugatti parks in front of you. You pay it no mind as you wait for Jaemin to pull up in his bentley. The driver rolls down the passenger window, and you meet face-to-face with Jaemin.

"What are you doing?" he laughs.

You hesitantly approach the car in confusion. "Jaem, you got a new car?"

"It's not new; it's just not one of my favorites," he shrugs, pressing a button for the passenger side to open, revealing the butterfly doors. You get in and can't shake the unsettling feeling in your chest.

"Jaem… Where's your bentley?" You try your best to sound as normal as possible, but your mind is running a mile a minute.

"It's in the shop; the transmission was fucked. Why? Did you like it that much?" he teases.

"Yeah, it was... It was my favorite," you try to tease back, but can't help but grow silent, letting the music fill in for the missing conversation.

After a 15-minute drive, he drops you off at the hospital. You tell him you'll catch a cab home and kiss him goodbye; he doesn't put up a fight and pulls off. As soon as his car leaves your sight, you rush into the hospital. You ask the nurse at the front desk for the room number and make your way through the hospital. You approach the room and stop to catch your breath. You peek in through the small window and see that Jaehyun is awake. You knock gently before letting yourself in; he turns to see who it was that was coming to visit and immediately freezes once his eyes land on you.

You smile at him. "How are you?"

"Don't talk to me!" he yells.

"Wha-jaehyun, it's me?"

"You can't be here; you need to go now!"

"I just came to see if you were okay."

"I'll be better once you're gone! I don't want to see you anymore!" he shouts.

The noise alerts a nearby nurse. The nurse enters the room and, upon seeing you, escorts you out, saying, "I'm sorry, but you're upsetting the patient; you need to leave."

Just before she can drag you out of the room completely, you lock eyes with Jaehyun one last time. His eyes are filled with terror. You left confused and hurt. You thought Jaehyun was your friend; what could have gotten into him? Every memory from the past couple of months comes rushing back to you as you try to piece everything together.

You flirt with Mark, and he ends up with a broken leg.

Stuff begins to go missing around the house.

You always feel like someone is watching you.

You form a friendship with Jaehyun, and he ends up in the hospital.

All of this, and now Jaemin's car is in the shop right after Jaehyun ends up in a car crash? It just isn't adding up.

You wish you could talk to Jaehyun to find out more, but you don't want to upset him. There is one person you could talk to, though.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡

You're paranoid when you finally flag down a cab. What if he was watching you? What if you get to Mark's place and find out something terrible has happened? The drive is short, and when you get out of the cab, you rush up the stairs to mark the apartment. It had been awhile since you last spoke with Mark; you were too caught up in work to visit him anymore. You pray that he's alright as you bang on his door, shouting for him to answer. You didn't want to cause a scene, but as each second passed, you grew more and more desperate, and thoughts of the worst-case scenario tormented you.

You had been losing everyone you cared about recently, and the one person you thought you could trust seemed to be hiding more secrets from you, maybe even living a double life. Your banging slows as you fall to your knees in tears.

"Please mark. Please be okay," you whisper as you try to fight back sobs. After a few more moments, you hear the door unlock quickly, and Mark pulls the door open.

"Jesus, give a guy a minute; you know my leg is broken," he scolds before he looks down and sees you a crying mess on his doormat.

"Dude… What's going on?" he asks.

You pull yourself together and enter his apartment, quickly shutting the door behind you. You engulf him in a tight hug as soon as you're in the privacy of his home.

"Dude, are you like... okay?" He asks as he awkwardly pats your back.

You hiccup into his chest and pull away.

"I'm fine; I just really needed to check up on you." You give him your best smile, your lips still trembling as you try to quiet your sobs. "I need to talk to you about something."

You fill Mark in on everything that's been happening at work since he's been gone. You tell him about Jaehyun, and you tell him about Jaemin's weird behavior. You ask Mark if Jaemin had ever done or said something to him that would have set off any red flags. He racks his brain for a few moments until a light bulb goes off.

"You know what? A couple days before I broke my leg, I ran into Jaemin in the coffee room. We just started making small talk. He was pleasant at first, but then he started asking questions about our project, how often I see you, and if I had ever been over to your house. He even asked what our relationship was," Mark finishes.

You both stare at each other, your blood running cold.

"You don't think he's the reason..." Mark hesitates.

"Mark, you need to be careful, ok? I don't think anyone was following me when I came here, but please watch your back, ok?" You shakily exhale.

"Alright, you too. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think he will hurt you." Mark tries to console you.

You're not afraid of Jaemin. You know he would never hurt you; you can tell he loves you in his own sick, twisted way, but you are afraid of what Jaemin will do to others.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

You returned from Mark's house that night with a new resolve. You had to get more evidence. You needed to prove that Jaemin was really behind all of this, but you needed a way to get into the house to snoop around to do that. There's no way you could sneak in; his security was too tight, and you had to find a way for him to let you in. The only problem with that was that whenever you two were together, he wouldn't take his eyes off of you. You wracked your brain all night until you came up with a not-so-solid plan. You were going to have to wing it, but you prayed that you could pull it off.

You finish your work week without a hitch. You keep up an act around Jaemin, not wanting him to catch on to the fact that you're suspecting him. He asks you out on a date on Saturday. This was perfect. This was the exact opportunity you had been waiting for. When Saturday comes, Jaemin takes you shopping. He buys you all sorts of things—practically anything you lay eyes on.

"Jaem, where am I even going to put all this stuff?" you chastise him. "I don't need all of this," you tell him after you two have left the fifth shop that day.

He kisses you softly on the cheek. "Won't you let me spoil you? Come on, who knows? You may need this stuff one day! And you can store it at my house!" He raises his eyebrows at you, challenging you to rebut his logic.

You look into his eyes, and a part of you wants so hard to believe that this was Jaemin and that there was no sinister Jaemin lurking behind those pretty eyes of his.

"Yea, but come on, Jaem, a flat screen? Since when do fuck buddies drop a band on each other?" You raise an eyebrow to match him.

"Well, call me your sugar daddy then~" he coos, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Gross, get away from me, old man," you say, pushing him away. You know you're on a mission, but you can't help but fall back into the normal swing of things with him.

You arrive back at his house, and he has the concierge bring up the bags. Jaemin sets the things down in another room down the hall. When he returns to the living room, you're nowhere to be seen. He travels the short distance back to his room, and he sees you dressed down to your lace set sitting prettily on his bed.

"Whats this?" He licks his lips.

"I want to say thank you. For today." You look away in embarrassment. To him, it looks like you're just turning shy under his gaze, but In reality, you're scanning his room for clues.

"So polite baby," he whispers as he closes in on you. You hold out a hand in front of you, effectively making him stop. He leans into your palm, and you have to fight the urge to caress his chest. He takes a small step forward, your hand still on his chest, and he smirks and quirks a brow. It's almost like he's telling you that you can't do anything that he doesn't allow. He doesn't stop because you made him; he stops because he decided to.

"Let me take care of you tonight, Jaem," you sigh airily, sitting up onto your knees to meet his eyes.

He leans in further for a slow kiss. His hands caress your body, drinking you up. You pull away after a few moments and give him your best puppy eyes. He studies you for a few seconds before relenting as he sits beside you on the bed. You climb onto his lap, and you undress him. Pushing him back into the mattress and worshiping his body. There are moments when you think he's going to try and take back control, but that just won't do.

You need him to submit.

You pull his hair harshly and whisper into his ear. "If you're not gonna be a good boy, I won't touch you. Don't you want to be good for me?"

He looks up at you with doe eyes and spit-glossed lips as he nods. That's all he's ever wanted; he needs to be good for you. His breathing shallows, and you know you've got him right where you want him.

Your plan is to wear him out. You're gonna have to pull as many orgasms from him as possible so that you can put him straight to sleep. Call this pussy nyquil. You start off by making him cum down your throat. You were sitting on his face as you sucked him off; he loved this position because he got to smother himself in your pussy, so it didn't take him long to finish. Next, you pulled out a few toys and ordered him to use them to fuck himself. You held one of his fleshlights just a few inches above his length, making him work for his release. He whined each time you would tease him and pull the toy away before he could bury himself to the hilt in it. He was looking at you with those pretty eyes and batting those long lashes up at you, begging you to give him what he wanted, so who were you to deny him? You were gonna give it to him, alright? Over and over and over again. You fuck the toy down on him harshly, and he freezes, letting his back arch in pleasure as you fuck him.

"Did I tell you to stop? Fuck," you command simply.

He resumed his movements not a minute later, meeting you thrust for thrust. His head is thrown back as he cums deep inside the toy, his legs shaking and his chest heaving.

"No break?" he heaves, trying to catch his break.

"No break," you confirm as you swing a leg over his lap and sit on this length. "But you can handle it, can't you?"

When Jaemin nods in confirmation, you ride him until he's crying. He can't control his hands anymore, and they find purchase on your hips, gripping the flesh as he bites his plump bottom lip, tears staining his cheeks as he calls your name over and over.

"That's it baby,almost there?" you ask, grabbing his face and making him look at you. His lips begin to tremble again, and he releases deep inside of you without warning. He really wanted to tell you, but his brain was fried.

That's exactly what you needed.

"Lay down, baby; I'll clean you up, ok?" You say this as you stroke his face.

He tries to fight to stay awake, but soon enough, he's out like a light. You wait a few minutes for his breathing to even out, then you spring into action. You gently crawl off the bed and gather your clothes, throwing them on. You go to the bathroom, grab a towel, and wet it so that when you return, you can just pretend like you left to find a rag. You begin searching the house for anything that can clear the thoughts in your head.

If you find nothing, you agree to drop it all and just go back to normal. Maybe Mark really did trip, and Jaehyun was just being an asshole for no reason. If you did find evidence, though, you would confront him. You wanted to turn him over to the police, but you knew that with all the connections he had, he would be right back out in a day. Your best bet is to confront him so he doesn't feel betrayed. You don't want him to act irrationally.

The kitchen is clear, so you move on to the living room; nothing stands out. Next was the bathroom; again, nothing. You were growing frustrated. You check the spare bedroom, the one where he put all of your things. It's set up pretty nicely. There is a huge bed in the center of the room and a huge window that overlooks the city. There's an attached bathroom and even a small fridge. All of your things are laid out around the room. You wonder if this room is specifically for you. Maybe somewhere for you to hang out whenever you come over? You don't dwell on it too much and move to the master bedroom.

You quietly check to see if Jaemin is still sleeping. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, so you continue your search. You check under the bed and then the closet. You scour the shelves when something sticks out to you. It's a medium-sized box with your initials on it. You try to pull it down from the back of the shelf and clumsily stumble backwards, dropping the box in the process. It falls with a loud thud, the lid pops off, and all of its continents spill out onto the dark closet floor. You scrambled in the darkness to put everything back, but you couldn't see a thing. You're grabbing anything you can feel when the light flickers on. Jaemin doesn't say anything at first; he just watches you. When he notices what you're holding, he speaks.

"What are you doing?" Jaemin says it coldly.

Try to respond, but there's nothing you can think of to explain yourself. You take a look around you; now that the light is on, you can finally see the contents of the box as they lay spread across the floor. Photos of you from different angles, different days, and different locations All of which you had no recognition of. Among the photos, you see your missing underwear. You finally looked down to see what you were holding, and it was another photo. This one was taken directly over you as you slept in your bed at home.

"Jaemin…..what is all of this?" You shakily ask, barely able to meet his cold gaze.

He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

"You weren't meant to see those pretty. Why did you have to go and ruin everything? Every time something is going great between us, you have to ruin it." He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

The next thing you know, the room is covered in darkness again.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦

3 months later

Finally, after months of recovery, Mark's leg finally healed up, and he's able to return to work. He hasn't heard from you since the night you told him everything. He had been lying low, like you asked. He hopes that now that he's returning to work, he can get some more information about your whereabouts. He was greeted by the entire staff when he arrived, even a few new faces he didn't recognize. A party was thrown to welcome him back. He doesn't catch sight of you or Jaemin during the office get-together. He begins to worry, but everyone seems to be acting normal, so nothing terrible could have happened to you, right? As the day progresses, he's introduced to the new people in his department, one of whom is Jaehyun. Mark remembers you mentioning that name the last time he saw you. During lunch, Mark finds Jaehyun and asks to speak with him in private. They go to the stairwell, which has now been fully renovated.

"Hey man, by any chance do you know y/n?" Mark questions carefully.

"Yeah, she showed me around for my first two days," Jaehyun answers collectively.

"Why only the first two?" Mark asked even though he already knew the answer.

"I got hurt pretty bad in a car accident," Jaehyun says with slight unease.

"You know something similar happened to me after meeting her as well. I fell down the stairs and broke my leg after working with her for a few days," Mark said, gauging Jaehyun's reactions.

Jaehyun sighs in irritation before meeting Mark's eyes. sternly, "Look man, I don't know what you're insinuating, but it was just an accident. Leave it alone."

"Dude, I think something happened to her. I asked her manager, and they said she quit after not showing up to work for a week! That doesn't sound like her at all!" Mark argues back desperately.

Jaehyun grabs Mark's shoulder and pulls him in closer before looking over his shoulder. "drop it. You don't know what you're up against; just let it go; it's better that way." Jaehyun lets go of Mark to push past him, exiting the stairwell.

Mark can't let it go! He needs to know what happened to you. It's the least he can do for all the times you used to visit him, so he asked around, and he found out that Jaemin also left his department about a month ago. They said he got a promotion and is now working from home.

Mark takes it upon himself to pay him a visit after work.

When he arrives, his heart is beating out of his chest, and he can just feel it in his bones that something is not right. He knocks, and after a few moments, Jaemin opens the door.

"I see your legs better." Jaemin doesn't even bother with a hello.

"Yeah, thankfully," Mark replies, trying to keep up the formalities. "I'm back at work now, but I didn't see Y/N today? Have you guys spoken recently?"

"No I'm sorry; the last I heard from her was after she put in her two weeks." Jaemin replies nonchalantly.

"Bummer. Mind if I come in? I’d like to catch up with you." Mark knows it's no use but decides to take the chance anyway.

"Actually," Jaemin looks behind his shoulder, "right now isn't a good time. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, man, no problem. I'll be seeing you around." Mark waves as he bids Jaemin a polite goodbye.

Jaemin doesn't respond; he doesn't like the idea of running into Mark again and just watches as he retreats back down the hall.

Mark knows Jaemin is hiding something, and he was going to find out.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆

Jaemin shuts the door and locks it. He turns and heads down the hall towards your room. He unlocks the door from the outside and steps in. You're lying on the bed, reading manga. This was just one of the ways you spent your free time in your little makeshift prison. It seems like you really did need all that stuff he bought you on that Saturday all those months ago. Jaemin had this room fully furnished for you; the closet was stocked with all your clothes and more, and The fridge was full of your favorite foods and desserts. He had taken care of your lease at your old place and ended it. You don't need that anymore. The smart TV was now mounted on the wall, but you had already watched half of Netflix’s catalog by now. You have a nice view from your room. Jaemin allows some form of sunlight, but he had the windows altered so they don't open or break. You spend your time reading books. playing games or drawing. Jaemin spends a lot of time with you as well, but you still won't look at him.

"You had a visitor today; Mark came looking for you." Jaemin tells you casually, like he was just mentioning the weather.

This was the first time in 3 months that you looked at him for more than 5 seconds. Your eyes are hopeful as you sit up in bed.

"It seems like that caught your attention," he says humorlessly.

"Please don't hurt him, Jaem; he has nothing to do with this."

"I won't hurt him; I know how much you care for him. The same goes for Jaehyun. I love you, so I would never do anything to hurt you or make you sad," he pouts for the theatrics. "I just want you to love me back. You don't love me now, but time fixes everything. Until that day comes, you’ll be stuck in this room with me."

He's right in front of you now, softly stroking your hair as he smiles reassuringly at you. You want to move away from his touch, but his other hand comes up to grip your face, holding you in place. He lays a firm kiss on your lips, and this time you retaliate. You bite his lip hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn't pull away. He takes it. He smears his blood-covered mouth against yours and laughs as you whine in protest. Jaemin finally pulls away.

"Hurt me all you want; you're still mine."

You think he looks psychotic as he's standing in front of you, but even now, as blood trickles down his chin, you think his smile is still dazzling.

Maybe he's already destroyed you.

#jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic #jaemin #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct fic #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct

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sserajeans · 10 months

Text

just for a moment

hanni pham x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your co-star are tasked to make a song for your web drama's soundtrack. your co-star happens to be a childhood friend whom you've had history with.

genre + others: lsrfm! reader, idol au, childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, second chance ish?

notes: not requested, PLS READ THE LYRICS IT'LL MATTER!!!!, how i look delaying yail update 😂😂, also yes another hsmtmts inspired oneshot, pics from @/wiotas

"what do we even fucking write about?"

"y/n..."

"sorry..."

how did you get here? glad you asked!

it's the year 2025, and a team of producers at hybe are on the works for a minor project: a web drama promoting support for the lgbtq+.

you've talked about how odd it was to your best friend, and groupmate, yunjin.

"probably good for publicity, girl. like 'make everyone know we're not homophobic!' kinda thing." was all she had to say about it, which was likely true anyways.

you were convinced the casting was done at random honestly, but it was obvious they wanted a mix of groups to garner more attention. and that landed you the lead role with, you guessed it, ms. hanni pham!

why you two when you each had members who fit the actress role better? well, that's where you thought the random part came to play.

filming wasn't much of an issue. you were comfortable with hanni, and you two worked well on and off screen, just as expected considering your history. the director even pointed out your "remarkable chemistry", but she didn't have to know why it was that way.

as a matter of fact, you guys were about to wrap up in a few days. it was a wild past couple of weeks, but it was nice to get to spend more time with hanni again.

i mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like you two cut each other off when you moved to korea, but the talking definitely decreased, and the filming made up for lost time!

now, on one of the last days of filming, your respective managers sat you two in a conference room together, and dropped the news that you'd have to compose a new song just for the web drama's soundtrack.

the task in itself didn't bother you at all, and you were sure it didn't bother hanni too. you two were experienced in songwriting and composing, your names on a couple of song credits to count, so this was actually much easier than acting.

the issue was that you had enough going on for certain... feelings to resurface.

you see, the plot of the web drama hit a little too close to home for you. i mean seriously, childhood friends with feelings for each other, but couldn't take things further due to complications, then having to work together acting in some play.

it sounded a lot like your story.

hell, they even had your character do swimming! the same sport you excelled in back in australia.

the only reason nothing has gotten too awkward on that note yet, was because of your other labelmates being there like boynextdoor's leehan, minji and danielle, even your fellow members kazuha and yunjin.

with them around, you got to reconnect with hanni, but with a couple safe boundaries! now that you two were tasked to work on something alone though? you were scared things were going to be different.

so that's what brought you two here, together, in the music room. hanni seated facing the table with a pen and paper, you on the floor with your guitar in hand.

you were strumming to any chord shape that could come to mind in hopes of finding a melody that you could build off of, and hanni was tapping the end of her pencil on her forehead for any word, lyric, or rhyme that could work.

nothing came.

so engrossed in your respective tasks, the two of you didn't notice a shadow behind the translucent door, so when a knock came, you levitated off the floor for a millisecond, and hanni let out a soft yelp.

"hey you two~"

huh yunjin.

"how are my besties doing!" she came in doing a little dance, first walking over to check on what hanni was writing before landing on the floor beside you.

"we're stuck." you muttered, head against the wall behind you.

"oh... i see." yunjin shrugged her eyebrows in confusion, because she had just came from peeking over at hanni's notebook and was 100% sure she had lines written down.

"well, let's see... you got the genre down that suits the two of you so there's that. romance obviously sells, so there's that too. maybe you guys should try... writing while in character?" yunjin did her best to help the two of you, as the mutual best friend and seasoned singer-songwriter. "or if there's an experience you guys have had before, that would definitely help. real raw emotion ya know?"

"anyways," the eldest huffed and got up from the floor, messing up your hair and hanni's before heading for the door to leave the room. "i gotta get going. you two don't come home too late okay?"

you and hanni nodded before resuming. after a couple minutes, you realized that maybe you two will have to be communicating more if it meant writing a song together.

"hey han, do you have anything written?" hanni froze for a second before turning around on her chair.

truth was she did. she wrote them down specifically as yunjin started telling you two to write based on experiences.

"i... uh... kind of? just a couple lines, i don't know how i feel about them though."

"can i take a look? might help a bit."

"oh yeah... sure..."

there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, but it'd look awfully suspicious if she scratched out lines right before you'd check.

"ah..." the initial reaction was surprise for you, and a million thoughts came racing through your head.

"yeah! it's nothing much... but i figured it was better than nothing...."

"no yeah! for sure! i'm kinda getting the vibe, wait here." you turned around and picked up your guitar from the floor and took a seat beside hanni. "uhm... okay let's try... this?"

you freestyled a riff on your guitar, allowing your fingers to move on its own to play what felt right. it resulted in one of the most simple yet enchanting melodies that seemed perfect for your song's intro.

"hey that sounds perfect! i love it!" hanni cheered and gave you a thumbs up. "okay so... since you're doing your little guitar intro, perhaps we have the first line written in your character's point of view?"

"sure... okay... uhm..." it took you a couple seconds to think of something, or to get in character on the spot. but then you remembered yunjin's advice.

an experience you guys have had before.

"uh... how's this..." you fiddled with your hands as hanni nodded along, telling you to go on with your suggestion. after about half a minute, you had a two-liner with some sort of melody that matched your guitar intro. "i fell in love with the only girl who knows what i'm about."

hanni froze for a second, which didn't go unnoticed by you, but continued nodding along as she wrote down the lines. "i like your voice in this genre."

"oh..." you looked up from your guitar and faced her side profile as she was still facing her notebook. you felt your face warm a little, but not too much for it to gain color. "that's a lot coming from you. i have your lee mujin service episode on loop."

hanni smiled, a sight you'd never get tired of seeing. "a fan, huh? which part's your favorite?" she turned to look at you, a smirk on her face to mask the flustered and proud version of herself having received praise for her work from you of all people.

she continued writing a line underneath yours, a sudden burst of inspiration coming over her.

"probably lucky."

of course it's the song about being in love with your best friend.

she chuckled at your answer. hanni wasn't dense, and she knew you weren't either.

okay maybe you were, just slightly, but you pick up on context clues.

but point is, she knew what that implied, and what everything that came between the two of you the past few weeks could've felt like for you.

but just as she was getting somewhere, her train of thought was interrupted by your "burst of epiphany", as one would call it.

"oh hey, hear this out. i think it sounds like chorus material." you tapped her shoulder and positioned your hands across the frets of your guitar. you sounded a lot happier, more energy than you did earlier in the day as you finally got a feel of what to write and play.

when we're underneath the lights, my heart's no longer broken, for a moment, just for a moment

in that moment, hanni's mind rushed with too many emotions. objectively, the melody was beautiful. your voice made it better, the guitar felt like it had a voice of its own, and the lyrics. god, the lyrics.

she knew for sure you felt what she felt.

the two of you stayed in that music room a couple more hours, discovering a new type of comfort in a person the other has always known. like reading a book you've had forever, and feeling a newfound joy in a character that has always been there.

by the end of the day, you and hanni seemed to have switched roles, your guitar in her hands, and her notebook in yours.

you were finishing up a final copy of the first half of the song along with chords in case you'd forget the sound. there was also a copy of the both of you singing on your respective voice note apps. (which, unbeknownst to you, would be on repeat for hanni later that night.)

"here we go." you sighed, it took a lot of effort trying to make handwriting like yours legible. you've always hated it. teachers back in elementary all throughout high school would always mark your papers low despite almost flawless answers, just for your handwriting.

"i've always liked your handwriting..." hanni muttered as she admired your written work, unknowingly smiling to herself.

"oh.. thanks. i've always hated it."

"i know." hanni looked up at you, observing the sheepish smile on your face. she knew all about why you hated it, and she understood, but to her, it was an art. a part of you. she thought, "that's why i like it."

there was partial truth into that. besides it being a funny add-on to hanni's compliment, it's always been her thing to love stuff about you that you hated, even if it was something as small as handwriting.

back when you two were together (or whatever that was you had back in australia before you left, neither of you stuck a label on it), she'd always talk long speeches about how your handwriting was an art. something so significantly you that you shouldn't change, and that even if you hated it, she'd love it twice as much in place of you.

as you two shared a couple more laughs, a notification popped up on both of your phones. yours first, then hanni's a second later.

a snort accidentally escaped your system as you read the texts. "sorry.. is it yunjin?"

hanni let out the loudest laugh before nodding and exchanging phones with you to read what the older sent to the other. it was the same message in different forms, panicking to get you home before chaewon freaked out and took it out on yunjin, then proceeding to fear minji and her "wrath".

despite laughing at your member's worry, the two of you stood up to pack up, which really didn't take much anyways. you slid your guitar in its case, hanni hid her notebook in her bag.

walking out of the room to the lobby together side by side was probably the most stomach-churning activity of the day. and you literally had to write a love song about each other with each other. but there was something in the way it felt when your hands touched.

as you reached the part of the building where you finally had to part ways, the two of you faced each other. both expecting something, but not quite sure with what they were expecting.

"i.. uh... it was nice to reconnect today." she started off, awfully awkward at it too.

"yeah... it was..." you smiled, hand reaching for the back of your neck to scratch. a nervous habit. "i'll let you know if i think of anything tonight."

"yeah, same here." hanni nodded back, though a pinch of disappointment evident on her face. maybe she was expecting more, or maybe it was too soon. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah... see ya." you slowly turned around, head racing.

should you say something? should you save it for another time? would it make things awkward tomorrow?

screw it. live in the present, right?

"han... for the record, my heart does still stop when i see you."

#hanni pham x reader #hanni x reader #hanni imagines #hanni pham imagines #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #girlgroup imagines #hanni fanfic #Spotify

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sundrop-writes · 9 months

Text

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you.

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why.

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you.

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had.

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons.

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot.

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible.

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot.

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth.

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance.

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained.

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you.

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different.

…

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!”

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment.

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room.

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled.

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.”

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom.

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back.

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.)

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued.

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.”

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone.

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice.

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.”

Jason’s face fell flat.

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next.

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice.

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!”

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter.

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you.

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction.

…

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth.

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you.

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips.

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light.

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport.

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself.

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down.

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back.

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass.

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology.

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week.

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’.

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were.

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him.

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick.

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic.

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive.

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up?

…

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols.

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate.

It was harmony.

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night.

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you.

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself.

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills.

Jason chuckled.

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented.

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled.

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused.

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.”

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement.

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin.

That. That must have been the moment.

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy.

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left.

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free.

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice.

Him or the Titans.

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you.

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay.

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans.

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me.

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you.

He let you go.

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize.

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that.

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day.

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team.

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears.

…

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death.

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge.

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night.

…

Jason knew that he should have left town.

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason.

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so.

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did.

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap.

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences.

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer.

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat.

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles.

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled.

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act.

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant.

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point.

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous.

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!”

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’.

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly.

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something.

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother.

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.”

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion.

“Where uptown?” He asked.

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.”

Jason glared at him.

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-”

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.”

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this.

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed.

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to.

He should listen to that voice.

He should leave town.

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him.

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up.

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.”

Jason turned back around then.

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever.

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look.

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped.

It was you.

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face.

You were terrified.

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system.

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile.

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth.

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen.

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth.

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.”

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap.

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified.

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl.

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.”

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl.

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time.

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you.

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you.

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!”

…

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage.

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face.

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him.

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was.

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you.

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice.

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles.

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup.

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free.

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him.

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!”

“Wh-?”

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs.

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek.

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-”

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way.

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension.

“What?” Jason gaped.

This was the last thing he had been expecting.

He was saving you - why were you questioning him?

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?”

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder.

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you.

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.”

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt.

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming.

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him.

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating.

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?”

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?”

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed.

“Why?” You prodded again.

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go.

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?”

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever.

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted.

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night.

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something.

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears.

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him.

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him.

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares.

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you.

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat.

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know.

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it.

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther.

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do.

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words.

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth.

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now.

…

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button.

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.”

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next.

…

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest.

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before.

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping.

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise.

He did hear it.

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled.

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap.

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on.

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again.

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety.

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge.

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system.

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you.

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight.

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left.

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air.

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished.

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt.

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen.

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?”

You couldn’t answer him.

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke.

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still.

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do.

All he could do was hold you.

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor.

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.”

Jason simply wept. And he held you.

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled.

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x gn!reader #titans fanfiction #dc titans #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction

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junedenim · 22 days

Text

2004

beneath the boardwalk, part 2 (series masterlist)

i bet you look good on the dancefloor

warnings: fluff, angst, a little smutty, the whole shebang, offensive language (posh-shaming), etc.

word count: 19.6k

In Alex's bedroom, there is a splatter of ink on the wall that looks like a Rorschach test. It has a big splotch in the middle with droplets surrounding it. It's on the wall next to his bed and you could look at it for hours, study layers of it. Butterfly, moth, bat, or what I would later insinuate several times: a vagina.

Despite the distance between High Green and Wakefield, I would drive over to Alex's house about every other weekend once the spring semester had begun. It had started as a plan to work on our writing with one another before it became more of an excuse to hang out with one another. Alex would later confess to me that he never did much songwriting in general, minus a few exceptions, when we were there. Instead, he did unrefined, rough drawings of mostly clutter-filled nonsense. Later, when I went away to university, I found one of the sketches cut into a bookmark, placed by Alex in my notebook. The sketch was of a girl with hair that was too long drooped over while writing in her notebook. It wasn't what critics would consider good, but it was me in Alex's eyes, and I think that did me greater justice than any other portrayal of me.

We didn't talk much. For those months, his mum would joke that we were "going steady." I wrote more than I ever did in my life because Alex wouldn't allow me to do anything else. He'd shush me when I tried to speak to him, insisting that he was in the middle of a lyrical masterpiece. In reality, he was practicing writing with his left hand.

Most of that material is lost to time. That notebook disappeared around '07 and is suspected to have been lost when my parents moved out of our Wakefield home. During that time I mostly wrote fiction, personal essays were reserved for my diary. Alex never read anything in that notebook with the exception of one page that I had ripped out, folded up into a swan, and placed in his pocket before I left for university. It's the only page that remains and still sits in Alex's nightstand drawer.

I stayed for dinner for the first time in February. His mother, Penny, insisted that it was ridiculous I make the drive back home on an empty stomach. I don't think Alex had people over for dinner often, maybe Matt occasionally when they were younger, but I think most nights were confined to him and his parents.

They spoke quietly, much like Alex did, but they were funny and had an overt interest in me.

"Have you lived in Wakefield your whole life?" His father asked me.

"Uh, no, I lived the first few years of my life in Frankfurt, Germany—"

My explanation was cut short by Penny gasping. I feared the kitchen had caught fire. "Alexander!" She chastised, for the first time hearing someone call him by his full first name. "You didn't tell me this."

Alex tried to keep his laughter over his mother to himself, looking down at his plate. "I didn't know."

"Did Alex tell you I'm a German teacher? Probably not since he apparently doesn't tell anyone anything." She pointedly said to her son.

I laughed because it was sweet and, more obvious to only me, even then, my parents never did this. Stacey didn't even joke around anymore. We didn't eat dinner at the table unless we had guests, which were almost exclusively my dad's co-workers.

"Are your parents German?" Penny was eager. She had found a connection with the girl who had been taken hostage in her son's room for the past month. Alex's parents were reassured that nothing was going on between the two of us and that they had no issues with closed doors. I suppose my parents didn't either but they were likely in a different parenting style than Penny and David.

"No," I said, "my dad's work was over there. He grew up near Newcastle. My mum was born in Moscow but grew up over in the States."

"Wow, so, how'd they meet?"

I laughed. I didn't plan to tell the story but Penny was curious and my laughter had to be explained. "Um," I cleared my voice, "my parents met through my dad's wife. Ex-wife." A famed story in our family. My parents oddly toted this loudly to us as children like it was some romantic tale.

I sipped my water, laughing into it as I watched the members of the table try and contain a reaction. Then, Alex let out his laughter and I had to join in. Rumbling the glass of water I was drinking out of. David and Penny, with our invitation, joined in.

At the end of the night, Penny hugged me and told me to get home safely. "I'd like to hear more life stories from you."

Alex, overhearing, chimed in, "Yeah, she should write a book about them."

It began the tradition that at least once a month, I would have dinner with David and Penny.

The following week, right at the tail end of February when the heating in Alex's room broke, I sat on his bed, under the covers. He, of course, sat over top of them in his jeans and trainers. It was disgusting but it was his bed so I was rejected the right to criticize him over it.

I had grown bored of writing and had become interested in Alex. Since my kissing faux pas, I had made a great effort to uninterest myself in Alex. It was going okay until he forced me into these writing sessions. I was never able to crack Alex completely. I could figure out things about him, read my way through him, but I was never able to fully deduce why he refused to kiss me but wanted to spend time alone with me. Now, I'd tell you he was being a friend. Then, I'd tell you, he had to be gay.

Yet, I knew he wasn't and I couldn't stop wondering why he didn't like hanging out with me when other people were involved. Joanie had brought up the idea of a double date but Alex made a sound and shook his head before insistently saying, "Jane's just me friend." He didn't like hanging around Joanie much, I could understand that much. But we didn't hang out with Matt together and he rejected hanging with AB & Claire, which was fine. We weren't dating or anything.

Joanie and Claire would both tease me about Alex. They both figured we spent Saturdays fucking our brains out, not silently sitting across from one another. Not talking with his mum more than him. I, like Alex, would insist we were nothing more than friends, but in my head I was playing another game where Alex and I were in a secret relationship, hiding it from our friends, so secret Alex didn't even know about it.

I didn't delude myself much. I didn't expect him to change his mind on me but I did fantasize maybe he would. I liked being his friend too. I liked looking at him like "friends" do.

"I'm done!" I announced. I shut my notebook and placed my pen on top of it.

He didn't look up from his book. He shushed me. Scrunched up his nose and moved his pen quickly. This might have been one of the few times he was writing.

I folded my hands into my lap and waited. His pen rushed across the page, then scratched something out, then continued for another surge of writing. Alex looked up, squinted at me, and then returned to writing.

"It's time for me to go!" I began to move over to him at the end of the bed. Fists on his mattress like a gorilla.

Alex shushed me again. I was about to start beating my chest. I laid my head next to his legs, criss-crossed under his notebook. I stretched myself out and saw his eyes glance down at the gap my shirt had created, belly button exposed. I yawned and he kept writing.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

He didn't even bother shushing this time. He was reaching the bottom of the page but I was whiny and bored and desperately didn't want to go home.

I sat up and attempted to spin my pen like Matt did with his drumsticks. I'd tried to learn but Matt wasn't a very good teacher or maybe I wasn't a very good student, likely the latter. I stared intensely at Alex, bulging my eyes, trying to will his head to look up. Writing, writing, writing.

Then, my pen flew. It launched out of my hands, spinning quickly before smacking against his wall. The ink landed and I covered my mouth with my hands, trying to hide my laugh.

Alex looked up, searching for the sound, "What'd you do?" He followed my eyes and looked at the stain forming, and then he looked back over at me, silently laughing into my hands.

"I'm so sorry." My laugh was noticeable no matter my efforts to hide it. I became loud and tried to take deep breaths to hide it but then it grew uncontrollable. "I don't know what happened." And then he laughed too.

Alex liked my car. It was a black 2002 Volkswagen New Beetle. Besides AB and me, none of our friends had their own cars. AB only had a car because he worked in his father's garage shop and the car was a clunker. Will used to have one too but he crashed it on New Year's Day 2003.

Alex would insist, mostly when I got bored of writing and complaining in his ear, that we take a ride in the Beetle. He made too many Beatles puns that I rolled my eyes at but to this day, I wish I had written them down to have as relics from that period of our lives. He'd flip through the radio too many times. Then, he'd shut it off and ask if I had any CDs.

"Sugababes?" He'd once question with a chuckle. He has a habit of distracting me while driving.

I furrowed my brows. "What's wrong with Sugababes?"

Then, he'd pull his face together and put it back in the console. "Nothing, nothing."

We never drove anywhere in particular. Sometimes we went to City Centre, sometimes I drove Al to work. Most of the time we just drove around. I didn't know too much of High Green but quickly learned every corner of it with Alex as my tour guide.

One time we stopped at the Charlton Brook Dam and I was lying on my stomach, kicking my feet behind me, and writing in my notebook. Very teenage dream writing in "Dear Diary..." For the first time, Alex groaned.

I looked up and he was staring up at the sky, almost directly into the sun. He hadn't bothered to take his notebook out, still in his back pocket.

"What?" I asked.

He slowly shook his head.

I sat up properly. "No, come on, what are you groaning all about for?"

Alex sighed and rubbed his eye. "I don't think—I don't know—I don't think I can write near water." This was long before I knew of his mostly empty writing sessions.

I threw my head back in laughter.

He chuckled along with me but asked, "What's so fun about that?"

"No, no, nothing," I told him. I calmed myself down and we held eye contact.

The dam seemed to bring something out of Alex. Something about the water reflected something onto him. "Can I ask you something?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"What are you going to do after Barnsley?" It was like a confrontation. One that I needed. My parents were too far off to care where I was most of the time. I don't think they had thought about my future, not as much as Gary, my older brother. My older sister, Harper, did one year of university before dropping out and marrying Ian. I think Harper wanted to get away as much as I did but then she got pregnant and was never able to escape. Just had to accept her fate as a Cavendish.

I shrugged at his question. "I thought about university. That seems like the likely thing to do but I feel too unsure. Like I should go get a job or gallivant through Europe for a year. Fuck off to America or something."

He laughed. "Fucking off to America sounds nice. You'd get a lot more sun. You look good in the sun."

An upturn of my cheeks and a vow not to take his compliments too seriously occurred. "I've applied but haven't heard."

Alex picked at the hole in his jeans, no longer looking at me. "Do you think it be crazy to do the band for, you know, a living or summat?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I like your stuff."

"You're one of the few. Have a gig with just you and Matt's mum handing out pastries."

"Despite your disdain for my Angels with Dirty Faces CD, I know good music when I hear it. When I read it too."

"You've only read one of them."

"And I know it's good. You've read nothing of mine, yet you insist I come over every weekend to write."

Then, he said, quickly and sure of himself, "That's just because I want to see every weekend."

I hid my reaction. I must have. In between, my heart beating and my throat closing, I contained my excitement because he didn't comment on it. "Is that so?"

I wanted to pester him further. See the map of his brain and what road it leads down. But he stood up and said, "My shift's in a half hour."

I lamented. "Has this relationship grown so one-sided you don't even properly ask me for a ride anymore?"

I was whining in place and he was eager to get back to the car, but I'm not sure why he didn't tell me to move or push me up the little hill we were sitting on, instead, he grabbed hold of my hand. Not in a yanking motion. It was soft and little and he never commented on it. He intertwined himself with me and said, "Come on, Janie." Then, pulled me up the hill and didn't let go until I reached the car door. In the car, we laughed and listened to Sugababes, but he didn't touch me again. Didn't grab hold of my knee or wrap his arm around the back of my seat. He sat with his hands on his own knees and when I knew he secretly loved a song, he'd tap away with his left hand on his thigh.

When March neared an end that year I decided I was not going to celebrate my birthday. I resigned myself to the cupcake AB and Claire got me for lunch and it ended with that. Joanie had other plans.

Ambushing me was never a good idea, let alone a surprise party. Ambushing with alcohol was always a good idea. I guzzled it down while we sat in Joanie's basement, smaller than Will's but bigger than the White House's (exaggeration but not far off).

Unknown bodies filled the room but I had Claire by my side and Joanie hanging off my back. As much as we had drifted, I was touched by Joanie's closeness to me, instead of Matt. We resembled our former trio before The Grapes gig.

Alex sat across the room. He was sitting on a table next to Matt. At one point in their conversation, Matt pointed over to us and Alex's eyes landed straight on me. He nodded at me and then smiled. I waved him over but he didn't move. He averted his eyes and kept chatting with Matt.

But then a minute later, he looked over at me again and I waved him over again. He smiled but his lack of response remained the same. "Oy!" I yelled.

He looked over and I curled my finger at him, urging him to come hither. He pointed at himself unsurely.

"Yes, you, you wanker!" I shouted.

Alex chuckled and stood up to make his way over to me. He bent down to meet my eye level, flashing a charming smile at me. "You beckoned?"

"I beckoned? I beckoned? You were making the eyes at me over there. It's not proper to ignore the birthday girl."

"You've got two girls hanging off of ya."

"That's a dream for most men."

He laughed, grabbed my hand, and picked me up from my seat. "I'm not gay, Janie." I laughed hard, throwing, not only my head but my whole body back, forcing him to hold me close. "And you are very, very drunk."

I pouted. "What else is a girl supposed to do on her birthday?" I had been drinking on my birthday since I could remember. I used to sneak down into the fridge and steal beers when I was 6. It only got bigger as I got older. Most vices do.

In a perfect sequence, I twirled and he lifted his arm to let me under. When I came back around, I smiled and leaned my chest into his. The little boobs I have pushed up against him. "Do you want to have sex with me tonight?" I don't know where it came from. Well, I mean, I do, a fresh 18 and a mighty amount of alcohol applies, but I had lost all boundaries. A year filled with less sex, less partying, less Will, led me to a clear mind, which only slipped back into past habits.

Sex. Must have sex. If we have sex then he'll like me. He'll love me even. I'm great at sex and he's a little groundling that I'll have to entertain.

"No, Janie, not tonight." I had never corrected the usage of Janie. I abhorred the nickname from everyone else's lips but Al's. He always struck the right chord within me and let it play out for decades.

I rounded my arms onto his neck. I pulled him close, close to kiss, close to French, close to makeout, close to fuck, close to make love, close to eat him alive. "But someday?"

I knew I'd be devastated by whatever response he gave me. Devastated that then wasn't now, devastated that then was never. Alex looked down on me. I was eager. A gosling looking for mother goose to follow. "Do you need to sit down?"

He was ignoring the issue altogether. After all this time of going back and forth in my head about Alex—about why I could crack the code on everything else about him, except what his interest in me was—I had decided to ask him, "Why are you ignoring me?"

He chuckled at my slurring and I dreamt he found it endearing. "I'm not ignoring you. You're hanging all over me."

"Do you not like it when I hang all over you?" I threw myself at him pathetically, especially when I was dripping in alcohol.

"Let's sit." He removed his arms from around him and dragged me over to sit down. Joanie had left to sit on Matt's lap. Claire had shifted to talking to Rosie, currently broken up with Will. Rosie had seemingly taken my place in Will's bed and I was no longer upset about it. I was upset with Alex, or really with myself for not being good enough for Alex.

We sat down and I, sleepy drunk, laid my head on his shoulder. I whispered, low and quiet, that I was shocked he heard over the music, "I just want to know what it is."

"What what is?" He questioned.

"Why don't you like me?" I clarified. I wish I wasn't such a baby. A child begging for her mother to pick her up. I desperately wanted him to like me. I wanted him to fall at my feet in the way no man had. Beg for my forgiveness and call himself an idiot for ever rejecting my kiss.

"I like you."

I hesitated, even drunk I knew we were treading on crossed boundaries. Then I let what I had been dying to know the truth for months slip out. "Why won't you kiss me? I'm not trying to flatter myself but why won't you want to kiss a girl? You're not gay but why won't you kiss me?"

He didn't answer for a moment. Alex has always been a person to think his thoughts out but I imagine he struggled to answer my question. "I like being your friend," Alex said.

"Friend?"

"You're one of my best friends, Janie." He was calm and he pushed my stray hairs behind my ear.

I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to never see anyone again. If I was an ounce sober, I'd swallow the pain and rejection, but my bloodstream was alcohol and I was throwing a pity party. My head left his shoulder and fell into my hands with a sob.

"Jane." He was concerned. He patted my back and urged me to sit up and look at him.

I was too embarrassed to look at him with tears and tell him he was the reason why. Even if he obviously knew he was the reason why. I took a deep breath and sat up. "I'm a sad old drunk. Sorry."

He was concerned but said nothing. We never talked about it again.

Later that night, after everyone had mostly left except our close friend group—minus Will, who had puked on himself about 10 minutes before—Alex handed me a cigarette and lit it for me. No lighters tossed.

We sat in the corner pocket of the couch with one another. Everyone else was lying about but we were talking slowly and tiredly to one another, except Joanie, of course, more perky than ever. "Let's dance!" She cheered.

I groaned and everyone else seemed to feel the same way. Matt wasn't even indulging her anymore. But then she played Spice Girls and I had to join in. I stood myself up and rocked about with Joanie.

Halfway through Alex yelled, "Now do the robot!"

I yelled back over my shoulder. "Oh, fuck off now!" But I did it anyway, rough and drunk as ever.

When the night winded down for good, Alex slept over at my house. The hour was late, everyone was drunk, and it was decided that High Green was just too far. On the walk back home, where our minds sobered up and we walked feet apart from one another. Alex's hands were deep in his pockets and my arms crossed, hands hidden away in my armpits.

About 5 minutes into the walk he asked, "Good birthday?"

I nodded. "Fine."

"Just fine?" He chuckled.

I shrugged. "Birthdays have never been too exciting for me. They've always sucked in some way."

Alex moved closer to me and took a hand out of his pocket, throwing his arm over my shoulder and tugging me into him. If I closed my eyes I could fantasize he meant something else by it. I had wished in my head, with the absence of birthday candles, to have him. Looking back it feels stupid to put that much weight on a guy but I was 18 and he was Alex.

"Anything I can do?" He asked.

In my head, I had a million answers. Any action of interest would shoot rockets through me and fireworks out of me. I didn't say anything. I was sober enough to know that I shouldn't be an idiot. I shouldn't beg for his affection. He was one of my best friends now too and to lose that to some fantasy would be a far greater crime than him not kissing me.

"Not really. I think I'll just go to bed and leave my birthday at that."

Then, he stopped moving. His arm around me held me back. "What?" I asked.

He tilted his head and I'd ponder what it meant. "Nothing," Alex said. We continued walking and never spoke about it again.

The following morning, Alex drove my car. After dealing with my father at the door, who I am sure was drunk from watching Newcastle United lose and had no clue who Alex was, my father, to feign caring, questioned Alex at the door. Alex mumbled away, which could've left a bad first impression on my father if he wasn't too out of it to remember. My father didn't remember my friends' faces anyway.

When Alex and I escaped my father, who grumbled his way back to the tele, Alex drove me for the first time ever. "You're a lot better than I thought you would be."

"Why'd you think I'd be bad?" He was winsome in his long-sleeve sweater, his jacket thrown into the backseat due to the hotness of that car.

"You have me drive you around all the time. I figured your mum was too afraid to give you her car."

The previous night we had slept in the same bed. My daydreams weren't fulfilled in any way, we were laid like sardines, Alex's head at the foot of the bed, mine at the head. My bed, at the pretentious time in my life, was king-sized. An ocean of linen sheets separated us.

In the morning, he grabbed my car keys and insisted.

Alex pulled up by Charlton Brook Dam and we didn't say anything. It was a wordless movement to the water that ran through the park. We sat side-by-side, in the same spot we always sat in, cushioned under two oak trees that had acorns falling at our feet.

He pulled out a cigarette and handed it to me first. He put that pack away and looked at me mute and waiting. I snorted a horrid snort that I think about to this day (I might as well have said oink!). I pulled out one from my purse and handed it to him. He provided the lighter.

"You're no good for me, Janie." I conceded. I decided then I would never dream of being with Alex again. Why lose a friend—a friend like Al—for some fiddly fake romance I had made up in my head? "I smoke too much when I'm with ya." That was true too.

We puffed away and talked about nonsense mostly; shit from school. The dam blew perfectly onto our skin. I was wrapped up in a cardigan and Alex had thrown his jacket to the side, dirting it in the dew.

His voice was soft, like the dew at our feet, and he spoke emotionally, like a vow from his heart. "Your eyes are so blue." I am well aware of the powers of my blue eyes. I've batted them since I was a baby and crowds fell to their knees in adornment. But the way he spoke it sounded like foggy desperation. A thing you only say between two cigarettes deep in the morning or night.

"Yours are very brown." I laughed but he didn't. He stared down at the grass and fiddled with his cigarette. It felt awkward and rigid.

Alex looked up at me carefully. His eyes sculpted over me. "I have thought about it. What you asked me about last night."

Breaths were short and the heart was quickened in beats. "What did I ask about it?" I need this to be clear. I wanted to not fear what would come out of his mouth.

"Never mind."

I realized he needed me to be clear. Though I was in a fit of drunkenness and I would—and had the reputation—of sleeping with whoever would allow. He thought he wasn't special. He looked off into the dam and I asked, "About someday?"

Alex's head turned over and he took a while to answer, in fact, he never answered. He leaned over and kissed me. Slow, steady, and the non-slobber variety. The perfect first kiss.

"You want to have sex now on the hill?" I joked. I was fun. I was cool. I was screaming inside.

He laughed this time. "No. I just wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you."

We didn't get together right away. There was this weird stretch of time lasting from after my birthday until the end of May where we would hide out with one another, in my room after school and in his room where Alex tried to uphold our writing session before dissolving into sex sessions. I don't know if either of our parents knew what would happen upstairs. His parents would either be home late or hold no objections to the shut & locked door. My father wasn't home when Alex came over. He'd always go to the pub after work. My mother sat in front of Coronation Street or had her friends over. Alex never stayed for dinner at mine. I stayed more and more often at his.

The first time we had sex was 2 days after our kiss. We went to my house after school with no intent to do much of anything except a hang out disguised as an excuse to make out. After 10 minutes of snogging, Alex reached under my skirt and touched my underwear. He was hesitant and seemed as if he didn't mean to go that far but didn't retract his hand. Mine furthered lower to his jeans, rubbing in between my legs.

Our lips parted and Alex pushed a small gap between us to see me. "Jane." It was his way of giving a warning sign. There was no pushing further. "Would it be alright...?" He stretched the sentence out, mumbling nerves to me.

"If we had sex?" I attempted to finish. "Yes. If I haven't made it clear I want to have sex with you then we should get your brain checked."

He laughed and placed his head in the nook between my shoulder and neck. I'd wanted him to stay there forever. Forever 18 in that corner of our world. "No, no. I was just—never mind."

I rolled my eyes at his habit of having to decipher his message. I still roll my eyes at this affliction to this day. "You're so cocky and now I've got you tongue-tied."

He rubs his eyes, buggy and alluring. "I'm not cocky. Just mighty hard."

Laughter spurted from my mouth. "You've got no sense."

Alex insisted, "I've got perfect sense."

I've never been one for the term "making love." It's reserved for romance novels and cheesy songs my mother played in the car. I've grown out of the phase of "fucking" but in my late teens, this seemed the appropriate words for my past rendezvous. Quick-fulfillment and non-long-lasting. "Sex" was the preferred word; plain and simple. Alex and I were definitely shagging too. I won't object to that.

Alex looked star-gazingly and held sentiment too deep for me to understand at 18. Then he said, "You're hot, Janie." I settled down a bit after that because he was the sweetest candy I could bite into but he was also an 18-year-old boy.

After the sex, there was the headwork he may or may not have attempted to do before I redirected him to the proper location of the clit. He wasn't bad, much better than anything Will or other losers had done, but he was a man boy and I enlisted myself to be the girl that all his future girlfriends would thank for teaching him how to fuck.

He was sweet as a teddy bear. I pictured him as a little cub bear and me as the pot of honey he was holding. After we had finished for the first time, I went up to pee and he disposed of the condom. He had placed his boxers and shirt on when I had returned. I prepared to dress myself, he grabbed hold of my hand, smooth like a baby's skin, and didn't say anything. He tugged me toward his bed and when he laid down, he pulled me beside him.

I'm sure my look was one of peculiarity causing him to respond with "Come on, Janie, you love my blankets so much."

Alex mindread that I was uncomfortable. I felt naked because I was naked. He handed me my clothes. We were still awkward and gangly teenagers and the idea of wearing one another's clothes was a distant thought. I placed my bra and panties on for good measure, not wanting to wrinkle the rest of my clothes.

I lay beside him on his bed. He rounded his arm over my shoulder and we both stared up at his ceiling. I was being gnawed away inside by one thing, so I asked, "Why'd you change your mind?"

"Me mind on what?" He questioned.

He was warm. Heat radiated off his body and mind. We had both turned to lie on our sides. We faced one another but our eyes were darting over the other's body, at least Alex's were. I focused on the way his hair looked perfect despite what we had just done. "Kissing me. Last year, which might be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life and that's saying something."

He tilted his head down to look me in the eye. "I didn't really know you then."

"I've done a lot more with guys I've known a lot less," I said it lightheartedly but he seemed to take it seriously. He has always been more stoic about these things.

Alex dithered in his mind. Then, he reached his hand out and held my side. It was a slow-moving force pulling me to him. "You're my friend. Matt told me about these conversations you'd have over a smoke. Then, we had our talk outside The Grapes. I couldn't help—I'm not sure who wouldn't want to talk to you."

I almost laughed. It felt ridiculous the notion that people enjoyed hearing me talk. I had spent a whole life being yelled at not to talk at the dinner table, to be seen, not heard, to sit up straight and mind my business, and to not interrupt when my father was talking. I thought of words as something to fill a void in our lives. I wrote my words away and locked them up and wondered: who would ever want to read what I had to say, think, feel? Al.

Alex continued, "And I know you now. I know you differently, but your reputation preceded you."

"As a slut?" I replied.

He didn't reject the idea, although he shook his head. It wasn't something he could highly reject because everyone knew it was true. I didn't have such a problem with it then. When Arctic Monkeys got famous, in turn Alex, and in turn me as his girlfriend, the word felt different. Maybe because it wasn't who I was anymore. I hadn't been in a long time. I was also a university student shying away from my past adventures, unable to shed my skin like everyone else. I was also more than Al's girlfriend. I was more to Alex himself than I was just his girlfriend.

"I didn't want to be bedded, I suppose," Alex admitted. "I didn't want to never see you again."

"You would have seen me again," I insisted.

"From the corner of a party?"

"We didn't see much of each other anyway after that."

"I know. Eventually, we did. And I don't know how many times we would have sat with each other writing instead of shagging."

"You think we couldn't control ourselves?" I teased.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Did we just have sex with each other or was that your evil twin?"

I laughed and pushed him back. I sat up and pulled my skirt on. "So now you don't care about our writing?"

"I figured I'd just give you a little inspiration."

I whipped him with my top. We had exploded into laughter and, once again, he was right.

In my first year of knowing Alex, we had developed this fantasy of escaping England. While I had a privileged life traveling to places that likely gave me skin cancer, I had never had fun doing it. My mother often weighed things down, splashed out on the bottle since Tom, my eldest brother, died in 1996. Trips weren't pleasant before then but there wasn't much need to put on an effort after that. Places where drinking was encouraged and never discouraged were key. Vegas, The Bahamas, Cancún, etc. It sounded fun to me in the moment until I realized I'd be spending months trapped with my drunk mother, groaning father, and poor Stacey. Harper and Greg got out of it once they graduated from university.

I told Alex all of this early on, at some point in one of our first writing sessions. The idea came up every once in a while. Often after we'd have sex. I'd lay in his arms (something we started doing out of convenience since Al's bed was too small, of course, this continued to my bed, despite its much larger size) and we'd be heavy and rushed, staring at the ceiling, completely caught up in one another. He'd sigh and say, "Where do you want to go today, Janie?"

It became a tradition, continuing to this day. I'd list off a new place I wanted to go. When it first started it was my dream destinations, then Alex kept telling me to find new places and research, which I did. I would later graduate with A-levels in geography.

"I'd like to go to LA. I've never been to LA." I was on top of his chest. It was late one night at my house and I often wondered if anyone knew we existed. We were hidden away in this cocoon with only each other to survive. It felt fitting. It has always felt like there is room for the two of us, never too close together, never too far apart.

Alex was tender with me. In the early stages, we acted awkward with one another, but it never felt awkward. Each step was some natural continuation even if it was performed weirdly. We weren't dating but I knew I loved Alex. I felt he loved me too by the way he clumsily petted my shiny hair back. "I went to Disney once with me grandmother."

"I want to go to Joshua Tree," I told him.

"Like the U2 album?"

I laughed. "It's a National Park, you idiot."

"Oh," he chuckled, "you and your parks. You're always wanting me to exercise. You think I'm unfit." Alex spoke jokingly but I got the feeling that parts of him did have concern over his body. He buried so much down that I think he couldn't even feel it at times.

The way his hand moved down my hair calmed me. I figured it might do the same for him. I brushed back his hair, out of his eyes and pushed back. I smiled at him and the fact I was lying on his bare chest after a round of pretty great sex should have been clue enough. "You're the fittest man at Barnsley College."

"Oh, fuck off, Janie. Ya play with me heart too much."

I didn't know what else to say, so I just kissed him.

I don't know if no one ever found out, but nobody said anything. I figure most people guessed we were already doing it considering the ribbing Matt would give Alex sometimes. Everyone was too caught up in themselves anyway. Or maybe the whole Joanie and Matt drama when they broke up in the first week of April, got back together the second week of April, and then called it quits in the third week of April. Alex will deny ever caring about this gossip circus but we had too many intense debriefs on drives from Barnsley for him ever to get away with it.

Alex and I also talked about everything anyway. I'll we ever did was talk and fuck but I think that's what most of existence is anyway. Although, we took it to another level. The only place we didn't talk was a writing session but they were starting to grow farther apart and more an excuse to have sex & talk than to write.

I think I had never met someone willing to talk in such a way. We talked about intelligent things, dumb things, and, mostly, pointless things. Everything got rather complicated around April with people splitting up, splitting off, and looking to split. Somehow—and I really don't know how, considering how dumb and immature I was—Alex and I stayed intact. Alex deserves some credit but not all. He was the glue but I was still the piece he glued himself to.

We still weren't "official" or had a label but I wasn't seeing anyone else and neither was he. Even if we wanted to see other people there wasn't enough time because we were always hanging out with each other.

Except one thing. The future. I had decided to go to the University of Greenwich in the fall and Alex was going to focus on the band. Only I would be down in London, he would remain up North. I had a hard time believing that graduating from Barnsley wasn't graduating from us. There was still the promise of summer and Alex, more determined than ever, was playing gigs non-stop.

My mother was planning some bon voyage trip for me, although the destination had not been determined and it was sure to be more about her than me.

Before Alex could ask me his usual post-coitus question, I asked, "What if we went on a trip?"

We were lying side-by-side like bodies in a crypt. He stretched himself out with a moan. "Where would we go?"

"Hmmm, Japan?"

Alex chuckled. "You want to go to Japan?"

I sat up straight and stared at him. "What's so funny about that?"

"You think I can afford a trip to Japan?"

"Okay, what about France? We could take the train to Paris."

Alex's eyes squinted. He had detected the clear reason. He asked me, "Where are your parents going this summer?"

"I haven't been told yet." I was trying to act nonchalant. I threw my hair up, swung my legs over his bed, and dressed myself in underwear and my shirt.

"Do you even know if they let you?"

I shrugged. "If we plan the whole thing they can't deny it. We should buy the tickets right away." I hopped onto his bed, giddy. The idea of a month away from them was glorious. I imagined a week in Paris with Alex as romantic as teenagers could be. We'd be rough and dirty and then go out and have dinner over candlelight while looking at the Eiffel Tower. I mocked the idea in my head but couldn't deny myself the pleasure of thinking about it. About him, scruffy and boyish, wrapped in a tuxedo. After the week was up, I'd have the house to myself, and Alex could come over and we could do whatever we wanted. I could throw a party with everyone I knew and people I didn't. I could throw a party just for him.

I crawled toward him on the bed. He chuckled at my preying behavior, marching my way toward him. "We should get a hotel and it doesn't have to be fancy. In fact, let's get a really shitty hotel. Like one that doesn't have a toilet but also doesn't have bed bugs."

He laughed and wrapped his arms around my neck. I was pulled into him with a thud. It was a kiddish hug, like two children fighting on the playground. "It sounds nice." His tone said it all—slow, comforting, and never-going-to-happen. My parents would likely find a way to get a refund on everything or let the money wash down the drain. I didn't have much of a right to complain about the life they had given me. We'd likely go to some fabulous island and bake our skin. I had no problem with the islands. I had issues with the company.

Alex let me breathe and stood up to dress himself. He turned around and said, "I have something to show you."

I relaxed with my elbows on my knees and looked at him with eager eyes. He grabbed something out of a bag in the corner of the room and walked it back over to me with it hidden behind his back. He looked sheepish (more than usual). "We, uh, recorded some demos at that 2fly, you remember I told you about that." I nodded. He was fidgety and rubbing his hair. "Anyways, we burned them into CDs." He revealed the jewel case from behind his back. "For helping me out and all that, you know," he allowed himself to let out a chuckle, "I figured you deserve the first copy free."

He handed it over to me. There was artwork by Matt inserted into the front and a small tracklist on the back with about 6 songs on it. I tried to find the CD about a month ago after a curious individual asked to see it. Like most things from those early days, it's likely been disposed of somewhere between London and Wakefield. There were so many of those CDs that Alex eventually became less nervous to hand over to me first to get my review. One of them is likely stuck in my mother's old CD rack that she gave away once she discovered Pandora.

"You know where I'm going to listen to this first?" I asked him. My smile overwhelmed me. Alex's interest in my opinion was a boost of confidence that it seems weird to think where we would both be without the other, solely from the other's encouragement, even in separation.

"Where?" He grinned back at me.

"In my car while I'm driving you to work." I teased as he groaned and covered his ears dramatically.

I continued, "If you make me drive you to work it's what you get."

He laid back on the width of his bed. "I'm giving you a gift and you're punishing me."

I rolled my eyes. "You complain about Sugababes, you complain about your own band. Do you want to just sit in silence?"

"We talk over all that music anyway." Alex had a point.

I leaned over him to make eye contact with him. "So does it matter what we play anyway?"

"I can't listen to meself and talk at the same time. And I'd like for you to be able to hear the thing and tell me what you think."

I sighed. "Alright. Who else are you giving them to?"

Alex shrugs. "Me parents maybe. Whoever buys them."

I scoffed.

"What?"

I shook my head and sat back on top of my feet. "Nothing."

Alex smiled and shook his head. "No, no, no, out with it."

"Who's going to buy some rubbish CD?" I questioned.

"Hey!" He sat up. "You haven't even listened to it and you're already telling me it's rubbish."

I tilted my head. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying the general audience member isn't going to drop 5 quid on some CD when they could use the money for something else. I'm not saying people won't buy it. But I wouldn't."

Alex scoffed. "Me own girlfriend won't buy me CD."

I stilled for a moment and tried my best to not be obvious about my reaction. The word rolled off his mouth so I was going to let it roll off my back. Maybe we were dating. Was this dating? To me, it was a glorified bang. A friends-with-benefits situation with his chauffeur. I wasn't opposed to the idea. I wasn't over the moon that dating Alex would mean just this. Sex in his bedroom while we talked for an hour until I drove him to work. Maybe that's what dating was, even if no one knew about it. In the following years, dating Alex would mean just this. Not fully, but mostly talking and sex in a bedroom that wasn't mine. At least, I didn't have to drive him after 2006.

"I'm not saying that but it is a rare thing for me to buy a CD at a random gig, especially if you aren't the headliners," I explained.

He laughed and asked, "What do I do with all the ones we made?"

I tossed my head around and suggested, "Give them away."

"What to Salvation Army?"

I giggled and moved over him. My arms were on both sides of his head, closing in on him like a praying mantis. "No, at your gigs. You've got good tunes—"

"A few good," Alex interjected.

I rolled my eyes and continued, "You've got good tunes and people love free stuff."

"Who knew for a posh girl you were so giving?" He taunted me.

I pushed on him, rolling him down the length of his bed. "I am not posh! Take that back right now."

"You were just complaining over your month-long trip to The Bahamas. That's as posh as it gets." He was teasing but it felt like an insult. I always hated coming off as an ungrateful spoiled brat. I knew in some regard I was. When I wanted to get what I wanted it was an advantage. When I had to spend time with my family, it was a disadvantage. Even if he was right, it felt mean.

I removed myself from him and stood up. "I drive you everywhere you wanker and you grumble out some thank you and think it's alright because I let you fuck me."

The smile faded from his face and he sat up stiffly. "Huh?"

"And that!" I pointed my finger at him. "Those one-word responses that you do to placate me."

He furrowed his brows. "I'm not placating you."

"If anyone is posh, it's you." If I looked around the room at that moment, posh would not be the word to describe it. He had a point, my house was pretty posh. "You take advantage of people and twist them all about for your pleasure."

"What the fuck is going on?" My outburst was a clear whiplash.

I jutted out my head. "You insult me and you played these mind games with me for a year. You basically called me a slut and now I'm a posh bitch."

"I never said that." He was calm. It was infuriating.

"You just did!"

"No, I didn't!"

We were two school children fighting. Squabbling over something stupid and throwing petty insults.

"Whatever, Alex." I quickly dragged on my jeans and grabbed my bag. "Who's gonna drive you now?"

"Where you going?" He stood up and walked over to my side of the room.

I turned around and walked down the stairs. "To my million-dollar mansion!" It wasn't a good comeback. It just proved his point more. Now I was a posh slut hot-headed bitch.

The following morning, my mother met Alex for the first time. She had opened the door for him when he knocked and yelled up to me getting ready in my room to come downstairs. In the great impression I made to act bratty back to her, yelling back down to her that I was getting ready. After she insisted loudly, I came downstairs. Alex was standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, and eyes on me.

I left the house to at least get us away from my mother. "Why are you here?" I asked him once we'd made it down the front steps.

"I'm giving you a ride."

I walked ahead of him, refusing to look for fear of overcoming emotion. I didn't want to calm down and his face with sorrowful innocence spread across it would have made me feel bad. "I don't need you to grovel."

"I'm not groveling." Alex has the aura of chill that washes over you. It's good in moments of panic, it's enraging in fights.

My feet stomped hard as I marched to my car. "Don't play the denying game. It's so fucking annoying."

"I called you posh and you're flipping out. That's pretty fucking annoying."

I slammed open my car door. "You're always undercutting me."

His brows furrowed. "No, I'm not. You take everything as some insult against you. It was a dumb joke."

He was right. I didn't want him to be right. "Whatever, Al. Good luck with everything."

I got into my car intending to drive off quickly until he hopped into the passenger seat. "I'm not driving you."

Alex ignored me and picked up the CD sitting on the car floor. "Did you listen to it?" He handed it over to me.

I snatched it out of his hand. "No," I shoved it back into his chest, "you can have it back too. Don't need to take pity on a rich girl."

"Come on, Janie—"

I interrupted, "Can you get out of my car please?"

He accepted my expression. The car fell silent and a moment later he nodded and got out of the car, CD in hand. I waited until he drove away to make sure we wouldn't run into one another in the parking lot. It was an overreaction on my part, I knew it even then, but doubling down made more sense to me than admitting any wrongdoing.

We didn't avoid each other. It was kind of hard to do since our whole friend groups became intertwined. Matt and Joanie breaking up reduced our likelihood of us hanging out but Matt was still one of my friends and we still shared a class together. Alex didn't tell Matt so I didn't either. We hung out in group circles on opposite sides. Not much had changed from before, no one really knew that anything more had been going on so we never had to explain ourselves.

We didn't hang out one-on-one anymore. College would be over in a month and after that, the chance of me ever seeing Alex again would diminish to a minimum. I would be in London and he would be stuck in Sheffield. It gave me pride even though I knew, deep down swallowed in my stomach, that I might not have gone to London if it weren't for Alex. I shook it off. I wasn't—and still won't—credit a guy for advancements I've made in my life through my own doing.

Matt invited me to their end-of-the-school-year gig at The Grapes but I didn't go. I, ashamedly so, hung out with Will instead. I felt kind of over that point in my life. All the blokes in Yorkshire felt old and I had an idea in my head that I'd meet my guy, the perfect guy, in London. Smoking a blunt with Will wouldn't change that. Having sex with him wouldn't change that either.

At night, in the moments before sleep fully swept me away, I had this thought that replayed in my head, despite my frustration with it. I had the vision that Alex would corner me in the parking lot again. He would shove the CD across the roof of my car, we'd hop in and drive around listening to it, even if he hated the sound of his voice. It never happened. Not even close.

I made no effort to talk to him and he made no effort to talk to me. I think people started to pick up on that. Claire asked me about it once when everyone was out for a night. I shrugged but didn't say anything.

It was weird for our whole relationship to be over abruptly over something that seemed stupid to me even then. I was mad at myself for not doing anything to change but I also didn't want to do anything to change it because Alex wasn't doing anything. I figured he didn't care much. Had his fill and went on to the next, which I know he did.

At the party where Claire asked me about Alex, he was in the corner doing his usual routine with a new move: kissing. I was mad but I knew I didn't have the right to be mad and that made me madder. Why was he willing to kiss this random girl after a night but didn't bother with me for months? I didn't think highly of Alex after that. I didn't think highly of myself either.

A week after graduation my family went to Monaco. My mother has always had an unhealthy obsession with Grace Kelly so much so that she had dyed her hair to look like her. My father liked gambling and the Grand Prix.

The vacation was more fun than I thought it would be. There's not much to do in Monaco so Stacey and I would sneak off into France. It wasn't my ideal vacation and there were plenty of somber tones throughout the month of June but I wouldn't trade anything for the days Stacey and I had. It was the first time we got along fully, with no fighting, bonded completely by necessity at first, and then, eventually, wanting to hang out with one another.

Much like the year prior, when I came back in July, Joanie invited me to her birthday party. The details of her and Matt were iffily given to me over emails. They had gotten back together sometime at the tail-end of June but decided on being friends, which probably looked more like when Alex and I were "friends" or whatever he was calling it.

Joanie's party was small because she only had one request: to get out of Yorkshire. The original plan was for us all to go down to London but AB had to work the next day and refused to wrangle a herd of sheep on a 3-hour train ride. Claire's dad lives in Manchester so Joanie decided she wanted a night of pubbing in Manchester.

Joanie, Claire, and I took the train over early that day and got ready in Claire's bedroom, which likely hadn't been slept in since before Y2K. We had our usual getting-ready conversation. Promises of "getting so fucked up tonight" and desire to get the best lay. We didn't address it but we knew it would likely be one of the last big nights we all had together.

The trio of us might have planned out staying best friends forever but we were all going in separate directions. Joanie would study at Leeds Trinity and Claire would go to Aston. While rough plans were promised to meet up at the halfway point of Birmingham, it was never fulfilled. Our time together after that summer was mostly reserved for holidays and then, as we got even more spread out across the globe, reunions at weddings, baby showers, and Joanie's divorce party last year, which might have been decently akin to this night.

We arrived at the club, pre-gamed, and ready to wait in the queue. The Monkeys were there in full form, AB cozied up to Claire, Rosie and Will were in the throes again, and those other participants that aren't important to the story, even if dear Jenny let me use the bathroom before her.

I was in the back with Claire, in a skirt that felt too short and too tight. Alex stood at the front of the queue with Matt. He was swaddled in a black jumper and had a haircut since I had been gone. They had been playing basement gigs throughout the summer. I heard the crowds had been getting bigger and it felt weird not to be witness to that after seeing them play in empty rooms.

When the front of the queue had been reached, there had been some disagreement with the bouncers that caused Joanie to slide up next to Matt and pout, "Matty, come on." Either way, Alex looked scared out of his mind, Andy looked higher than a kite, Jamie was spitting some gibberish out at the bouncers, and Will attempted to slip the bouncers cash, which ended up pissing them off even more.

Now, at the time, I wasn't aware of the importance of this incident. To me, it was the usual behavior for a Saturday night in July, besides the fact that nearly everyone I knew had become involved in this row. To Claire and me in the back, we couldn't help but laugh at the whole scene as AB attempted to referee only for Rosie to unintentionally punch him in the face.

At the time, it was a simple, funny moment. The club also happened to be named The Ritz, which would later be progressed by "to the Rubble" famously.

After the whole ordeal, we landed at some other, much less notable club. Joanie seemed disappointed but celebrated herself nonetheless.

I ended up sitting next to Alex after a round of nonconsensual musical chairs. We didn't talk at all. It was just some awkward side-by-side thing like kids being forced to take a picture together. His knee rubbed up against mine and it felt illegal to feel anything for it, even if I was rattled by it.

I abruptly stood up and walked outside for a cigarette. He had been shy the whole night. He had always been shy. I don't know what made him get the courage to come out and talk to me but the second I took my first drag, he was standing beside me.

"Was Monaco fun?" He was being nice but it felt awkward and stiff and my back hurt from looking at him.

I nodded and stared at him intently.

He nodded and leaned beside me on the wall.

"Basement shows fun?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, suppose."

"Lot more people coming," I told him what I had heard.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't my idea to give the CDs away."

A chill went up my spine. I dared myself to remain cool. "You're doing that?"

He nodded as I looked on at him, but he stared forward and didn't say anything.

The silence ached around us. My body felt ill from shoving everything down inside. There wasn't much of a point anymore to try and faze him out. He had made the approach, now I had to make mine. The only thing that gave me enough courage was that if it all went bad I'd be out of here within a month and never have to face him again.

"I'm sorry about what happened in May." We had switched positions this time. I gazed onward as he looked over at me. I felt embarrassed to look him in the eye like a bucket of shame would fall on me as soon as I did.

Alex shook his head and looked down at his shoes giving me an excuse to look at him. He looked more timid than I had ever seen him with me. His hands shoved deep in his pockets and he was slouched over like he had worked a desk job for 40 years. "It's alright. Shouldn't've said anything about your family. Shouldn't have said any of it."

"It's fine," I mumbled.

It was quiet. Mutters from pub chaos spilled out onto the street but Alex and I were silent. He shifted at one point and I thought he was about to leave but he pulled out his own cigarette from his pack. I was shocked by the profound hurt I felt from it. That he didn't ask for a drag of mine first before stealing one from my pack, handing me his lighter, and having me do the honors.

"You got that Boardwalk gig coming up in August, right?" I wanted to go but almost felt I needed permission to go.

He nodded. "When are you leaving for London?"

"September 5. Getting settled down there before classes start and all." An anchor hung on my heart and I regretted, hated, and scathed myself for ignoring him all summer. I tried to reason that he did the same but my mind always replayed shoving him out of my car over and over again.

"You excited?"

I was short because I think pain would have overcome me if I had spoken about it more. "Mhmm."

I hadn't left the door open for him to say more and I didn't quite know what to say either. We had never lacked flow in our conversations before. I was then struck by how a little over a year ago, Alex and I spoke for the first time. I wanted the wit. I wanted the charm. I wanted him to stare me down and tell me everything about myself. I feel like I had discouraged that out of him and I was miserable at the thought he would never tell me how he knew me again.

And then he scuffed out his cigarette and turned to walk back into the pub and the only thought in my mind was that I would never see him again. Maybe off chances around town or through parties that Joanie would insist on throwing in the winter but I would never be stuck outside a pub smoking a cigarette with him again. I collapsed inward.

"Was I your girlfriend?" I shouted out to him. I wasn't sure what else to ask. In my quick thinking, it seemed like the most likely thing to make him stay.

Alex stilled and I felt like I was in a movie. It might as well have been raining and he was Spider-Man or something. He didn't move and he didn't say anything like he was convinced that I was a figment of his imagination.

After a period of no replies, I explained, "You said it before we had our fight and I never got to ask you if you really meant it or if it was a slip of the tongue."

He turned around and walked back over. He leaned his side against the wall and crossed his arms. Anyone who says suave Alex Turner didn't show up until a 2011 haircut wasn't acquainted with the behavior of Alex Turner outside a pub in the early aughts. "I don't know."

He was evasive, per usual. "Did you want me to be?"

Alex mulled something over, thought up and down about it before answering, "Yeah, I think so. I thought about it a lot. Did you?"

He flipped it on me and my back was both literally and figuratively up against the wall. "Yeah. I thought about it too much really. Practically writing Alexander David Turner and Jane Rebecca Turner in a heart on the back of my notebook."

"Rebecca?" He questioned.

I rolled my eyes. "Stop it." He chuckled and I wanted to swim around him in delight.

"Nothing wrong with Rebecca." He insisted. "Shall I start calling you Becky?"

"Stop, you're lucky I even let you call me Janie."

"What's wrong with Janie?"

I shrugged. "I've never liked it. My dad calls me Janie."

"I would've stopped if you told me you didn't like it."

I shook my head. "I didn't want you to. Truth be told."

"Okay, Janie," he enunciated.

I smiled and felt like everything—nearly everything—had snapped back into place. Then, he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were soft and felt light-headed, likely due more to dehydration but I'm sure Alex triggered it.

But I pushed him back with an insistent shake of my head. "I'm sorry."

He looked solemn but he nodded and said, "It's fine."

I wanted to. I wanted him all over me, twisting about inside me, and creeping through every corner. "No. I just—in a month, I'll be too far away for you to even remember my face. I'd rather we at least be friends."

Alex nodded. There was something hidden beneath him but I was never able to place my finger on quite what he was thinking then. Although, he smiled and said, "You'll always be my friend, Janie."

I don't quite remember the rest of the night. It was a drink-covered night and a headache-filled morning. I tried not to dwell and for the most part, I didn't, until the train ride home when I thought how nice it would have been to rest my head on Alex's shoulder.

Their Boardwalk gig, stuck in the basement of The Boardwalk, took place about 3 weeks before I was due to leave and like most people when change is about to happen, I became nostalgic for everything. Everything felt like a last time and I wanted to grip at everything while I had the chance.

Since Alex and I reconnected, not much had changed. I hadn't seen or spoken to him since we were outside the pub but when Matt told me how cool it would be if I came to The Boardwalk gig, I considered it to be an invite approved by Alex.

I wore jeans and my first University of Greenwich t-shirt, which I know I still have because, despite the wear and tear from the years, I still wear it.

The gig felt more electric and rambunctious than any of their other gigs from the moment you walked in. It was the first time I couldn't see the stage at one of their gigs. People were all piled up in the front. Now, it still was nowhere near the level that they would become, not even near the level it was just a couple of months later, but it felt as though I had gone away and they returned with an army.

When they entered the stage, you would have thought people had been set on fire. It felt bizarre. Alex seemed so meek, yet so commanding. They stood, said nothing, before banging into "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor."

I had never heard the song before but people writhed along to the beat in an intense fashion. I was situated in the back and mostly uninterrupted by any knocking about. I sometimes enjoyed a good crashing into one another but alone in that hot basement, I was focused on Alex. More importantly, what Alex was saying.

Moreso, just one line he was singing, "Dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984." I threw my head back in laughter because my perception of it was Alex giving me a nod in one of his songs. I didn't read into it. He's a writer. He's an observer.

When the gig ended, in a rushed sweaty manner, I was quick to leave, not wanting to be squashed in the crowd. I went outside for fresh air and enjoyed a smoke. It hit me after a breeze that he wrote a song about me. Now, I'm one easy to fall for flattery when it isn't there but come on! He wrote that song about me!

I smiled to myself as their equipment van, also known as Matt's mum's van, pulled up. I stayed positioned on the wall and finished my smoke as I watched them load up the vehicle.

Matt was the first to notice me. "How long you been watching us?

"Only a few minutes!" I yelled back. I noticed the way Alex's head turned and can still picture the look on his face to this day. You'd feel dimwitted for every decision you made prior that didn't result in that look on his face.

Alex excused himself from the group and made his way over to me. "I'm not gonna give you one of my cigarettes, Turner."

He chuckled. "Shush. Matt's mum can't know I smoke."

My head leaned back against the wall and his frame was right before me. "You were pretty great tonight."

"That your review?" Alex has often said and written about girls having him twisted around their fingers, but he must be acting humble because he had me twisted about his. He was leaning over me in some screwy blue tee with definite pit stains. It was the most charming thing I had seen at 18. 20 years later, it's still in my top 5.

"I haven't put it in writing yet."

"Ah, so I'll get a formal review from Ms. Cavendish. Shall it be printed up in The Star?" He teased me.

"Pft," I uttered, "you aren't big enough for The Star. Maybe the Barnsley College Chronicle."

He shrugged. "Well, you're a good writer. It'll be good no matter where it's printed."

"You've never read anything I've written," I pointed out.

"On the contrary, I read your emails all the time—"

I jabbed his upper arm. "Your eloquence is paralyzing. What about your song tonight?"

Man was cheeky. "Which one?"

"Oh, I don't know, there was the one about the train, the one about the shoes, the one about the schoolgirl, and the one about me."

"Oh, okay," he tilted his head and nodded in understanding before deadpanning, "Yeah, that doesn't narrow it down for me. You're a schoolgirl with shoes who I've seen take the train before."

"I think you've got your next big hit there, Al, 'You're A Schoolgirl With Shoes Who I've Seen Take the Train Before' sounds like a Top 40 tune."

Then, he looked serious, completely twisted. "Do you want to go back to my house?"

I joked, "I'm not a hooker, Al."

He laughed then grabbed my arm and dragged me behind him like a ragdoll. "I've got something to give ya."

30 minutes later, on the edge of his bed, I watched Alex dig around in his dresser drawers. "Are you looking for a gun or something?"

"Well, I might as well be playing Russian roulette with this."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Alex kept scouring through his drawers. He stopped, pulled something out and held it behind his back. It was exactly like what preempted our fight. Exactly. He handed the CD to me for the second time. "Still free," Alex promised.

I smiled and grabbed it off him. "I won't throw a bitch fit this time, I swear."

"Nah, you're alright. A little bossy but..."

I didn't fight him. I examined the CD once again, noticing "Dancefloor" on the tracklist. "Did you really write a song for me?"

"Well, it was more for the band but if you want to sing it you can."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "So much for being sweet." He sat beside me, not touching, but close enough.

For the first time ever, I opened the CD's jewel case. The CD had "Jane C." written on it in Al's handwriting. A piece of paper was wedged in the corner of the case. I pulled the paper free. It was a note, a short one, but Alex's pen had scrawled across it. It read: Don't make fun of me, Jane, I can't help that you've twisted me around you.

I looked up at him, voice caught in my throat and heart pounding, but he was coyly looking off to the side. "Was this in here when you first gave it to me?"

He nodded. "Figured you never—hoped you never opened it. It was some soppy note but I figure you should have it. I don't need any more CDs."

I looked back down at the CD. Everything was plain-looking but, to me, it was crafted just for me. The way the J swung up in my name and the note had sat perfectly in the clip. "Am I a jerk?" I certainly felt like one.

Alex was quick to shake his head. "No."

I heavily blew air out, trying to contain something inside me. "I feel like one."

He insisted, "You're not a jerk or a dickhead or a bitch or whatever you want to beat yourself up with." His arm curled around me but didn't touch me. I felt like I was Medusa, scaring him off.

"I'm an idiot. I had to throw some hissy fit over you calling me posh. How stupid is that?"

Alex failed to hide his laughter but told me, "You're not stupid."

"Just emotionally inept." He didn't protest to that. Back then I wanted to grow up and be mature so quickly that I struggled with the fact that at 18 I wasn't supposed to know how to handle these situations, especially with adult emotionally inept role models.

Alex brought a more somber tone to the conversation. "Consider it my parting gift for London. You can play it and think of me if you want to do that."

I felt constrained. "I'd want to do that."

He gave me a small smile but the room had fallen low and melancholic. There was nothing more to say and everything to say. I had bit back things for so long in my life that it felt natural when a dream died. The ache it usually caused had grown numb but this time I was dealing with a pounding on my chest that threatened to crack my ribs.

"You can kiss me if you want," I uttered.

"What?" He questioned. His look was buggy-eyed and furrowed.

"Come on, that line has got to work at some point," I joked.

He shook his head back and forth in short movements. His confusion was palpable. "Do you want that? I mean, after the Manchester thing."

I felt confident in myself. Boosted up and sitting up straight. "Yeah. But I don't want to go to London and listen to your CD and think of how I could've been thinking of the summer I spent with my boyfriend instead of a guy who became a sudden stranger."

"What do you want to go to London with?"

I looked over at him and fractions of seconds passed like minutes. "It feels ridiculous to settle things down now."

Alex must have started feeling bold. A grin wedged on his face and he knocked his knee with mine. "You want me to be your boyfriend, Janie?"

I groaned. "When you say it that way it becomes all dorky. Like, 'Do you want to hold hands and skip down the prairie?'"

He chuckled. "Then, what do you want me to say? 'Get down and suck my cock.'"

I rolled my eyes. "Your vulgarity is too alarming for me."

"Yeah, well, we've beaten around it enough." Alex took me off guard and pulled me around the waist and landed us with our backs on his bed.

I put my hand on his chest to keep my distance. "I don't want this to be it. I'm sick of all this bon voyage shite. So, if this is some goodbye fuck to you—"

He interrupted and tugged me to him. We were both on our sides, chest-to-chest. "We've got a whole month of fucks before a goodbye one."

It lit fires on both ends of my coil and they both engulfed the ends of me before forcing themselves inward to my heart. "What if I don't want the goodbye one?"

Alex pulled me closer, desperate but letting me talk. "Then, I'll take the train down to London whenever you need it. Don't act like you're going off to war, Janie. I'll make my way to you."

That fulfilled me to no end. I can still feel the burst of that comment pushing in on me. I can think of the way he said every word and how halfway through he pushed my hair behind my ear so tenderly that I think it left a brush burn on me forever.

"So, if I call you at 3 in the morning and beg you to come take care of me you will?" I quipped.

He smirked. "Well, I'd like to see you beg."

I rolled my eyes. "Dirty, dirty, dirty."

"I'm likely only a kiss away from fucking you if you'll ever let me." His nose almost knocked with mine. The room would have felt on fire if the window wasn't open letting the night air suppress the sweat.

"Sounds like you are begging."

We kissed and then we had sex. It was quick and sloppy, limbs flying and desperation influencing every move. It wasn't about want or desire anymore, it was about filling a need. I didn't stay at his house for long. I snuck out to avoid his parents catching on and texted him when I got home. The height of 2000s romance.

Finally, I listened to the CD. I'm not sure when I went to sleep that night but when I woke up it felt like I had never slept. I was buzzed in every way and he was parasitic. My every thought.

Later that day, I told Claire and Joanie what had happened while we shopped. Joanie, who had recently decided to never speak to Matt again, told me, "Pft, good luck with those rockstars."

Claire's brows furrowed. "They play shows in club basements. I hardly think they're rockstars."

"All I'm saying is don't put your heart into him too heavy, especially moving away. Jane, what were you thinking?" Joanie questioned.

I shrugged. "I don't want to question it for the rest of my life. If it doesn't work out, I'll never have to see him again. If it does, which I'm not fooling myself that we're going to get married, but if it does work out then what a great story it'll make."

"Joanie's gotten jaded," Claire said. "I think it's romantic. Who made the first move?"

I squinted. "That's debatable. I made a move about a year ago and he turned me down."

"What?!" Joanie yelled out. "How come we didn't hear about it?"

I shrugged. "I was a little embarrassed, I think. That's all."

Claire prodded me for more. "Who kissed who?"

"He did back in March," I said it all nonchalantly and I knew what kind of reaction I was trying to provoke in them.

Both their sets of hands stopped moving through the clothing racks and both heads turned in a snap toward me, their jaws dropped down. "What?!"

We didn't hide it from that point on. There wasn't much sense in keeping it under wraps, especially since we both knew what it meant. Matt insisted he knew all along, which he didn't.

That period in August was hot and muddy but it was a time I looked at fondly even in the moment. I had a feeling in me of remembrance. Desperate for every detail to be implanted and forcing myself to not forget one single thing. I suppose some had slipped away but the rest I've held on tightly to.

There was one evening, a rare hangout with the Monkeys, AB, Claire, and me, where we sat around watching movies at Andy's house because his parents were out of town. There wasn't much nefarious activity besides blunts being passed. I don't even think anybody drank a beer or anything.

Al and I shared one between us while we watched 2 Fast 2 Furious and I chanted things into his ear like "The cars. They are just so fast." The spliff injected rare public affection in me. (Christ, Alex and I didn't even hold hands in public until we were 22). He was laid down in the corner of the settee and I placed my back onto his chest. My head wedged into the crook of his neck and he sat his chin on top of my head. His arms were around me and I played with his hands more than I paid attention to the movie. It was a comfort I had never felt and I'm not sure, even after many more years with Alex, I ever felt again.

I like Alex's sternum. Alex says it's one of the weirdest things about me. Once in an interview, I was asked what my favourite body part of his was and when I answered with sternum it wasn't the expected response. Yes, he's got a lovely head of hair. Yes, those arms are nice. Yes, the ass, I've seen it, I've squeezed it. Yes, his dick, which is just a weird way of people wanting to know the specific enlargement or shrink of a certain body point. Aren't all those questions weird roundabout ways of asking dick length?

His sternum is hard as most bones are but there's a soft layer of skin that covers it and the way his chest dips makes me convinced that it was molded inward for me. Somewhere around our last week together, when it was the two of us, I got into the habit of placing my head there. It turned into instinct. We didn't talk much in those moments. Faded in between a deep sleep and deep lust. I had never wanted him more and I never wanted to do him less. I wanted to eat him alive and then I wanted to cuddle him in my arms. It felt natural to just be with him. No muss, no fuss, no expectations, or preconceived notions. I had never felt that before.

"What if I meet this super hot guy in London and he hits on me and I tell him I have a boyfriend and he's all like 'Your boyfriend doesn't need to know' and I'm all like 'I don't want to lie to him' and he's also like Jude Law or something." It was September 1. I was rambling. His chest moved rhythmically up...down...up...down.

"Jude Law is your type?" He questioned.

"He's just the first person I thought of."

Alex hummed. "I would've thought you were more of a Hugh Grant."

I sat up with a gasp and laid my hands on top of his chest. "I totally am more a Hugh Grant."

Alex tapped his temple. "I've got you down, Cavendish. You're all memorized."

"So, what if I told you I was running off with Hugh Grant?" I asked him.

"Didn't he get caught with a prostitute?"

I stared at him. "This is all besides the point. Hot Guy tries to steal me away. What do you do?"

Alex sighed. "Do you want the realistic version or the fantasy version?"

"The fantasy version, of course." The real version was obvious. We'd break up. I didn't want that and I didn't want Hugh Grant.

"Alright," he said. I laid back down beside him and his arm curled its way around me. "I would fly to London, this is an urgent matter."

"Precisely. You only have a set amount of time before Evil Hot Guy takes me away."

"I would track you down and kick his ass."

My grin fell. "Oh, that's it. That wasn't very fantastical."

Alex caught my drift and chuckled. "Okay, why not this? I find you guys on a desert island—"

I interrupted, "In London?"

He let out a loud sigh. "Janie, do you want me to save you or not?"

I nodded. "Okay, okay, continue."

"I would shoot him down—"

"You'd kill a man for me!"

"I don't like this game, Janie."

We never said "I love you" but we were both on opposites of the same wire and I think we both knew how the other felt solely by their actions. Alex has this grin. He does a little quiver trying to fight it, yank it down before it's uncontrollable. His efforts to hide it just make it cuter like he's an ashamed little boy. Alex has told me my tell-tale sign was the hug I gave him when I left for London. I don't think we'd ever simply hugged before.

It was the night before I left. He stopped by my house and we hid in my room for hours just talking. We felt the need to accumulate every social need for one another in those last few hours. Alex would visit but there was no date and despite his reassurances, in my paranoid mind, I thought that he was appeasing until I went away to be forgotten about.

We would both be busy. I had school to worry about and Alex and the band were having their first round of gigs outside Sheffield. They were all about north and I wouldn't go to any of them but Alex told me over the phone what they were like, never going into too much detail other than the excitement of them.

"Maybe I'll hate London," I told him during our goodbye.

He squeezed my shoulder. "You'll love every minute of it." He was (almost) right. And that sucked.

I had thought about all the words I could tell him and said none. I felt like crying but didn't. It didn't seem deserved when I was choosing to move away. It was a light goodbye. A deep hug where he held me close to his chest and I could feel the rivets of his ribs. At the time it was solemn but seldom. In a year's time, it was the average behavior to always be saying goodbye.

He kissed me and pulled back. His hands rested on my shoulders and he gave me a half-grin. "You have a good time, Jane C."

I gave a wistful smile and touched his elbow. "See ya."

The air in London was heavy for me or maybe that was just the weight that crushed down on my ribs in constant swelling of pain. London was half the reason I felt cool, even nowadays. My first month there was spent walking down bustling streets painted with rain and my boots sweeping the ground.

I called Alex every night telling him, "You have to come down here. Sheffield is nothing." I loved London but all the people I loved were back up north. On the days when I was in class, Alex was working. On the nights when I was a lone soul in my room, he was playing shows.

It was never out of the expectation. We went in with the understanding that it might be the end but every time when it seemed we would part ways, we didn't. I thought about the idea of being single because it feels like the proper thing your first year at university but I could never accept it.

In my Poetry & Prose class, I met Georgia, a dark-headed girl from Sussex who dressed like Patti Smith and acted like she was in a Tarantino film. Before class, we'd grab a coffee together, and give each other a rundown of the reading material to make sure we weren't going to make fools of ourselves.

I would read her work over a tea and she would suffer reading mine with a coffee. She had high standards but was too polite to ever insult you for what you'd written. I never had Alex read any of my poetry because I've never been good at it but in my first year, it was more akin to Kim Kardashian's "Jam (Turn it Up)" than Emily Dickinson. Georgia wrote with the sorrow of Sylvia Plath and the horniness of Leonard Cohen's Buddhist poems. There wasn't much competition.

Georgia introduced me to a group of her friends that were in line with my Barnsley friends but stoned wayyyy more often and enjoyed dressing like beatniks and sometimes acting like them. I felt adjacent to the group other than my connection with Georgia but they were good fun and always had things going on. Whether it was classy slam poetry or getting high in Hyde Park. Everyone was nice although very evasive.

Robert—who talked like Jack Kerouac had stuck his hand up his ass and spoke out of his mouth for him—was the only group member I hung out with solo besides Georgia. We would go record shopping but never buy anything because neither of us had players. Every 2 weeks he would give me a supply of Adderall that he had been prescribed since he was 10 but not taken since 15.

I told Alex about them but all my stories were hard to explain over the phone and in the midst of whatever he was up to. That's when I e-mailed him my first piece. It was written about a night out, in which we slept over at Robert's flat and a high Robert attempted to cook us dinner but nearly burned his apartment down instead when he put the dinner in a plastic Tupperware and stuck it in the oven.

It wasn't as movie-worthy as passing your notebook across the hood of a girl's car but it's hard to say I'd be writing this book if Alex had been unable to stay on the phone for longer than 10 minutes. My writing before that has been a mish-mosh of things but had always been fiction. I began to write autobiographical and sometimes when I would say, "The craziest thing happened last night." Alex would shush me and tell me to write him a piece about it.

My brother got married at Cornwell Manor at the end of October. Alex reluctantly accompanied me after a gig in Sheffield the night before. The only reason he came was because we hadn't seen one another since my London move. The wedding was likely to be no fun but with Alex, part of the ache would be soothed. Plus, I would achieve my tux fantasy.

I had been there for 2 days before his arrival fulfilling familial and bridesmaid duties. I wasn't close to the bride-to-be, Cecilia. I wasn't close with Greg either but it seemed traditional to have all members of the family in the wedding. Stacey got a thrill out of being old enough to be a bridesmaid since she was the flower girl at Harper's wedding.

Alex and I didn't have much of an opportunity to catch up before we had to race off to the rehearsal dinner. He arrived, in his mum's car, wearing scrapped jeans and a polo shirt looking too nice for someone who probably didn't go to bed until 5 AM and drove for 3 hours. Too nice for someone who was begrudgingly here.

I had planned the smoking of a cigarette in time for his arrival. Stood on the kerb of the parking lot, flicking away at one. I was already dressed for the rehearsal dinner and if my mother had caught me stinking it up with a smoke, she'd have skinned me alive, even though my father was definitely doing the same thing with a smelly cigar. The dress was a green satin midi dress, on theme with Cecilia's selected theme colors. I had a white cardigan thrown over the top, which my mother made me take off as soon as we entered the venue because it "clashed." The weather was near freezing but god be damned if I messed with the theme. Alex threw his jacket over me halfway through the dinner and my mother didn't say anything. In the back of my mind, I thought she might have found the gesture too sweet to criticize. She was probably too drunk by that point.

"I heard the entertainment has to arrive 'round the back!" I yelled out to him as he was still getting out of the car.

His head snapped to meet my eyes. That smile spread across his face and he has always looked good to me over the roof of a car. "Pretty sure I'm not getting paid to be here."

I pouted and swayed my hips. "How unfortunate! Is there some other way I can pay you, sir?"

He eyed me—up, down—and I wondered how tempting that emerald shade was to him. "Get yer ass over here."

I tossed my cigarette down, not even bothering to scuff it out, and skipped over to Alex. I threw my arms around his neck like he did to my waist. It felt bizarre to care this much about the presence of one person but I had counted down the days to Greg's wedding for the sole reason of Alex. I had been trapped with my family for 2 days with little escape other than the hotel swimming pool. It felt like convalescence.

I pulled back and pecked his lips. "Hi."

"Aw, what you doing with that?" He teased before kissing me full-on. I felt necessary even if I was eager to just look at him. His hair looked freshly cut for the occasion, likely through his mother's insistence. His face looked tired, if sprawled with an adrenaline rush that might have been due to me if I should pleasure myself enough to say.

"How was the drive?" I asked, pulling away from him so he could get his things from the car. No matter how much I wanted him to be there, I did feel like I was taking him away from something. Likely tired from the night before but also in the thick of gigs and taking 2 nights off of work at The Boardwalk. Guilty for forcing him to come to an event that was likely to either be the most boring thing we ever attended or the most explosive thing in Cavendish family history, which would be saying something.

Alex was polite. He wouldn't tell me, even if the drive sucked. "Fine. No traffic. How have things been here?"

"Fine. No traffic." I repeated, crossing my arms to warm myself up a bit. He gave me a look to prompt me for more. "It's been fine. Mainly hung out with Stacey and Harper hasn't been so bad. My parents are a different story. This dinner will likely be the test of things with the two of them."

"Why? What's going on?"

I grabbed his backpack, despite his urging otherwise, while he handled his suit. We made our way to my hotel room that I was sharing with Stacey, which had and would be interesting. "Their usual B.S. mainly. They got in some fight last night that won't be a good recipe for today when they are forced to sit next to each other for 5 hours."

Alex's eyes bulged. "5 hours?" Yeah, I hadn't exactly briefed him on that part.

"Okay, we don't have to stay the full time. After the toasts, we can leave whenever we want. Or you can leave whenever you want. You're more my date to the wedding anyway."

He shook his head. "No, I'll leave when you leave. Won't be any fun without you anyway. In case it isn't obvious, I missed you."

I felt a wave of unexpected shyness fall over me. His voice was so quiet and sincere that I felt like I wasn't supposed to hear it. I was overhearing Alex's thoughts. I dared to look back at him, a smile bright across his face, forcing me to reciprocate. "I missed you too, Al."

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. It was quick and brief, the amount of intimacy we limited ourselves to in those days. "You look very pretty too, Jane C."

"You look sweaty." It ripped laughter from him, something I so desperately desired even more than wanting to bed him. Alex was never something to do. I found my most desirable moments were squared away within the sentences we had for one another. A joke, a fragmented note, an email.

Despite the size of my parents' wallets and their often habit of indifference, the room was 2 queen-sized beds with orders of one being for Alex and one for Stacey & me. Somehow through Alex's stays at my house, Stacey and Alex had never met.

She was lounging on the bed closest to the window when we walked in. Dressed in a-line dress in the same shade of green as mine. She looked darling as my mother would say.

"Mum's gonna kill you for lying on the bed and wrinkling your dress," I told her when Alex and I walked in.

She was playing Snake on her Nokia. Something she ended up doing for nearly the whole rehearsal dinner. "She'll be too busy making fun of Cece anyway."

Stacey had yet to look up from her phone as I threw Alex's bag down on the other bed. "If Cecilia hears you calling her Cece she'll rip your head off."

"So pretentious," Stacey mocked.

Alex chuckled at Stacey's tone. The noise made Stacey lift her head, noticing Alex for the first time. "Oh, Alex is here," she emphatically said. She sat up on her knees. "Or should I say Alexander? How formal am I meant to get here to avoid death threats?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just get off the bed so I don't have to deal with mum's wrath?"

On the elevator down to the dinner, Stacey found the perfect chance for her cross-examining of Alex. "You're in a band, right?"

He nodded. Smart, don't say anything that can be printed on the record.

"Does that mean you have a lot of groupies?" Oh, brother.

Alex laughed at the idea. "I don't think so."

Ever the instigating interrogator, she continued, "I'm sure you have plenty girls throwing themselves at you."

"Stacey," I warned.

She played the dumb act. "What?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't know. Your sister maybe."

He was already laughing by the time I punched him in the arm. The elevator doors opening saved him from any further wrath.

Upon entering dinner, Alex finally formally met my parents. My mother was dressed in a too-tight dress with poorly done make-up to make her look like Tammy Faye. She was only 1 glass of wine in. My dad towered over Alex, puffed out his chest like he had something to prove, something to protect. "Now, Janie, what do we have here?" He asked as we entered.

Stacey was smart to use the distraction and her size to her advantage as she quickly ducked off to her seat. Alex stood up straight, even if he looked awkward in his suit. Throughout the night, he would complain that he looked like a complete dork and despite my reassuring that he looked handsome, he insisted he would never wear a suit again. Sounds like a mighty lie now.

"Alex, my dad, Richard." I introduced. My father offered up his hand, giving a tough and rough handshake with Alex.

My mother slushed her glass around in her hand and introduced herself. "Polina, honey, but everyone calls me Lina."

"Why are you talking like that?" I questioned my mother's sweetness and talking in a near-country accent.

That sugar evaporated quickly as she ordered me, "Don't criticize me, Jane. You go take a seat."

I didn't fight. I walked to my seat next to Stacey, and Alex followed silently.

"Well, that's a good idea of what she's like. Alcohol will either make her more or less bearable," I whispered to Alex.

He was too consumed with fiddling with his suit jacket to care much about how my mother or father acted.

That night, after a dinner that lasted too long with extended toasts and delayed meals due to catering issues, Alex and I slept in the same bed with Stacey making kissing noises from the other bed.

Once the noises had died down and she seemingly went to sleep, Alex and I slipped out of the room, dressed in our pajama pants and our winter coats. There was a little bench around the back of the hotel, tucked away on the edge of the parking lot. We sat there. I hugged my knees to my chest and Alex leaned back and rested his arm behind me on the back of the bench. We thought about smoking a cigarette but didn't.

I told him, "Dasha is doing this weird art project right now. Like a totally bizarro nudist Dali fever dream and she's trying to recruit all of us to do it."

"Wait, who's Dasha?" It was hard not to feel like our lives were becoming separated. Sometimes it didn't bug me. Other times it felt like we weren't listening to one another.

"Dasha is the one who works with Henry."

"And Henry is...?"

"Georgia's boyfriend. Do you know who Georgia is?" I was snapping, being bitter, and still to this day I have a habit of ruining moments over little things. I didn't know half of Alex's friends' names, all those band idiots. Alex never talked about them though. They were all referred to as a collective, never giving specific names.

He took in stride as always. "Yeah, yeah. Who is Jane though?"

I let go of my knees to slap his chest. "Shut up, Matthew."

"Come here, you." Alex wrapped his arms around me and tugged me roughly into him. A squeal came from my lips and forgot about the rest, focusing on his lips instead. We kissed slowly. Kisses that would never be forgotten behind that hotel.

We returned to our talks of nothingness that to anyone other than the two of us wouldn't have been very important but the words we whispered to one another were so pure I couldn't imagine even placing them in writing for someone else to read.

In November, I sprained my ankle. I fell backward onto my foot and pop! After walking on it for a full day I eventually got it checked out to confirm the sprain. The ache from the sprain only lasted about a weekend where I stayed holed up in my bed writing emails to Alex that he didn't respond to until the following week. I didn't complain much, even if I was mildly annoyed that I was in pain and he was oblivious to it.

There was a dull ache surrounding the whole thing. When the news finally did reach him, he offered to come down for the weekend. By that point, it was 2 weeks after the injury and my sprain had fully healed, minus some soreness. I nearly texted this to him, Don't bother. What's the point if it will only soothe your guilt and not my pain? Then, I missed him. I would love that, I sent.

nov 27, 11:22, he wrote back.

As much as I missed his company conversationally, we hadn't had sex since September 4th and I had cleared out space to make exactly that happen. Clean room, no visitors. I did have other plans for when he arrived. Have brunch since I knew he would be hungry after the train ride, show him around my neighborhood, room tour that would lead into heavy weekend-long lovemaking. Or whatever we were calling it at that point.

That day I got a text around 9:30: missed train, catching next one.

when is it?

hour, be there at 1

It didn't set the weekend off in a good mood. Leading to me being stuck in a pit of anger that I couldn't communicate through text messages. There would be no point in it. So, in those 2 hours I was supposed to be spending with him, I experienced an increased level of annoyance. The slightest touch pissed me off and by the time 1 rolled around the boiling inside me had only rolled louder.

I stood with my arms crossed when I opened the door, pursed lips, foot tapping, and an agenda to chew him out. The delighted look on his face, wearing a hoodie, backpack on one shoulder—it all pissed me off.

Alex tried to quail, walking through the door, telling me, "Am I in trouble?"

I rolled my eyes and set off to my room, forcing Alex to catch up to me. "Whatever, Alex."

"Hey, I'm sorry. You know I'm late to everything."

I snapped, turned around with fury. "Yeah, but you're late to class not to a train and I'm pretty sure the trains from Sheffield come every hour, which means if you missed your train and got the next one you'd be here at noon, not 1, which means you missed 2 trains. Probably because you slept through your alarm clock and then packed your bag because you didn't do it the night before like I told you to do."

His eyes were wide and I felt like his mother the way I was calling him out. He looked staggered. A word away from taking a step back from me. "Alright, you're right, but I'm here now so let's have a good time. How's your ankle?"

His attempts to be kind ended up stepping into territory that just pissed me off more. "My ankle is fine because it healed 2 weeks ago before you even bothered to respond to the news. You just don't give a shit about these things, Alex, but they're important to me. Being on time, responding to me, it's not much to ask for."

"You're right but this past month has been crazy and I just saw you in October—"

"Just saw me in October! Look I'm not desperate, you don't need to spend every waking minute with me, in fact, I think I would kill you if I had to spend a whole week with you" (not true, I desperately wanted that) "but over a month! I expected some eagerness to see me but you'd rather lie around for an extra hour. No one told you to come, you offered. So if it was so much work, you could have just stayed home."

"I didn't want to stay home. I went to your stupid brother's wedding because I wanted to see you. Do you think I get pleasure from driving 3 hours to go to that fucking wedding where your dad breathed down my neck the whole time like I was some hoodlum and your mum hit on me more times than I can count? I went to see you. You're buggering me down because I missed a train, meanwhile, you have made no effort to come visit me. I had a lot of things I wanted you to come to but when you said no and went and hung out with your weirdo fucking friends I was fine with it because you're happy and you write me these beautiful fucking essays, even if I was upset that you weren't there."

"At least, I tell you what I'm up to. You're so evasive about everything. 'How was the gig?' 'Oh, uh, good.' It's like you don't want me to care about these things or you have some secret you're hiding. How about those groupies, huh?"

"Oh, shut up, Jane!" It was the first time he was harsh with me. Flippant and distressing. "You create problems where they aren't. Posh, much?"

"Fuck off with that. You talk all this shit about my family—"

"Because you do!"

"That doesn't mean you can. I want you to care and it doesn't seem like you could give less of a shit. You complain about everything I want to do with you."

"I do not complain. You force this shit out of me. I'd sit through another awful wedding if that meant I could hang out with you. Meanwhile, any inconvenience for you cancels out anything I'd want you to do."

"I sat through all those shitty gigs that no one showed up to for you."

"Back when you were pining after me. Who gives a shit once you've moved on?"

"I'm in university, unlike you. You can come down whenever you want because you work at some shitty bar and play 1 gig a week, if even. And for fuck's sake if you want me to go to the fucking gig. I'll go to the fucking gig."

"I want you to want to go to the gig. Don't make me do anything you don't want to do, Jane, I know how hard that is for you."

"I just want you to give a shit."

"What are you talking about? Of course, I give a shit. See this, this is what I'm talking about. The fabricating problems out of nothing. When have I ever shown that I don't give a shit?"

"When you missed the trains!"

"I'm still taking the fucking trains! You're the one sitting on your ass here."

"I'm getting a degree!"

"I know! Will you fuck off with that?"

"Why? Scared you're going to work at a bar for the rest of your life."

"Hey, at least I've worked a job, unlike you fucking around with your dad's money."

"Fuck you!" I left the building then. He might have called after me but I don't remember. I felt badly suffocated for the first time with Alex. I walked around for a while. Aimlessly. I don't know what he did during this time. Maybe he walked around too. Paced the apartment. Pulled his hair out. Played Snake on his Nokia. I don't know but I cared too much during that time. Desperate to know what he was getting away at. I fantasized about it my whole walk. Best case. Worst case. Okay case. Most of it was nightmares. The rest was delusions.

I came back around 5 and he was lying on his back on my bed. I thought he might have been asleep at first. He didn't make any movement when I walked in until I called out, "Hey."

He sat up like he had been zapped. His gaze was on me intensely and he took a while before he said anything, eventually, "Hey."

A thought rushed through my mind, the one that had echoed through my head on the walk, in class, when writing emails, on the car ride down to London. I had forced it away for so long but the hotbox situation we were in prompted me to finally let it out. "Do you think we should break up?"

His eyes fell to his shoes, dangling off the side of the bed. He avoided my eyeline at all costs. "Is that what you want?"

No, but I didn't feel I could tell him that. "I want to know what you want."

He played his people-pleaser card. I wouldn't label Alex as that but he had a fashion, mainly with women, of not letting his opinion know. "I don't want to make you be with me if you don't want to."

To me, when it was to my advantage it was the greatest thing ever. Other times, it angered me beyond belief. "For god's sake, Alex, do you want to break up with me or not? Yes or no?"

"No," he said firmly.

It had ended our breaking-up conversation but it didn't exactly fix our problem. "I don't want to ruin our friendship by dragging out something that isn't going to work."

Alex met my eyes. "It'll work."

I sighed. "Shouldn't we be mature about this?"

"You're 18, you don't have to be mature about anything, Janie." And suddenly I felt like he was talking to 6-year-old me. By that point, he'd already memorized my childhood stories of foolish escapades. I forced myself to be an adult so young that I'd spent away my years of forgiven recklessness in return for the punishable kind. Not many people in my life realized that. The ones that did, didn't care, they preferred me tagging along to drunken nights. Alex preferred hiding away in my bedroom. And, sure, maybe a drink or two.

He'd cracked my heart open in so many ways that I don't think he ever understood what he was the first to do.

He reached a hand out to me urging me to join him on the bed. I sat beside him, not touching, I muttered, "I don't want to hurt you."

Then, he wrapped his arm around me, pulled me into him, kissed my temple, and said, "You worry too much about me."

Later that night when Alex and I were still out of breath, we curled into one another. For the first time, we made no move to get dressed. Just laid with one another. I dug my face into his collarbone and thought about suffocating myself.

"What are you doing?" He questioned, always questioning me.

My stomach grew heavy and I felt like crying, comforted by the idea that he would hold me while I did. "I wish you were here all the time." It wasn't just him. Everything in my life, the past one spent in that Wakefield house felt like it was slipping away from me. He felt like the only thing I could hold onto. So, I held tightly. Sometimes too tightly but he accepted any fingernail-induced bleeding from me.

His arm tightened around my back. He kissed my ear. Softly, for just my left ear to hear, he whispered, "Me too."

I started crying then. It was quiet just the shaking of my shoulders and the breaths I attempted to get and take in. Alex made no effort to stop me, his hand rubbed up and down my back. He knew what I needed and he held me. We didn't talk for the rest of the night. His hands did the work, up & down. His lips kissed my temple. I'm not sure if I dreamt it or not, but somewhere before I fully fell asleep, he whispered, "I love you." Even if he didn't say it, I knew. He held me all night. I gripped him and rubbed my back. I sometimes wish I never left that spot, stayed in the corner of him like the embracing Pompeii couple. Buried in volcanic ash together being each other's last comfort. Alex's shoulder must have ached after that night. Everything just ached after.

a/n: i sorta got carried away there with that word count, i don't know what i was on because i'll probably never write a part this long again until the next part where i accidentally end up writing 50k. ah, well, hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it. jane & alex 4 eva.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner #junedenim #beneath the boardwalk

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