#as usual :) asking for the entire process + the thought process are more than welcomed :)

[stood-onthecliffside]

album cover

title + track names release via billboards

website (better quality under cut)

concert ticket

the secret of us by @gracieabrams : an experience reimagined

[lijojo]

genshin men as one-night stands

premise: after a blurred night of passion, you try to leave your one-night stand's house. how do they convince you to stay?

tw: suggestive, minors dni

Spoils You Rotten

wakes you up to the smell of pancakes and coffee. usually, when you have one-night stands, you usually are quick to change and book it. but the smell of pancakes was just so heavenly, you let curiosity get the best of you.

when you get to the kitchen, you're welcomed to the sight of him in a frilly apron, flipping pancake batter on the pan. he hums to himself until he turns around to see you, gaping at him as if you'd just seen a ghost.

"good morning, love. do you want me to run the bath now? i know you're probably a little sore from yesterday. i have some scented candles in the cabinet, although i'm not sure which one you'd prefer so i wanted to wait for you to get up so you could choose."

"what—" you gulp, trying to process the sight before you.

he tilts his head, puzzled. "is something the matter, love?"

"i'm—i'm just surprised, is all," you try, "i didn't peg you as the type to have...um...one-night stands."

he chuckles, sliding the pancakes onto a plate. "i don't."

he turns to you, his eyes locked onto you. "you're not a one-night stand. i fully intend to get to know you better. now, i'd pick up that jaw off from the floor, dear. you're going to let the flies in."

snapping out of your bewilderment, you close your mouth.

"good. now, would you like to take a bath? the muffins should be done in ten. i can bring your breakfast over to you in a bath tray when it's ready. and maybe after..." he gives you an unexpected smile. "i can massage all your sore parts?"

zhongli, alhaitham, diluc, tighnari, kaeya, albedo

Will not physically let you leave the bed

you literally can't move. not even when you try. when you wake up, you find yourself in a bear trap. you're legs are tangled with someone else's their arms locked around your waist in a vice grip. instead of chirping birds, you hear the thudding heartbeat of their chest resting below your ear.

when you try to maneuver out of his hold, his arms only tighten around you more. he groans lowly in your ear, shifting a bit.

"what's the hold up?" he murmurs into the crown of your head. "stay."

so much for sneaking out unnoticed.

you stiffen at his morning voice. it's unexpectedly raspier than you'd expected. he takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead tenderly, a lot tenderly than a usual one-night stand would.

"i have some errands to run." it isn't entirely untrue. surely, there must be something you need to do today.

he stares at you for a long second before huffing. "five minutes won't hurt, those errands can wait."

"wait but—"

before you can brace for it, he's already turning on his side and taking you along with him. he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

"you weren't thinking of leaving right after a night of intimacy, right?" he mused. "i thought you enjoyed last night. i certainly did."

you flushed at the memories. as much as you wanted to leave as you'd planned, it was awfully comfortable in his embrace. it was warm, soft, and welcoming.

"stay for a little longer, okay?" he cooed into your ear, pulling the covers over you. "at least, long enough for round two."

scaramouche, cyno, thoma, kaveh, itto,

Finds excuses to make you stay

the moment you make any sign of leaving, he's already calling for you to help him with something.

you try getting out of his grasp first thing in the morning? he's asking for a kiss on the cheek to wake him up, he can't get up without it. picking up your clothes off the floor? he's already offering you an extra change of clothes, not to mention helping you put it on. he even smiles at your flustered state. getting ready to leave? he's tugging your sleeve, offering his many amenities at home that are seemingly much better quality than yours: his cleanser, his cute headbands, his moisturizers.

and you can't say no. not when he's giving you those eyes. so you end up staying.

in a blink of an eye, you find yourself suddenly helping him smooth out the outfit he asked you to choose for him, hands running down his torso. leaning towards you, you can feel his eyes digging into your skin.

"thank you, sweet thing," he says, pressing a kiss on your nose.

"it's no problem," you mumble. "but i really—"

"how about staying for a cup of water?" he offered. "you know how important it is that you drink water first thing in the morning. it's supposed to be good for your skin. digestion too."

"well, alright—"

"and while we're at it, what about a movie? i have some classics i've been dying to watch and it's always better to watch with somone else."

you end up staying wayyy longer than you expected doing the small things: sorting through books, doing face masks, watching halfway through a movie, eating breakfast together, helping him look for butterflies on his front yard, getting the mail together. all while the two of you exchange jokes.

by the time it's well into the afternoon, you finally snap out of your daze, realizing the time.

"you just noticed?" he grins. "how cute. well, thank you for putting up with my antics, sweet thing."

he kisses you softly on the mouth.

"think of this morning as an advertisement for the other mornings to come, whenever you want to stay the night again. you won't regret it."

kaveh, itto, childe, ayato, kazuha, venti,

[miraclewoozi]

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. 

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader.  content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.  content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song. 

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong. 

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.” 

He was right. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all. 

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say. 

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position. 

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air. 

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done. 

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal. 

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present. 

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you. 

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember. 

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.  

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter. 

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again. 

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary. 

The urge to just… lean in to you. 

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees. 

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again. 

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly. 

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop. 

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday. 

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare. 

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once. 

He swears. 

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure. 

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting. 

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway. 

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t. 

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances. 

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise. 

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that. 

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come. 

Eight seconds later… still nothing. 

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light. 

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug. 

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again. 

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?” 

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue. 

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before. 

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip. 

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter. 

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh. 

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair. 

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop. 

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders. 

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help. 

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place. 

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head. 

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in. 

I love them. Thank you, you said. 

It’s perfect. 

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double. 

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead. 

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue. 

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose. 

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late. 

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to. 

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are. 

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob. 

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum. 

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him. 

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen. 

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door. 

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important. 

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair. 

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath. 

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright. 

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened. 

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head. 

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop. 

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together. 

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said. 

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love. 

With someone who wasn’t him. 

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt.  And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before. 

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder. 

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it. 

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush. 

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head. 

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth. 

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you. 

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too. 

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure. 

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together. 

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try. 

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could. 

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down. 

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better. 

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same. 

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved. 

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person. 

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say. 

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here. 

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no. 

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline. 

Not enough, but some. 

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin. 

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky. 

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour. 

2.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough. 

1.

Happy New Year. 

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes. 

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you. 

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow… 

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there. 

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you. 

You could do it, his brain tells him. 

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter? 

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside. 

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said. 

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in. 

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule. 

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all. 

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday. 

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you. 

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change. 

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant. 

The pouting continued. 

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table. 

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right? 

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling. 

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together. 

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features. 

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road. 

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess, 

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks. 

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer. 

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks. 

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick. 

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone. 

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own. 

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block. 

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths. 

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too. 

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again. 

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

[kiwriteswords]

I Promise You This

Chapter One: All That Emptiness Knows Just Where I Live

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: I originally posted this story back in 2021, but for a multitude of reasons, I stepped away from the fandom and removed it. Now, in 2024, I’ve decided to return and revisit this fic with a fresh perspective. I’m currently in the process of rewriting the entire 45-chapter story, adding new depth, and refining the plot. As I re-upload the chapters, I will be including trigger warnings (TWs) for sensitive content. However, if I miss something, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Your comments, shares, and likes/kudos are incredibly encouraging and motivate me to keep working on this rewrite, as well as inspire new content. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy the updated version of this story!— Ki

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

You stare out the jet’s window, your eyes tracing the clouds below. Sleep eludes you, and the quiet conversation among your team members fades into the background. Music hums softly in your ears, a barely audible escape. You know the odds—three missing children—and yet your mind feels curiously empty.

Laughter breaks through your thoughts. You glance over and see Morgan teasing Reid, as usual. The whole team joins in, and even Hotch chuckles. If he’s laughing, whatever Reid said must have been good.

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Isolation is familiar to you—whether you're buried in a book or lost in your music, you’ve always found comfort in keeping a certain distance. It’s not about not fitting in, at least not entirely. The team welcomed you when you joined. They accepted you. But you’ve never quite let yourself feel like you belong.

Only in your twenties, you’ve already lived more life than most people twice your age. A childhood overshadowed by responsibilities that shouldn’t have been yours, and a turbulent adolescence marked by health problems that kept you in and out of hospitals. You were the kid who missed weeks of school but somehow still pulled straight A’s. The one who didn’t go to prom, didn’t have a high school sweetheart, and definitely didn’t have a tight-knit group of friends.

Then there was him. The boy who promised you the world but only gave you heartache. The one who made you feel small, unworthy, broken—both with his words and his hands. The one who convinced you to stay, even when every fiber of your being screamed to leave. You did leave, eventually, but not without scars, some of which never quite healed.

No one on the team knows any of this. To them, you’re just Y/N, the youngest, least experienced profiler in the BAU. A fast learner, sure. Someone who pulls her weight in the field. But you’ve made sure your past is buried deep, nowhere near your file. Only Spencer ever asked why your academic timeline was a little... unconventional. You gave him the same story you’ve told everyone else: You took time to travel.

The truth? You finished undergrad earlier than most, and jumped into grad school while working at a local field office. It was around that time the BAU reached out, and suddenly, your life was moving at a pace you could barely keep up with. Your health remained an ongoing battle, but that was nobody’s business. You’ve never let it slow you down, and you’re not about to start now.

Therapy helped. It gave you the tools to face your past and, more importantly, to reclaim your future. Joining the BAU felt like a step in the right direction—a chance to put your trauma to use, to give your pain purpose. And if you keep your distance from the team, it’s not because you don’t trust them. It’s because trusting people still feels like a risk.

The jet dips, signaling the approach to Phoenix. Your body tenses involuntarily. You haven’t been back here in years, not since... him. You’re not sure how you’ll react once your feet touch the ground again.

"What are you listening to?" Hotch’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You jump, startled by his sudden appearance across from you. He watches you with that quiet intensity, and for a moment, you wonder how long he’s been sitting there.

"Nothing important," you murmur, pausing the music and slipping your headphones out.

Hotch’s gaze lingers, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s not that he’s unkind—far from it. But there’s something about his presence, his authority, that makes you second-guess yourself.

"You seemed deep in thought," he notes, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just zoning out," you reply with a shrug. "Long flight."

He nods but doesn’t push. Hotch is observant, more so than the others. He’s noticed the way you isolate yourself on these flights, how you always seem a little more on edge than you let on. But he hasn’t asked, not yet. You’re grateful for that.

"What were you all laughing about earlier?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

"Reid’s latest hairstyle," Hotch replies with a smirk. "Morgan’s convinced he’s trying out for a boy band."

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. "He does have that early 2000s look going for him."

"Maybe next week he’ll try the ‘classic detective’ look," Hotch says, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

For a moment, the tension eases. You almost forget where you’re headed.

"Have you gone over the case file?" Hotch asks, his tone shifting back to business.

"Yeah," you nod, glancing back out the window. The familiar skyline of Phoenix looms closer. You take a deep breath. "I haven’t been here in a long time."

"Family here?" he asks casually, clearly not realizing the weight of the question.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I just... used to live nearby for a while."

It’s technically the truth. But the memories attached to this city are ones you’d rather not revisit.

Before Hotch can respond, Morgan sticks his neck out from across the aisle. "You lived in Phoenix? How did I not know that?"

"It was a long time ago," you say, deflecting with a practiced ease.

Morgan grins and steers the conversation back to the case, but Hotch lingers for a moment longer, watching you. There’s something about you that doesn’t quite add up, something just out of reach. He’s known you for a year, yet you’re still a puzzle he hasn’t managed to solve. And maybe that’s why he keeps trying.

As the jet touches down, you pull your bag over your shoulder and follow the team out, doing your best to leave the past behind. But Hotch’s eyes stay on you, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if someone might be able to see through your walls after all.

[forthewomenonly]

You Belong to Me

Warnings: NSFW, smut, Sam Carpenter x reader, Sam Carpenter x Fem Reader (implied, no pronouns used), choking, semi exhibitionism, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving) , Top!Sam, jealous Sam, R’s really a pillow princess in this one (Sam gets nothing)  a/n: Lowkey hated on Ethan this entire fic sorry guys. Made him sound like a bitchy pervert...he is.

Sam was jealous. This isn’t a surprise Sam is always jealous, but she’s seething watching him shamelessly flirt with you in the comfort of her own home. Him being Ethan Landry. Sam hates Ethan Landry and his feigned innocence, she sees the way he looks at you. Of course she sees it, Sam looks at you the exact same way. He’s not the innocent virgin angel he claims to be, and the thought of him thinking of you in anyway other than platonically makes Sam feel violently nauseous. Ethan comes over twice a week to study with Tara, meaning that twice a week he gets to see you. How could he be so blind? Obviously you were Sam’s, everyone knew that. Yet it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over your shoulder, or complimenting your outfits in ways that are far too descriptive to be seen as friendly. Sam wants Ethan out of her home, and she briefly considers asking Tara if they would relocate their study sessions elsewhere. She quickly dismisses that thought as she realizes she doesn’t want her baby sister anywhere alone with that perv. She narrows her eyes, grimacing as she notices Ethan lean over and whisper something in your ear. The fit of giggles that you erupt into is more than enough to soften her gaze. But how dare he. How dare he make you laugh like that, that was Sam’s job. You aren’t Ethan’s. You belong to her. You belong to Sam. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, knuckles turning white and her hand veins bulging. Sam’s huffy and irritant, counting down the seconds until Ethan leaves her apartment. Her ears perk up as she hears Ethan finally begin to pack up his belongings, she walks up to the front door in long strides, opening the door to speed up the process of his departure. After hugging you for much longer than necessary he meets the angry Carpenter at the door. “Bye Sam!” he waves. Sam grumbles some distasteful words under her breath in annoyance. Not that he could hear her anyways as she slammed the door in his face the second he stepped out of the apartment.   --- The next time Ethan comes over, Sam is prepared. He doesn’t get a chance to say hello to either of you as Sam drags you into your shared bedroom the very moment Ethan walks in. You laugh as she shuts the room door in haste turning to face you. “What’s got you all riled up today” you say playfully poking at her chest. “You.” She growls. Your teasing grin wiped off your face instantly. Sam lunges forward capturing your lips in a heated kiss, moving downwards to kiss and suck at your throat. She all but tears your clothes off leaving you naked in front of her. “Sam- slow down.” you gasp out. You’re unsure of what has her so excited at the moment but you welcome the lustful attention, reaching your hands down to the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head. You stop briefly taking a moment to gawk at Sam’s shirtless body. God she looks so hot. Her arm muscles are so defined and her forearm veins are so attractively visible, blood pulsing through her hand and arm veins from how hard she’s gripping your hips. She removes herself from you, settling down on the bed and propping herself up on her elbows. Immediately you follow her to the bed climbing on her stomach. Sam inhales sharply when she feels your wet cunt against her skin. Placing your hands on her chest, you rock yourself against the ridges of her abs. You let out a loud moan rolling your hips faster against her, Sam’s hands guide your hips in a steady rhythm. She flexes her abdomen and quickens pace making your body shudder, your moans increasing in volume. Usually Sam would have slapped her hand over your mouth by now to keep you quiet, but when you look down at her she just smirks at you, moving your hips faster against her. “Sam I c-can’t” you whine out desperately. The corners of her lips quirk up into a smile and she flips you onto your back. Sam knew that you wouldn’t be able to cum just from grinding on her stomach, you needed her help. You always do. You need Sam to make you cum, not Ethan, not anyone else. Sam. She prides herself in the fact that you’re no longer able to get yourself off properly. You can’t make yourself cum anymore, your own fingers incomparable to Sam’s fingers, tongue, or strap. Moving her hand down, Sam harshly presses her thumb against your puffy clit and you cry out loudly. Since she has decided against quieting you, you reach your hand up to cover your mouth yourself as Sam continues playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves. She can see you biting your hand and is not at all impressed. Sam grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, while using the other to roughly shove two fingers inside your dripping cunt. The muscular girl removes her hand from your wrists and uses it to squeeze your throat, she feels your pussy flutter against her fingers as she drags them through your gummy inner walls. Your moans are loud and frequent, making Sam quicken her pace and curl her fingers, massaging your g-spot with each thrust. You cum with an obscenely loud pornographic moan, soaking Sam’s fingers and grinding into her hand. Sam moves down the bed, using her strength to pry your legs wider open. Opening her mouth to messily lick up all of your juices, she has a mix of her saliva and your wetness dripping down her chin and onto the bedsheets. Licking wide stripes through your folds and up to your clit. She takes the pulsing nub between her lips, sucking vigorously. You’re close to orgasm again and you buck your hips up trying to press yourself harder against Sam’s tongue. “Gonna cum Sam, gonna c-cum so hard.” you whine. Her fingers press harder into your thighs and you’re sure they’ll bruise. She lifts her head up looking you in the eye before pushing her fingers back inside of you, in place of her tongue. “Say my name.” “ W-what?” “Say. my. name.” she repeats. “Sam. Feels so good Sammy.” you moan breathlessly. You clench impossibly tight around her long, thick fingers and Sam knows you’re about to cum. “My name, say it again when you cum. I want to hear it.” “Fuck Sam! I’m cumming!” you scream out, rolling your hips out in time with her slowing thrusts. She pulls her fingers out, pushing them into your mouth making you taste yourself. Sam stands up brushing your damp hair out of your face delicately and  kisses the tip of your nose. She pulls a shirt on before exiting the room to grab you water. Walking up to the fridge she can see her younger sister’s disgusted expression and has to fight the urge to snicker. Turning her head she sees Ethan. It was her name you moaned, not Ethan’s. He’ll never get to have you like this because you’re all Sam’s. His jaw is slack, eyes wide, and his gaze flitters everywhere in the room except for Sam, he avoids eye contact with her desperately. Clearing his throat he packs up his belongings and gives Tara a meek “goodbye”. Sam smirks in victory, before turning to walk back into your room, water bottle in hand.

Tara rolls her eyes exasperated, now she has to study all alone just because her sister got jealous. Sam can be a real dick sometimes. 

[lulublack90]

Prompt 23 - Attitude

@jegulus-microfic July 23, Word count 560

Previous part First part

Regulus sat down at the table and opened the menu, ignoring his brother’s protests. 

“Are you going to kick James out as well for bringing me here?” Regulus said, coolly. 

“No,” Sirius started to say,

“Exactly. I’m staying. Now I’ll have what James is having, it sounds good.” James smirked behind Sirius’s back as he tried and failed to keep his laughter at bay. 

“But you don’t eat dairy, or carbs, or processed ham for that matter. How are you going to eat a cheese and ham toastie?” Sirius crossed his arms and glared at Regulus. 

“It’s been five years since you last spoke to me and ten since you cared. Things change, Sirius. I changed.” Regulus closed the menu and clasped his hands on top of the table. “Now are you going to stop with the attitude and serve your paying customers or am I going to have to leave you a bad review?” Regulus quirked an eyebrow at this brother. Sirius spun on his heel and went into the kitchen area, grumbling the entire way. 

“Wow and here I thought Moony was the only one who could get him to do what he’s told.” James chuckled. 

“Me too,” Remus huffed in disbelief. “Right, two of the usual coming up. Regulus, please stick around. I feel like this is going to be fun,” He winked at Regulus before returning to the counter to fill their order and serve the small queue that had formed in his absence. Regulus grinned wickedly in return and settled into his seat. 

“Oh, you’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” James snorted as he sat opposite the younger Black brother. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Regulus smiled angelically. “So what’s your usual coffee order?”

“Pumpkin spice latte,” James said nonchalantly.

“Oh Lord,” Regulus moaned as he buried his head in his hands. 

Regulus ate every bite and drank every drop and when he asked for the bill, Sirius took out his pad and told him to take the ticket to Remus at the till, and he’d charge him. 

“Your money is no good here. You’re family,” Remus told Regulus, waving him off when he tried to pay for his lunch. “Come back soon,” Remus called after them, cheerily. James grinned. Remus may be the voice of reason, but it didn’t mean he didn’t like to add his personal brand of chaos into the mix. “James, tell Regulus about the BBQ next weekend. You’re more than welcome to come, Regulus.”

“Remus!” Sirius admonished his boyfriend.

“Yes my dear,” Remus answered, and then the door shut behind them, so all James could hear was the muffled words of Sirius blowing a gasket. 

“So you’re friends with my brother, typical. The first fit guy I throw an apple core at happens to be the man my brother replaced me with.” Regulus groused. James stopped listening after Regulus called him a fit guy. 

“You think I’m fit?” He asked dreamily. 

“Have you seen yourself?” Regulus scoffed as they rounded the corner back towards the park. James had no idea where they were going, he was just happy to follow. “So this BBQ, do I need to bring anything?” James laughed and, feeling a surge of confidence, wrapped an arm around Regulus and tucked him into his side as they took a leisurely stroll around the park. 

Next part

[tricktster]

how long have you been getting burritoed... i love the thought of you guys being together for five years and you still fall for it every time

Slightly NSFW warning but the full backstory for the burritoing is honestly very sweet and i can take absolutely no credit for it being so.

so it has not been five years, it’s only been five months, but given that my tolerance for being in relationships can usually be measured in weeks, five months with me harboring every single desire to keep this going is saying something. but rest assured the burrito thing has always been a threat in this relationship. lemme explain.

see, i met my boyfriend the most romantic way a person can, in that i hopped on tinder one friday when I was bored and he was the most interesting person that night to ask me to grab a drink with him the following week. I agreed, with every expectation that this was going to be a one night stand situation. This was because I had already concluded I would probably sleep with him since he was hot and funny over tinder/text but also, more importantly, because I had decided to plunge back into the dating world after several years of being resolutely single by having what my roommate described as “a wanton winter,” which is a nicer way of saying that I was here to sleep around without any strings remotely attached. I had every intention of this being followed by a slutty spring, sexually-available summer, and perhaps even a fuckboi fall.

All this to say, I was not looking for an actual relationship when I agreed to “grab a drink” with the man who is now my boyfriend. In fact, even though he was categorically hunky all-round? I was by this point in my wanton winter not even optimistically hoping for a good time. I had recently re-discovered that hunky meant absolutely nothing, and was still haunted by memories of sleeping with an extremely attractive massage therapist who was not only terrible in bed but also read me a very bad poem that he’d written afterwards and started crying about the state of his life at one point and also his mom called like 11 times while he was over. Like, my expectations were subterranean.

Now given this background, i presumed that this guy would follow the established pattern set by every other guy i’d hooked up with during wanton winter; we’d go back to my place, fool around, he’d leave, and i’d get occasional “u up” texts from him for the next few weeks until one of us ghosted etc. so like it was a surprise - but certainly not an unpleasant one! - when he asked (a little nervously) post-hookup if he could stay the night. he didn’t want to impose, he explained, but he had a day shift the next morning and it was really late and his house was 24 minutes away and while he didn’t want to be presumptuous he’d thrown what he needed in a backpack just in case and also he wanted to cuddle and be big spoon.

well. this was a deviation. this possibly suggested more interest than just a one night stand.

ideologically i was opposed to the threat this posed to my no commitments wanton winter lifestyle but given that he was significantly cuter and funnier in person than he’d been online and also that he had just absolutely rocked my entire world for several hours(!!!) i was just like “yeah homie you are more than welcome to stay,” and decided against issuing my standard warning whenever anyone proposes sharing a bed with me that “I do not tolerate people attempting to cuddle me in my sleep well so don’t be hurt when you find me as far from you as physically possible tomorrow, and also you may be kicked in the process of me rolling away, and my toenails are inexplicably sharp so you may bleed.”

and then, you know, suddenly the alarm was going off, and he was extracting himself, unwounded, from the big spoon position that I had not felt the unconscious need to escape from all night, and I was just internally like “haha! i might be in trouble!”

that mighta done it on its own, honestly, the whole bit about him being the sole exception i have ever encountered to my instinctual need for space when i’m sleeping. but he was not done. he quietly got ready while i was mulling this development over in a state of half consciousness, and then? instead of slinking out into the barely-morning, that motherfucker very gently rearranged the bedclothes to actually cover me, gave me a kiss, said he’d text me when he got to work, and then the bastard tucked me in.

he then left me, the victim of the cutest goddamn nonsense that has ever happened after a tinder hookup, to process this unexpected turn of events.

I concluded that I was, in fact, in trouble.

so like… needless to say, that act of tucking me in was the death knell for my wanton winter, as well as my adversarial relationship with the concept of developing feelings. I am an extremely crotchety housecat that doesn’t like to be crowded who has unprecedentedly fallen incredibly hard for a wildly enthusiastic golden retriever, and our relationship is foundationally based upon this man’s desire to make me all snug and cozy before he leaves.

the burrito aspect was merely an afterthought. it’s all about the tuck-in babey.

[writingsforwhatever]

Part 1: Love letters to Matthew (m.s.)

summary: matt never felt the same way until he finally did.

warnings: very very slow burn. this is a long read, go get a snack! if you don't like reading, don't read it. ALSO, i have one shots based of this story. Their little moments leading up to the reader and matt confessing their feelings for each other. Let me know if you all are interested! enjoy my little bored mind.

A/N: Hi, before you continue reading this story, please be aware that I wrote this work of mine two years ago for my creative writing. It's my baby, and I hold it close to my heart. I lost inspiration for it a while back, but now I'm sharing it with the world. This is a long read because it's the entire story in two post. (Part 2 is posted). It's in no way connected or affiliated with Matt Sturniolo. I just made him the character because he fits the character's personality, and I needed to envision someone while I continued writing it, so I thought, why not?

word count: 27,231k

"If I could choose to live anywhere in the world, I would still choose to live here," she remarked, passing the bowl of Cheetos to Matt. "I mean, I could also pick a place in Sweden, somewhere in Northern Europe, but who could leave Massachusetts?"

Matt, sprawled out on the couch with the TV playing in the background, shrugged. "You could," he replied, smiling down at her. "Come on, don't be so negative. You can't possibly stay here forever."

"Why not? What's wrong with here?" She asked, standing up. She was now facing Matt, and a change of heart suddenly took hold. "I mean, I guess you're right." She flopped down next to him once more, sighing. "Do you think we'll ever fulfill our dreams and go to Europe together?"

"Of course, you idiot. We will, don't worry about it too much," he reassured her, glancing at her. It was the 19th day of December, a snowy day in the Bay State, and excitement was in the air. Airports were busier than usual, which meant one thing: Christmas was just around the corner.

September 2023

"Damn it," she cursed as she unpacked her suitcase. It was September, with summer in the process of ending and fall about to arrive. She couldn't believe her parents had thrown a "party" to welcome her back from her two-month long vacation. Before leaving, she had made it crystal clear that she didn't want any crazy shit, but it turned out that Luke had talked to her parents behind her back while she was spending time with him abroad. She glanced at the poster on her wall once again and whispered with a smile, "That idiot."

Luke.

The boy with light brown eyes reminiscent of autumn leaves, the one who swam throughout college, briefly dropped out, and then returned to college. He was the boy she met at Samantha's birthday party, the one her little cousin had a crush on - Luke.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized frantically, searching for the green tissue pack in her little bag while setting the glass of beer on a nearby table. Her white shirt was now stained with liquor, which was just great. The embarrassment of the situation was overwhelming, leaving her unable to think straight.

"No worries," Luke chuckled, clearly taken aback by the unexpected encounter. "I should've been more careful."

She handed him the tissues, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "That was so embarrassing. I'm truly sorry," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Don't worry about it. It’ll dry," he replied with a reassuring smile.

In that moment, she wished she could vanish into the ground, hoping some higher being might intervene and make it happen right there and right then.

"I’m going to miss you so much," Luke sighed, embracing her from behind.

She turned to face him, her expression softening. "Me too, but we'll see each other again on Christmas, okay?"

"That's a long time. I'll really really miss you," he admitted with a sad smile.

"Oh, shut up. You're probably tired of seeing my face every day," she giggled while still unpacking her suitcase.

"I could never. I love you too much." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"That's a nice touch," she pointed at her wall, changing the subject.

"You like it? Your mom helped me," he replied, smiling at her.

"Ya’ll are so dramatic," she chuckled.

Welcome back! – Haley, Mom, & Dad

After that fateful night in March when she met Luke, she had slowly stopped composing letters to Matthew altogether. The dynamics of her relationships with him had shifted, leaving behind a stack of handwritten words that now belonged to the past.

Matt.

Matt, with eyes as blue as a warm sunny day's sky, was someone she could lose herself in. He was the boy she loved so deeply that if her heart were torn from her chest, his name would be etched there. Matthew, the only one she had ever loved before Luke.

During the summer of ’20, she came to the realization that she had developed a crush on her best friend. On the night he drove her home, she silently prayed for God to make her feelings for him disappear. It seemed absurd; this was Matt, her very own Matt, her dearest friend in the world, and she was in love with him.

As they both grew older, she began to perceive him in a new way. He underwent changes; growing out his hair became something she loved. His height increased too. Whenever she sees him, a permanent smile adorned his face, and she found herself deeply and irrevocably in love with him. Everything he did captivated her, particularly the moment he slept on her shoulder in the car. It was ridiculous how loudly her heart throbbed at that time.

"Do you think they'll mind if it's just the two of us, Matt?" she asked, settling into the passenger seat.

"Why? We've done this plenty of times before; they'll be okay," he reassured her, quieting her with a gentle shush as he started the car.

On the day they left for LA, tears streamed down her face, staining Nick's shirt. "We'll be back for Thanksgiving, you goof," he reassured her.

No matter if it was for Christmas or her birthday, she didn’t care but the fact that her best friends were leaving at that moment weighed heavily on her. "You’re moving to the other side of the country, and I’m heading to college," she sniffled, the airport surroundings continued to add to her gloom.

Chris, empathetic, offered her a comforting a hug. "The other side of the country is crazy,” he said. "You can visit us, you know."

Her response came with a hint of frustration, "I'll be in college, Chris."

With a warm smile, Chris reassured her, “You can visit us during breaks. We're just one flight away."

She gazed at Matt, noticing his pink cheeks. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll see each other again in no time," he smiled sadly at her. She wanted to believe Matt wholeheartedly, as she always did, but deep down, she knew that things would never be the same.

August 23, 2021

Dear Matt, I miss you all so much. Mom and Dad just dropped me off at college, and my roommate, Samantha seems nice. She's from San Diego. You don't think my Boston accent is interesting, do you? She keeps saying it is, but I don't think so. I hope you're having a blast over there. I know you are. I really wish you were here. I miss you the most. Massachusetts sucks without you guys.

September 15, 2021

Dear Matthew,

I already miss you. It's funny; we just spoke on the phone, and here I am writing you a letter already. You sounded really happy, which makes me happy too. By the way, I just realized I brought Nick's shirt with me and your white hoodie too!! I didn't mention it earlier because I thought you might want them back. Haha.

Anyway, I can't wait for Fall; maybe we can visit a pumpkin patch. I know how much you love those. I'm looking forward to seeing you and everyone. Homesickness is setting in, and I miss home, especially you. I miss you the most.

P.S. Samantha thinks Nate is cute, but I don't think she’s his type.

The days went by, and she found herself missing him even more. The calls and texts lessened, she became busier, and Matt was texting her when she was at class and would reply to her when she was face down on the bed, asleep.

She struggled to admit it, but the Instagram posts featuring their new friends tugged at her heartstrings with a sense of longing. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being left out, as if life was in full swing without her presence, playing out somewhere in Southern California with her friends and the love of her life, while she sat alone at UMass, eating a sandwich in the cafeteria. She yearned to turn back time to those carefree 9th-grade days, where she’d laugh at Chris’s antics in class or when Matt and Nick would whisk her away for impromptu beach adventures.

September 28, 2021

Dear Matt,

I saw a guy today who I thought looked just like you in an ice cream shop while I was out with my friend. I think I might be losing my mind. College is going pretty well so far. Alahna sent me a snap from early 2021 last night, and it was of you getting annoyed at Nick because he had the megaphone while we were in the drive-thru. It was so funny. I thought you looked great that night, but then again, when did you ever not? Congratulations on hitting 4 million!

Oh, and does Chris have a crush on Natalie? Never mind, I'll ask him about it later. I miss you guys so much.

Years had passed since she last laid eyes on the photos that adorned the walls of her childhood bedroom. The pink and white paint of the room served as a poignant reminder of the unrequited love that had once consumed her heart.

The photos of her, Matt, and their friends playing in the snow, or the selfies Nick snapped during sleepovers when Chris and Matt would crash on the floor of Nick's room - memories she cherished dearly. The thought of past Thanksgiving gatherings tugged at her heartstrings, recalling how he'd tower over her at the table, his tender touches igniting a warmth in her skin. She loved Matt deeply, more than words could express.

October 11, 2021

Dear Matt,

I got my hair cut today. It felt weird. I was going to take a selfie to send it to you, but I got shy. I hope you're doing well over there. I heard you guys went to a party; Nick won't stop talking about it, lol.

I can't believe it's been months since I last saw you in person, even though I saw you the other day through a video call, it's just not the same... Time is flying by.

Also, Chloe just passed her driving lessons. I wish you guys were here to see it. I know she texted Nick about it, but still, I miss you, Matthew. Anyway, I'll text you later. I have this professor who's very old, and he hates late students.

She did see them on Thanksgiving, and she couldn't forget how Matt looked. Those moments made her question how she could go on with her life, knowing he was completely oblivious to her deep feelings for him. She hated herself for falling in love with him. It was a realization that left her feeling stupid.

November 30, 2021

Dear Matthew,

You looked absolutely handsome at dinner last week. I couldn't help but wonder how LA gets to see you like that every day without turning the whole state upside down. You mentioned missing me, but I'm pretty sure I missed you even more. It's odd that Mom keeps talking about how much taller you've grown, because she should have expected that. Yesterday, when you brought up about meeting a girl, my heart sank. I believe you genuinely like her. I didn't want to ask more because I didn't want to be too obvious, but I think Chris saw my smile disappear. He was kind enough not to ask about it though so it’s all good.

Why do I still miss you even when you're sleeping right beside me on the couch? It's as if you're so far away.

It was early August 2022 when she paid them a visit in California for their birthday. She could recall every detail – the weather, the ride from the airport, and the woman in his arms.

She had faced numerous challenges before, like the time she had to carry Samantha, who was far too drunk for her own good, or when Chris begged her to retrieve his backpack in subzero temperatures. However, this situation felt entirely different. As the doors swung open, she yearned to be anywhere but there – perhaps back in her small dorm room in Boston.

From within, she could hear the voices and music, the uproar of celebration and delight. Outside, the soft hum of Los Angeles traffic persisted as cars rushed by. Yet, above all else, she swore she could hear the unrelenting rhythm of her own heartbeat, as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded in that moment.

The woman was already there, wearing a warm smile, eagerly awaiting her boyfriend Matt's arrival. She couldn't help but admire Matt's taste, as in that moment, she found the woman to be stunning. With her dark blonde hair, brown eyes, and a height of 5'3, she gave off an endearing aura that she effortlessly carried with her. The woman greeted everyone with an open-hearted smile, embracing her as if they were long-lost friends reuniting after a decade apart.

"Hi! It's so great to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," the woman's voice was flawless, yet there was a hollow feeling within her. She genuinely liked the woman and had an inkling that she would become a significant presence in their lives for quite some time to come.

Her gaze fixed on Matt, a mixture of confusion and hurt in her eyes. How was it possible that he hadn't disclosed that he had a girlfriend? Those nights when he would call her, those were the very nights she longed to be in his arms, not realizing they had already been spent with someone else.

That night was etched in her memory, a vivid recollection of the moment she had realized it was impossible for her to remain friends with him. She couldn't maintain their friendship, not while she was overwhelmed with sadness while he was immersed in happiness.

December 6, 2021

Dear Matt,

Today, I spent the day baking cookies with Haley but the real takeaway is being back in Boston and just one car ride away from you.

Weird, Nick brought up the name of the girl you're talking to, and it took me by surprise a little because you never mentioned her to me. I could sense Chris was giving me the stare, like he knows something, but that's just Chris, right?

It was a scene she had seen countless times before, both in movies and in real life – the clichéd tale of falling in love with your best friend and the inevitable heartbreak that followed.

There he sat, a picture of handsomeness in the midst of the kitchen, so immersed in what he's doing that he only noticed her staring when he looked up and playfully asked, "Any boys I should know about?" She chuckled, finding Matt's question entirely characteristic of his random sense of humor.

"No one, Matt," she replied, rolling her eyes with a smile. Inside, she thought, "It's only you. It was only ever you."

"I find that hard to believe," he said, casting a shy glance her way, his smile never wavering.

She pressed, "And why is that?"

"Because you're..." he started, his voice trailing off, leaving the unspoken feelings hanging in the air between them.

"…because you're amazing. You're good at baking cookies and-"

"Please, shut the fuck up, Matthew," she blushed, looking away.

"It's true! Ask Chris. He thinks you have a college boyfriend you’re not telling us about," he defended himself.

"Well, Chris is stupid," a small frown appeared on her face.

"Hey, I heard that!" She looked toward the boy sitting on the couch in the living room. "Shut up, Chris, Nick is sleeping."

She was standing over the kitchen counter, finishing the gifts she had prepared for her cousins and parents. She rolled her eyes, feeling a bit exasperated. "You're all so dramatic; I'm trying to do something here, fucks sake.”

"Let me help you with that. I'm almost done with this," Matt offered, standing beside her. His proximity alone nearly sent her into a frenzy.

He was incredibly touchy with her, and it only added to the intimacy of their connection. His frequent and intimate touches with her left her in a state of confusion. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was normal for best friends to share such physically intimate moments like this.

"You're terrible at this," he chuckled.

"Whatever Matt," she grumbled, continuing to tape the wrapper.

He leaned even closer, almost putting his entire weight on her. "Matt, you’re so annoying! Get off me," she exclaimed.

Years later, she learned that Chris had glanced at them, shaking his head in bemusement, and thinking about how oblivious his brother Matt was to her feelings. Chris couldn’t help but realize how deeply in love she was with his brother, even if she had never voiced it. She didn’t need to, Chris thought.

August 2022

She felt stuck in place. In that moment, she felt like time had frozen. Her feet glued to the ground.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks - he had a girlfriend, all this time, and no one had told her. It was a profound sense of betrayal and feeling forgotten, it didn't matter that their relationship is just starting, she had loved Matt for years!

It was as if she wasn't worthy of knowing this crucial piece of information about the person she had secretly loved for so long, even though he didn't know he was the love of her life. The waves of emotion threatened to make her sick, but she managed to maintain her composure.

Chris remained by her side throughout the entire party, his friendly nudges and conversation attempts providing a comforting presence. "You know, I still can't believe you're here," he remarked, genuine surprise in his voice. "It's only been a couple of months, right?"

"Only a couple of months, Chris," she confirmed, her gaze fixed on her drink.

"I missed you so much. We all did. It felt like forever since the last time I saw you," Chris continued, offering a playful smile.

She managed a smile in response, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She kept her thoughts to herself, silently yearning for the familiar comforts of Boston, even though it no longer felt like home. In truth, nothing felt like home as long as Matt was in the arms of another. Chris could see through her facade. He understood the reason behind her dull mood, realizing it was linked to the presence of two specific individuals in the room. However, he respected her feelings enough not to confront her about it here and now, choosing to let her navigate her emotions in her own time

The days seemed to stretch on, with summer taking hold. Matt's girlfriend had flown back home to Florida, they were back to their old routine, but her heart couldn’t forget the feelings she had buried deep within.

They drove her to their favorite restaurants and shops in L.A., but the nagging ache in her heart persisted. With her pretending to enjoy the days while ignoring the sinking feeling that gnawed at her treacherous heart, she tried to be as cheerful as possible before her return to the East Coast.

Until one particular car ride with Nick and Chris temporarily absent and inside Ralph's, she couldn't keep her feelings bottled up any longer and decided to have a heart-to-heart with Matt. It was a brief respite from the facade of happiness she had been trying to maintain.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It all happened so fast," he said, his eyes pleading for her to meet his gaze.

She cut him off, "It doesn't matter, Matt. I guess I just felt really sad that you didn't tell me. I'm your best friend, for heaven's sake." She fought back the urge to cry, keeping her emotions expertly concealed.

"I'm sorry, okay? It all happened in a whirlwind, and suddenly, you were on a flight from Boston to L.A.…," he trailed off. "Plus, I wanted it to be a surprise." He sheepishly smiled.

"God, Matt," she whispered, genuinely taken aback by the revelation.

She continued, "It's okay, it's all in the past now. I was surprised, no doubt."

She smiled, rolled her eyes, and forced a lighter tone into her voice. "So, tell me about her. Where did you guys meet?"

He chuckled, sensing that things were somewhat getting back to normal, but it was never quite the same, she thought to herself.

The night before she left for Boston, they drove and explored the city once more, just the two of them. Chris seemed too tired to join, and Nick had editing work to do.

"I wanted to take you here. It's one of the best viewpoints in L.A.," Matt explained, his excitement palpable.

"What, Griffith Park?" she replied, laughing. "You mean the spot from GTA, right?"

"Yeah, exactly. We used to play that game, remember?" he smiled down at her, feeling nostalgic.

How could she forget?

After several minutes of driving, Matt parked the car, and a heavy silence hung between them, no one seemingly wanted to step out. "Thanks for spending your summer here. It means a lot... That you're here," he expressed, looking at her with his blue eyes that shone through the Los Angeles darkness, seemingly even brighter than the city lights.

"Of course, anything for you guys," she replied, breaking their eye contact, and shifting her gaze to the dashboard in front of her. How could he do this to her? How could he not know? She wished she could freeze this moment in time, his face looking so soft in the gentle glow of the traffic lights. His tired eyes and tousled hair that had always made her heart leap and now, she felt like she could cry right there; she loved him so much and he didn’t know. She also wished she could tuck this memory away in the pockets of her thrifted yellow dress.

Tonight felt different, marking the end of summer, and they were both a year older. They weren't 19 anymore, and yet, she remained deeply in love with him.

~

Nicolas Sturniolo was a smart man, and his brothers secretly admired him for it, even if they would never openly admit it. Of course, he noticed the lingering glances she directed at Matt but never said anything. Nick believed that Matt had informed her about his girlfriend months before she arrived in LA but was shocked upon learning that his brother didn't. That explained the sudden change of mood he'd seen with her at the party.

The older brother had always had an inkling about it since they were young, ever since Matt hadn't asked her to prom. He remembered how she had waited for Matt to notice her new hairstyle, and when Matt already did compliment her, Nick swore he saw her smile so big it could light up the entire school that day. Nick thought his brother Chris was dense, but Matt was on a different level.

He had brought up the subject with Matt once, while they were in line at TSA, just before a flight to California, a mere 7-hour journey away. "You do realize she's in love with you, right?"

"What?" Matt's brows furrowed; genuine confusion etched on his face.

"Come on, Matt. We all know she's had a crush on you since high school," Nick exclaimed, adjusting his backpack.

"That's not true, Nick," Matt responded, shaking his head in disbelief. He found the idea ridiculous.

"Whatever, Matt. You guys are both stupid. I see the way you look at her, and I see how she looks at you. What's holding you back?" Nick shrugged.

"Because we're just friends, Nick? Can't two people of the opposite sex be friends?" Matt retorted, feeling exasperated.

"Okay, Matt, we get it," Chris chimed in, adding his two cents. "We're just telling you what we see."

As Nick appeared impatient and tired of the conversation, and Chris pretending to not care, Matt pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

December 18, 2021

The sight of you on my porch brought me immense happiness. Dad was yelling, which woke me up, and he said you guys were at the front door. Honestly, that pie was incredible; I couldn't believe you three made it.

I wanted to thank you for joining me today. I understand you're not a fan of walking in the snow, but I loved every moment of it.

Christmas is just around the corner, and it's only a matter of days now.

I often wonder if you notice how frequently I steal glances at you whenever I have the chance.

As I sit here writing this, I’m looking at the Christmas gift I got you. It's a necklace. It might seem cliché, but I genuinely hope it brings a smile to your face whenever you see it.

~

She held onto the memory of that day, those tense days after learning he had a girlfriend and before the car confrontation.

"Are you planning to sleep on the couch?" Matt asked.

"I am," she stubbornly insisted.

"Come on, you're our guest; you can sleep in my bed," Chris mumbled with a mouthful of chips.

"And have you sleep here on the couch? No way, Chris," she replied firmly.

Nick chuckled, watching Matt's obliviousness. How could his brother not realize that she was upset with him?

"Alright, then we'll both sleep in my bed," Chris suggested, glancing at Matt for his reaction.

Matt was puzzled. They always shared his bed, so what was the issue now?

Snatching the blanket Nick had given her, she hurried downstairs to reach Chris's room.

Matt's jaw hung open. "What did I do?" he mumbled, frowning at his brothers.

Nick shook his head, grinning. "I'm off to bed. Matt, quit being stupid."

"What?" Matt looked to Chris for answers. Chris shrugged, "I guess she just wanted to sleep in my bed tonight, Matt."

"But-"

"Goodnight, Maaaatt," Chris sang, leaving Matt bewildered and hurt.

"But she always sleeps with me," he whispered to himself, still trying to make sense of the unexpected change.

Lying in Chris's bed that night, she silently yearned for divine intervention. Avoiding eye contact with Matt as she passed by him on her way downstairs, she couldn't ignore the confusion and hurt etched across his face. Deep down, she desperately wanted to pull him into a hug and tell him that things were alright.

It was unusual for her to sleep in Chris's bed, given that she always slept in Matt's, so the sudden change had caught Matt off guard. She was aware of it, but at that moment, her anger towards him outweighed her care.

Earlier that day, Madi had teased her about her apparent coldness toward Matt when they were getting tacos in Melrose. It seemed that everyone had noticed her subtle avoidance of his touches and comments, leading to hushed discussions among their friends.

She was also certain that Chris was a light sleeper. He didn't snore, but he definitely woke easily.

"Couldn't sleep?" Chris whispered, turning to face her.

"Yeah, too much on my mind," she replied, exhaling wearily.

The stillness of the night, combined with their exhaustion, allowed for a comforting silence to settle between them. A beat passed, "Why don't you just tell him?" Chris suggested, his voice barely audible. She couldn't see her best friend, but she sensed the sadness in his gaze.

"Tell him what, Chris?" she deflected, shutting her eyes.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know? You might fool my stupid brother but you can’t fool me and Nick," he remarked, adjusting himself under the covers.

Silence descended once more, but this time, it felt oddly reassuring knowing that one of her closest friends was aware.

"It doesn't matter. He would shut me out."

"No, he won't. He genuinely cares about you, and you know it," Chris assured her. While Chris might not be privy to his brother Matt's true feelings, whether he reciprocated them or not, one thing was certain: Matt cared deeply for her, more than she could ever comprehend.

"It's also different now that he has a girlfriend. I don't think she'd appreciate me sharing a bed with her boyfriend. It's more about respect," she added.

Chris disregarded her attempt to change the subject and pressed on, "Matt loves you, bro. If he ever shuts you out for telling him how you feel, then he's an idiot. You have me and Nick by your side forever. If you never tell him, you'll never get the chance to express your feelings."

“You guys should talk.” He added.

"I don't think I'm ready, but I'll think about it," she replied, her exhaustion evident in her voice.

Chris nodded, even though she couldn't see him. He understood the weight of the emotions she was carrying.

"Of course, at your own pace."

"Chris?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, kid."

In the quiet of that night, as dreams and sleep intertwined, she found solace in the knowledge that Chris, her closest friend, understood the depths of her emotions. It was a small source of comfort amid the uncertainty that had clouded her heart.

As they both drifted into slumber, she imagined a future where everything would fall into place, where she could openly express her feelings to the boy upstairs. In the warm embrace of their Los Angeles home, she held onto the hope that the friendship that she shared with Matt would weather these feelings she has for him.

January 10, 2022

Dear Matt,

I have to say, you can be pretty stubborn. I warned you not to visit me and bring me food because I’d probably end up puking it all out (eww), and now you’ve gone and caught the cold too. Now everyone’s infected!

 But you know what? You bringing me food made my heart leap, I’m pretty sure you know how to make me fall in love with you even more. Nick texted me earlier that he and Chris have lost their sense of taste because of Covid, but you seem to be fine already so you’re making them try different drinks.

I’m feeling a lot better now and I’ve tested negative for Covid, thankfully. Still, I’m dreading the day I go back to school. Ugh.

Alahna mentioned about wanting to visit you guys, but I know deep down she just wanted to see Chris. Haha.

Just so you know Matt, I love you. I think you probably know that already, but I wanted to say it anyway here.

She was certain that Matthew Sturniolo was going to be the death of her. The mischievous boy had cornered her against the kitchen counter, removing the chocolate residue that Nick had playfully smeared across her forehead. It was a sticky, gross mess, but Matt was attentively cleaning it up with a wet face towel. And there he stood, in all his splendid glory – tall and handsome. Nick and Chris's laughter in the background only intensified the fluttering of her heart.

"There, all gone," he confirmed, a warm smile gracing his features, the kind of smile that always had the power to weaken her knees.

"You're such an idiot, Nick," she scowled, avoiding Matt as she walked toward the center of the room.

"What? It kinda suits you," Nick replied, and the hearty laughter of Chris and Matt filled the room.

She flashed a playful smile. "Whatever. Are you guys ready to go?" she asked, her impatience showing.

The car ride proceeded as usual, with Matt behind the wheel and Chris in the passenger seat, en route to Chloe's house for a swim and to meet their other friends. The broken AUX meant the soft tunes of the radio filled the air, harmonizing with the breezy Boston weather.

"Matt, if you don't put me down, I'll kill you!" she screamed.

"Come on, it's not that serious," he laughed, making his way towards the pool.

"I don't care! Seriously, Matt, don't do thi-" But before she could finish her sentence, she found herself submerged in the pool.

"You're such an asshole," she grumbled, retaliating by splashing water at him. He chuckled and swam away.

A few feet away, Chris was engrossed in conversation with Nate about an Amazon package he had ordered, while Nick sat nearby, casually nodding and occasionally chiming in.

When she turned her attention back to Matt, he quickly splashed water on her face again. "Stop it. I mean it," her voice carried a trace of laughter.

"Okay, okay." Matt gazed at her for a moment, his smile fading.

"What?" she grumbled, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness under his gaze.

"Nothing. You're just really pretty," he said.

Moments like this only added to her confusion about where she stood in his life. Her heart skipped a beat, and she was momentarily taken aback, but she was swift to respond and hide her feelings. "Yeah, pretty annoyed at you," she said, pinching her nose to hide the forming blush.

Matt shook his head, a warm chuckle escaping his lips. He decided not to delve further into the matter. Why was he acting like this?

They lingered at the pool for a few more minutes. Matt's intimate touches making her melt, and his constant glances at her lips only added to the simmering heat of the Massachusetts summer.

The ride back home was interesting, she couldn't ignore the flutter of anticipation mixed with uncertainty that had settled in her heart. The day had been filled with subtle gestures and flirty remarks, leaving her wondering if their friendship was tiptoeing towards something more.

That night, when everyone had returned to the boys' home and a drowsy Matt lay beside her, she allowed herself to sleep soundly, knowing that something was undeniably changing between them.

February 3, 2022

Dear Matt,

I watched with Sam your new video. Chris mentioned about a little dinner you guys will have later, I’m so sad. I wish I was there. Anyway, Nick is Sam’s favorite. I couldn’t help but agree. Haha.

I know you’re busy with like stuff there and me too. My professors are killing me with these projects and assignments, also, I learned matcha helps with anxiety. I’ll have you taste it next time we see each other.

Also, you keep asking me why I’m sad, I didn’t think you would notice. How do I tell you, Matt, that the reason I’m sad is because I love you?

March 14, 2022

It has been so busy lately, oh my god. I lost my trusty pen because we moved dorms, but it’s all good now. I got so much work to do with finals coming up as well.

Anyway, I saw your tiktok with Nick today. You looked really cute with the Eeyore shirt, and I’m glad you’re still wearing that necklace I gave you last Christmas.

I miss you Matt. I’ll text you later when I’m done with class.

The car ride to IHOP proved to be quite intriguing, to say the least. Chris had evidently concocted a few surprises before their departure to California and before Spring break came to an end, forcing her to return to Morrissey Blvd.

Matt seemed unusually cheerful that day, expressing his desire to take her out, as well as everyone back home, for a little treat.

In that moment, it almost felt like things were back to the way they used to be. She occupied the passenger seat, engaged in a playful argument with Chris over control of the aux cord. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Matt, his amusement evident as he fought the urge to break into a broad smile.

As Nick and Chris hurried to enter the house after Matt had parked the car at their Somerville home, he prevented her from getting out. Matt fixed his gaze on her, a gentle smile dancing across his face, as he softly uttered, "I really missed you."

There he was again, stirring emotions within her, clouding her thoughts. "Me too," she responded shyly.

"Truth is, I wanted to spend the day with you, alone," he admitted, rolling his eyes playfully. "But I couldn't say no to them."

"That's okay."

A brief silence settled between them.

"What's on your mind, Matt?" She furrowed her brow, sensing that he had something he wanted to say something.

"Nothing. I'm just happy I'm home..." He trailed off, his voice carrying a hint of longing. "Seeing you, being here... with you."

Inside, she silently pleaded with him, "Don't do this to me, Matt. Don't say these things and expect me not to fall in love with you."

"Why? Has LA not been treating you well?" She pressed.

"No, no, LA's great," he replied, offering a smile before shifting his gaze towards their small garage at home.

"What is it?" she whispered softly, just loud enough for him to hear.

"I really don't know," he confessed.

Meeting his gaze once more, she couldn't help but smile. "Okay, then tell me once you've figured it out." She chose to lighten the mood, knowing that he was dangerously close to unraveling her with those looks he kept giving her.

April 8, 2022

Dear Matt,

Today you asked me what I want.

to be with you, that’s all I want.

September 2023

When Luke left for the San Diego, she looked around her room.

She gazed at the framed photo that hung beside her closet. In the picture, she and Matt were watching a movie, and slowly, they had leaned on each other. As they grew more comfortable, she had briefly considered adjusting her posture, but she couldn’t resist a sleepy Matt. The next thing she knew, his arms were wrapped around her, and they were nestled together, fast asleep. Neither of them had acknowledged it, but Nick had managed to sneakily capture a photo of them when he woke up at 4 a.m. to turn off the living room lights.

A bittersweet feeling loomed over her. She remembered the day all too well. With his mom waking them up for waffles and before things took a turn for the worst.

May 13, 2022

Hi Matt,

Only a few more months till I visit you guys in L.A. I’m kind of nervous but Chris assured me that everything would be fine.

I’m also excited to meet Madi, Nick said she’s nice, so I feel like we’ll get a long pretty well.

Everyone around them can see how much they love each other, from her mom and his mom to her dad, her sister, and even the entire Sturniolo family, including their grandmother. But a silent understanding prevailed; no one uttered a word about it. Perhaps they were all waiting for the day when Matt and her would finally act on their feelings. That's why when Luke entered the picture, it took everyone by surprise. Her mom, Elizabeth would drop hints about Matt’s brothers, mentioning that she saw their mom at the grocery store, and asks about Justin's new girlfriend, in which were all met with her silent nods. From behind her, her parents shared a knowing look.

Luke was the safe choice. He didn't make her feel like she had to beg for his love. He was dependable, polite to her parents, adored by her cousins, and fulfilled all the checkboxes of what she needed. He was unafraid of public displays of affection, and constantly tells that he loves her. Luke wasn't bothered by the story of her intimate friendship with Matt; he remained indifferent.

As time passed, the difference between Matt and Luke became more apparent. Luke, with his warmth and openness, brought stability and security to her life. Their relationship flowed smoothly, and the world seemed to accept them as a couple without question.

Yet, the blue-eyed boy who had once held her heart had an uncanny ability to infiltrate her thoughts. No matter how much she had tried to move on and embrace this new love, Matt remained an enigma. He was the unspoken part in her life, a book she couldn't close. She always wondered if he ever thought about her as she did about him.

It had been a few months since she had made the choice to be with Luke, months of happiness and contentment. But the heart has a way of keeping secrets, and hers held a special place for the blue-eyed boy in Los Angeles.

June 9, 2022

Dear Matt, two more months! God, I’m so over these classes, I swear. Samantha got really drunk two nights ago, it was so funny. I should’ve taken a video but whatever. Mom called me earlier today asking for my flight details, I guess she’s as excited as me.

July 16, 2022

Summer is finally here! I mean, it's been here for a while, but I'm looking forward to seeing all of you for your birthday next month. You better bring me to the thrift shops Nick was talking about the other day in the call.

August 17, 2022

I still can't quite believe you never told me about her. So, she was the girl Nick mentioned the last time you guys went home.

I couldn't help but notice the way you looked at me, and how I instinctively recoiled when she introduced herself. How did I not know? And why does she seem to know so much about me when I didn't even know her name?

Chris tried to console me that night, and I appreciated it. I also noticed how Nick was glancing at me, likely gauging my reaction to it all.

Matt, you don’t know what I’d give to stop being in love with you.

As the months passed, the girlfriend revelation of Matt was soon forgotten. She became increasingly immersed in college life. While Matt would text her from time to time and they would occasionally have video calls with Nick, she learned to accept the way things were. She had to make a conscious effort to push aside the memory of that night in Griffith Park when they had laughed and hugged, with her secretly gazing at his face and him giving her that look she adored. She came to the realization that if this was how things were going to be, she would be happy for him, even if it meant breaking her own heart. She contemplated Chris's words, but they didn't matter; what mattered was that Matthew was happy, and that's all she cared about. It seemed like everyone had forgotten about it too.

Matt was a private person, subtly posting little reminders of his girlfriend, but it didn't escape her notice how much it hurt her heart.

The longer she suppresses her emotions, the easier it seems, she believes. Suddenly, seven months have passed since that fateful night in LA, and March ‘23 is approaching steadily. Deep down, she's aware that she hasn't been honest with herself throughout this entire period, but she resigns herself to the reality of the situation. It is what it is, and she's compelled to carry on, masking her true feelings.

September 20, 2022

Dear Matt,

It's been a month since that night in LA, and Chris has never brought up our conversation again. I trust him. Life has felt quite mundane lately. I still have my moments, but I'm doing okay. I'm trying my best not to dwell on it too much. I suppose I felt betrayed, you know?

Yesterday, Chloe and Alahna came to visit, and we ate burgers. When I finally admitted my feelings to Alahna, I broke down. She told me she had always known I was in love with you, and with Chloe agreeing, both of them sharing the same sentiments, it left me wondering just how oblivious you can be.

October 5, 2022

Dear Matt,

I don’t know why you look at me that way, as though you could genuinely love me, even though deep down, I know you don't, and I know you won't.

Nick mentioned your plans for a trip to Florida to visit her. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn't hurt, but my own curiosity led me to check her Instagram. It was a mistake. I stumbled upon a photo of you two kissing on the beach, and I felt like such a fool for thinking this was something I could handle. I ended up in tears, obviously, poured my heart out to Samantha. I desperately wanted to forget, to stop these feelings.

I truly did try not to love you.

I really did.

November 3, 2022

"You know I hate these types of parties," she grumbled. "Do I even look good?"

"Girl, please, you look good every day," Madi assured her.

The night was still young, and everyone was on their way to this party the boys had been invited to. Chris was practically bouncing in the front of the car, and Matt, always effortlessly handsome, drove with calm and cool confidence.

Nick tried to comfort her. "You'll be fine. They're actually nice."

But she tuned out Nick's words as they entered the venue. The booming music only heightened her nervousness amid the lively crowd.

When Nick, Madi, and Chris entered the party, she found herself walking closely beside Matt. He was well aware of her uneasiness at these kinds of gatherings. With a gentle touch on her lower back, Matt guided her towards a group of people. Leaning in, he whispered into her ear, his face mere inches from hers, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the entire party. "You look really good tonight. Don't worry too much. I'm here."

A thought crossed her mind – he's such a flirt without even realizing it.

Under the party's red lights, his lips looked incredibly inviting. If only he didn't have a girlfriend living across the country, she might have kissed him. Of course, that's only if he wanted to kiss her too.

She sighed, as the party continued to buzz around them and the night progressed, surprisingly, she found herself genuinely enjoying the evening, engaging in conversations with Madi. However, she couldn't help but notice that Matt kept stealing glances at her. Fueled by newfound confidence, she walked up to him. "Hey, stranger," he greeted her with a smile, her savoring the sight of that familiar grin.

She could feel his warmth. "Shut up, Matthew. I'm so hot right now; you guys weren't kidding about Los Angeles being intense."

"You are hot, sweetheart."

"Yeah, this leather jacket Madi lent me—"

"No, I don't mean your outfit."

Before she knew it, their faces were inches apart, his eyes locked onto her lips. This was it, she thought. He was going to kiss her. After all those years of pining for him, the past didn't matter anymore. What mattered was now.

He was driving her crazy. And then it happened – he kissed her, and the world stopped. Their lips met in a passionate, consuming kiss. Sure, she had kissed boys in high school, but this was different. This was Matt. She could feel his hands on her neck and waist, his lips following hers when she needed to breathe. This was how it was supposed to be, she thought, her lips on Matt's. Her best friend, the boy she had loved since they were 18, kissing her beneath the Los Angeles night sky. As their lips remained locked in a passionate kiss, she felt an electric charge surge through her. All the inhibitions, the uncertainties, and the fear of what might follow were momentarily forgotten. All that mattered in that heart-pounding moment was the taste of Matthew Sturniolo on her lips, a forbidden but intoxicating sensation she had yearned for since they were teenagers.

“Five years of friendship flushed down the drain just so I could know what Matthew Sturniolo tastes like.” (Ifykyk. This is one of my favorite lines from a book!!)

When their lips brushed again, a soft moan threatened to escape her swollen lips, and her head began to swim with desire.

"Oh my god," she muttered senselessly, her mouth still locked with Matt's.

His touches ignited a fire within her, the heat of his mouth overwhelming her senses.

"Fuck," he breathed, pulling away from her and running his hands through his unruly hair. "Fuck, I shouldn't have done that."

Her stomach sank as embarrassment washed over her. She didn't speak for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss. "I'm sorry."

"No, I—" He choked on his words. Horror painted his expression as he struggled to make eye contact with her. "I shouldn't be kissing you."

His internal conflict was palpable, and the emotions on his face left her feeling utterly perplexed. They were both breathless, caught in a state of shock. She was about to cry when Chris walked in with a cup full of soda.

"Are you guys ready to go? Nick's about to beat a bitch up-" Chris asked laughing, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired. "What happened, Matt?"

A concerned look began to appear on Chris’ face as he assessed the aftermath of the situation.

"Just let it go, Chris," Matt muttered, looking at the ground.

"Let's go," she insisted, taking quick strides past Chris to find Nick and Madi, eager to get away from the confusing situation and head back home. Meanwhile, Chris tried once more, his voice hushed as he approached his brother. "What happened, Matt?" Seeing Matt in such a shocked state had him deeply concerned and worried about his brother.

November 29, 2022

I never should have visited again and allowed you to kiss me the way you did because I couldn't stop thinking about it afterward. The pure shock and regret in your eyes were enough to shatter me into pieces. We never discussed it when we got back to your house. Chris, with his knowing glances, probably figured it out, and I know you told him but thankfully, he didn't press the issue. The morning after was just as uneasy; you didn't come out from your room until 4 pm. Nick was concerned, but I was too nervous to say anything, feeling like a colossal mistake that had happened.

But I knew, when you looked at me to say goodbye at the airport, that I was hoping it meant even a fraction as much to you as it did to me.

We didn't speak for two weeks following that day, but today you sent me a text saying you were sorry. Our conversation resumed, but neither of us mentioned it again. I didn't ask if you had told her; that was none of my business.

You have to understand, Matt, that before you kissed me, I was always yours, if only you had looked closely enough to see it.

Christopher Sturniolo had never appeared shocked in his entire life. It was as if the heavens had granted him this shocking revelation.

Nick's voice echoed, "Okay, what the hell happened between you two at that party? You've been moping for days, and you didn't even take out the trash when I asked you to!"

"We kissed!" Matt lashed out at Nick. “Happy now, Nick?”

"Oh, shit. This is good. I mean no, this is bad, you have a girlfriend," Chris winced.

Matt's thoughts raced to Florida. His girlfriend’s going to be furious.

"I know," he muttered, feeling a headache coming on.

Days had passed since they dropped her off at the airport and her departure making Matt more confused as ever.

He groaned, unable to believe he had allowed that situation to unfold. He had also been ignoring her.

"Get your shit together, Matt. Seriously, you can't just kiss her and pretend it didn't happen!" Nick's frustration was too intense for Matt's liking.

"This is bad, Matt," Madi's voice sounded small as she contemplated the situation, her thoughts divided between the girl in Florida and the other one in Boston. This was undoubtedly going to be a messy affair, she thought.

Their comments offered no solace to Matt's torn heart, a whirlwind of suppressed feelings from his teenage years. He didn't genuinely regret the kiss, but he had a girlfriend, someone good who trusted him, and he had shattered that trust by succumbing to his feelings for his best friend.

"Okay, okay, Matt, breathe," Chris tried to comfort his brother.

"I can't do this," Matt said, standing up in frustration. "Let's not talk about this again. It's too much."

He stormed off and slammed his bedroom door shut, leaving Nick, Chris, and Madi in stunned silence.

"I don't understand why he just won't admit that she's always been it for him?" Madi questioned, her gaze shifting between the two brothers.

"Because he's an idiot, Madi," Nick replied, his annoyance evident in his tone.

The situation was complicated, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was playing with fire. His relationship with his girlfriend was hanging by a thread, and the unspoken tension with his best friend was driving him to the brink of frustration.

Matt knew he had to make a choice, a decision that could alter the course of his life. The pain of knowing he had hurt someone he cared about and the fear of losing the person who had been his confidant for years weighed heavily on him.

He was at a crossroads, and there was no easy path to take. He couldn't escape the truth, unsure of where his heart truly belonged.

December 20, 2022

Dear Matt,

It seems like things have returned to normal. Nick has stopped bombarding me with constant texts, asking if I'm okay, and Chris's late-night calls have ceased. I heard you broke up with her, I know you'd never share all the gritty details with me, but it probably was for the best. I can't help but feel like a terrible person for playing a role in your relationship's downfall. Alahna said it wasn’t my fault, but I feel like she’s just saying that, you know? I can't shake this feeling, I keep thinking I wasn't worth the risk. But then, you had a girlfriend at the time, so I understood. You'll have to forgive me, because I've never stopped thinking about that night since you kissed me.No one will ever be able to knock the wind out of me again. Not like that, not like you, Matthew.

January 2023

Matt clung to the familiar comforts of their Boston home, the very thought of remaining in the same bed that had cradled him in warmth and surrounded by the cherished memories of his childhood with his brothers offered solace to his melancholic heart.

Despite the fact that it was only the second week of January, the jarring noise of Nick's suitcase scraping against the floor downstairs served as an unwelcome reminder of the imminent reality awaiting him in just two days.

He yearned for the days before their move to California when life was different. He pined for the crisp, cold embrace of winter and the warm, welcoming smile she had for him whenever she would visit. Without a doubt, summer was his least favorite season.

Three days ago was her birthday, yet she was still in Nantucket, enjoying a vacation with her family. She texted him just two hours ago, explaining that she would be busy exploring the place with her aunt.

He had also gifted her a necklace, a token of their shared memories, as she had once given him last Christmas ago. The necklace was a heart-shaped silver pendant, a symbolic representation of his heart. He had chosen it with such devotion that Chris had teased him, saying he was like choosing an engagement ring. Matt silently agreed, but the truth was, he couldn't forget that night, the kiss they had shared, and how she had looked painfully beautiful beneath the soft, dim lights of the party.

His mom offered a comforting hug upon their arrival from the airport; Nick had probably told her over the phone about what had happened last November. As he looked around, everything had changed, yet he always felt the same.

He noticed it, as did everyone else, when Alahna and Nate visited; she didn't come. She was distant, and he couldn't help but feel guilty. It was all his fault. He had kissed her and pretended it didn't happen, only offering a sorry that didn't even comfort his own heart. Matt couldn't help but recall the conversations he had with his brothers late at night, in the car, about her being in love with him. Had he been so foolish not to notice the longing glances she directed his way?

It was four days after Christmas when he finally got up and entered Chris's room, the brightly lit space giving him a headache.

He found his brother scrolling through his phone, stress evident on Matt's face.

"Wow, you look like shit," Chris said, looking up. "What's going on? Nate has been bugging us to go to his house. Apparently..."

"Chris," Matt whispered, frustrated.

Chris leaned in, his concern evident in his eyes. "What's eating at you, Matt?" Matt had now settled on his bed, his legs touching Chris's sock-covered feet.

Matt sighed heavily, his emotions bubbling to the surface. "It's her. Something's not right, and I can't ignore it anymore. I kissed her, and then I acted like it never happened. I gave her this weak apology that didn't even begin to cover it. Now she's distant, and I can't shake this feeling that it's all my fault."

Chris listened attentively, his brows furrowing with understanding. "You've been worried about this for a while, huh?"

Matt nodded, the weight of the situation pressing on him. "Yeah. I mean, remember we've had late-night talks about her having feelings for me?  And now, I can't help but wonder if I've been too blind to see it. Maybe I've hurt her more than I realized."

Chris put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "Look, you can't change the past, but you can talk to her, try to understand how she feels. Maybe it's not as bad as you think."

A beat passed as Matt solemnly gazed at his brother.

"I think I'm in love with her, Chris. Nick was right. I am in love with her," Matt said, eyes heavy from lack of sleep.

With Matt's confession hanging heavily in the air, Chris finally broke his silence. He leaned forward, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Congrats Matt, you're the last one to know," he said. "We've known for a long time that you felt this way."

Matt sat up, eyes widened in surprise. "You have?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah, it was kind of obvious, the way you'd light up every time she walked into the room. Mom mentioned before that you guys are two peas in a pod. She said it was only a matter of time before you realized she had always been here."

Matt sighed, unsure of himself. "I have no idea what to do, Chris. I'm just so scared of messing everything up."

"Well, technically you already did, idiot," Chris grinned sheepishly. “Just tell her how you feel. What's the worst that could happen?"

January 19, 2023

Chris was being weird, big time. He kept asking if I have talked to you. We talk every day, don’t we? Does he not know that?

Anyway, Chris being Chris, I guess.

You wanted me to visit for Spring break again, but I don’t think I can, but I’ll see you when you fly for Nate’s birthday in June. I cannot wait.

You seemed different these days, Matt.

As days turned into weeks, Matt struggled with his emotions in silence. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her and making things awkward between them. His ex-girlfriend didn't handle his confession well. She said had expected it and firmly told him not to contact her again.

This situation took a toll on Matt because he never intended for things to become so complicated. He was willing to do anything to prevent it.

Realizing he was in love with his best friend left a bittersweet feeling in his heart. He had been fooling himself all these time with him ignoring the intimate moments they shared and him being clueless as to why she reacted the way she did when she found out he had a girlfriend or when he kissed her.

He wanted nothing more than to fly to the East Coast just to see her, but he felt like it wasn't the right time, especially with college going on.

Matt appreciated the updates from her about school and life, but he can't help but feel things have changed in the air between them especially when she turned down the suggestion of her visiting again for the upcoming spring break. Matt understood and he knows that she too, was processing her own feelings just as he was.

Chris, talkative and ever supportive, insisted that she had always loved Matt too, with Nick joining in on the teasing, he couldn't help but feel hopeful. All of his loved ones reassuring him that things had always been this way. Two peas in a pod.

His Mom also called the other day after Nick had shared the details with her. “Oh, honey, we’ve always known,” her sweet voice comforting Matt. “Don’t worry about a thing; I’m certain she has loved you since the day she laid eyes on you.”

February 14, 2023

Dear Matt,

Samantha teased me today about not having a Valentine's date, but I told her I didn't need one. Anyway, seeing all the couples around campus makes me miss you even more and I know I might sound negative but it's a bit overwhelming.

I remember 2 valentines ago when you made me that pink cupcake with a heart on it. You were so excited to give it to me that you had a little argument with Nick in the car because he was taking too long to get ready, and you couldn't wait for me to see it. I also remember that rainy Valentine's Day when you stopped by my house just to give me the flowers you had bought earlier that day. The soft look on your face, the sly smile and damp hair was enough to make my knees weak. I also remember how Chris snickered from the passenger seat when you said the flowers reminded you of me. I miss you so much Matt. I wish you could have been here with me today, but you're in Palm Springs having a blast.

It's already February, Matt and I don't know how many more seasons I'll spend loving you.

February 14, 2019

"Hurry up, you idiot. Holy shit, I've been sitting here in the car for 20 minutes, and you're still not ready," Matt complained, clearly annoyed.

"Wow, Matt, what's gotten into you? Sorry, holy fuck," Nick responded, taken aback by his brother's sudden outburst.

Chris chimed in; his teasing tone evident as he laughed. "Calm down, Matt, I'm sure she'll understand if we're a little late."

"Shut up, Chris, it's not that. It's just the fact that Nick always does this," Matt retorted, starting the car.

"Is this what this is about? You being excited to give her your cupcake?" Nick teased, making a face at Chris and smirking.

"You're stupid, Nick." Matt grumbled, proceeding to drive down the familiar road to her house, a route he had taken many times before.

February 14, 2020

"Chris, come on, wake up!" Matt's voice boomed through his brother's room. It was 3 pm in the afternoon, and Nick had already been pestering them to go out. "I'm up, please get out of my face, Matt. I'll kill you," Chris grumbled sleepily.

With Chris in his usual grumpy state and Nick being overly excited, Matt found himself stopping by a nearby flower shop in Somerville. As he stood in front of the various types of flowers, his focused remained on a bouquet of tulips. He had heard from their mom the other day how exceptionally pretty tulips were.

Unbeknownst to Matt, Chris had slipped out of the car to join him. "You're getting flowers for her?" Chris asked, his tone laced with teasing.

"Yeah," Matt replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"Huh," Chris remarked, flashing a smile at the elderly woman behind the counter before turning his gaze back to his brother. "Why?"

"Because" Matt rolled his eyes, "why not?"

"Fair enough, geez, I'm just curious."

"Do you think she'll like tulips?"

Chris grinned and gave his brother an incredulous look, as if he found Matt's question amusingly strange. "She'll absolutely love them, Matt."

"Great," Matt said, clapping his hands together. "I'll get it," he cheerfully declared, already making his way toward the old woman.

With his usual teasing, Chris added, "Why don't you pick up some chocolates and write her a love letter too while you're at it?" He couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle.

"Shut up, Chris," Matt said dismissively.

As the rain began to pour, Chris watched his brother buy the flowers and wondered how unaware Matt can be with his own feelings.

March 2023

It was the week of Samantha's birthday, and she found herself contemplating on going. She didn't want to come across as a buzzkill for considering not attending, but the truth was, she often found immense joy in staying in on Friday nights. However, there were moments when she felt sad while lying in bed, especially upon hearing from Madi that all of them was heading to a party. Her thoughts would drift to Matt, wondering how he was doing or if he met someone. She tried to push the thoughts away still.

Matt would text her late at night updating her that he was already home, and she would read his messages in the morning. She hated how different their lives now were, with her being in college and him having the time of his life in California.

Sadness washed over her again when she remembered the kiss, they had shared last year. It saddened her to think that it might not have meant as much to Matt as it did to her, but it felt too late to bring it up now. He had apologized, and she had told him to forget about it.

With a change of heart, she confirmed to Samantha that she would indeed attend her birthday celebration. It was time to step out and have some fun, she thought. If Matt could do it, so could she.

The backyard of the Airbnb is transformed with colorful decorations and fairy lights are strung along the trees. The little bonfire in the center, surrounded by Samantha's friends chatting and laughing made her anxious, there is a lot more people than she thought.

She spotted Samantha and approached her cheerfully. "Samantha! Happy birthday!"

"Oh my gosh, you're here! I've been waiting for you. I'm so glad you made it."

"Me too," she replied, enveloping the curly-haired birthday girl in a warm embrace.

"Please, enjoy yourself tonight, alright? We have drinks and food in the kitchen, and I think Lorraine is around here somewhere," Samantha mentioned.

"Yeah, of course. You don't need to worry about me. I'll have a great time," she reassured her. "Go ahead and mingle."

"Alright, I'll catch up with you later, okay?" Samantha planted a peck on her cheek and continued welcoming other guests.

When she surveyed the crowd, she mentally reminded herself to grab a drink to avoid just standing there awkwardly. The party was in full swing, and despite her nagging desire to be in her cozy bed, she was determined to have a great time.

"Hey girl, how are you? I didn't see you come in. Have you seen Sam yet?" Lorraine greeted her with a warm hug, while Hannah waved.

"Hi, Lor, I'm good. And yeah, I just did. I just got here too so," she replied.

"That's great. You didn't get lost, did you?" Lorraine said with a playful grin.

She chuckled, “No."

Lorraine is Samantha's best friend from high school, she has long black hair, sharp eyes, and legs for days.

"Do you drink?" Lorraine asked, as Hannah busied herself mixing drinks at the counter.

"Uh, sometimes," she admitted, although deep down, she wasn't really fond of alcohol but tonight was different, though. She was feeling bold and what's a little alcohol after a rough week?

"We've got plenty here—tequila, beer, vodka, and all that jazz."

"I'll take a beer, please," she decided, opting for a more casual choice.

As the night wore, she took small sips of her drink and appreciated the light-hearted conversations with Lorraine and Hannah, which kept her from constantly checking her phone. Two hours ago, Matt sent her a text about whatever, but she ignored it. Truth is, she still feels a little hurt and awkward with him because of everything that has happened. Just for the night, she allowed herself to clear her mind of thoughts about the blue-eyed boy in California.

"I need to use the bathroom. I'll be right back," she informed the couple, receiving only nods in response.

Aware of the dangers of drink spiking, she was cautious and brought her beer with her.

The hallways were narrow, and she wondered how many people had made out in these halls. There were many rooms too and photo frames with inspiring quotes that adorned the walls. Her trip to the bathroom was going fine until she bumped into a guy.

“I'm so sorry," she apologized frantically, searching for the green tissue pack in her little bag while setting the glass of beer on a nearby table. Her white top was now stained with liquor, which was just great. The embarrassment of the situation was overwhelming, leaving her unable to think straight.

"No worries," The guy chuckled, clearly taken aback by the unexpected encounter. "I should've been more careful."

She handed him the tissues, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "That was so embarrassing. I'm truly sorry," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Don't worry about it. It’ll dry," he replied with a reassuring smile.

“"I'm really sorry," she winced as she saw him examining his now alcohol-soaked shirt.

"It's okay," he smiled softly, causing her cheeks to turn pink. When he noticed her freezing in embarrassment, he spoke up again, "Hey, apology accepted. Please don't worry about it. I can just wipe this off, and I'll be fine."

She nodded and whispered, "I'm so embarrassed."

"Really, I'm over it now. Besides, it's my fault for not looking. You got drenched too," he chuckled, glancing at her blouse.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. It's not as bad as yours. Can I at least help you with that?" she offered.

"What? Help me wipe this beer off? Nah, I'm good. You go do your thing," he dismissed her with another friendly smile.

Feeling somewhat defeated, she simply nodded and said, "Alright."

In the bathroom, she found herself shaking her head in embarrassment while trying to wash off the small beer stain on her top. The night is not going well, and she was starting to regret not staying home. Why did embarrassing situations always seem to find her at parties?

After a few minutes of recovery and self-reflection, she returned to where Lorraine and Hannah were. But before she could reach the couple, she spotted the guy she had bumped into earlier. Hannah was chatting with him and giggling, while Lorraine wore an amused expression that made her feel even more self-conscious. Great, he knew them and had definitely shared the incident with them.

Hannah noticed her approaching and said, "Oh, I see you've already met our friend, Luke!"

The mischievous glint in Hannah's eyes confirmed that he had indeed told what had happened.

"Yeah," she replied shyly, smiling. "I think he has already told you how we met."

Luke laughed while Lorraine snickered. "Don't worry, he's not upset with you. In fact, he thinks you're cute, right Luke?"

"Oh..."

"Ignore Lorraine. Nice to meet you," he said, flashing her a warm smile and offered his hand. She couldn't help but notice the dimples in his cheeks or how perfectly curled his hair was.

"You too," she replied with a smile, shaking his hand, feeling her embarrassment vanish little by little.

Matthew Sturniolo was confused once again for the millionth time in his life, and his brothers found it funny.

Just five minutes ago, Nick mentioned she was at a party. Matt's head shot up upon hearing what his brother said.

"So, that's why she wasn't replying," Matt said, fingers fast on opening Instagram. "She didn't mention about going to a party."

With furrowed brows, he watched her story, where a girl with jet black hair was seen pouring a drink into a red up. The background confirming that she was indeed at a crowded party.

"She doesn't have to share everything with you, you know?" Nick rolled his eyes, as if Matt should already know this.

Chris chuckled, rising from his slouched position on the couch. "Yeah, you guys aren't dating, so why should she keep you in the loop about everything?"

Chris was teasing him, and he was aware of it. Nick gave Chris a look that said, 'who does he think he is?'

But Matt didn't care. It bothered him that she didn't even tell him knowing how much she disliked parties. He reopened their text conversation and stared at his unanswered message.

He sent another text:

Hey, just checking in. Saw your Instagram story. Hope everything's ok 😊

Turning to his brothers, who were now grinning, Matt asked, somewhat annoyed, "What?"

"Come on, Matt, lighten up. She can take care of herself," Chris teased again.

"She's a grown woman, Matt," Nick shrugged.

"Fine, I don't care," Matt grumbled, shifting his attention to the TV in front of him.

"Except you do, lover boy," Nick replied, and Chris laughed.

Matt stayed quiet, ignoring his brothers' teasing. He didn't need to know every detail of her life, and Chris was right. She could manage on her own but tonight he just felt uneasy. Was she ignoring him on purpose? Is he losing her?

He did his best to shake the thoughts as he stared at his empty notifications bar, hoping it wouldn't bother him as the night wore.

“Trouble in paradise?” Luke asked curiously, a playful smile gracing his beautiful face as he observed her reaction to a text message she had received, which seemed to elicit an anxious sigh from her, if Luke were to point it out.

She nervously chuckled and replied, "No, it's just my best friend asking how I'm doing," explaining helplessly. Luke nodded, choosing not to press any further.

They were now outside, surrounded by the soft chatter and faint music coming from the house. Lorraine and Hannah had left them 15 minutes ago to mingle with the other guests.

"So, is Sam a good roommate?" Grateful that he was attempting to initiate conversation and maintain a lighthearted atmosphere, considering what happened earlier. Lorraine had already explained that they had all been friends since high school and that Samantha was her roommate.

She chuckled and replied, "Yes, she is, thankfully. Although she tends to dance when she's drunk."

Luke laughed and shook his head, agreeing, "I heard she could be a handful when drunk," recalling a conversation he had with his own friends years ago.

"What do you study, again?" She asked, changing the subject. Realizing she couldn't quite remember what he had mentioned earlier, as she had been preoccupied with trying to forget the awkward bathroom encounter.

"Oh, I study business at SDSU, same school as Lorraine," he replied. “You’re studying computer science, right?”

She nodded, unwilling to discuss her major further. "How's Boston treating you? Do you enjoy it here so far?"

"Well, I've only been here for three days, and I've still got two more to go, but yeah, I like it. Just not used to the weather, that's all," Luke replied, looking down at her.

"Oh, yeah, I completely agree. Boston's weather is moody, unlike California's. It's very different," she said.

"I don't mind," Luke shrugged. "It's my first time here, after all."

"Really?" She turned to face him fully.

"Yeah, don't tell anyone, but I've never actually been to any state other than where I live," he chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Well, I think you deserve a proper tour from a native!" She looked up at him, smiling.

"You think so?" Luke grinned at her knowingly, his eyes twinkling with playfulness.

"Yeah, I mean, I've got nothing to do. I'm finished with most of my projects."

She couldn't pinpoint the source of her newfound confidence, whether it was the influence of alcohol or perhaps Luke’s casual smiles and affectionate glances throughout the evening.

He laughed, obviously amused by her eagerness, and she couldn't help but notice how nice his teeth were and how his curls looked.

"What's so funny?" She raised her eyebrows at him, a faint smile on her lips.

Still smiling, Luke replied, "Nothing, you're really cute."

She went silent, a blush forming on her cheeks. She was about to speak when he continued, "But yeah, a tour would be nice. Maybe we could get some lobsters?"

She snickered, the alcohol giving her confidence once again. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"If you want it to be," he shrugged coolly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Well, it's not a date. I'm just a new friend touring my new friend in the city," she declared.

He chuckled once again, his voice ringing in her ears. "Okay then, it's not a date."

She didn't even realize how engrossed they were in each other until Samantha approached them with a wide smile. "I see you two have already met," Samantha said, her eyes holding a hint of mischief.

"Sam!" She turned her attention away from Luke, her surprise evident. "Hi. Yeah, it's kind of a long story," she said, offering a sheepish smile.

Luke chuckled. "Your roommate here seems eager to show me around the city."

"Is that so?" Samantha looked between them, clearly amused.

The atmosphere remained light-hearted. Samantha’s playful smirk hinted at her enjoyment of the situation.

“Well, if she’s offering to be your tour guide, you’re in for a treat,” Samantha said, looking at Luke with a playful glint in her eye. “She knows all the best spots in Boston.”

Luke nodded with enthusiasm. “I have no doubt about that. I’m excited.”

Samantha winked at them both. “You’re in good hands.”

She understood that Samantha was insinuating something else. She wasn't stupid and she very was certain that tomorrow, the birthday girl would pester her about this encounter with Luke.

Samantha and Lorraine gave them knowing looks after Luke offered to walk her home and after a moment’s hesitation, she agreed. It was just a 10-minute walk to campus, after all.  She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn't want to walk home all alone at night.

She couldn’t help but remember Matt. Her Matt. The Matt she had been ignoring for hours now.

It had been an eternity since someone had taken the time to do this for her. She remembered from their high school days, how Matt used to walk her to her door, the way their hands would touch a little while walking, and her secret hope that he would kiss her goodbye. Of course, Matt never did.

“It’s been so long,” she whispered, her heart aching, unintentionally saying it out loud. Luke stopped mid-sentence.

“What?” He asked, confused.

She shook her head, caught off guard by her unexpected outpouring of emotion. “Oh, I’m sorry. I got a bit lost in thought. Please continue, what were you saying?”

“You did seem a little distracted all night. Is this still about the drink you spilled?”

“No, something else,” she replied, stealing another glance at her phone. Matt’s unanswered goodnight message, sent 20 minutes ago, weighed on her. “Just a lot happening in my life,” she chuckled, attempting to make it sound light for Luke’s benefit.

“Like school?” Luke asked again, his gaze steady.

“Yeah, something like that,” she answered, slipping her phone into her jeans pocket, concealing her suppressed longing.

Matt rose from his bed, finding no solace for his troubled heart in its confines. He headed downstairs to see if Chris was still awake.

"Hey, you up?" Matt opened the door to find his brother engrossed in his phone.

Chris looked up and said, "Oh, hey. Yeah."

Matt let out a long sigh and flopped down on Chris's bed.

"Uh-oh," Chris turned off his phone and turned his full attention to Matt. "She still hasn't replied to your texts?"

"Nope," Matt grumbled. "I want to call her."

"Matt," Chris frowned, "Don't. I'm sure she's fine."

"This is just not like her," Matt added, feeling stupid.

"I thought you didn't care?" Chris teased.

"Of course, I care," Matt sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Damn, you’re really down bad.”

"Chris, what's keeping her so busy at this party? Tell me, have you ever been so engrossed at a party that you forget to check your phone all night?" Matt asked, sitting up as he tried to calm his racing mind and heart.

"Uh," Chris tried to think, but honestly, he wanted to say no. There was no plausible reason she would be so absorbed unless she was actively ignoring Matt.

"You see?" Matt widened his eyes, attempting to convince his brother. "What if something happened to her?"

Chris intervened, "Whoa, we're jumping to conclusions here. Look, Matt, I'll call her."

Matt watched hopefully as the seconds passed by.

Five rings, and then her voice came through the speakers. "Chris?" Her voice sweet as a honey to Matt's ears. She must have made it home because he couldn't hear any background noise.

How could she answer Chris and not even reply to his texts?

"Hey, look, I'm sorry. Did I wake you? Matt here has been worried sick about you. You're not replying to his texts—"

Matt snatched the phone from Chris's hand. "I'm sorry. Chris is an idiot. I'm not worried, trust me."

There was a brief silence, and Chris facepalmed, whispering, "What are you saying, Matt?"

When she didn't reply, Matt continued, "I mean, I am worried. Just checking in, you know?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Sorry, no, yeah, I'm good. I just got caught up with friends, that's why I didn't get the chance to reply." A lie.

Matt paced slowly in Chris's room, trying to imagine her face. Chris gave him a look that said, 'What are you doing? Get it together.'

"I was a little concerned," Matt admitted chuckling, downplaying his worries.

"I'm fine, Matt. I just got home 20 minutes ago," she replied, her voice a whisper. She must be smiling, Matt thought, though he couldn't see her.

"Thanks for checking in, and sorry for not answering your texts," she added.

"That's... that's okay. I'm glad you're home and safe."

"Me too. This guy was kind enough to walk me home. I mean Samantha's friend from the party, Luke."

Matt and Chris exchanged surprised glances. "Luke?"

"Yeah, he was really nice. Offered to walk me. Also, I didn't tell you, but I spilled beer on him, which was embarrassing, but he was sweet about it, so we're good."

Chris snickered, and Matt shot him a hard stare, his stomach sinking by the minute. Who the hell is Luke?

"You can't be serious," Matt chuckled, trying to conceal his concern. “What?”

"No, I'm dead serious. We talked all night, and then, yeah, that's it. I offered to show him around Boston tomorrow, just to make up for what happened, I guess." She continued her story, seemingly unaware of how it was affecting Matt.

Matt couldn't hide his unease. "You just met him like 3 hours ago, and now you're spending the day with him? Who is this guy?"

"No, he's really nice, I swear. Plus, he's Samantha's friend, so..." She was quick to defend.

"I'm just saying, you don't know this guy well enough to spend your whole day with him," Matt said, growing more upset by the minute.

"Well, how am I supposed to know him if we're not going to hang out?"

Chris chuckled, shaking his head, while Matt tried to keep his feelings in check.

"Up to you. I'm just looking out for you, you know that. Again, just saying. Be careful," Matt replied, struggling to hide his true emotions.

"Yes, Dad," she teased, rolling her eyes, though she was likely fighting off a smile.

"I'm serious. I'm just looking out," Matt insisted.

"I appreciate that, Matt. Don't worry, I'll update you guys tomorrow. Also, do you still remember the address of that pasta place we visited a year ago where Chris fell in love with the chicken alfredo?"

"I'll ask him," Matt's voice sounded small. He felt like he was losing her by the second. Who was this guy? Were they going on a date? He can already feel a headache coming and a lump forming in his throat.

"I'll text you the address," Chris shouted from across the room.

"Alright, I think I'm going to bed. I'm really tired," she said, still painfully unaware of Matt's feelings.

"Okay, then. Go to sleep. Text me tomorrow," Matt pleaded, his voice carrying a sense of desperation. "Please."

"I will, Matt. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight!" Chris cheerfully replied, clearly enjoying the situation way more than Matt was.

Deep inside, she felt a bit guilty for distancing herself from Matt, ignoring his texts, and even considering dating other guys, possibly including Luke in the future.

However, she loved Matt for a long time, but he never felt the same way. Some days it felt like he did, especially that time he had kissed her, but it was never enough. She believed that if he had ever felt the same way about her, she would have been aware of it by now.

She was becoming tired of constantly holding onto false hope, longing for a love that would never happen and yearning for a touch that seemed always just out of reach. She desired to be consumed by his fire, even if it meant getting burned.

She craved the warmth of his affection, the reassurance of his reciprocation, and the simple comfort of knowing that her love was not in vain.

Truth to be told, she knew that Matt deserved to know the depth of her feelings, even if it meant facing the harsh reality that he might not feel the same way. Love, after all, deserved to be known. On the other hand, she feared the potential fallout – the awkwardness, the possibility of rejection, and the damage it could do to their friendship.

She couldn't escape the fact that she had held this love within her for so long, it had become a part of her very being. It was like an unspoken truth that lingered in the air whenever they were together.

"Love has a right to be spoken. And you have the right to know that somebody loves you." - Ursula K. Le Guin, A Fisherman of the Inland Sea

From the moment she pushed open the imposing wooden doors of the campus, she spotted Luke, leaning against a tree. The sunlight played upon his brown hair, making it appear lighter, and his eyes took on a golden hue.

It was undeniable, Luke was handsome. Every time she looked at him, it felt like a breath of fresh air on a crisp morning. Maybe it was something about the way his eyes locked onto her when she told stories, or how effortlessly he could reply with clever comebacks that always seemed perfectly timed. It was the way he carried himself that caused her poor heart to race a little.

When he caught sight of her, his face lit up. "Hey you," he grinned, his hands tucked into his pockets.

She returned his warm smile. "Hey yourself," she replied playfully, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, extending his arm, inviting her to link hers with his.

She shot him a look that said, ‘I’m not doing that,’ but she rolled her eyes, still smiling and continued walking.

Luke caught up with her, shaking his head with amusement.

Walking side by side, Luke kept his hands in his pockets, while she tucked hers inside her jacket to shield herself from the chilly air. She couldn’t wait for March to be over.

The curly-haired boy was surprised when he noticed a list of places on her notes app. Luke found it incredibly cute that she had taken the time to jot it all down for him.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’ve listed everything,” he chuckled, glancing at her phone to catch a glimpse of their planned destinations. “You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?”

Despite his best efforts to meet her eyes, she remained engrossed in her phone, her gaze fixed on the screen. “Of course. I did say I’ll show you the city, remember?”

Luke’s curiosity was piqued, and his eyebrows raised. A small smile played on his lips. “Do you always do this?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his question. It was quite out of character for her to agree to tour someone around the city, especially when they had only met the night before. But Luke had proven to be a pleasant distraction from the strange texts she had been receiving from Matt lately plus he was really cute.

“To be honest,” she began, looking up from her phone to turn to Luke, “no. I just felt like doing something different today.” Her gaze softened as she spoke, and for a moment, her thoughts drifted to what Matt had texted her earlier that morning.

‘You do know that’s a date, right?’

Her response was that it wasn’t, explaining that she was simply acting as a good friend, and this left her message without a reply.

As the day went on, she found herself more and more drawn to Luke. If she were to describe the distraction from her unrequited love, who was miles away from the East Coast, it would undoubtedly be a flirty man with curly brown hair, coffee-colored eyes, and a smile that could light up any room he walked into.

With a playful tone, she leaned in and asked, “So, what’s one more thing on your Boston bucket list, aside from the lobsters?”

They sat together at a cozy coffee shop near the school, where a handful of students were studying. The shop’s walls were adorned with rustic brown bricks, and colorful flowers added a touch of charm. As the sun began its descent, the interior was bathed in a golden hue, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

Samantha had just texted her asking how the date with Luke in which she replied again that it was not.

Luke paused for a moment, considering the question. “Well, I’ve heard Fenway Park is pretty iconic.”

She agreed, reaching for her cup yet again. “That’s a fantastic choice! You’ll get to experience the true Boston sports culture.”

Luke grinned, appreciating her enthusiasm for everything he says. “And what about you? Any more must-see places you’d recommend?”

She thought for a moment, remembering the restaurant Chris loved, but chose not to mention it, as if she were safeguarding a secret that the world couldn’t know, the restaurant symbolizing memories that were now part of the past. Instead, she decided to keep their conversation in the present, allowing it to flow naturally.

She smiled shyly, a glint in her eyes, as she playfully remarked, “If I didn’t know any better, I think you’re just finding reasons to see me again.”

Luke's grin widened, his charm shining even brighter. "Ah, you've caught me," he admitted, "guilty as charged but who could resist an opportunity to explore Boston with such beautiful company?"

Her shy smile only added to the allure of the moment, and he couldn't help but appreciate the twinkle in her eyes. "Well," he continued, his tone dipping into a more flirtatious register, "if this is me saying I’d like to see you again, then what do you say? Perhaps you could be my personal tour guide for a while longer?"

She couldn't help but blush at him. "If that's your way of saying you'd like to see me again, then I say you're in luck,” she teased.  “I wouldn't mind being your tour guide for a while longer."

Luke laughed, his face lighting up at her response, and he couldn't help but shake his head amusingly. "That's fantastic news! I supposed I'll have to come up with even more reasons to see you then."

Her smile remained coy, eyes locking onto his. "I look forward to it."

“But on a Saturday, in a café, she watched it begin again.”

(ifykyk haha)

May 2023

Nick Sturniolo couldn't tolerate it any longer; once again, his brother was wallowing in his room, shrouded in darkness with the covers pulled over his head. It seemed like Matt's sole agenda was eating and sleeping these days.

"That's enough," Nick's voice reverberated through Matt's room, with Chris trailing behind him. "This has to stop. Seriously, you need to get out."

Matt grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, Nick."

"Dude, come on." While Chris empathized with his brother's emotions, he knew that spending five days holed up in bed was far from ideal. "Have you even talked to her?"

"No," came the quiet, dismissive reply.

Exchanging concerned glances, Chris and Nick understood that Matt was avoiding them once again. Unmoved, Nick reached out and yanked the covers away, leaving Matt exposed from his warm cocoon.

"Nooo, Nick," Matt whined, rising from his bed, and walking past them into the bathroom. "Can you two just leave me alone?"

"Matt, please, this needs to stop," Nick pleaded, following him. However, Matt shut the bathroom door before Nick could utter another word.

Chris shook his head, deeply concerned. "This is getting out of hand."

"I'll call her," Nick declared, determined to mend his brother's broken heart as he headed toward the couch to grab his phone.

Chris halted him in his tracks. "Don't, Nick."

"Why not? This is ridiculous. She needs to know what's happening to Matt, you know?"

While Nick loved her just as much and empathized with her feelings for her brother, witnessing her heart break over the same guy repeatedly over the past few years, he also loved Matt and understood his reasons and he would go to great lengths to ensure he never saw his brother like this again.

"Don't do it, Nick," Chris warned again.

"Why not?" Nick persisted, challenging Chris, his frustration mounting.

"Because what are you going to tell her? That Matt's been depressed as shit because she went on multiple dates with this guy, and it all went well?"

Matt, listening from the other side of the door, emerged and interceded between them. "No one's going to tell anyone anything, okay? I'll be fine. I just want to be left alone."

"You have to tell her, Matt," Nick said, speaking more softly this time.

Chris gazed at the side of Matt's face, his heart aching at the sight of his brother in such despair. "Before it's too late," Chris added.

It pained Chris to see his brother like this, but he couldn't help but consider that maybe Matt had missed his chance with her months ago when he failed to understand why she was so upset about him having a girlfriend. Chris also couldn't deny that she had pined for Matt for years, and it had taken a long time for his brother to realize his true feelings and he also knew that even time would not wait for Matt.

In the weeks that followed, their household was like wrapped in an atmosphere of melancholy. Matt's isolation continued, and it seemed like there was a cloud of sadness hanging over them, especially when she announced that she plans to make it official with Luke.

Each day that passed without Matt addressing his feelings felt like a missed opportunity, and Nick couldn't help but wonder how much time they had left before those feelings became irrevocably entangled with regret.

He knew Matt's heartache was genuine and real. It wasn't just about a date gone well; it was about missed chances, miscommunication, and the unraveling of a connection that had been there all along. Nick also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand. It was an unspoken truth, a silent echo in the house, that they were running out of chances to mend the rift between Matt and her.

Meanwhile, Chris wrestled with his own conflicted emotions. He remembered that moment when Matt had failed to understand the depths of her pain when he had kissed her and pretended it didn't happen, his brother's lack of action when she needed him the most. It had been a missed opportunity, an oversight.

March 29, 2023

Dear Matt,

Spring’s break over. Been over for a few days. Everything is back to normal, and the air is getting warmer, which makes me a little happy. Mac Demarco’s song came on shuffle earlier on my way to class and it reminded me of when we were listening to it during the car ride back home. Remember the mint ice cream I let you try, and you hated it? Yep, that was the day.

I’ve already told you about Luke. He’s okay. He’s nice. I think I like him. I mean, what’s not to like? He flew back to San Diego, but we've been talking non-stop through FaceTime and texts. I think he might like me too, though I don't want to assume anything. You did say to get to know him better before rushing into anything.

I feel like things are changing, Matt. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I miss you so much. I wish you weren’t so far away.

April 7, 2023

Hi Matthew,

I’m just struggling with my feelings right now. Luke admitted last night after nonstop calls and texts, that he likes me more than a friend and he wants to take things further but slow.

I was frozen for a few seconds. I like him but I don’t know. I guess I’ll see where it goes.

I texted you about it, but you didn’t reply, Chris said you were out with Nick and Madi. I’ll tell you all about it later. I wish you knew, Matt. I wish you knew.  That it has always been you.

It was the second week of June of 2023 when Matt Sturniolo landed in Boston, Massachusetts. After being gone for months, he was immensely grateful he was back home. The weather was warm which made everything feel just right. Things had improved significantly with him compared to the previous month, following a heartfelt conversation with Nick and Chris. They all agreed that confessing his feelings while she was entering a promising relationship wouldn't be fair, and his brothers supported this decision.

The way she would light up when talking about Luke during their video calls was enough for Matt to accept the situation as it was. He also realized that the opportunity had already passed him. She had already met someone else, and he believed, or at least liked to believe, that this person makes her happy and that was more than enough for him.

This newfound understanding brought a sense of peace to his heart, but he couldn't deny, not even to himself, that he was truly heartbroken. Despite the acceptance, there were moments when the weight of the unspoken emotions, the timing, and the distance bore down on him.

Remembering their intimate moments together leave him with a lingering ache in his heart. Matt had been in love with her long before he could put a name to his emotions, but by the time he understood his own feelings, it was already too late.

"Yo, Nate just texted me," Chris said while munching on chips and leaning against the kitchen counter. "He said shit’s ready."

"Wait, I need to take a shower first, and then we can head out," Nick shouted from the other room.

Matt appeared from the laundry area, a sock on one hand, and asked Chris about his outfit, "Do you think this looks good?"

"Yeah, that's alright. I really like that shirt," Chris replied.

Matt smiled and said, "Me too."

Impatient, Chris sighed and yelled, "Can you hurry up, Nick? Alahna just texted me, she said they already pulled up to Nate’s house."

Nick shouted back, his words somewhat unclear, "Yeah, I'll be quick."

Silence enveloped them again. After a moment, Chris whispered, "Are you sure you'll be okay there, Matt?"

"I'll be fine, Chris. It's Nate's birthday," Matt responded, still engrossed in his phone.

Chris sent him a half smile. “You know she’s never going to replace you right? Your friendship with her is already special in its own right.”

Matt looked up, his expression softening but still uncertain. He nodded, agreeing with his brother's words, though not entirely convinced.

"Alright, I'm ready to roll," Nick announced after 20 minutes, already heading for the door.

Chris could sense Matt's tension and placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hey, Matt," he began, his tone gentle. "It's gonna be okay."

Matt leaned on him, nodding. "Thanks, Chris."

With a nod, Chris turned to Nick who's already impatiently waiting by the car. "Let's get going then. Nathan's waiting."

Hands on the wheel, Matt did his best to focus on the familiar road ahead of them. Nick sang along to the radio in the backseat, while Chris stared out of the window. Deep down, Matt wanted to turn around and retreat to the safety of his bedroom, but he hid his anxieties by remaining silent.

As Matt parked the car and they approached Nate's house, he couldn't shake the nervousness that had been building inside him. Chris and Nick walked ahead towards the sliding door in the backyard, where they greeted Nate's family.

For Matt, however, it was as if time had slowed down. As he scanned the gathering, he saw familiar faces - people he had known since middle school, some high school, and some he forgot the names of. Life appeared to have moved on for them, unaware of the feelings he was facing with.

With his hands in his pockets, he looked timid and shy. But then, as if the universe conspired to grant him a moment of relief, he saw her. It had been seven months. Seven long months since he had seen and kissed her, and it felt like finally witnessing the sun after a cold winter night.

Nick was approaching her first, and she welcomed his brother with a big smile on her face. Matt couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in her appearance - her hair now cascaded just below her collarbone, framing her face beautifully. Her smile, however, remained as radiant as ever, perhaps even more so. The way she held onto Nick, the carefree way her hair danced in the breeze, the sunlight gently touching her face made her seem almost unreal. The summer air had given her a healthy flush on her cheeks, making them pinker than he remembered. Her laughter like music to his ears.

After what felt like an eternity of hugging and catching up with his brothers, she began searching for him in the crowd. Her eyes eventually found him, standing there in all his handsome glory. With knowing smiles exchanged between Chris and Nick, his brothers left them alone. Matt approached her slowly, his hands still tucked in his pockets. "Hi," he greeted her with a shy smile.

She looked up at him, biting her lip, her voice now softer compared to when she had greeted his brothers. "Hi."

Subtly and unwittingly, her body leaned towards his, just like old times, and reached out to embrace him. Matt couldn't help but notice the familiar scent of her hair, the same fragrance that used to linger on his pillow for days after she had slept over.

As always, good things must come to an end, and she reluctantly pulled away, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she looked up at him. They were so close that they could feel each other's breath.

"Missed you," Matt blurted out, unable to contain his feelings. He had truly missed her more than she'll ever know.

"I missed you too, Matthew. How are things?" Her affection for him was evident in her words. Matt, who had been the love of her life for years, was now back home.

"Things are good," he replied, his voice carrying a mixture of emotions. "I'm so glad to be back home."

"Finally," she murmured softly, the word laden with longing and spoken with an intimacy meant only for his ears. Her gaze remained locked onto his, they were so absorbed into each other that they didn't notice that their friends were watching them, both oblivious to the hushed whispers in the background.

"Yeah, finally," Matt whispered, eyes steady with hers.

Observing this interaction, Nate nudged Chris gently, nodding towards them. His eyes wide.

"Oh no, Matt," Chris whispered, seeing Luke, who stood a few feet away and had seen everything. Her and Matt are standing really close, almost as if they were about to kiss. "Don't do it, Matt." Fearing his brother would do something stupid, again.

A faint clearing of the throat from behind them interrupted their moment.

"Luke," she whispered, surprised and wide-eyed. Luke responded with a polite smile, concealing his uneasiness.

Watching from a distance, Chris's heart continued to race.

Feeling embarrassed, Matt wished he could disappear. He had let his emotions get the best of him and now found himself in an awkward situation. Sensing her pull away, Matt watched as she moved closer to Luke's side, putting some distance between them.

"Luke, this is Matt," she introduced them, her voice slightly small. She gestured towards both of them. "Matt, meet Luke, my boyfriend." Matt hid his true feelings behind a polite greeting and shook Luke's extended hand but from a distance, Chris and Nate could see the sadness in his eyes as he glanced back and forth between the new couple.

"Nice to meet you, Matt. I've heard a lot about you and your brothers." Matt couldn't help but find irony in the situation, as he remembered the night in Los Angeles when he had introduced his ex to her, and his ex had offered similar words of welcome.

Matt smiled and nodded, his gaze lingering on the way Luke held her waist.

Luke started a friendly conversation, trying to ease the obvious tension in the air. "So, when did you guys get back from L.A.?"

"We got back just two days ago," Matt replied casually, shifting his gaze to Chris and Nate a few feet away from them, who was now stopped dead in their tracks, watching their interaction unfold. "What about you? I heard you're from California, right?"

Luke, keeping things relaxed, replied, "Yes, San Diego. I've been here for a week. Planning to stay for the rest of the summer."

"Oh," Matt struggled to find the right words. Spending a whole summer, indicating a serious step into their relationship.

"That's cool. Boston has nice beaches, although they might not compare to the ones on the West Coast." 

Her gaze remained locked on his, searching for a reaction. Nathan, Matt's best friend since they were 13 has always known the right words to say. He swooped in just in time to save Matt from a potentially explosive situation. 

"Hey, you guys, do you mind if I borrow Matt here for sec?” Nate asked casually, offering them his playful smile. "We need help with the ice and stuff." He said cooly, earning a knowing glance from Matt.

This was Luke's first time meeting Matt, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the history between her and her best friend. After witnessing their intense interaction moments ago, he wondered if it has always been like this.  As Nate led Matt away, a moment of silence settled between Luke and her. She could sense the curiosity in Luke's eyes. Finally, he broke the silence with a gentle tone, "You guys seem very close. Is there more than what I know?"

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt. "We've been friends for a long time, you know that." she replied, her voice a mixture of apprehension and vulnerability.

"I just never expected you two were that close," Luke chuckled lightly, making an effort to lighten the mood.

When she didn't reply, Luke gently continued, "Hey," speaking in a softer tone this time, he turned his entire body to face her, ensuring she could look into his eyes. "I'm not worried about anything. If you say you guys have been nothing more than friends all this time, then I believe you."

She smiled, feeling grateful that Luke had gracefully dropped the topic. But there was no lie in that statement; they were just friends. Matt had never reciprocated her feelings, and it had always been that way. She should be happy that she has a love like Luke's. A love unwavering, ever-present affection that wraps her in a sense of security and even though this love was just starting, it's here. It wants to spend the whole summer with her. It kisses and hugs her at night. A love that loves her back.

Chris followed Nate and Matt into the house and found them already engaged in a conversation. "Dude," he began. With Nate, deeply looking into Matt's eyes Chris knew he was helping calm his brother down. “What was that?”

Matt snapped, growing irritated with Chris, feeling the situation become more increasingly awkward and cringeworthy. "Just be quiet for a second, Chris."

“You need to keep your feelings in check before it gets complicated,” Chris informed, arms up in defense.

Matt sighed, realizing the truth in his brother's words. "Was it really that bad?"

"Bro," Nate gave him a sideways glance.

"Matt, with how close you two are, you might as well just kiss her," Chris whispered loudly, scanning the room for any guests who might have overheard them.

"It was like you guys were the only ones in the room," Nate chimed in, to which Chris nodded in agreement.

Matt hung his head in shame, anxiously sighing once more and burying his face in his hands. "I can't handle this."

"Yes, you can," Nate reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're here for my birthday, nothing else and you're gonna go out there and we're gonna have fun. Look, look, Karl's already setting up the barbeque."

Matt can only nod. Tonight was all about Nathan, and no boyfriend was going to ruin it for them.

Truth was, Nate was hesitant when she asked the question of whether she could invite Luke as her plus one. Deep down, he understood that she was slowly unveiling to the world the fact that this charming, curly-haired brunette with captivating brown eyes is going to be in their lives whether they like it or not. Nate was also aware of the feelings Matt is dealing with, feelings he suspected had been simmering beneath the surface ever since he witnessed them sharing a slice of pizza in his very own backyard three years ago. He feared that Matt wouldn't take this well, and the feelings of regret over missed opportunities might shadow him as he watched her with Luke. Yet, despite these, Nate couldn't bring himself to say no. He firmly believed that she deserved to show her love, just like anyone else and to Nate, this love was something his best friend would ultimately need to come to terms with.

The night proved to be a blur for her, with Matt's presence lingering nearby like a shadow. Just the knowledge that he was only a few feet away made her stomach churn. It hadn't always been like this; typically, she had a firm grip on her emotions and could maintain her composure, but the situation earlier, with the three of them – herself, Matt, and Luke – had left her wanting to go home and avoid talking to anyone ever again.

It had been a slip, a slip that should never have happened. The way she had clung to him, waiting for any sign, anything that might reveal his disapproval of her relationship with Luke. But when he walked through the door with Chris and Nate trailing behind him, she realized she had been fooling herself once again.

Matt had calmed himself down, thanks to Nate and Chris. With Nick giving him raised eyebrows as if to say, 'What the hell just happened? We'll talk about this later.' he shifted his focus to the food that was being handed around, attempting to divert his thoughts.

The night progressed smoothly, and the final blow came when Matt sat across from her in the group circle. Chloe, who had joined them, shot knowing looks her way as she sat beside Matt. "So, what are your plans for the summer?" their friend asked.

Various answers were heard from the group. "What about you and Luke?"

"We're going on Europe with Luke's friends from New York," she blurted out, her eyes finding their way back to her hands, avoiding Matt's piercing eyes.

She could hear the excitement and wows reverberated around the circle.

Luke chimed in, adding, "Yeah, it's going to be fun. I’m excited."

The conversation continued, with the group asking about when they will leave, and some were sharing recommendations for must-visit spots in Greece. She tuned them out, feeling smaller with each passing moment.

A European adventure was Matt and Her’s secret dream, a dream they had shared only in the quiet of the night, under the covers, with Nick sleeping on the couch nearby. It symbolized another significant step in their relationship, something that Matt couldn't help but notice.

Matt felt his heart break a little more with each passing moment, like a series of painful stabs. Of course, he didn’t forget the plans to elope in Europe and here she was fulfilling those dreams with another man.

When their eyes met, he masked his pain with a faint, forced smile.

Finally, the night ended with Chris giving her and Luke a friendly hug. With Matt already in the car avoiding the couple and Nick in the back saying his own goodbyes to Alahna and Nate.

Matt went straight to his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chris stopped Nick in pestering Matt and asking him about what happened at the party, he insisted that they give their brother space to work on his feelings.

~

"You're awfully quiet," Luke nudged her gently. They sat in the living room, surrounded by her sister and cousins, watching cartoons as the warm Boston summer air flowed in through the open windows of the house.

"Just lost in thought," she sighed.

"What's on your mind?" Luke asked, rubbing her hand while his gaze remained fixed on her face.

"Nothing much, just a bit nervous about meeting your New York friends," she chuckled, trying to keep her tone casual.

"They're not that bad," he reassured her, his fingers now absentmindedly playing with hers. "They'll love you. Who wouldn't love you?"

One person, she thought, but she managed to smile at Luke, appreciating his warmth. It had been a week since Nate's birthday, and Matt hadn't reached out. Part of her was secretly relieved; she wouldn't know what to say to him anyway. She knew Matt tended to withdraw when things got awkward.

This had been her problem since they were young. Matt always looks at her like he could love her, and she fell for it every time, only to have her heart broken again.

She knew she was lying to Luke about her old feelings for Matt, but she was determined to bury those emotions and start fresh with Luke.

"What if they don't like me?"

"They have no choice but to like you; they're going to spend two months with you in Europe," Luke chuckled before giving her a sweet kiss.

"I guess," she replied.

Silence settled between them once more. "Is everything ready for you? We leave really early tomorrow," Luke asked, mentally checking if he had brought everything he needed in his head.

"Yup, all packed and ready. Actually, I think I'm going to visit Nick and the boys later, you know to say my goodbyes," she shrugged.

She could feel the mood had shifted between her and Luke.

Luke straightened up, letting go of her hand. "Oh. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, that's fine. Nick has been bugging me to hang out since they got back. He wanted to catch up and stuff."

"Alright," Luke nodded, smiling at her, not pushing further.

Setting foot in her lifelong friends' house brought a wave of nostalgia; it felt like an eternity since she had last visited. Nick welcomed her at the front door with a cheerful smile, the sounds of a heated argument between Chris and Matt can be heard from the kitchen.

"You just don't get it. I didn't know it was yours," Chris defended himself, dressed casually in shorts and a white shirt.

"Well, you should've asked me! Can't you leave a soda in the fridge for 24 hours max?" Matt shouted, clearly agitated. "Geez, you're so fucking grumpy today, is this because-" Chris replied, and Nick cleared his throat, worried that Chris might say something she should not hear. Chris noticed her presence first and practically lunged at her, almost knocking the air out of her. "Oh my god, I missed you so much."

She smiled and patted his back, returning the hug warmly. When he released her, he continued with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a playful tone, "I'm so sorry we couldn't talk much at Nate's party. You were so busy."

"Chris," Nick warned with a pointed look. Chris shrugged, still grinning.

"I missed you too and no, I wasn’t," she chuckled, glancing between Nick and Chris, offering a reassuring smile.

"Yes, you were. You were busy with your new boyfriend," Matt snapped, his tone cutting and bitter, causing her smile to slowly vanish. He wasn't looking at her, not acknowledging her presence and not even trying to hide that he doesn’t want her there.

The room fell silent, Chris and Nick exchanging shocked and speechless glances in response to Matt's outburst, making the atmosphere tense.

"In fact," Matt added, his voice sharp as knives, "you were so busy with your new boyfriend that you forgot we had plans to go to the beach with Chloe yesterday."

His words were meant to hurt, like venom injected into her heart. "Matt, please." Chris intercedes, but the tears and the lump in her throat were already starting.

"Shut up, Chris. It's true! She's Miss College-this and Miss College-that. Why are you even here? Aren't you supposed to be in Europe with your boyfriend?" Matt sneered, his blue eyes piercing through her soul, oblivious to how much his words were hurting her.

"What the hell, Matt?" Nick glowered at Matt; his eyes wide, unable to believe that his brother was speaking to her like this.

"No, it's okay Nick, leave us," she whispered, stopping him. She swallowed hard, attempting to hold back the tears and keep her composure.

Chris, sensing that this was a necessary conversation between her and Matt, guided Nick out of the kitchen. He believed in her; if anyone could handle this, it was her.

"What's your problem?" She approached Matt slowly, keeping a comfortable distance, with the kitchen counter acting as a physical barrier between them.

"You! You're my problem," Matt mumbled, avoiding eye contact, turning his head, and looking towards the window.

In the years of friendship with Matt, they never once had an argument like this. Matt had never been this upset with her, especially over missed plans. She had missed one or two in previous years, but he had never been this furious.

Her heart ached trying to understand Matt’s current level of distress. She was not understanding why the boy in front of her was seething with frustration, his cheeks flushed, hair disheveled, and his eyes usually so warm and inviting now looks exhausted and empty.

This was not the Matt she had grown so close to.

"How am I your problem? Are you seriously this fucking upset because I forgot about our plans to go to the beach yesterday?" She was getting angrier, and her voice was rising.

Matt finally looked at her again. "Just forget it."

He tried to walk away, but she blocked his path. "No. Tell me. What's wrong?"

She peered into his bloodshot eyes; he looked so done. But before she could speak again, Matt beat her to it. "Nothing's wrong. Everything's just great. Go back to your perfect boyfriend; he must be worried about you."

"He's not worried about me, Matt. Are you kidding me? What did I do to make you this upset? Look, I’m sorry, okay? We had to pack-"

Matt didn't answer and brushed past her, bumping her shoulder in the process, his back turned to her.

"Seriously, you're just going to leave? So this is about Luke? Are you jealous? Do you think I'm too busy for you guys now that I have a boyfriend?"

"I'm in love with you, okay!" Matt turned around, facing her. His blue eyes now on the verge of tears.

She stood there in stunned silence, her feet rooted to the spot. She couldn't believe it — Matthew Sturniolo, her best friend, and the boy she had secretly pined for over the years, was in love with her.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Chris and Nick listened in wide-eyed shock, their brother’s confession echoing through the house. Chris exchanged a surprised glance with Nick, who couldn’t help but roll his eyes, muttering, “Finally,” under his breath.

Matt continued, his voice frustrated, "I cannot, for the life of me, forget the day I kissed you and how much I still wanted to. How much I wanted to chase after you that night, to kiss you again, I cannot stop thinking about it."

[blanketorghost]

Unlike the waves of the Suminoe

Word count: 2,793

Summary: It's Azul's birthday, and despite Azul's policies about gifts, Yuu insists on giving his crush a birthday present.

Pairings: Azul Ashengrotto x Yuu Fujisaki (implied)

A/N: Happy birthday to my bestest boy mwah💕

Companion/continuation fic can be found here! Also I will add the companion art tmrw im so tired fr

Taglist: @kazumify @the-trinket-witch @yavya

~

"I know you don't usually accept these, but... happy birthday." Against his better judgment, Yuu extended the carefully gift-wrapped package to Azul. His eyes glued to the floor as a sudden bashfulness filled his body. For once, he was grateful that Vil had forced him to wear that full-coverage foundation.

Somehow, someway, Yuu had been roped into being Azul's interview host for his birthday party, whatever that was supposed to entail.

It was a long-standing tradition in Night Raven College to make these grandiose celebrations for students; The entire dorm would be decorated to its max splendor and the birthday boy would be awarded all sorts of gifts; even receiving a specially tailored suit that fit the year's theme. Is that where the budget to fix Ramshackle dorm went? Either way, Yuu couldn't really complain. After all, he was awarded the same luxuries when his own birthday came along. Kalim and Vil made sure of that.

The festive atmosphere that engulfed the Octavinelle dorm was also a welcome change of pace. With the VDC approaching, practice was getting more and more intense. So when the opportunity arose to finally relax and pig out on junk food and sweet treats, practically everyone jumped at the chance— even if the birthday boy wasn't particularly well-liked by most members of the NRC Tribe.

It also was exciting to be able to candidly ask Azul about himself for once. Whenever they met up, they seldom talked about each other, often their conversations being engulfed by work or contracts rather than other, more casual topics one would normally talk about with friends. Yet, as host, Yuu was allowed the rare opportunity to run an honest-to-goodness interview without running the risk of being blackmailed by the octomer, something he couldn't just pass by.

It was pleasant to hear about Azul's birthday memories first-hand, and he even got to learn about his family traditions. He spoke plainly and happily about his parents, the ristorante they had back at the coral sea, and his own thought processes behind his management of the lounge. Yuu reveled in that moment of subtle vulnerability. It was nice not having to read between words for once.

Now that the interview was over, though, Azul went back to his all-business persona as he cheerfully greeted guests and accepted well-wishes, often recommending dishes in-between or proposing deals. It was only until the very end of the party that Yuu could catch his attention again and pull him aside to an empty table.

The wrapping paper crinkled as he clutched the gift harder and slightly bowed— his body moving on its own before he could even think. Despite being in Twisted Wonderland for more than a semester now, he still couldn't shake up some of the rigid mannerisms from back home.

Perfect, now he looked more like a fool.

"Ah. I think you've wished me happy birthday... three times already?" Azul's laugh ringed on Yuu's ears. Melodious and sweet. Genuine even, compared to his usual tone. "But if you know my rules, then you should've known already I can't take it." Despite his statement, Azul tentatively took the package and examined it.

It didn't look like anything special. A flat, hand-sized rectangle that was wrapped in modest striped lavender paper from Sam's shop. Yuu had done this intentionally. He thought if the gift looked inconspicuous enough, Azul would accept it without protesting, but it seemed he had underestimated his crush's stubbornness.

"It's a dumb rule." Yuu quickly retorted. "I don't need or want anything in return, Azul. It's literally your birthday." He finally found the courage to look up. As his eyes were met with Azul's smile, he couldn't help but return it with his own, his only hope being that it wasn't too dopey or lovesick. "And honestly, you're already allowing me the joy of giving. Isn't that enough payback?"

"If you word it like that, I suppose that's enough." He laughed again, and Yuu's heart did a flip. "What is it?"

"You'll have to open it to find out."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"That's not how this works, come on—" Yuu let himself laugh as he finally sat beside him and averted his gaze towards the cutlery on the table. Maybe if he didn't have to look him directly in the face, his anxiety would fade slightly.

He nudged the present closer and held his breath as Azul unwrapped the package, careful not to rip the paper. If he were from earth, Yuu thought, Azul would be the type of person that would save them to wrap other gifts.

"A bookmark?" He held the wooden charm up. The delicately carved slab was decorated at the bottom corner with a wave pattern— the closest Yuu could guide Rook to paint on with his limited artistic talent to reflect the ones he'd seen at home. At the top, a braided satin tassel was looped through a small hole, tied into a rope.

"I- I'm not good with crafts like these, so I commissioned Epel and Rook to help me out with some—... I wanted to give you something you could use." Yuu tried his best not to trip over his words as he explained. Why was he even explaining himself, though? His plan was to just give him the package and dip, but instead, Yuu was now hunched forward, one finger pointing at the details he wanted Azul to take notice of.

"Thank you. It is indeed quite a useful gift." Azul's voice softened, but Yuu couldn't really gauge what he truly thought about the gift without looking at him— something he refused to do. "Is this design common where you come from?"

"Yes, the pattern here is called a seigaiha. It's meant to represent ocean waves. Though Rook did take some artistic liberties on his interpretation."

"And this?" Azul's hand slid to the complex knot at the top. His curiosity slightly encouraging Yuu.

"It doesn't mean anything specifically, but I wanted to mimic an omamori— a good luck charm." He answered before averting his eyes again in embarrassment. "That's the only part I contributed with manually."

"It's still very intricate. Though I'm a bit insulted that you think I need a lucky charm." He felt Azul's weight shift beside him as he leaned on him for a few seconds. He knew it was a friendly nudge, but that still didn't help Yuu feel any less flustered.

"Everyone needs a little luck every once in a while, besides—" Yuu guided Azul's hand and flipped the bookmark to its backside, which had a small, white rectangle painted at its center. "It doesn't have the spell that makes it lucky written on it."

"So there is magic in your world." Azul's voice gained a smug tone, that one he used so often whenever he wanted to tease Yuu. Usually, he would just laugh along and reciprocate with a quip of his own, but his brain was already working overtime with just maintaining his composure. Thankfully, Azul didn't seem to notice as he continued. "Then, shouldn't you write something? It's your gift, after all."

"I am magicless, remember? It wouldn't work. Besides, my handwriting's kind of ugly. I didn't want to ruin it."

"I don't think— nevermind." He felt Azul's posture falter for a second. "What I meant is that... It'd be nice to get a message from you. But if you say so, I suppose it's for the best then."

Yuu's eyes darted up. Did Azul sound... disappointed? If he did, he didn't show it. His expression was as inscrutable as always, his lips curled into that all-business smile as his delicate fingers ran through the blank slate.

God, he was gorgeous.

And it was getting very difficult to keep denying him, especially on his birthday.

"I may... know something I could write on."

"Oh?" Azul turned to him, head tilting in curiosity. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't want it to be something menial like a 'happy birthday' or a regular well-wishes message. That'd be a disservice to Rook and Epel's work. So instead, I thought.... I know a certain poem I could write instead."

"You're writing me a poem?" Azul's smile widened, and he crinkled his eyes smugly, having found the perfect opportunity to tease Yuu. "I didn't take you for a romantic. Or a writer for that matter."

"And I didn't take you for an insufferable tease, and yet here we are." He flicked a finger to Azul's temple, Azul flinching in return. "I'm not writing you a poem. I'm writing a poem. Pragmatics, 'Zul-kun."

"But it is directed at me, no? So you are writing it for me." The boy chuckled as he moved a hand to his forehead, rubbing the spot where Yuu flicked at him. "Shame I won't be getting an original. It would skyrocket the bookmark's value."

"You can't afford me." Yuu retorts, returning Azul's smug and cheeky smile with one of his own.

"I doubt that. What are your rates?"

"I'll discuss with my associates and get back to you."

The two let out a low chuckle as the conversation naturally veers back to their usual dynamic. And Yuu gives himself the luxury to lightly nudge Azul, extending their contact for just a little precious second longer. "Now I'm curious, though. What poem are you going to write for me?"

"It's just a short thing. Back from a collection of poems that are pretty famous back home." Yuu explains, not truly wanting to get into the thick of it just yet. If only to make their conversation longer.

"And?" Azul leans closer, not buying Yuu's humble description. They have known one another for long enough that Yuu wouldn't just bring it up if it was that trivial.

"And, it's also become a kind of card game because of its fame. It's called Hyakunin Isshu karuta."

"A hundred people, a hundred poems, huh?" Azul perks up, leaning forward and placing his palms on his chin. "Must be quite a challenge to memorize all of them."

"Oh, not really." Yuu smiles in spite of himself, and he sees Azul frown in return. He quickly wipes the smile off his face and coughs. "I mean- they are quite short. Just 5 verses each, split in two. So they're not that hard to memorize. Much like a couple of songs or an album by your favorite artist..."

"I get it. A simple game of memorization." Azul's interest seemed to have returned. "So what you're telling me is that if I memorize all 100 poems, I could win this game?"

"Well, yes. But you also have to be quick enough. Some competitive players can spot the matching card to a poem in seconds."

Azul hums, straightening back on his seat. "That's an interesting premise. You must come to the board game club one day and explain in more detail, I wouldn't mind investing in creating a deck for us to play."

"Maybe I'll buy you a set for your next birthday." Yuu smiles to himself at the tacit promise of celebrating another year with Azul by his side, even if it's just as friends.

"I'll hold you to that." Azul taps his finger on the table, then leans closer to him. "Now, about this mystery poem..." He trails off, urging Yuu to start writing.

A soft light emerges from his right hand and his signature fishbone quill materializes, shimmering that bright golden hue that illuminated part of the table.

Yuu carefully takes it. The last time he'd used it was when he signed those dreaded contracts in what seemed forever ago. He never expected he would've become so close with Ashengrotto when he was presented with the deals, much less catch feelings for him.

"Since you're being so annoying, maybe I'll just write half of it."

"So you're giving me half a gift? How stingy of you. Since when did you become such a cheapskate?"

"Shush." Yuu turns to Azul, placing a finger on his own lips. "The bookmark is the gift. The poem's just an add on you insisted on." He says, then places the tip of the quill atop the slate, slowly and meticulously starting with the first line. "Besides, think of it as a challenge; I'm giving you three fifths of a full poem. Can you guess what the last two lines are before next year?"

"That's terribly unfair." Azul stifles a giggle, his eyes following each and every one of Yuu's movements as he writes. "How will I be able to know?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll come up with something..." Yuu hums, tracing the line of a kanji until he's sufficiently satisfied with its thickness. "You're smart like that."

Azul only hums back in agreement, then chimes in once more "What is a 'Suminoe'? You have to at least explain to me the foreign terms."

"It's the name of a beach. I thought it'd be fitting given the bookmark's pattern." Yuu answers, mentally measuring the length of the third and final line. "All poems of this type have something relating to nature."

"And so, you thought of an ocean themed poem."

"Correct." Yuu nods, flicking the nib to finish his last stroke.

He couldn't quite discern from just Azul's tone if the comment was condescending, interested, disappointed, or entirely neutral about the poem's subject. Azul's voice already had a melodic and dramatic tilt to it when he talked. And the cadence of his words were so meticulously controlled to give so much information about his mood, they were a puzzle in itself.

"... I think I'm done." Yuu hands his finished message to Azul, who adjusts his glasses as he carefully inspects the writing on the slab.

As he reads the few lines repeatedly, Yuu watches his eyebrows pinch and his lips purse, and his heart skips a beat when Azul's expression slowly turns into a disappointed grimace.

"... I don't get it." He sighs, dejected, and places the bookmark down on the table

That was a risk Yuu always had to account for; that his references or sayings would be misunderstood or flew over people's heads. Especially when he'd just chosen to write half a tanka, famously known to need those last two lines to bring out the full context of the message. Usually, Yuu wouldn't even bother to say anything that could incur the confusion of others, but, with Azul, there was a benefit to being cryptic; It kept him interested.

Azul was so curious, so hungry for knowledge, he would eat up any and all information Yuu gave him. And whatever he didn't understand, he was eager to make it so he would the next time it was mentioned. At some point, Yuu started to intentionally include some of Earth's locations and slang, just to have the pleasure to explain to Azul anything that would pique his interest. It was nice to have an excuse to talk about home... especially when the listener was so eager to learn.

"It's incomplete. You're supposed to find the words to make it make sense to you." Yuu chuckles, handing Azul the quill back and leaning his cheek to rest on his fist. "I think it'd be interesting to see what meaning you extract from those words, then later see how closely it matches the authors." He smiles, but Azul only returns his gesture with a pout.

"Fine. I suppose it would be interesting to try out." He sighs and makes the quill disappear with a snap of his fingers. "But I would've rather had a full poem to think about."

"You're no fun."

"Perhaps I am not. But you'll still try to complete the poem?"

"Of course I will. That is, if I can't manage to pry those last verses from you."

"Over my dead body."

Azul chuckles once more, and, as he is called over by one of the employees of the lounge, Yuu watches him leave the table and bids his goodbyes, taking the gift from the table and putting it in his coat pocket.

Success.

He stays there seated for a while, watching as Azul weaves through the crowds and stops at some instances to entertain the guests. No rhythm or pattern, he just melded into the crowd seamlessly only to pop up once again somewhere else.

In a way, Yuu compared it to a delicate dance. A push and pull of socialization and taking times for himself to recharge. A beautiful view in his eyes.

Maybe that's why he chose that poem. Something that reminds him of Azul's nature of hiding, camouflaging, a figure so ethereal he felt it could only be seen from afar.

Unlike the waves that come up to the shore of Suminoe, in the gathered night.

[drabblesandimagines]

Commitment

Clive Rosfield x female reader, fluff Once again, thank you to the commissioner for this piece, and also for allowing me to share with you all x

“There,” Jill smiles, pinning the flower garland upon your crown. She’d crafted it from flowers from the backyard that very morning, wanting it to be fresh and vibrant in colour as possible.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing yourself in such finery. Jill has braided sections of your hair across your crown, incorporating the garland seamlessly. The gown is a fine white fabric, embroidered with dainty flowers across the waistline, sleeves and hem, and you dread to think of how many nights Hortense has worked over it by candlelight.

You had meant for it to be an extremely low-key affair – you, Clive, Joshua, Jill, Torgal, of course, and Tomes to officiate in Clive’s chambers one evening, but Gav, the excellent scout that he is, had clocked something was afoot and soon enough the entire Hideaway was abuzz with the news that you and Clive planned to wed, and all wanted to be involved.

It had started with Maeve asking what your favourite cake was – you can’t get married without a cake, she’d stressed, and the two of you had agreed, only because you knew it would be a welcome treat to the residents of the Hideaway. Then Hortense had appeared at the door, reams of fabric in hand, wanting your measurements and what you thought of this or that fabric, if you were a fan of long or short sleeves. You’d insisted that she shouldn’t waste the Hideaway’s supplies of something so frivolous as a wedding gown, something you’d only wear once, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

A procession soon followed – Charon had some simple rings in stock that Blackthorne was going to adjust to fit, the bard had asked if there was any particular tunes you were fond of, Byron then arriving after Gav had sent word, his boat filled up with the finest wine from his stores, as well as sundries towards what had soon turned into a wedding feast.

--

There’s a knock at the door and Jill hurries over to answer, opening it only a little to check who it was, before pulling them apart fully to permit them entry.

“Perfect timing, Joshua. I do believe we are ready.”

The Phoenix strides in, Jill quickly sliding the door shut behind him. He is dressed in his usual blacks but with what appears to be a new red cowl. Hortense had let no-one in the so-called wedding party escape without some sort of new garb for the day.

Joshua stares at you and you hoist up your skirt delicately as you get to your feet, feeling a little embarrassed from the attention.

“Is it too much?”

He shakes his head. “You are going to take Clive’s breath away.”

“Told you,” Jill grins, passing you the simple bouquet the botanists of the Backyard had put together, containing yours and Clive’s favourite flowers, wrapped with a white ribbon. “I best go take my place.”

“Thank you, Jill.” You stop her, pulling her into a hug. “For everything.”

“Oh, stop it,” she protests, her voice a little tight, but she leans into your embrace all the same for a moment. As she pulls away, she fixes your garland once more with a kind smile and it is then you see tears brimming her eyes. “I am so happy for you – both of you. I shall let the bard know you’re ready for your entrance.”

You find yourself swallowing down your own tears as Jill leaves the chambers, a hum of conversation floating through the doors as they open and close.

Joshua offers you his arm. “Are you ready, my lady?”

You loop your arm through his and take a deep breath. “More than ever.”

--

Clive stands at the top of the stairs to the shelves, the doors wide open, besides Tomes. Everyone is stood in the Ale Hall below, leaving a makeshift aisle between the two sides for his future wife to walk down.

He’d never considered marriage, truthfully. After years enslaved, it never seemed even a possibility until he had met you – sweet, beautiful, wonderful you, who he fell deeper in love with each and every day.

He knew life with him was hard, having to be parted often as his duty took him across Valisthea, his work to fulfil Cid’s legacy, never quite knowing when he could give you his undivided attention back at the Hideaway… But this, his vow to be your husband was something he could give you, and he did so gladly.

He is donned in a new white shirt at Hortense’s insistence, though still in his leathers, and Torgal sits by his heels, panting and as fluffy as he was a pup - the children had given him a thorough wash the day before and this morning tied a bright red bow around his neck, insisting he had to look his best for the festivities.

“Are you nervous, Clive?” Tomes asks, softly.

Clive takes a steadying breath, knowing he could never lie. “A little, but only because of the audience.”

“Understandable. You’ll forget all about them once you see your bride, I am sure of it.”

He’d seen Joshua enter the chambers a few moments ago and then Jill hurrying out, looking beautiful in her new teal and white dress, now whispering in the bard’s ear before taking her place at the bottom of the staircase.

The bard strums a chord in a flourish, getting the crowd to settle, before he begins to pick the strings in a simple but beautiful melody, and the doors to the chambers open once more, the entire Hideaway turning their head to catch a glimpse.

Clive forgets to breathe for a moment.

Tomes is right – as soon as you emerge, always beautiful to his eyes but today especially so, a vision so wonderful he doesn’t see anyone else. You’re blushing as you meet his gaze and hold it, trying to ignore the fact of so many eyes upon you, and Clive can’t help but wish Joshua would walk a little faster.

It feels an age before you reach the bottom of the stairs, when Clive can finally descend them. You pass your bouquet to Jill, and Joshua then passes your hand to Clive. It takes all that’s in him not to kiss you right that at that very moment, but he knows he must wait. Tears prick at his eyes and at that moment you don’t need to hear anything from him – the love and adoration on his face tells you more than words ever could.

You can barely take in what Tomes is saying as you stare into your love’s eyes, somehow managing to recite the affirmations at the right times, to slip the ring onto Clive’s finger as he does to yours and then, finally, Tomes wraps the ribbon around your clasped hands, binding you as together one at last.

“It is my great honour to present to you the new Lord and Lady Rosfield.” The historian proclaims, cheers and applause echoing around the Ale Hall in response – including a loud sob that is so unmistakenly Gav.

Clive cups your cheek then, tilting your head up as you place a hand upon his chest, meeting his lips with yours in a short, sweet but chaste kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper, before kissing him once again.

“I love you more - my light, my love, my life.”

“You can do far better than that, my boy!” Byron’s voice booms from below, interrupting your moment of tranquility.

Clive looks a little bashful from his uncle’s comment, though moves his head down to murmur a request in your ear.

“Shall we give them a show, my darling?”

“I think we should, my husband.” You grin in return. Clive wastes no time then, moving his hand to the back of your head, another to the small of your back and dips you in a smooth notion, tongue only swiping your lip for a moment before he presses you into a passionate, almost bruising kiss that makes your heart pound, and all to another raucous cheer from below.

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[strangermarvelss]

the pain of letting you go- e.m (pt 11)

Pairing: Ex!Eddie Munson x Ex!AFAB!Reader

Summary: it’s time for some well needed family therapy with the munson family

Warnings: angst, eddie pov, sad!christopher, sad!reader, crying, confessions, breakthroughs, ends on a positive note, but it isn’t all fixed, not proof read sorry y'all

Word Count: 3k

A/N: part eleven of the series is here! can’t believe it’s almost done, it feels unreal. thank you to everyone for the continued support! reminder: if the topic is sensitive for you, please do not read. enjoy! :) -sava

series masterlist

Walking through the front doors of the building, you’re immediately welcomed with the scent of pine filling your sense, the lobby of the therapy office already decorated to the brim with Christmas. A giant tree sat near the front desk, with wreathes, candy canes, and paper angels littered on nearly every available surface and empty space the lobby had. You take your son’s hand and look down at him with a soft smile before walking up to the front desk to begin the check in process.

“Hi, I have a family appointment under Munson,” you tell the receptionist. She gives you a smile and tells you to have a seat in the waiting room. Taking just a few steps, you sit in the first available seats you could manage to find.

Running your sweaty palms up and down your thighs, you let out a shaky breath. Turning to your son, he looks at you with concern and you flash him a quick smile before turning away again. You have no reason to be nervous for the therapy session for many reasons, yet the butterflies in your stomach were swirling around rapidly. It was you who made the appointment, and talking about your feelings wasn’t something that scared you. Your worry stems from hearing just how terrified your son is by the situation, letting him expand on his thoughts that he shouted at you and Eddie that day at the school. 

You were also still unsure of your feelings towards Eddie. The wounds from the night you slept together again for the first time in months were still fresh, his words replaying in your mind every now and then and making you feel small. But hearing how he spoke to your son about his feelings for you left you confused. You’d be lying if you said your feelings for him were completely packed away and never to be reopened. As much as you tried to move on and not think about the feelings, they were still buried deep in your belly. However, today was more about your son than you. He was and always will be your top priority.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the door opening, seeing Eddie walking through the front door. He’s wearing his hair in a low bun, with strands poking out and framing his face beautifully. He had a plain white shirt on with an unbuttoned red and black flannel over it, not used to seeing him without the usual band shirt or leather jacket. It made him look good, that and the lack of bags under his eyes and the overall brighter appearance he had. 

He flashes you a smile once he finishes checking in, walking over and giving Christopher a hug. You watch him open his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it and he turns away from you, sitting next to your son. You try to ignore the pain in your chest, unsure why he didn’t want to even verbally greet you, but not wanting to overthink it. 

“Munson family?” The receptionist says to the waiting room. The three of you stand from your seats and walk towards the desk, your hand laced with your son’s as you sense his hesitation. “Follow me please, the doctor will see you shortly.”

The three of you take a seat on the long couch, Christopher plopping in the middle before you or Eddie have the chance to take your own places. It’s as if he knows he is the constant buffer between the two of you, which makes the guilt you feel for the entire situation even worse.

“So how is school kiddo?” Eddie asks, putting his arm around your son and pulling him in for a side hug.

“It’s okay. Doing a bunch of crafts for Christmas, since it’s soon. Elliot told me about a party he’s having soon to celebrate though,” he announces, looking up at his father before turning to you. “Do you think I could go? He’s be really nice to me since the fight.”

“We’ll have to see, okay honey? It might be on a weekend and you know you’re with your dad on those days…”

“It’s okay if it falls on my day, I don’t mind. Chris should be able to have fun with his friends,” Eddie reassures you and your son, sending a warm smile down at your boy whose face lights up. You frown at Eddie for a moment, but luckily for you he was too focused on your son at the moment to notice. He loves Christopher and being able to be with him is like the highlight of his week, so him willing to give up time with him in order for Chris to be happy is saying a lot.

“Hi everyone,” the therapist interrupts as she knocks on the door, making her way into the room and into her seat opposite the couch. You clasp your hands in front of you, flashing a tight lipped smile to the therapist as she opens her notepad. 

“Y/N, Christopher, it’s nice to meet you both. Eddie, welcome back,” she greets, twirling the pen between her dexterous fingers.

“It’s good to be back,” Eddie says, relaxing into the couch and crossing one leg over his knee. 

“Alright, so,” she starts, readjusting her position and clicking her pen. “You all are here for a reason, and that reason being Eddie asking for a separation, but now he wants to go back to the way things were. But given the circumstances of the separation, there is some hesitation on Y/N’s part.”

“We also want to hear more of Christopher’s thoughts on how the situation makes him feel. A few weeks ago he got into some trouble at school and told us briefly how he’s been feeling, so we wanted to give him a safe space to talk,” you explain to her. 

“Of course. Christopher honey, do you want to start our session off by telling us how you feel?” she nods, looking down at your son and offering him a sweet smile. You rub his back and watch him look to you, silently asking for permission. You nod, gesturing towards the therapist and wait for him to speak.

“I feel sad that Mommy and Daddy aren’t with each other anymore. I miss having family time and I don’t like it when Mommy and Daddy are sad all the time,” he lets out, his face morphing into a frown as his sentence ends.

As the therapist jots down notes in her notepad, you can’t help but be sad at Christopher’s words. You were lucky enough to still have a some-what normal family dynamic between your parents, so you have no idea what your son is going through. Having the happiness of being together in one moment, then turning to loss from the separation and all the sadness that comes with it.

“And Christopher, when you get sad about your mom and dad, do you usually feel like getting angry like you did at school a couple weeks ago?”

“No, not really. I just couldn’t stop that feeling that day, but I just get sad a lot when I think about it. I love them and I want them to love each other and be together forever,” Christopher explains. 

“Mhm. So what are some things you think about that makes you sad when it comes to your mom and dad being apart?” She asks, her brows pinched in concentration as she continues to write.

“I think about how we don’t go to the park as a family together, we always had fun doing that. And how Mommy doesn’t smile all that much anymore, and she used to smile all the time. A-and Daddy doesn’t teach me the guitar anymore and just looks so sad all the time. He doesn’t want to like…do that much anymore,” Christopher tells her. You and Eddie exchange a look, the pity for each other swirling in the pits of your stomachs. 

From the moment you told Eddie that you were pregnant, he raved about being able to teach your child how to play guitar and how your kid would be a miniature version of himself. Christopher already looked so much like his father, with his big brown eyes and beautiful chestnut curls, and with Christopher all but idolizing everything Eddie did was no surprise at all. He wanted to be just like him, the exact wish Eddie dreamt of coming true for the entire pregnancy. 

Eddie, on the other hand, felt guilty for being the reason your smile grew less and less. He always made it a mission to pull a smile from you as it is his favorite feature about you. It made whatever room you found yourself in seem that much brighter. All the clouds in the sky would fade away and bring the sun out to match that happy mood. He did whatever it took to bring that smile out, whether it was dancing with you in the kitchen of his old trailer or telling you really stupid jokes only you found funny. Hearing that you’re not doing one of the things you loved hurt his heart.

“Okay Christopher, I just want to ask you one last question, alright? What do you think you can do to help control these feelings you have? And what do you think your parents can do to help you?” The doctor asks.

“I..I dunno,” he answers, his lip wobbling a little. You pull him in for a small hug, the bad feeling overcoming you.

“That’s okay, we don’t need to have all the answers sometimes, that what help is for,” she smiles at him, before turning to you. “Now Y/N, I’d like to hear a little from you. Tell me about your feelings regarding the situation between you and Eddie.”

“I feel…I feel hurt mostly. I used to feel angry, but now I just look back on the years we spent together and question it all a bit? Hearing him say why he wanted the separation just made me feel like…like I wasn’t a good enough wife for him to be happy and secure to keep the relationship alive,” you explain. 

“I’m really sorry I made you feel that way Y/N, I didn’t mean for any of that to come of this,” Eddie says to you, angling himself to make eye contact with you from the other end of the couch. “But please believe me when I tell you that you are enough, a-and you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I let my judgement get clouded and questioned things because of shit from my past I needed to work out, and I let you get hurt in the process which is not okay at all.”

“You see, you tell me to believe you but it’s just really hard to do that now-a-days. Why should I believe you after the hurt you put not only me through, but you put your son through as well?” You question, angling yourself to hang off the couch a bit to get a better look at him.

“Honestly? You shouldn’t. There is no logical reason for you to believe or trust me when I’m the one who compromised everything. I’ve been a complete, for like of a better word, asshat to you, and you didn’t deserve any of that, and for that I’m truly sorry,” he tells you. You feel a tear run down your face, quickly wiping it away. 

The room falls silent for a moment except the faint sound of the therapist’s pen gliding along the paper of her notepad. You continue to hold the eye contact with Eddie, the familiar sad and broken feeling swimming in the big brown irises. Your heart was telling you to drop the entire thing and move past the agonizing six months of pain you’ve dealt with. To take him back in your arms like you did that night you had sex in his van before all hell broke loose once more. But your head, being the logical voice you needed to hear, was telling you not to.

“Eddie, how do you think you can prove to Y/N that you’re serious about not only your words, but the actions you will have in the future moving on?” The therapist questions. Eddie breaks the eye contact to look at her, watching her nod at him to go on and tell you what they’ve been discussing in their sessions. He lets out a sigh before turning his attention back to you.

“I’m going to quit the band.”

“What?”

“What?!” You and Christopher simultaneously let out, looking to one another for a moment. “Eddie, the band has been your dream since middle school, you can’t quit.”

“No Y/N, that was my dream. My only dream now is to be a better husband and father to you and Christopher. I’m being completely serious when I say that I still love you both so much and I regret all the actions I’ve caused that led us to get here. I’ve recognized the shit I’ve been through and the shit that I have let happen, and I want to do better for both of you. The selfish part of me hopes that you’ll let me prove it to you, but I understand if you want the opposite.”

You were at a loss for words. Eddie quitting Corroded Coffin felt as if Hell was freezing over, that the world had stopped spinning and the end of the world was near. The love and passion he’s had for music for nearly two decades was what made Eddie himself, it was his entire being. Everyone you went to school with knew it too, knowing it was going to be him against the world of metal. You all had such high hopes for him throughout the years of knowing him, using all your willpower to do whatever it took to support him. But hearing that he’s willing to give up the thing that he’s looked forward to since before he even knew you properly was blowing your mind.

“You-quitting Corroded Coffin, Eddie? Are you really being serious?” you pester him, crossing your arms as you quirk a brow. 

Eddie nods. “I’m very serious, Y/N. Part of the reason I screwed up so badly was because I was worried about some superficial rockstar image that, in the end, doesn’t mean shit if the people I love aren’t around me. Risking the relationship I have with Chris here isn’t worth the fame and money Corroded Coffin could potentially bring me. It also isn’t worth risking your feelings getting caught in the crossfire and…and losing you for good.”

Before you had the chance to respond, you heard the thud of the cover of you therapist’s notepad close, shifting in her place as she looks up at you. “Unfortunately guys, this is all we have time for today. I think some serious progress has been made, but I would like to get you all in again before the holiday if possible. If not, right after the new year begins to talk about how things improve outside of the session.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I need another session. Chris honey, we have to get you to school, c’mon,” you tell the therapist, giving her yet another tight lipped smile before standing from your seat on the couch. Eddie’s figure physically deflates as he watches you both retreat from the room quickly. It felt as if he barely got to speak his peace with you today, but hearing more of Christopher’s thoughts outweighed his need to clear the air. 

Eddie turns to the therapist and throws his hands up in defeat. “I really think it’s over between us, doc. I-I mean, she doesn’t trust me anymore, which like, I understand why she doesn’t. But at the same time-“

“Eddie, I’m going to stop you because I do have a tight schedule today. But…don’t lose hope. I know you’re trying to change for the better, but give her time to see and hear that too, okay?” The therapist reassures him, giving him a smile before she stands from her own place. Eddie follows, leading out of the room with his head hanging a bit with his steps, the thought of things really being over for the two of you taking over his body.

Maybe things would be better if things between you and he ended for good. It would give you a chance to finally be happy, find someone who brings that beautiful smile out of you all the time instead of constant stress and tears littering your stunning face. As much as Eddie believed he could fix things, his ultimate goal is for you and Chris to be happy with the lives you still have yet to live. Whether that life included him or not, he wasn’t sure. But the answer was starting to become clearer and clearer.

As he walks past the front desk and towards the front door, he can’t help a tear slip down his cheek at the thought of you not being in his life anymore. Everything he said about you being the best thing that’s ever happen to him was true, and if you felt as if you needed to move on to put your happiness first, Eddie would just have to learn to accept that. Whether you go off and start actually dating Steve, or any of the other few eligible bachelors that resided in Hawkins, he would put a smile on his face, even if he didn’t fully mean it. He would-

“Mr. Munson! This note was left for you,” the receptionist yells for him as he stops in his tracks, one foot out the door. He quickly turns back around, rushing over to the receptionist and taking the note from her with a small ‘thank you’ leaving his lips. He unfolds the paper and smiles down at the familiar handwriting he knew all too well thanks to the World History class he was put in freshman year of high school.

“I want to talk, just us this time. I’m willing to hear you out one last time. Meet me at Benny’s for lunch next Wednesday. Our usual booth.”

Sincerely, Y/N.

[schraubd]

Losing Your Chevrons

Somewhere, an environmentalist wished upon a star: "I hate big oil. It's a blight on the universe. If only Chevron would disappear forever!" and a monkey's paw curled once. I was steeling myself to write about Loper Bright and my official welcome on behalf of the Con Law professoriate to the Admin Law professors joining the "burn all your lecture notes and start from scratch club", and then Trump v. United States came down. Even though the latter is a more immediate big deal and is closer to my expertise wheelhouse (I've fielded far more inquiries from former students asking "what is going on!" with respect to the Trump decision than any ruling in my entire career, Dobbs included), I really don't have all that much to say at this moment. That may change -- in fact, it almost certainly will, as I try to work this blog post into an essay -- but for now I'm going to lay off and just write what I planned to write about the demise of Chevron. My short version take is this: in many, many cases, we'll see little difference between before and after. This prediction, however, should not be confused with sanguinity. Rather, it is a recognition that judges are human, with the normal assortment of human interests, talents, and vices.  In most deep-weeds administrative law cases, where judges neither know nor care about the difference between, say, nitrogen oxide and nitrous oxide, they aren't going to actually do a deep dive review of the law from scratch. These issues are hard enough for a team of subject-matter experts with Ph.Ds in the hard sciences grinding away for months. For a judge with a J.D. from Hofstra who last took a statistics class in 11th grade? Forget about it. In practice, no matter what the doctrine purports to demand or what they claim to be doing on the opinion pages, judges will end up deferring to reasonable agency interpretations of the law unless they're howlingly off-base -- which, of course, is why we ended up with Chevron in the first place. Any objective observer of courts sees this sort of thing from judges all the time -- there are all sorts of cases where nominal "de novo" review is the furthest thing from, because judges simply find the topic boring, repetitive, or impenetrable (you can usually spot these cases by their use of the phrase "after careful review ...."). This will be what happens for many if not most cases on obscure rules in unremarkable issue areas. What will change is in those administrative rules on hot button issues of high-salience. Here, Loper Bright doesn't make judges any smarter, but does give them a green light to start substituting their judgment for expert agencies who at least have some measure of accountability to the political process. In other words, Loper Bright won't universally result in the substitution of inexpert judicial policymaking for the judgments of administrative agencies; rather, it will result in that substitution on an ad hoc and arbitrary basis whenever the judge who happens to be draw the case has an idiosyncratic or ideological hobbyhorse to ride. The administrative state will be able to carry on, with a cutaway for partisan judges to meddle more openly whenever partisan proclivities instigate an urge. So there's your consolation about the end of Chevron. Feeling better? I thought so. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/ow8Pq4G

[dreamlandforever]

Welcome? To Hellfire Club

Hello, everyone ! I have decided to write a fic following this post I made a few weeks ago and I have not been able to get out of my head. It will be made up of different parts, I think about 5. I hope you enjoy it!

Steve isn’t really sure how it happened. One moment Eddie was going on a rant about how the school had forbidden all students from forming or participating in any activities related to Dungeon and Dragons, and how Mike’s basement just wasn’t big enough for the entire Hellfire Club, and how just what once was a club for all of those you didn’t belong anywhere else would just have to stop existing, walking back and forth on the very limited space in front of the checkout counter of Family Video. Eddie was going for angry and self-righteous, but by now Steve has spent enough time with Eddie Munson, especially with a terrified and stupidly heroic Eddie Munson, to know that he was more hurt than angry.

Steve’s mouth seemed to be doing things his brain hadn’t really had the time to process, but before he knew it he was saying, “You can have Hellfire at my place, Eddie.”It doesn’t really matter, in the end, because he still means those words. Steve Harrington has learned a lot of things in the last four years, but the best of them had been that he could turn his big empty house into a home. It was mostly the Party so far, since he had exchanged his crown as King to become the Babysitter, but his doors were open to Hellfire Club as well. They had made sure that Eddie actually worked in recovering from his trip to the Upside Down instead of letting him make every effort to worsen everything, so, in Steve’s book they were part of the family too. Maybe not friends, but Steve thought there was some camaraderie between them, even if the only bridge between them was Eddie. 

For a second, Eddie seemed just as surprised as Steve at the invitation, but soon his confusion melted into a big grin. “Are you offering up your castle, my king?” Eddie asked, with an exaggerated bow. But the thing is, the way Eddie said King was never the way Steve had gotten used to hear it back in high school. It wasn’t said with admiration, or fear. It was said the same way he said Dusty, or Red, or Sweetheart. One more name in Eddie’s repertoire, because God knew that man had a thing for nicknames, and a weird aversion at God given names. So, despite himself, Steve smiled. 

“But, are you sure, Stevie?” Eddie asked, straightening again. If his voice hadn’t given his nervousness away, the way he was trying to chew on a strand of hair did. Without thinking, Steve pulled the strand behind Eddie’s ears, taking the ends of it out of his mouth. Steve had perfected the art of taking someone’s hair out of their mouth without touching their saliva. His hand didn’t linger, just a knee-jerk reaction he had picked up from spending so much with Robin and her multiple nervous habits, but the air still felt charged somehow in a way it never did with Robin. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” But Steve knew why. He wasn’t the King anymore, but he had seen the way oldest members of Hellfire Club looked at him. Steve couldn’t say he really knew them from his high school days, but they seemed to know him. Or at least of him. They always seemed wary of him, even if no one was outright rude or mean. Steve knew he had to gain their respect, and show them how he was now, the way he had with Jonathan Byers. And hosting Hellfire Club and getting to know them was as a good start as any.

Eddie didn’t state the obvious, instead giving Steve an out. “He usually play for hours, Harrington. Like hours. Are you sure you want us around for that long?” He teased, but his eyes remained in Steve’s. Steve wasn’t sure if he was looking for something specific in there, or just letting Steve know that an answer was expected, and it made him nervous. Was this a test? Was there a right answer?

“Oh, no, Munson, I wonder what will I ever do if my friends spend so much time with me.” Steve deadpanned, opting for a joke. It seemed to work, because as soon as Eddie let out a bark of a laugh the air seemed to clear, leaving them both back with the easiness they usually shared. 

“All right, then Hellfire Club in the Harrington Castle this week.” Eddie said excitedly, finally stopping his pacing just to lean on the counter, resting his chin on both his hands. Steve rolled his eyes at him good-naturedly, smiling at the other boy’s antics. 

“Only if you stop calling it that.” Steve answered, finally getting back to sorting the returned tapes around him, which he had stopped doing somewhere around the time that Eddie had started his monologue a few minutes ago. “Now, tell me when this meeting is taking place and get out of here. Robin’s break is up in about five minutes, and if you are still here we will both be in trouble.”

“Oh, am I distracting you, Big Boy?” Eddie teased, not moving an inch from his place. “We usually do Hellfire on Thursdays. You get off at 3 pm, right? Will it work at 5?”

Steve did a mental recap of his schedules, but Eddie had it memorized better than Steve himself, so he just nodded. “Yes, Thursday at 5 it is. Let me know who I have to pick up, I can do it on my way home.” 

Eddie nodded excitedly, banging his hand on the counter. Steve took that to mean that he agreed, but really he had no way of knowing. Eddie marched to his own rhythm. “See you Thursday, Steve-O. Robin.” He said, saluting, while walking backwards to the door. Steve watched him go, unsure if the man would trip over his own two feet. 

“What is Thursday?” Robin asked, making her way to Steve from the back room. 

“You are coming to my place after work. Eddie and the rest of Hellfire Club are playing their game at my place. I need to keep them from setting something on fire, and I need someone to keep me from going crazy.” Steve replied easily, handing Robin a pile of already sorted tapes so she could place them back on the shelf.

“You are what?” Robin asked incredulously, sitting on top of the counter instead of the chair they kept there specifically so they could sit. Steve decided that fight was not worth his time, he had lost it several times before.

“Hosting Hellfire, Bobby. They had nowhere else to go, and it is Will’s first time playing with the rest, and you know Dustin loves it.” He said, stopping his work to look at Robin. 

“You do know they are not actually your children, right, dingus?” She asked, offering him some of the Nerds she had been eating during break. Steve took a handful, but didn’t bother with a response. “Steve, I love you. But you know that Hellfire is not just your kids.”

Steve let out a sigh at that, leaning on the counter with his elbows and resting his forehead on his hands. He thought for a few minutes before answering. Thinking now seemed to take a bit longer than it did before, but there was only so much brain capacity he could keep after so many blows to the head. “I know, Robin. I do. But they are Eddie’s friends, okay? They are his family, just like you guys are mine. It’s my white flag. They don’t know me, but maybe they can get to, you know?”

Robin smiled at him. “Okay, dingus. Operation let’s get Eddie’s friends to like you so you can grow the balls to ask him out is on!” She exclaimed excitedly, hopping off the counter and going to re-stock the tapes that Steve had arranged for her.

“Robin!” He screamed alarmedly. “That is not what I said!”

“That is exactly what you said.” She countered, sticking her tongue out at him. 

“It’s not like that.” He said softly, and he knew he was an unflattering shade of red. Steve had recently come to terms with his bisexuality, and had only said it out loud one time; to Robin. He had known for a while, it was kind of impossible not to. But after talking to Robin it had felt less like a cross to bear and more like something else about himself he had learned in the last few years. Along with learning how to take care of feral children, how to better style his hair, how to be less of an asshole, and just how many concussions one can take before they are too many. 

Robin looked at him for a second, before making her way back and leaning heavily on him. Robin’s version of a hug. “Whatever way it is, Steve, is okay. I think Eddie likes you, too, though.” She said. Steve chuckled slightly, but pulled Robin into a hug. He had also learned that things can change in an instant, and he was done holding back. Robin found her place in his arms easily, and they stayed like that for a few seconds, grateful that it was Tuesday morning and literally no one came at that time, especially with how many people had simply moved out after the ‘earthquake’.

“So, will you come?” Steve asked, finally letting Robin go. 

Robin frowned at him. “Will you come?” She parroted back at him. “Of course I will! Will you come. What snacks are we having?” She asked, happily, grabbing the next pile of tapes. Steve smiled at her, while she listed all of her favorites, and not a single one of the kid’s favorites. Steve was finally starting to feel like himself, even if a few months ago he hadn’t known who that was. Steve Harrington, his own man. He felt free, with the people who see him for who he is and not what rumors said of him. Except maybe Mike. Steve never seemed to quite understand where he stood with that kid. He was rude and angry at everyone, seemed to specifically hate Steve, but he was always there anyway, and sometimes even thanked Steve for rides. It was mostly at Will’s insistence since he had come back to Hawkins, but Steve still counted it as a win. 

“All of those if you want, Bobby.” Steve agreed easily, once Robin was done listing everything she wanted. Robin smiled widely at him, and he couldn’t be more thankful to be where he is now.

@queerdeerling @swimmingbirdrunningrock I don't know if you are still interested!

[lemurious]

They Always Come Round

In memory of the Glorious 25th of May, the third installment in my Discworld ficlet series. Here on AO3.

Reg Shoe, in his grave.

(Part I is here: Vetinari and his city.)

(Part II is here: Ned Coates and his memories of Keel.)

��READY?”

“Not yet. But thanks all the same.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME. I WILL RETURN.”

“Please do. It just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“BEFORE I LEAVE. A QUESTION?”

That was the first time Death had decided to ask Reg a question.

The rest of the ritual had been running like clockwork for a couple of decades, if not more, since for some reason being dead messed with your sense of time and memory better than a hangover. The same lilacs, the same seven graves, and a nice fresh coffin every year, for a quick lie-in before going back on duty. The same voice booming in Reg’s ears usually around half an hour after getting into the coffin, which would just be sufficient for a minute of silence in honor of the Republic of Treacle Mine Road, and getting through most of the set of pamphlets that served Reg as a pillow. Reg could read just fine in the dark, another aspect of zombiedom perpetually glossed over in favor of an entirely wrong interpretation of the culinary practices.

“Sure,” Reg shrugged. He figured he owed Death more than a few answers by now.

“WHY?”

“Why I get myself buried every year? Solidarity, I suppose. You see, some of us never got to get out of their graves.”

“I UNDERSTAND. I WAS THERE. WHY DO YOU ALWAYS BRING THESE PAPERS INTO YOUR COFFIN?”

The unspoken question quietly sidled aside, trying to hide behind the more sonorous vowels.

A newsletter or two, a stack of newly printed pamphlets for the recently undeceased, or otherwise differently alive, and a small device that was supposed to be quite useful, should one need to break through the top of a coffin. Reg figured he’d give it a try, though he’s always been terrible at mechanics. That said, times were moving on, Ankh-Morpork’s economy was improving, which meant higher wages and imports of that nice reddish teak from Tsort, almost as hard as bronze and all the rage in funeral processions. And suddenly the supportive messages on the inside of the coffin lid didn’t cut it.

Fortunately, Reg knew a sympathetic student, who had always been better at engineering than at spells and came from a family with a zombie in every generation, so it was in his best interest to design a straightforward, highly patentable, and unreasonably expensive method to get out of the coffin.

Reg did his best to explain all this to Death, though he wasn’t sure about the economy part. Somehow, Death seemed a bit above such concerns, though perhaps it was just very successfully feigned disinterest.

The other question, the unspoken one –

If Reg had working lungs, he would’ve taken a deep breath, and perhaps, let out a sigh of the self-deprecating, heroically suffering variety that was quite popular in the novels Reg used to read by the dozen in the old days. Now he only winced a little.

“Why do I bother with what? Campaigning for the differently alive? Easier than revolutions on the wear and tear of this body, I really don’t know how many more crossbow bolts I could take at once these days.”

“DO YOU NOT GET TIRED?”

“Used to say I’d sleep when I was dead. Apparently the dead don’t need sleep. Not that it should be understood as an invitation to keep me on a night shift! In fact, that would be downright discriminatory. I already told that to the commander, though I doubt he has much of an idea of which shift I’m on, anyway.”

“DO YOU NOT WISH TO STOP?”

Death had never been this inquisitive before. Pox on him and his persistence! Though of course he was probably immune to it. A flask of deadly microbes was his favorite dessert or something.

Reg didn’t even talk about it with his closest friends. Though, on second thought, not that he had many…or any, apart from the Watch. And clearly none of them was sharing his coffin, while Death was here, which, in a confusing manner, kind of entitled him to Reg’s inner life.

“You see, every generation needs a young, naïve, long-haired revolutionary playing a guitar on the barricades,” Reg began, suddenly struck with a distinct impression of incredulity in a pair of eye sockets.

“APOLOGIES. YOU LOST ME. WHO WOULD THAT BE?”

“Me? Who else? In a… spiritual sense, of course. Strictly spiritual. The revolutionary needs to die, so that the revolution might live. Well, I messed up both of them. At least now they can look at me and think, still the same pathetic Reg, with his slogans.”

“DO YOU WANT THEM TO?”

“Oh, yes, I do. It helps them feel worldly. Cynical, even. I can provide the contrast. And then, somehow, they do buy the pamphlets, in the end, even if they are very clear that they do it out of pity and the pamphlets will only end up in the fireplace.”

“DOES IT ACHIEVE ANYTHING? THEY STILL CALL YOU UNDEAD.”

“Of course they do! And they wouldn’t even think of adopting the new term. But have you noticed how many differentially alive we have in the Watch alone? Before this campaign, the number was exactly zero.”

“I BELIEVE I AM LEARNING ABOUT PREVARICATION.”

“From me? I’m a genuine revolutionary. As genuine as, as Carrot is a genuine, whatever it is that he is these days. Sergeant, I suppose.”

Reg had mostly been staying out of Carrot’s way, unobtrusively enough to never get sent on patrol together. He had been afraid of listening to Carrot too carefully, one day, and noticing a shadow behind that honest face.

And all the while, in years punctuated by lilacs and laws and celebrations and cruelty, the people still needed leaders, they needed preachers, and policemen, such as they were, and criminals, for how else could they be sure that they were not criminals, well, unless they actually were, which was mostly determined by a license. They needed the ruthless tyrants and the fervent revolutionaries in equal measures, so that they could get on with their lifes, reassured that there would be someone just foolish enough to try pushing the city a little if it ground to the stop. There was a reason Reg was never particularly eloquent in his tirades against the Patrician.

Reg tried explaining all that too, thought probably got even less far than with the economy part.

“IT MUST TAKE A LOT OF EXPERIENCE TO BE SO NAÏVE.”

Reg shrugged in response. It was a noncommittal shrug, a shrug that said, we all understand each other and there is absolutely nothing else to be discussed. Back to the grindstone for Reg, it said, time to call for truth and justice and freedom that nobody will ever see, and let the commanders have their eggs and eat them.

“It’s tomorrow already,” he said. “You can keep the lilac.”

[pikahlua]

I'm not sure I'm entirely convinced but smashing theory as usual pika 🫡✨️ Is it okay if I ramble about a few misgivings I have? It's a long one, sorry! but there are multiple points I want to mention as assisting ideas

First, I still think that a 1v1 setting battle seems likelier than a 2v2 (bkdk duo vs shigAFO) - since we already had a bkdk duo in the movie ending, and Hori *did* say after that he had a different thing in mind for the actual ending (which I'm not sure should be a classic shounen "Battle of The End" actually, but wth we have been in this war fo so long now? More than a year! it may as well "end" in its conclusion ig). In which case I think we'd agree that 1-to-1 pvps would very likely feature Izuku & Shigaraki and Katsuki & AFO. Speaking of which: I also still think kacchan parallels and juxtaposes moreso with AFO than Shigaraki, so it might make more sense for him to "inherit" AM's struggle in this way, as a battle with the "Big Bad" AFO - not to mention it'd be another extremely cool twist to have the boy who ended AM save him by winning the fight, imo. I'm not sure how much of that metaphorical oomph would transfer to him fighting with "Stray Lamb" Shigaraki/Tenko...

In any case lots of people seem to support the 2v2 option. I understand that the most popular cases are: Katsuki "saving" Tenko by "winning" the fight. Izuku "winning" the battle with AFO to "save" the world. But then, I think the story'd be disregarding Izuku's wish to save Tenko, first spoken of in the vestige realm, which I don't believe is quite likely. We had so many breadcrumbs leading up to Izuku asking "Is Tenko still there?", so I still think a 1v1 and Izuku vs Tenko would make more sense.

I suppose people still want to see Katsuki's "save to win" in this final battle? He has always been a character that has struggled and fought internally with himself foremost - contrasting the mostly external opposition and fights that matured or broke other character's beliefs/ideals. Katsuki is destined to "Win Over His Self", yes? I'd argue he already has done that, (nailed it actually, right in the kokoro) 🎯 😅 which is why I don't really think he has to show it again, that he has learned to "win by saving/save to win". Which is another readon why I think a showdown with Tenko is kinda unnecessary

Meanwhile, I'd argue we haven't seen Izuku's "save by winning/win to save" quite yet, not with Katsuki's grandeur, in any case. I'd argue he finally has the opportunity to do this with Tenko's fight. And I'd think that since OFA is now a "power to save" rather than a power "to defeat AFO", (after class A's intervention and welcome intrusion into that), and since I think Izuku might be the one doing the "saving" for Tenko, it'd make sense for all of OFA's vestiges to bear witness to that "saving", to their "new purpose", if you will, and I think AM's vestige should be included in that if he's truly a part of OFA.

.... If, by chance he's a different component to OFA, like maybe something that serves only as a power maximizing "coefficient" rather than a full blown "variable" in OFA's power "equation"? Then yeah, him leaving OFA might make Izuku slightly less powerful but would make more sense in terms of Katsuki's arc so far. After this battle I doubt Izuku is gonna need that power excess anyway. It'd also make sure he can't become the Symbol of Peace powerhouse on his own and let him play on a more equal field with his peers, which is best fir his sacrificing mentality. And I do think that Katsuki could do with at least the "gaze" and "support" of the mentor Izuku has had 95% of to himself so far...

Welp, that's that! Sorry I even went into a math analogy there 😳 If you've read so far thanks for bearing with me!!!

((This complete thing is utter shit if AM actually won against AFO btw))

I like you. I like your thought process. I like your courtesy in explaining yourself even when we disagree. I want to emphasize all of that because I think your essay here is WORTHY of being challenged. Or rather perhaps it's that I want you to challenge my thoughts, which I hope are also worthy.

(And please bear with me here, my brain fog is rearing its ugly head today.)

1. The problem with 1v1s:

Let me step away from the predictions for a moment with this point. Will Horikoshi ultimately go with a 1v1? He could. I actually have no way of knowing. But I would like to explain why I think it would be a mistake for him to do so. This has nothing to do with Heroes Rising and everything to do with the MHA manga canon.

MHA the story has spent so. much. time. emphasizing how necessary teamwork is, how going alone is not feasible, how everyone has limits. It's not just a platitude it throws around occasionally because it has to. Entire arcs are structured around this idea. Hell, trimesters and curricula in-universe are built upon this lesson. And the story is called "My Hero Academia." How is this a story about Izuku's hero academia if the primary lesson his hero academia taught him gets eschewed at the end? What was ultimately learned if not this?

For Horikoshi to turn his back on this moral, for Horikoshi to go with the standard shounen formula ending when he has famously twisted such tropes in the past, would be to betray his entire story. This story about how society has perverted the ideas of heroes and villains to avoid personal responsibility and stifle social progress ONLY to see the light and view heroes and villains as humans DEPENDS on exalting the virtues of cooperation, of empathizing with one's fellow humans, of desiring everyone to come together, and of contributing to that goal as a piece of the whole. No one is alone. There is always hope. And people are given that hope by having it ignited in their hearts by others (by the symbol of All Might, in many cases).

Remember, "this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes."

And I do believe Horikoshi wants to maintain this moral as best he can. This final arc has showcased that. Even in the battles we've seen concluded now, while the primary focus may have been on one person's conviction (Shouji's, Mina's, Shouto's, Ochako's), that conviction was backed up and magnified by another person (Kouda, Kirishima, Iida, Tsuyu). And you'll note that some "fought" and some did not. Some played supporting roles or contributed with non-combat assistance (speed or negotiation, perhaps). So at the very, very least, if we end on a 1v1 fight between Izuku and Tomura, Katsuki must support Izuku's conviction to save Tenko in some vital way that tips the scales in Izuku's favor.

The question is, has this already happened?

One might argue it has, that Katsuki's death and the efforts by others to save him have had a clear effect on Tomura. Katsuki's death was the catalyst that allowed Tenko to swallow AFO's ego and regain control of himself.

But we could also argue that, while this potentially contributes to Tenko's salvation, it is NOT an example of Katsuki sharing in Izuku's conviction (that of saving villains). And I argue that this much is a REQUIREMENT.

That said, there MAY be another example that could be construed as Katsuki sharing in Izuku's conviction.

We REALLY don't talk about chapter 358 enough. It may turn out to be a crucial hint about how future events play out.

That said, it's debatable on whether this is truly the same conviction Izuku professes or if it's just the lesson Katsuki has learned, in which case...

Would that not beg for a moment where Izuku backs Katsuki's conviction up, too?

So, sure, you may get your 1v1, but I'm willing to bet there will be enough of Katsuki present in it to construe the "1v1" as otherwise :P

2. The idea that Katsuki parallels AFO more than he does Shigaraki:

At the risk of sounding pedantic, I want to earnestly, powerfully emphasize the idea that this is not a competition: everyone parallels everyone. I have showcased many times how many ways in which Izuku and AFO parallel each other, it's not just Katsuki and Tomura.

But note how this is really possible with ANY TWO CHARACTERS in the whole series. They all parallel each other. It's because everyone's learning the same lessons.

And parallels don't necessarily make for a good 1v1. I don't really think about the parallels that much in terms of setting up FIGHTS. Most "fights" in MHA are barely fights at all. They're conversations, arguments, debates, just sometimes with some action in the middle.

What I really expect from these parallels is a resolution. Some sort of reckoning. Anything at all really. Someone challenging someone, someone talking to someone, someone reaching out for someone. It doesn't matter who does what in most cases, because I expect all four to interact.

3. "I understand that the most popular cases are: Katsuki "saving" Tenko by "winning" the fight. Izuku "winning" the battle with AFO to "save" the world."

Yikes, are these really the most popular options? I hate them. I hate them so much. Can I offer some better ones?

What if Izuku fights Tomura long enough to subdue him and reaches Tenko's heart but can't physically reach out to save him, so Katsuki has to act as Izuku's extension to take Tomura's hand and save him?

What if Izuku fights to his last strength and saves Tomura (and maybe Baby AFO, who knows where that's going) but can't get all of them out of physical danger, so Katsuki is the one who gets them out?

Or maybe Izuku just can't save HIMSELF and Katsuki rescues him?

What if Katsuki reaches Tenko's heart through speech, through relating to him, and it disarms Tenko enough for Izuku to save him?

What if AFO and Izuku have a tug-o'-war over Tenko and Katsuki tips the scales? Or Katsuki AND All Might tip the scales?

What if Izuku fights Baby AFO (or it's something like another Dabi explosion situation) and Katsuki relates to AFO himself as a child and that disarms AFO enough for Izuku to save the day?

What if ANY of the above but add more Class 1-A and other villains to it? What if everyone holds hands to make a human chain to pull Tenko out of some AFO ego void and show him the world cares?

I can go on for days.

4. "We had so many breadcrumbs leading up to Izuku asking "Is Tenko still there?", so I still think a 1v1 and Izuku vs Tenko would make more sense."

But that's just it! Katsuki has breadcrumbs too!

It has been highlighted over and over and over again ad nauseam that Katsuki is a character who must become a hero who can see things from the villains' perspective and REACH OUT TO THEIR HEARTS. Katsuki even names Tomura as the person he intends to face down in the end!

(Of course, AFO fits the bill in many ways too. But like I said, I don't think it's gonna be clean-cut 1v1s, so there's opportunity for both Izuku and Katsuki to show what they're made of in this regard with BOTH villains.)

5. "Katsuki is destined to "Win Over His Self", yes? I'd argue he already has done that, (nailed it actually, right in the kokoro) 🎯 😅 which is why I don't really think he has to show it again, that he has learned to "win by saving/save to win"."

BUT HE DOES NEED TO SHOWCASE IT. OTHERWISE THIS IS JUST LIP SERVICE, BECAUSE NOTHING HAS HAPPENED SINCE HE SAID IT.

While you and I may believe he's already made it, Katsuki himself DOES NOT ACKNOWLEDGE THAT YET. He does not see himself as having surpassed All Might yet, and he believes that in order to do so he needs the help of others.

I mean, does it get louder than "Because saving people is how we win"????? He's set the terms for what his "win to save/save to win" looks like in the end!

6. "Meanwhile, I'd argue we haven't seen Izuku's "save by winning/win to save" quite yet, not with Katsuki's grandeur, in any case."

I mean this super genuinely because I think you need to consider it: How was Izuku's victory over Overhaul NOT this in your eyes?

I think you need to be able to answer that question if you want to make such a claim. I think you CAN make the claim, mind you, but anyone you talk to about this will point to this moment in canon as their first question for you to address.

Until you can answer it, I have to argue that both Izuku and Katsuki have displayed some version of their "win to save/save to win" pieces before, but they have to now apply those pieces to this war where the stakes are astronomically higher.

7. "…. If, by chance he's a different component to OFA, like maybe something that serves only as a power maximizing "coefficient" rather than a full blown "variable" in OFA's power "equation"?"

Kudos to you for the "if"! Yes, in my recent posts, I've been writing under the assumption that All Might's vestige is a piece of OFA. But I'm actually not fully convinced this is the case yet. Everything surrounding All Might's vestige is still very loosely defined and doesn't seem very final. I think it's totally possible there's a twist waiting for us in there.

And anon, I did receive your other messages.

8. "Speaking of which, if AM's vestige is in fact a power "coefficient" then its checks out that Kacchan would rise powered-up!! WTF It makes sense ?! 🥴"

Can I offer you an apotheosis in this trying time?

[lakesbian]

Alec question! Hope you don't mind these!

Was thinking about the hospital scene where Armsmaster reveals Skitters "true" allegiances to the Undersiders, and how it's (I think?) one of the rare times we see Alec actually express strong emotion. It's always felt a little out of place to me and I was wondering what you thought of it? Would He Fucking Do That? What was he maybe thinking, feeling, etc?

:)

i think he would fucking do that! i was going to wait until i got there in the reread to answer this but i'm procrastinating doing other things by answering it now instead. if someone (e.g. cherie) is intentionally nettling him and getting angry would be the equivalent of admitting defeat or vulnerability, then he just automatically tamps it all back down. but otherwise, not only is anger is one of the few ways he's comfortable expressing strong emotion, it's a way he expresses feeling hurt/vulnerable without actually appearing hurt or vulnerable.

4 example: after his power backfires and leaves his arm in too much agony to be usable during the bakuda fight, taylor asks him if he got shot. he replies that no, his power just backfired, He'll Be Fine Don't Worry About It. instead of turning her attention to something else, taylor asks "backfired?" at which point alec shocks her by furiously snarling "i said don't worry about it!" (& then immediately apologizing + saying that it hurts but he'll deal, going back to his usual level of placidity). he is literally hurt, he's vulnerable, someone paying too much attention to it after he's already tried to brush them away with 'don't worry about it' results in a self-protective outburst of anger.

as for the hospital scene: alec does like taylor. he doesn't wanna be her best friend or anything, but he likes her. he tries to get along with her. he gives her an affectionate (if misguided) nickname, he tries to joke around with her, he explains things for her, he says "duh" when lisa starts to ask if they should clear a room for her, etc. it's hurtful and upsetting to find out that the person he's been genuinely attempting to make feel welcome to the team was just lying to his face and planning to fuck him over the entire time, especially given that, as a cult escapee whose only options were "be a villain" or "be fucked over by the PRT," he's got a lot of resentment towards the prt & normal society as a whole. it's like, hey, this person you thought was a fellow fucked-over reject you were trying to make feel alright about being a fellow fucked-over reject is Actually a wannabe cop who was planning to betray you after you spent all that time welcoming her into your home. that sucks for him. obviously it stings.

but he's not going to sit there and go ":(," because it was hammered into him for his entire childhood that he would be hurt for any emotion he expressed. anger is the exception, because being angry means that you're the scary one who can do the hurting, not the one who's about to be hurt. so that's what he does. he gets angry and he stands there clenching his fist in rage and glaring because that's how he processes the negative emotions about it.

and, like, to be clear. anyone in his position would be angry, but the difference btwn alec and the other undersiders is he's not able to parse any more nuanced feelings of sadness/hurt about it--his reaction just gets funneled into being expressed Entirely through a burst of anger, and that makes the anger more intense than it would be otherwise.