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neopuppy · 2 months

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Boys Like U (M)

pairing. jeno x female reader

genre. summer vacation AU, friends enemies who fuck, , love triangleish, M/F, smut, pwp, angst, fluff, one shot

warnings. profanity, alcohol mentioned, mean Jeno, explicit smut, mild slut-shaming, jealousy, possessive behavior, y/n is Mark’s cousin, side characters. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 19k

now playing. Boys Like You//Tanerélle

a/n. before you assume anything has been stolen and plagiarized please remember that I *am* @drunkhazed😑💚

smut warnings. dry humping/with an audience(a bit dubcon), rough and unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, under negotiated kinks, improper aftercare, choking, slapping, multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, manhandling(y/n can be lifted and thrown around), degradation, humiliation, etc

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Summertime and the livin’s easy

The same lyrics repeat over and over again. Jaemin’s been looping this same god damn song for the last hour, wailing along with the lyrics like a banshee.

“I love her so bad, but she treats me like shit!” He’s been singing along the entire time too. Sniffling tears away from his eyes, earning another round of groans from everyone trapped inside of the car with him.

“Enough dude!” Haechan shouts, reaching to switch the song. “I can’t fucking take it anymore. It’s summertime and the livin’s easy! Not fucking summertime and torture my fucking friends.”

“Jaemin- listen man, I know this break up has been hard on you, but you don’t have to make all of us suffer with you!” Renjun adds, reaching around the driver’s seat to massage his shoulders.

“Definitely not the best way to go about that..” Jisung mumbles, pinching the skin between his eyebrows.

“Screw her dude, we’re gonna find you so much pussy to lose yourself in the next couple of weeks.” Haechan cheers, reaching over to pat Jaemin’s stomach right as the tears he’s been trying to hold in burst free. “Aw man, gross. Don’t do that!”

Evil, I’ve come to tell you that she’s evil, most definitely

Falling in love must be horrible.

Jeno should probably say something, Jaemin’s his best friend after all.. but they’ve been talking about Jini nonstop for the past 30 days now! And they break up every other month! She said it was for good this time.. but he can’t help to think that’s a lie. Renjun’s not exactly wrong, they’ve been excited about this trip for days now. He’s half-way to throwing out a ‘suck it up!’ right before they exit the Pacific coast highway and he lets out a huge sigh.

“You know I’m right man, enough is enough.” Renjun leans in closer to his ear, whispering low enough for only Jisung and Jeno to catch.

“He’s still our friend..” Jisung mutters, pursing his lips into a thin line.

“I can already smell the coconut tanning lotion melting on fat juicy titties.” Haechan shoves his head out of the passenger seat window. Eyes shut, sucking down a long-winded inhale of the ocean breeze infiltrating the car. “Fuck, I love summer!!!” He shouts out happily, smacking the side of the jeep.

Jaemin breaks into a smile, shaking off the tears that managed to escape. “You guys are right, next time I bring her up—hit me upside my head or something. It’s one our our last summer’s out here, we need to have the best time.”

“That’s my boy!” Renjun yells, wrapping a playful chokehold around his throat. “We’re gonna have the best time!”

“We’re here!” Jaemin shouts out between laughs, slapping at Renjun’s arms still firmly wrapped around his neck.

“Fucking finally.”

Jeno stretches his limbs out, back cracking as he arches back and lets out the deepest and loudest yawn after sitting cramped up in the backseat of Jaemin’s jeep for the last five hours. A ride that could have been less cramped if everyone had stuck to only packing one bag for the next two weeks and Renjun hadn’t changed his plans last minute to tag along.

“You made it!” Mark’s cheerful boisterous giggle sounds out from the front door, throwing it open to run down the driveway in his flip flops that clap loudly against the pavement. Immediately breaking into a round of high-fives and hugs to greet all of them.

“Course we did Markie! Even though Jaemin made us stop five damn times to piss.” Haechan snickers, glaring toward the backseat of his car.

“I drank an entire large cold brew!” Jaemin says to defend himself, waving around the now empty large plastic cup. “Forgot how long this drive is.”

“See, this is what Hannah Montana meant when she said nodding my head like yeah! Moving my hips like yeah! You know I’m gonna be okay!” Haechan sings out terribly, adding a sway of his hips with his arms held up toward the sky. “It’s a party in the USA!”

“Ugh.” Jisung grimaces, dragging his bag past Renjun who joins him, bumping their hips into each other.

Jeno can’t stop the smile from forming on his face, rolling his eyes as he takes in the street. Not much has changed, palm trees full as ever, bright sunlight burning down on the concrete. Santa Barbara really has a charm that Santa Monica can’t compare to.

It is a long drive, especially to be stuck together with his friends all maintaining different levels of energy and patience, but it’s worth it every single time. Because for some reason Mark’s parents agreed to loaning out their beach house a couple of weeks out of the year during summer for their son and his friends to fuck around. The reason really being that he’s spoiled rotten and they cut a deal that as long as a few of his family members can tag along, the summer house is all his.

That’s where you enter.

The first summer Jeno was allowed to venture out to Santa Barbara with his friends was also the first summer he met you. It’s not his favorite memory, in fact, he fucking hates how clearly he remembers every detail from that day.

‘This is my cousin.’ Mark had introduced you with his usual cheerful smile, motioning to his friends that responded with their names one by one.

‘A girl.’ Jaemin mumbled, nudging Jeno’s side.

‘I didn’t think she’d actually want to come after I told her that all of you guys were joining me, but we always hang out during summer since she lives kind of far. You guys don’t mind right?’

‘As long as she doesn’t care, I don’t see anything wrong with having her around.’ Jisung said with his thumbs held up, nodding hard enough for his hair to bounce around.

Yeah. What’s the big deal? Sure, you’re pretty, maybe even one of the prettiest girls Jeno’s ever seen before. And yeah, you smell great, wafting your scent around each time you flip your hair away from your shoulders. Not to add on that he also noticed how you only seem to look away when you find him staring at you.

Jaemin easily started joking around with you, even including you in on some of their legendary inside jokes right away. Haechan, he’s always helpful and cool, cutting up fruit for you and checking to see if you need more snacks or something to drink. Even Renjun, who’s usually awkward around girls, got close to you after a night of a heated Monopoly game while the power went out.

Jeno should have asked if he could join too, desperately racking his brain for how he could break the ice and get to know you better. It shouldn’t be this hard, right? Except it is, because his mouth gets more dry when you’re around. His bottom lip grows raw from biting down on it, his nails get bitten down to nothing but skin, even bleeding at times. He’s a mess in your presence and can’t even figure out why. Surely it has nothing to do with how his chest pinches and pounds faster the second you enter his proximity.

The last time he felt this way was probably junior high when he had a crush— wait no, that wouldn’t make sense. He doesn’t have a crush or anything like that, no way.

Not that his dickhead friends would agree as they laughed and wiggled their eyebrows at him insisting they play spin the bottle.

‘Come on, we’ll make it interesting, the bottle lands on you and you have to choose truth or dare. We’re kind of an uneven number to be playing tonsil hockey right now anyways.’

Haechan smirked, dragging his tongue across his lips. ‘You got nothing to hide anyway, Jeno.’

Great. Fucking pricks. They wouldn’t ask him something about you if he chooses dare. That would be so fucked up, but also- that does not explain why Jaemin winked at him, and why Renjun kept nudging into his side. How the hell can they tell? Has he been too obvious?

‘Oh Jeno! It’s your lucky day!’

The tip of the emptied glass bottle unceremoniously comes to a halt directly pointed at his figure. He sighs, head dropping back as he shakes it back and forth to avoid your curious gaze from across the circle you’ve all ended up in.

It’s still as clear as if it happened just yesterday, and he fucking hates it. Hates that he can still remember the look of disgust forever ruining your pretty face. The loud obnoxious ‘eww!’ You shrieked as his friends bursted out laughing around him after he admitted to finding you cute.

It should have been harmless. He should have fucking gone for a dare, anything better than the rush of embarrassment that sped up to his cheeks and rapidly lit them up to a mortifying shade of red.

God, what was he thinking? Why the hell did he even answer Jaemin’s stupid question honestly!

‘No bullshit alright dude, you into her?’ He smirked, nodding your direction. A look of fear and worry scattered all over your face as he peered back and forth between the two of you.

‘I mean, yeah sure. She’s pretty cute.’

It was innocent, and maybe he had expected—hoped for a better reaction. What would it hurt to imagine you’d reciprocate his feelings? God, it was so dumb, his biggest regret for the last 7 years; even worse than the first time he got high and ran around in his boxers with his ass crack fully out. Albeit, the photos to remind him of his actions the next day didn’t help, he’s never been able to forget that look on your face. Your disgusted repulsed face that he’s only ever seen once, when he fucking called you cute.

Not to mention the way you avoided him after as if he had leprosy, too grossed out to even accept the dishes he set down in front of you for lunch the next day.

Flat out cruel and mean for no reason, making it very clear to him that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Fine.

If that’s the way you want to spend your summer vacation together, then he’d make sure to give you a real reason to hate him.

It started with smearing nutella on your swimsuits that were hanging out to dry. Then purposely aiming the ball at your head during the pool game of volleyball you had the next day, not even apologizing as he smiled and shrugged.

‘Not my fault this airhead can’t see for shit.’

That must have really hit a nerve, sporting a frown throughout the rest of the game until you gave up and refused to continue playing after he accidentally punted the ball right at your face.

Any time he had the chance to grill or cook, he always made sure to make your plate of food extra crispy, real charred.

‘I thought that’s how you liked it, burnt to a crisp.’ He’d smile proudly, scraping a knife down the blackened hotdog he set down for you.

Of course it was childish, he was fucking fifteen years old and you bruised his ego to hell and back as far as he was concerned. Had him pulling at his face in the mirror before bed, tussling his hair, double checking the scent of his body after showering, analyzing his clothes and lack of developed muscle.

You didn’t have to act like he was the most repulsive boy to ever walk the earth! And the reality is, it hurt.

It hurt so bad, he had to shake off the moisture forming behind his eyes after heading to his bedroom, unable to turn off the repeated cry of disgust you let out after all he said is that you’re cute. A harmless fucking compliment.

Really, as much as he hates to say it- you’re a real bitch.

Jeno’s mother would be appalled if she could hear his thoughts when it comes to you. He was raised to be polite, only to respect women. But you, something about you seriously pisses him the fuck off.

It’s not because he likes you. Even his friends were convinced after those first two weeks that you two hated each other, because of course you decided to retaliate. Cutting holes into his swim trunks, pouring itching powder all over his bed, filling his sunscreen bottle up with hair removal cream that left painful welts on his skin after rubbing it in like lotion and laying in the sun.

You. You’re seriously such a bitch, he can’t stand it. Can’t control how his rage rises to a boiling point the second he even catches a glimpse of you. You’re quite possibly the most fucking annoying girl he’s ever met, maybe the only girl that has ever annoyed him this much.

And yet his eyes still scan the room for your presence as he steps inside of the house he’s spent the last 7 summers at. The same room he gave you a kiss in against your will. Right in front of everyone, your cousin, his friends. The night he revisits in his memories time and time again that he can’t move on from.

It was all Jisung’s fault.

‘Fine.’ Jisung smirks mischievously, rubbing his hands together. ‘We’re too old for childish games.’

‘Finally, someone with sense.’ Jeno adds, still pouring salt on his wounds from the time he got stuck inside of a closet with you for seven minutes.

‘Not so fast Jeno. I said childish games, not games in general, and there is one we’ve yet to play.’

‘Here we go.’ Haechan grunts, motioning toward his friend and rolling his eyes. He’s been chatting up some of the girls they met at the beach earlier for the last couple of hours. Refilling their cups and flexing his thin bare arms to entice them. ‘Come on Ji, you always want to play these stupid games.’

’Well, are you too chicken?‘ Jisung’s grin grows larger, raising his eyebrows.

Are you too chicken? He repeated deviously, eyeing everyone around the room. They all refuted his suspicions, turning the question around on him until he agreed to go first and was dared to break Haechan’s cool demeanor

The room erupted with hoots and hollers as he plopped his ass down on the olders lap and Haechan stuttered, eyebrows furrowed together, teeth clenched to hold back a curse.

‘Ji, get the fuck off of me.’

‘Do you give up?’

‘Fuck off.’

Haechan choked on his spit, coughing and shoving the younger away once their lips grazed together. Sitting up without falter, Jisung raised his arms triumphantly. ‘And that is how you play chicken.’

Another stupid game, only now drinks are involved, sipping on tepid beer as he watches Jaemin and Haechan lock lips before both losing at the same time. Dramatically spitting and swiping at their mouths as they kick at each other.

‘YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO KISS ME BACK ASSHOLE!’

Embarrassment covered their faces as the girls surrounding giggled and cooed, letting them know they looked so cute kissing.

‘Fine fine! We start over from whoever hasn’t spun the bottle yet.’ Mark interrupts the ruckus, pointing toward Jeno. ‘Your turn.’

‘Not playing.’

‘And why is that?’ Jisung asks with an arched up eyebrow. ‘Scared?’

‘We know why..’ Renjun mumbles by his side, earning a round of snorts and hushed laughs from his friends.

They know exactly how to get under his skin, how to force his hand to grab onto the stupid bottle. Gripping the body of the emptied glass hard enough to feel the sticky residue left behind from the label that was peeled off. He gulps, refusing to glance around, not wanting to risk the chance of meeting your gaze.

There’s no way he can actually be so unlucky, not twice. The bottle will land on one of his friends, one of the girls they picked up. It won’t land on you, not again. The universe can’t be that cruel to him.

As he watches the bottle slow down, he swallows hard, eyes falling shut right as it comes to a stop. Confirming that some God out there must be an actual monster intent to ruin his life.

‘The two people who hate each other.’ Jaemin laughs out loud, clasping his hands together. ‘This should be good.’

‘Don’t forget the rules.’ Jisung coughs out nervously, nodding toward you. ‘If you don’t want to continue, you forfeit.’

‘Don’t kiss me.’ You murmured, trying to be quiet enough for only him to hear. ‘Please.’

Jeno contemplated ending this fast and doing just that, would you give up before his lips could even get a small taste of yours? Not as if he even wants to know what the lip gloss you’re constantly reapplying tastes like anymore..

‘Go.’ Renjun motions to the both of you, flapping his hands.

If you don’t want him to kiss you, he’ll have to come up with something else. Taking in a deep breath to raise his confidence, he reaches to push loose strands of hair behind your ear; gaining rounds of gasps and amused sounds from your audience.

Wide eyes full of uncertainty, or maybe even dread, stare back at him anticipating his next move. There’s no point in bothering to ask if you’re okay with this, obviously you aren’t. Given the way your nose wrinkles as he moves closer to you and cups your cheeks.

Soft, warm, so squishy beneath his palms that have been beat up from falling off his skateboard and landing hands first against pavement for years. You’re as pretty as ever up close, maybe even prettier. Churning his stomach as he looks over your lips, appearing to be pouting out enticingly on purpose if you ask him. And yet you don’t want a kiss, anything but that..

‘Don’t.’ You whisper again, hardly moving your mouth.

‘Don’t what.’ He repeats monotonously, thumbs slowly sliding down your cheeks. His curious gaze follows, eyeing the swimsuit cover up you have on. The damp one-piece hot pink suit underneath.

Jeno forgets momentarily that this is just a game, that you hate him, that his friends are all snorting and chuckling around you other than Mark who has his eyes covered. He forgets that he’s parting your thighs open to make space for himself against your will, smoothing his hands up your shivering soft inner thighs.

‘She’ll definitely crack..’ Jaemin’s sitting the closests to you, speaking to the others from behind his hand. ‘Jeno’s got this.’ He smirks, but his eyes widen within the next second. His full attention returning to his best friend's hands roaming up your body. To the way your stomach convulses and you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at any of them.

‘No closing your eyes.’ Renjun speaks up, waving at Jaemin to do something.

Jeno slowly lifts his heavy gaze to his friend, practically threatening him with his blown out lust-ridden gaze to dare to try and touch you. This is his time, and the only one that should ever be lucky enough to lay his hands on you is him. The other seems to understand, silently nodding and shrugging Renjun’s command away.

‘You heard them.’ Jeno cups your chin, jerking your head to look at him. Lowering himself deep between your thighs, he grinds down as he lands. The heavy weight of the warm bulge inside of his shorts stealing a gasp from your throat, shooting your eyes fully open to land on his. ‘That’s it.’

Striking your core with another roll of his hips, he can hear the deep inhales around him. Everyone watching the tiny jolts your body gives, digging your back against the floor with each movement.

‘This is too much.’ Mark says from further back, having moved away from the circle to cover his ears and look in the opposite direction. ‘I can’t watch.’

‘Can’t believe she hasn’t tapped out..’ Haechan whispers, biting down on his lips when Jeno picks up his pace, slinking a hand between your bodies.

‘Jeno..’ you grit between clenched teeth, unable to move yourself out from under his weight.

‘Loser?’ He taunts, shifting his lower half down more for his hardened bulge to press against your clothed slit. The tips of his perverse fingers seeking their destination as he taps at your bundle of nerves and pulls your spine to bow up. ‘Give up.’ He mouths, thrusting his stiff hard-on forward roughly. Successfully manipulating the fabric of your swimsuit to close in, sink between your folds.

Panic runs all over your face as you shake your head and lower your gaze to where your hips meld into each other. Biting down on the backs of your teeth to quell down the moans beating at the inside of your throat. Jeno would shove his shorts and boxers off in one go given any other circumstance. Desperate to let his cock breathe the more he builds up his thrusts and slams his hips down.

‘Fuck this is..’ Jisung wipes the sweat collecting at his neck.

‘Hot.’ Jaemin finishes, cheeks flushed pink with big glossy eyes scanning you from your pleasured face to your curved up spine.

Jeno would agree with them, if only he wasn’t so painfully horny. Clutching onto one of your thighs, he throws it over his hip for better leverage to nestle his cock right between your cunt. The material of his swim trunks all sticky and wet from the pre-cum that won’t stop dripping out of his cock. He grunts, using his free hand to grab onto your neck before his next thrust can jerk you too far up the floor. A moan gets caught up in his throat, panicking that it may slip free, he lowers closer to your face. Lips hovering dangerously near by, only a few inches away; each fan of breath emitting from his lips more threatening than the last.

Flailing out your arms in a panic, you stare up at him wide tear-filled eyes, reaching for his wrist. ‘N-no!’

‘Shit.’ He bites down, clasping your throat tighter. ‘Tapping out?’

With your eyes squeezed shut you weakly throw out your free hand at his chest. ‘No m-more!’

‘Fuck.’ Renjun groans, rubbing over his face.

‘J-Jeno wins.’ Jisung says brokenly, stretching his shirt down to his folded in knees to hide the embarrassingly obvious bulge that's formed in his shorts.

Bending down, he hits you with one more firm thrust, lips pressed to your ear. The corners of his mouth twitch as he presses a kiss along your earlobe and nips at your jaw. ‘You lose.’

He watched your face crumble, squeezing your eyes shut as a whimper fled from your lips. Desperate for a taste he plastered his sweaty palm over your mouth. The way your eyes shot open and burned holes into him has never left his mind. Much like the way your thighs clenched around his hips, fear and arousal hitting you all at once.

‘I know you want a kiss.’ Pressing his lips to your forehead, he thrusted against your core pointedly one more time. Rolling off to the side with a proud grin as he sat up victoriously.

Ever since that night, he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of you whenever you meet up for summer vacation again. Well, that’s not exactly true, since he can’t actually touch you in front of all of his friends. What would Mark think if he saw the way you drop to your knees for him so easily, how you spit on his cock and gobble him down better than any slut in grade A quality porn?

What would any of them think? And why does he still give a damn. If anything, his friends would be raging with jealousy if they could only hear the way you moan and cry on his cock..

“Jaemin!”

There you are- jumping up from the couch only to run right past him and leap into his best friend's open arms; wrapped up in a tight embrace straight out of some cheesy romcom. Even snaking your legs around his hips, straight up looking like a pair of long-distance lovers.

Jeno would be offended if not for the act you two have successfully kept up the last few summers now. Because why would you greet him first? You hate him.

He hates you.

At least that’s what everyone around the two of you believes.

“Ah, I’ve missed you so much.” His friend sighs, nose pressed against your hair with his eyes falling shut as he deeply inhales. It’s not unusual to see you this close with any of them, but his fingers still itch and jerk by his hips when you take a step back to cup Jaemin’s cheeks and squeeze them until his smooth lips pop forward and he brings out his signature big dolly eyes. Blinking those long eyelashes at you that he knows melts hundreds of girls' hearts.

“You’ve been crying.”

He nods and accentuates his plump pout, bitten over pink lips jutting forward much too close to yours. “It’s okay Jaemin, I’m here now. I’ve got you baby.”

Another hug, another sight that makes Jeno’s eyes shake as you rub up and down Jaemin’s spine, cooing and waving behind his back at Haechan and Renjun who enter next.

Jeno won’t so much as get a nod or ‘sup?’ And he knows it. Clenching his teeth as he looks away and rolls his eyes. It’s not a big deal, nothing to overreact about, not like he’s your boyfriend or anything..

“Boooo!! Break up the love fest!” Haechan shouts, dropping his bag to hold out a thumbs down and obnoxiously blow his tongue out. “Gross.”

“Heyy, my poor Jaemin’s heart is broken!” You scoff, smacking his hand down. “He needs me, unlike you emotionless brutes, I know how to comfort him.”

Oh? You know about Jaemin’s break-up? The one that just happened 2 days ago? That seems to make Jeno’s ears perk up, watching from the corner of his eye as you motion for his best friend to follow you down the hall. “Come on, let’s get you all settled in. I brought you something.”

That’s weird.

Surely Jaemin will tell him about it later, you two have always been closer than you are even with Mark. It’s probably nothing, friends catching up.. that’s all.

Jeno will sneak to your room later, after everyone falls asleep and then you can properly reunite. He can’t wait really, would have made his way to your room once everyone settled into their rooms if you weren’t so occupied with Jaemin..

“Man, she wastes no time.” Renjun laughs, interrupting his thoughts. “Dude’s dick probably still smells like Jini, but here she is ready to claim.”

“Jaemin said they’ve been talking a lot though, must really want him since she never gave up.” Mark mentions, reminding everyone of their usual assigned bedrooms.

“Who’s been talking?” Jeno asks abruptly, shifting to stand awkwardly when everyone’s attention lands on him. “What are you guys on about?”

“This is like the first summer Jaemin’s ever been single.” Jisung shrugs, pointing down the hallway. “I do not want to sleep in the rooms next to either one of them.”

“Jaemin and Jini break up all of the time.” Jeno says flatly, patience wearing thin. “They’ll get back together before we even head home.”

“Not if she has anything to do with it.” Haechan snorts, smiling lazily to one side. Nodding in the direction you’ve disappeared off to with Jaemin.. “I know you hate her, but we all know she’s been dying to fuck Jaemin.”

What?

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Should have been me.”

“Dude.”

“Sorry Mark, but it’s true!” Renjun’s tongue clicks, glaring down the hallway. “I’ve been flirting with her since we were kids!”

“Haven’t we all?” Haechan adds, turning toward Jeno. “I mean, the rest of us. Not you.” He corrects mostly to calm the anger radiating off of his friend.

“Can’t believe we’ve been here for longer than 10 minutes without the two of you exploding at each other yet.” Mark forces a smile, scratching his neck nervously. “Hope uhh.. we can skip that for the next couple of weeks.”

Jeno’s lips tighten together, sealing them shut to stop himself from screaming out something outlandish that he won’t be able to explain. There’s no fucking way you’re seriously trying to hook up with Jaemin? His best fucking friend? You’d never.

But you would, because you love to piss him off, whether it’s intentional or not.

‘I want to see you. Right now.’ Quickly turning around, he shoots you a text. Squinting when his ears pick up on the sound of buzzing clattering on the kitchen counter. Of course you left your phone behind, great.

Text Message From ‘the biggest asshole I know’ reads across the screen. Real mature. At least now he has an excuse to bother you.

“Uh, I’ll be in my usual room.” He nods toward Mark, hauling his bag up the stairs. “Need a shower and a quick nap.”

“Later bro.”

Dropping off his bag in the room across from yours, he tries to unlock your phone. Unable to access more than your lock screen when asked for the passcode, he grunts and walks over to your bedroom for the next couple of weeks. It already smells like you in here, all of your lotions and body sprays set up on one of the dressers, empty luggage on the floor. You must have gotten in early today.. didn’t even bother to text him and let him know.

You probably let Jaemin know, he thinks, eyes rolling off to one side annoyed.

“What are you doing here?”

Jeno’s head snaps to find you at the door, pulling your phone from his pocket. “Forget something?”

“Oh.. thanks.”

“That’s all you have to say to me? What happened to hello? How have you been?”

“When have I ever cared about your well-being?”

“Right.”

He hasn’t even had time to get a good look at you yet. Slowly dragging his eyes down your figure to the sandals you have on, your cutely painted toes. The same toes he’s stuffed inside of his mouth while 9 inches deep inside of you. “If I was Jaemin, you’d care.”

“Jaemin’s my friend.” You say snarkily, letting the door stay open behind you. “Is that a problem?”

“Seems like a lot more than a ‘friend’ to me.”

The questioning look in your eye screams something he can’t decipher, maybe something he doesn’t want to begin to figure out. “You shouldn’t use my best friend just to make me jealous.”

“God, you seriously think that my world revolves around you.” Rolling your eyes, you point behind yourself toward the door. “Get the hell out of my room.”

“Are you gonna make me?” Jeno’s head feels fuzzy already as his palm slams against your door to close it shut. He can’t deny he missed this, the way you stare at him with disgust written all over your pretty features, a little fear hidden in your gaze. Your tight-lipped frown, puffing your chest out to come off more intimidating than you could ever pull off. It makes his blood buzz, ears light up pink filled with fire, intoxicated by the hate that only you are capable of giving him.

“I said get out of my roo—!” A large palm around your throat cuts off your screaming before you can finish. Stealing your next breath with the heavy weight of his hand encased around your neck.

“Wanna repeat that for me?” He mocks, leaning in closer to hiss near your ear before your eyes roll up to find his. That lost empty headed look he’s become addicted to locks in on him, the same exact way it did in the coat closet downstairs near the entrance only a few years ago.

7 minutes in heaven never stood a chance between the bickering and insults you lashed out at each other alone in the middle of hung up jackets and stuffed away pillows. Somehow you two always ended up in these situations, whether it be your friends looking for a laugh or destiny sending you down the same path.

‘Let’s get this over with.’ You rolled your eyes like such a brat. He hated it, hated how easy one little stupid movement could make his skin crawl. No reason you should look that good showing off the whites of your eyes, acting like a little bitch.

‘I’m not fucking kissing you.’

‘You think I want this?! I’m so sick of always getting stuck with you! You’re probably the worst kisser—‘

He had cut you off back then too, the same exact way. Enraged by the lies you continued to hurl at him with intent to hurt. ‘You never shut the fuck up.’

The moan that slipped out of your lips caught the both of you off guard. Tightening his chokehold on your throat to earn another more desperate whiny sound. ‘You like that?’

You still like that, love it in fact. Pursing your lips together to shoot a wad of spit at his face, you gain a bit of momentum while he curses and shakes off the saliva dripping down his cheek. Using his moment of distraction to claw at his shoulders and slam your hips down onto the leg he trapped you against the door with.

“You fucking bitch.”

He knows you hate it when he calls you that, evident by the added pressure you dig into his shoulders with. Strong enough to tear tiny holes through the material of his worn down t-shirt. He hisses and shoves the back of your head against the door. “I’ve been great by the way, in case you’re curious. Thanks for the warm welcome.”

“Did you expect the red carpet rolled out sunshine?”

“It’s not everyday a girl moans out that I’m the best fuck of her life.” He teases meanly, raising an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten already?”

Averting your gaze, you curse under your breath. Blinking away the heat that’s rushed up to your cheeks and burned up to the rims of your eyes. “That’s not—“

“Not what?” He cuts you off, digging his fingers into your hips to roll your lower half up and down his thigh. “Not true?”

It was a moment of weakness, Jeno knows. Knew last summer when you whimpered and trembled on his cock inside of the small pool house he followed you into. Lost in the euphoria of your orgasm or not, nothing you cried out had been a lie and you both know it. Even if you refused to meet his gaze after and changed the subject when he brought it up again later.

“Fucking hate you.” You whisper, showing lack of resistance as he speeds up how fast you rock up and down his thigh.

“I’m the worst.” He cooes, licking his lip. Pressing in to nudge his nose against yours. “Say it, tell me I’m the worst.”

“Sick is what you are,” you spit out breathily. The taut skin between your eyebrows folding together. “So.. fucking annoying.” You pant, the loose summer dress you threw on riding up to your stomach. Underwear scratching against your clit maliciously. “St-stop.”

“Come on baby, tell me.” He huffs, thigh bouncing against your circling hips. “Who fucks you as good as me?”

No one. No one does.

Shaking your head, you look away, face scrunching up as your orgasm begins to unfold. “Bullshit.”

“Making a mess all over my thigh after only a few minutes?” He questions huskily, licking up your sweat damp cheek. The mocking tone unravels a frantic panic through your gut, flushed by the embarrassment. “And you expect me to believe anything you’re saying right now?”

“Ugh! Get off of me.” You grunt, pushing your weight against his chest. Beating your rolled up fists down on his pecs. “Asshole.”

“What’s your problem?”

“You. Always you.” You spit, moving around him to open one of the nightstands drawers. Thighs gripped together to stop yourself from making a mess down your thighs. “Only came in here to grab Jaemin’s gift.”

“Oh?” Jeno’s eyebrows raise all the way up high, tongue dragging across the upper row of his teeth. “Wasn’t aware of the Birthday party?”

“I don’t need celebratory excuses to buy my friends gifts.” You sneer, intentionally walking into him on your way to the door. “You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“What’d you get him?” He asks curiously, attempting to grab the bag from your hands.

“None of your fucking business.” Taking a big leap toward the door, you yank it open. “And get out of my room.”

“Why? I can just wait in here for you.”

“I’m busy catching up with Jaemin, won’t be back soon. Don’t want you stinking up the place.” Blowing him a kiss, you finish with a raised middle finger. “Fuck outta here.”

Jeno watches you head down the hallway toward the room Jaemin typically shares with Jisung, confusion streaked across his face.

“This doesn’t make any sense..” he whispers, leaning against your door. You seriously just ditched him like that?!? When you’ve practically damn near mounted him and tackled him down for a quickie each time you reunited the past few summers?!

Shaking off his insecure thoughts, he trudges to his bedroom to finish off what you should be on your knees for. It’d be too weird to storm into Jaemin’s bedroom pitching a full tent to yell at you right now.. no way to explain that..

Whatever you’re up to, he doesn’t like it. Ruining his orgasm in the shower as he lightly bangs his head against the wet tile. Frustrated by all of the scenarios he keeps imagining you and Jaemin falling into, alone, in his room, on his bed, probably sucking face with his best friend.

“She wouldn’t.” He nods to himself, convinced that you may be dumb- but you can’t be that dumb.

Scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel, he catches the annoyed look on his face in the wet fogged up bathroom mirror. “She would.”

♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡

“Holy hell.” Haechan whistles as you step outside, gaining Jeno’s attention to follow his line of gaze.

What the fuck.

“Mama Mia.” Renjun fist bumps Haechan, both nodding proudly. “No more granny one piece swimsuits.”

“Always knew she had a nice ass on her.”

Jeno’s upper lip curls upwards, glaring at you setting down a towel on one of the pool chairs. Making a real show of it with all the unnecessary bending over and hair flips you do.

“If it walks like a whore and talks like a whore.” He mutters, scoffing. “Can only be a fucking whore.”

“Ehh, you’re just mad she’ll never let you hit.” Renjun jeers, pinching Jeno’s cheek. “Grow up!”

Slapping his hand away, he refocuses on setting off laser beams from his eyes into your backside. Your extremely exposed backside that he should have left marked up yesterday with his handprints and teeth marks. That would shut his friends up who have no chance with you, because you belong to him.

At least sometimes.

The huge smile that graces your pretty face as Jaemin approaches you tells him otherwise. Sucking in the insides of his cheeks to bite down on as he watches the two of you embrace and his best friend's hands float much too close to the perk of your ass.

“Luckiest motherfucker in the world I swear.” Haechan curses, sucking air between his teeth when Jaemin takes the chance and gently pats your hip. “I give it one more day before they’re hooking up.”

“You’re probably right.” Renjun hums and agrees. “The sooner the better so we can swoop in next.”

“Wanna tag team?”

“Let’s do it.”

“She doesn’t want any of you.” Jeno shuts them up, frustrated by their banter interrupting his thoughts. Rolling his eyes petulantly and scoffing loudly to announce how annoyed he is.

Who the fuck does Jaemin think he is?! Suddenly single and immediately ready to deep dive between the first pair of legs ready to spread for him?! And you! Who the hell do you think you are! Shamelessly flirting with his friend?!

“This guy.” Haechan rolls his eyes, straightening up and puffing his chest out as you approach them.

“What’s on the menu today boys?” You ask cheerfully, not sparing Jeno a look.

“How about a mimosa for the pretty lady?”

“Sounds great!” You say cheerfully, bouncing up and down much too eagerly for Jeno’s liking.

“What are you wearing?” He hisses as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention from Haechan and Renjun as they scour through the pool bar for champagne. “What the hell is this?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, making the same old disgusted face you always pull when he tries to speak to you. “What did you say to me?”

Jeno watches his friends squat down in search of orange juice, grabbing onto your elbow to draw you closer to him. “I said, what the hell are you wearing?!”

“Uhm, a bathing suit?” Attempting to shrug him off, you push at his bare chest. “Let go of me!”

“Quiet down..” his lip curls in, tugging you closer. “Where’d you buy this? A fucking Hustler store?”

“I’ll have you know this is Beach Bunny! And I paid a lot for it!”

“Yeah, with daddy’s money.”

“You shouldn’t talk, West LA trash.”

Ah, there it is. The same shit your spoiled little princess ass always has to say to him. Nothing new, the same fucking boring drag. “That’s all you got? Come on, you can do better than that.”

“Let go of me, Jeno.” You say sternly, with a serious tone. Failing to free yourself from his grip.

“Cover up slut.” He spits, nostrils flaring. “Prancing around showing everything off like that for free? Who fucking raised you?”

“What’s your fucking problem?!”

“Hey uhh,” Haechan clears his throat, taking light steps toward you with Renjun in tow. “Drink’s ready.”

The two peer back and forth between you and Jeno, worry etched across their faces. Repeatedly stealing looks at his hand cradled around your elbow.

“Thanks.”

Before you can reach the flute of champagne and orange juice, Jeno’s arm shoots out faster than he can think. Stealing the glass from Haechan’s hand to pour down your chest and stomach. A round of shocked gasps coming from his friends and the high-pitched scream you let out snaps him fully alert. Taking a step back with wide eyes as you shake off the sticky liquid and proceed to glare at him with balled up fists.

“What. The. Fuck!”

An apology nearly rolls off of his tongue before Renjun rushes to clean off your stomach, shifty-eyed as he takes extra time to dry off your chest. “My new bathing suit!”

Jeno acted abruptly off anger and worry, mostly worried of what his friends could be wondering about finding the two of you like that. Clenching his fists, he bites back the apology that tries to push through.

“Dude, that was not cool.” Haechan snickers at him, snatching the glass back with a look full of disappointment.

“Yeah Jeno, grow the fuck up man.”

Ugh! Great. Now he’s made a fool of himself all thanks to you once again. Shaking his head, he catches your piercing gaze before squatting down to hide behind the bar. You knew good and well what you were doing stepping outside in some skimpy little two piece, dental floss riding up your ass. It’s not his fault that you get off on making him angry or whatever the hell it is that motivates you to piss him off.

“Don’t worry, you still look sexy as fuck.” He hears Renjun mumble. Grinding his teeth together as he continues to pretend to look for something to drink.

“Yeah, here, take this one to Jaemin.” Haechan adds, handing you two champagne flutes. “Go get your boy.”

“You guysss,” you giggle playfully, shooting them both a wink before heading off.

“That was really low, even for you man.” Haechan leans over the bar just as Jeno stands up, distracting himself by reading the label on the bottle in his hold.

“Get over it.” He mutters, ignoring the judging looks his friends share.

“He’s too old to be going through a hormonal imbalance.” Renjun whispers, nudging Haechan’s side to look over in the direction you headed off to. “Kind of funny how Jaemin’s the prey instead of the predator.”

“He doesn’t stand a chance.” Haechan snorts, taking a sip of his beer. “Wish I was dead meat instead, would gladly lay my body out like a corpse to be picked over.”

“What’s that about?” Jeno glares toward the corner of the pool you’ve sidled up to with Jaemin much too close by your side. Floating there, occasionally leaning against the stairs. Smiling and laughing all too much for his liking. The champagne flutes sitting emptied along the edge of the pool along with other bottles his best friends already finished off.

“They’re probably gonna fuck.” Haechan shrugs, speaking casually. “We all saw that coming.”

What?!

Jeno’s mouth pops open, quickly picking up his jaw, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand to properly look at his friend. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“Literally that.” Renjun adds, coating the glass in his hand with sugar along the rim before pouring in various shots of alcohol. “Good for her, she’s been trying to get inside of Jaemin’s pants for years. Wish it was me, but whatever.”

You have?! Since when!

Jeno quickly stands up straight, fists clenched at his sides. “Sh-she said that? She told you that?”

“Pftt, it’s obvious. She hardly even keeps in contact with any of us all year except Jaemin.”

WHAT?!

“Yeah, she’s helped him a lot through this break-up with Jini.” Renjun shrugs, mixing his drink. “But from what Jaemin showed me, they pretty much just flirt all of the time.”

“What?? Jaemin’s never mentioned her to me!”

“Probably because you hate her dude.” Haechan tips his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a look at him. Cocking an eyebrow up with intrigue. “Anytime we so much as say her name you get all pissy and blow a gasket.”

“You’re worse than a girl sometimes.” Renjun snorts, joining Haechan’s side on one of the pool chairs under a canopy.

Okay. Valid. Maybe Jaemin would avoid mentioning you if that's the case. He works hard to keep this act up around his friends. Not that it is an act, he really does hate you..

But why would you fail to say anything?! You’ve never once told him you’re into Jaemin! Not that you would.. whore.

“Dude, you okay? Why are you making that face?” Haechan laughs, pointing toward the frustrated wrinkles formed between Jeno’s eyebrows. “Look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up.” Jeno waves him and Renjun off, stomping toward the house while sneaking a look back at you and Jaemin. There’s no fucking way you’re seriously trying to hook up with his best friend, right in front of his face! Even through the water he can see your hands groping over his thighs, lips only an inch away from each other.

Who the hell do you think you are! Probably want him to suffer and watch you flirt with some other guy right in front of him. Not just any other guy but his best god damn friend. The one person he holds above all and trusts with his life.

Haechan and Renjun think he’s too old to be acting like this?! If only they even knew what the hell you’re up to at your grown ass age.

Stomping inside of the house, he paces around the kitchen rubbing at his face. To think he had plans on taking the next step with you this summer. Of admitting something he’s not even sure he wants to be honest about anymore.

“Did the big pissy baby get overheated out there?”

Your voice shatters his stupor, twisting around to find you leaned over the kitchen island with a pleased shit-eating grin on your face. “What are you doing?” He asks flatly, charging to lean over the other side of the counter and meet you half-way. “Or, what do you think you’re doing, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re going on about.” You shrug, walking around him to get to the fridge. “Came in here to get Jaemin some ice, everything’s melted down in the cooler.”

“Bullshit.” Pressing against your back, he flattens you against the cool freezer door before you can get it open. “I’m not into this game you’re playing, so stop it.”

“Like I said,” you push back against him, groaning as he uses extra strength to keep you pressed. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“You don’t?” Curling a digit under the strap of your bottoms, he tugs until the material painfully stretches across your rim. Peering down and licking his lips at the way your hips jut back toward him. “This pretty flimsy poor excuse of a swimsuit wasn’t to impress me, was it?”

“Stop pulling at it!” Grabbing onto his wrist, you try to tug him off. Hissing at the friction caused against your core. “I’m serious Jeno! It’s expensive!”

“You know what else is?” Letting go of the strap to crack against your hip, he wraps around your waist and turns you fast. Manhandling you into a bent position over the kitchen counter. “What you owe me for that stupid little act out there.”

“Don’t! Jaemin’s waiting for me!” You wriggle, grabbing at the counter ledge to escape. Firm heavy hands settle against the end of your spine. Locking your lower half in place with his hips pressed securely against your backside.

“Being way too loud, you’re trying to get caught at this point.” Peering outside of the nearest window, his friends seem oblivious to anything taking place outside of drinking and splashing around. “What if Jaemin sees you like this? Acting like the filthy whore you are. Does he know that side of you yet?”

“Stop!” You writhe against him, squeezing your eyes shut as his nails trace down your back to the swell of your ass.

“Answer me.” The warmth of his palms cup under your butt, shoving up until the fleshy skin folds over on your lower back. “Does he know?”

“No..” you mewl, grip on the counter loosening. Struggling to stay balanced on your tiptoes with shaky knees.

“Why not?” Jeno tuts, rolling his hips in a circle against your lifted bottom. “Only for me?”

“…mhm..” you admit, full of shame, dropping your cheek to lay flat against the cool marble of the counter. “Only for you.”

“If I leave you marked up right now..” he mutters, sucking in air between his teeth. Pulling off of you an inch to admire how much smaller his hands look trying to knead and squeeze all of your plump backside. “How will you explain what happened to all of your admirers?”

“Please Jeno, come on..”

“What are you begging for?” He says mockingly, digging his blunt nails deep enough to hurt but not leave behind more than faded indentations. “For me to fuck you right here?” Bending over on top of you back, he grabs onto your jaw to make sure your eyes find the window. “Want them all to see, don’t you?”

“N-no..”

“Why? Afraid they’ll find out what a slut you really are? After playing this fake innocent act all these years?”

“Jeno—seriously, this isn’t funny!”

“We both know,” dragging the tip of his nose down your cheek, he bites down on your jawline. Pushing off to pull your bikini bottoms to one side and expose your core. “You love being watched.”

It’s reminiscent of that first time he broke you down in front of all of your friends. Laying here, letting him have his way with you again, excited by the idea of getting caught. “Left me hanging yesterday..”

Squatting down to his knees, he cups your ass, slowly pulling you apart to get an up close look between your thighs. Wet warmth painted between your slit eagerly greets him, sucking in a long-winded breath. “Don’t tell me you’re this wet because of someone else?”

A pathetic sound comes out muffled with half of your mouth pressed to the counter. Shivering as he purses his lips and blows out soft breaths of air along your middle.

“I asked you something.” Landing a hard smack down on your ass, he grips your hips to stay in place when they jump back.

“Only you.” You mumble quietly.

“Say that shit again, I want them to hear you.” Another rough hit jolts your backside. Bouncing against the counter, digging into your pelvis from the pressure you slam back down with.

“Jeno..”

The backyard door creaks open, snapping both of your necks straight and jumping up to stand. Fixing your bottoms into place as Jeno curses and stands awkwardly by your side, left with no time to dig inside of his swim trunks and adjust himself before he spots the intruder.

Jisung’s dark hair bounces through the corridor to the kitchen not a second later, surprised to see you standing together in the kitchen.

“What’s going on here? You two fighting again?” Jisung rolls his eyes, pausing to take in the disoriented state both of you are in. “That’s weird.”

“What?” Jeno asks shortly, jaw clenching annoyed by the interruption.

“Uhm,” blinking down toward the olders crotch, he quickly shakes his head and continues to walk to the bathroom. “Nothing.”

Waiting for Jisung to disappear from your line of sight, you let out a sigh. Nodding to the huge tent Jeno’s sporting in his trunks. “Might want to go take care of that before going back out there.”

“Aw man, fuck. Little fucker definitely saw that.” Jeno lets out a long-winded breath, banging the back of his head against one of the cabinets. “Come to my room later?”

“Can’t.” You say stiffly, pretending to ignore the throb between your thighs. “Already told Jaemin we could watch a movie together. Anyway, try not to cum inside of your shorts.” Without giving him a chance to respond, you rush back outside to curl up close to his best friend's side under one of the sun umbrellas.

Jeno takes a few steps ready to chase after you, cursing out when his lower half brushes against the counter. “Fuck.”

He’d ignore how hard the veins lining his cock thrum, engorged and full of blood from the thought of finally getting some and wait a few more minutes until he goes soft, but you just look too damn good in that stupid flimsy bikini. Better than you should flaunting yourself for anyone other than him. This is the second time he’s had to jerk off thanks to you. How stupid of you to think this shit you’re pulling will pay off in the end, unless you’re looking to get fucked close to to death. Two can play hard ball, and he knows he can play much harder than what you’re able to handle.

“Whatever.”

♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡

“I’m always here for you Jaemin.”

A smile finally appears, ducking his face as he chuckles softly and reaches for your hand hanging by your hip. “You’ve been too good to me ever since the break-up. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, I’m your friend. It’s my duty to make sure that smile never leaves your handsome face.”

He pauses for a minute, thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he zones out and nods. “You are my friend. She never really liked that, said I’d call this a boys trip just to come out here to flirt with Mark’s cousin..”

A swell of hope crashes through your chest when his eyes lift to yours and he smiles large enough for the top row of his teeth to fully show. One of your favorite things about Jaemin, his blinding smile that you really would do anything to bring out. “Friends aren’t supposed to flirt, right?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to begin flirting.” You pout, exaggerating your blinks. “How would I flirt? Can you show me?”

A clear tinge of red rises up his neck, dropping his head back to let out a howling laugh, inadvertently squeezing your hand tightly. “The idea of you- of all people, not knowing how to flirt is too funny. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that.” You smirk, leaning in to sway closer to him for your face to only stand a couple of inches apart. “Can’t you teach me how to flirt? I bet you’re real good at it.”

Jaemin staggers for a moment, smile fading slowly as he takes in your curious gaze. The glint in his gaze darkens, slowly dragging across your lips. “You really want me to show you? Not just bullshitting me?”

“Mhmm.” You nod, biting down a grin.

Clearing his throat, he straightens, releasing your hand to rest his arm above your head against the door frame to your bedroom. “Say, we just wrapped up a first date..” He hums, painting a scenario out for you without breaking eye-contact. “I walk you home, thank you for gracing me with your presence.” He huffs, lip lifting to one side holding back an amused smirk. “And then I stop to look you up and down, just like this.”

Slowly, long thick dark eyelashes take their time to fan down over his pinkened cheeks, tucking his lower lip in beneath his teeth as he passes over your chest. Licking the plumpness filling his red juicy bottom lip. “And I lean in close enough to feel your breath quickening, to watch your chest rise faster. Making it obvious that I can’t stop staring at you, can’t get enough of your beauty. Really make every second feel like minutes as I admire how gorgeous and sexy you are.”

His voice deepens to a low rumble, re-enacting everything he says until your backs pressed flat against the door, breathing shallowly, gone silent with evident awe all over your face.

“I don’t have to say much..” he smirks slightly, the standard traditional cute cocky and charming smirk he always pulls when getting his way. His hands lift to move a loose strand of hair behind your ear, intentionally slowly grazing the shell of your ear. Pleased by the obvious shiver that passes down your body. “I just..”

Taking one more step forward he meets you at eye level, dragging his fingers down your jawline to your chin to pinch, focusing on your lips naturally parting open for him, so inviting.

“Lick my lips,” and he does, dragging his tongue from one side to the other, gaze more sultry and hooded now. “And whisper right here like this..” only a hair’s breadth away, he whispers less than an inch away from your mouth. “And when do I get to see you again?”

Fuck.

Ready to scream, you have to bite down on your tongue when he abruptly pulls away and shrugs, standing up straight. “Works every time.”

“Uhm,” sucking down a dry gulp, you nod rapidly, patting for the doorknob behind you. “I’ll definitely have to try that out sometime.”

Jaemin backs away, stepping backwards and shooting you a wink. “You’ll have to let me know if it works. Now get some rest, we have a long day by the pool tomorrow.”

You’d swear he hasn’t stopped flirting given the way he spins around and watches you from over his shoulder still stuck in place against your door as if you’ve been hot glued there. May as well be, clenching your thighs in a deathgrip out of fear that the sticky heat pooling your underwear could trickle free.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You whine once he’s disappeared to the other side of the house. Letting out a long exhausted sigh, you quickly make to enter your room, reaching for the light switch as the door shuts behind you, coating everything in darkness. That’s strang—

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

A roar full of anger charges at you, rasping deep before colliding with your chest, crashing your back against the opposite side of the door you were just fighting to free yourself from.

“Ah, fuck!” You hiss, reaching to rub the back of your head sure to have a walnut sized bump by morning. “Jeno?? Is that you?!?”

“Who the fuck else would it be Sherlock.” He rasps angrily directly in your face, lodging one of his thick forearms under your chin until you cough from lack of air.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing?!” You manage to squeak out, slapping his elbow. “Get off of me!”

“What the hell am I doing?!” He growls, nose digging against your forehead. “What the hell are you doing!!”

“Huh??”

“My best friend?!” Jeno’s screaming, crackling the louder he gets, jerking his arm against your neck to congest your air flow. “Please be fucking serious. I’ve had enough of this shit! You and whatever this is- it ends now.”

“Wh-what?!” You cough, clutching onto his muscular forearm with both hands, struggling to suck in large inhales of oxygen. “I said get off of me, you fucking dick!”

“God you won’t be satisfied until you fuck literally everyone.” Dropping his arm, he gives you no time to recover, manhandling you around to slam you chest first against the door. He scoots up behind you, slotting his covered lower half against yours. The familiar addictive warmth you’ve hungered for since last summer break throbs against your bottom, having to grind your teeth to control an onslaught of whimpers from giving away your arousal. It’s been hard enough to stop yourself from tapping at his door. Having to distract yourself with another cheesy Disney film to watch with Jaemin until you can’t fight sleep off any longer.

“You’re such a whore, fucking open up your legs for anyone.” Strong hands grip the backs of your thighs, slowly climbing up higher to cup the swell of your ass. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck. Haechan, Renjun, you can even take Jisung’s virginity for all I fucking care. I’d expect no less from a whore like you.”

Pressing in, he flattens to your back, shoving his arm around your neck from behind, cupping your chin to turn your face to the side. “But you will not,” Jeno breathes heavily against your cheek, licking down to the corner of your mouth. “Fuck him.”

You know by now it’s better to stay silent judging by how riled up he already is after blue-balling him twice now. Rutting against your ass like some starved beast desperate to feed, fuck and kill.

But you both know the real reason you sneak around, fight in front of everyone else, taunt and torment each other. The real reason you glare at him from the corner of your eye and suck on his fingers in private. It’s a game for the two of you, and you’re just about ready to cross the finish line to wrap this up for good. Win or lose, you’re tired of playing.

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to stop me?”

Jeno’s mouth hangs open against your cheek, hot gaze burning down your face. “Why him. Why him out of everyone?”

“I like him.” You admit, reaching back to dig your nails into his sides. “And I think he likes me too.”

“Fuck you.” He emphasizes with a hard thrust rocking your hips roughly against the door. “You’re only doing this to piss me off.”

“This is going to shock you but my world does not revolve around you.” You huff, smacking at his sides. “So full of yourself.”

“Maybe I am.” He grunts, bicep curling around your throat tighter, dragging his lips up to your ear. “And you? Wanna be full of me?”

Wet thirsty eyes roll up to meet his, slowly tucking your juicy bottom lip in to suck on. “Mhm..”

“Don’t play fucking dumb.” He jerks, squeezing his arm around your throat harder. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

“To you? What am I doing to you?” You ask in a cocky tone, jamming your bottom against his groin. “Besides making your dick grow a couple more inches?”

“Best cock you’ve ever taken.” He reminds you. Breaking you down round after round last summer until you were acting brainless, spilling out nonsensical thoughts worshipping him for fucking you so damn well.

Best mouth too, you refuse to add, sleek gaze thinning on him expectantly. “And me? What the fuck am I to you?”

“My whore.” Biting down on your cheek, he tightens the chokehold on your throat even more. Fully stealing your breath and pulling tight until you’re perched onto your tippy toes. “Only mine, got that?”

This is really the foreplay between you, learning early on how much you enjoy being roughed up and dragged around. It’s your thing, what really brings your true self out. And Jeno’s the only one that’s ever picked up on what you really want in bed. How you dream of being fucked, what makes your cunt slick up. Never even having to ask or confirm if what he’s doing to turn you on is enough.

All he has to do is remind you of how ashamed you should feel, how dirty you really are for giving it up to him so willingly. A little smack to your face, asphyxiating your lungs and spitting in your mouth, that’s all it took to have you groveling for more on your knees. Begging him to slap you with his long thick cock, literally drooling at the sight of it with your hands pressed together pleading for him to fuck your throat.

Each time you’ve hooked up repeats in his mind non-stop. No one else he fucks with back home matches up to how good you take it, how submissively you melt down at his voice. He can’t stop coming back for more, tingling at the thought of getting his mouth and hands back on your body. That’s why you always end up here together alone in a safe dark place only built for the two of you.

He’ll never admit how much this means to him, how much you mean to him. How much this turns him on, because part of him believes you have to know by now even if he doesn’t do a proper job of showing it. This, these intimate moments with you, bare naked shedding all your inhibitions away one by one, he wouldn’t trade this in for anything in the world.

“Y-yes,” you croak, snaking your fingers around his forearm to create an inch of space. “Yours.”

“Exactly.” He says proudly, licking across his upper lip. Forever and always his, because no one else will ever compare. Certainly not Jaemin, and no fucking bum that tries to earn your attention after him.

The fuzzy look in your eyes that drives him mad sets off a coil in his stomach. Heat invading his chest as he looks over your swollen bitten lips, hazy gaze hooded by lazed eyelids making you even more seductive and enticing. “Made me wait so long for this, you know that.”

It’s a warning for what’s to come, landing a weighted slap down on your ass before he strips off the shorts you have on. Even through the minimal light entering your room from the window, he sucks in a breath between his teeth and gropes over your hips and thighs, scooping your ass to bounce against his palms. “Think you deserve to get fucked after the way you’ve been acting?”

“Y-yes..” you whisper shamelessly, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I deserve it, don’t I puppy?” A hint of playfulness in your voice lifts the corner of his mouth up, fast to shake off his smirk. Jeno’s jaw falls open, blinking furiously to ward off his shock.

Nothing gets under his skin more than that bullshit cute nickname you use on him. Always at the worst times, sparking up annoyance and butterflies through his chest. “Don’t call me that.”

Dropping down to his knees, he wastes no more time to dig his face between your ass cheeks. Dragging the tip of his nose against your wrinkled rim, he breathes in deep knowing you hate when he does that. Or at least you pretend to by squealing and kicking your feet back at him. Mortified and having to look away when he spreads your ass apart to kiss up and down the crevice of your ass.

Tugging his shirt off, he gets back between your legs. Dragging his pouted lips between your slit, sucking small amounts of your arousal onto his tongue. He groans against your core, vibrating up to where you look over your shoulder at him waiting patiently for what he knows you want.

What you want and won’t get.

Pressing firm kisses to your clit and rim, he bites along the perk of your ass. Gently nipping at the fleshy skin, slapping your hips for your butt to ripple against his face. “Shaved your pussy all cute like that for Jaemin?”

A muffled sound of surprise gets lost in your palm, covering your mouth to hide your shock. “No..”

“Sure you didn't, baby.” Slowly standing back up he litters kisses up your back. Gathering your hair to one side to suck on your ear until you squirm and push against him. Kissing down your neck and biting at your shoulder blade before pulling off, he crosses your bedroom to sit on the edge of your bed. “Get your sexy ass over here and sit that pretty pussy on my cock.”

Outstretching his legs, he nods his chin for you to move quick. Walking on trembling legs to quickly obey him, you move to stand in front of him and grab onto his shoulders.

“Jeno..”

Bleary blown out dark irises peer up at you beneath a thick layer of eyelashes. Losing himself in the heat of the room and your aroused scents beginning to infiltrate the space. Tightening his lips, he adjusts to your hands snaking up his throat, jaw twitching as you dig your thumbs into his chin. “Are you still my puppy?”

Jeno wishes you’d let it go. One night a few summers back when you drank far beyond your limits and he found you in the backyard before you were able to cannonball into the pool. Dragging you back inside, he held your hair back as you emptied your guts and cried about ruining the night. It was a moment of weakness on his part, much like yours. Assuming you’d forget about everything that took place in that bathroom he soothingly rubbed down your spine and told you to stop whining.

‘You haven’t ruined anything.’ No, just his heart and ego that have never fully healed since you entered his life. Not that you’re allowed to know any of that, God forbid he be honest even if you looked so cute as he cleaned off your face.

‘You know,’ you mumbled, relaxed against the wall as he dabbed your cheeks free of tears and remnants of alcohol. ‘You’re such a puppy.’

Jeno squinted at you, snickering under his breath. ‘Whatever that means.’ Ignoring the ache in his chest, he dampened a cloth and wiped down your neck.

‘Means you’re so cute.’ You whined, weakly smacking his arm. ‘My cute puppy, making those sweet eyes at me.’

My cute puppy. His hand hing mid-air, wide eyes full of surprise. You’re never this nice to him, or this drunk..

‘How much did you drink?’ He scoffed, swallowing the tightness away from his throat. ‘Too much.’ He whispers.

‘Mmh.. you’re right. Way too much.’

And yet, the smile creeping onto your face right now makes his stomach ache. Grinding his teeth together as he steadily grabs you by the waist and you lowers onto his thighs to seek the fat tip of his cock, hissing as it snags along your wet pulsating entrance.

“Hurry the fuck up and quit pissing me off.” He growls, slapping your ass hard enough to echo through the room.

Taking a deep breath, you have to reach down to guide him in. Stomach sucking in as the familiar stretch begins to split you open. It’s been so long, too long since you’ve taken not only Jeno’s cock, but a cock this fucking thick in girth. Squeezing your eyes shut as a cry pushes out from your lips and the thick head of his size inches in, lighting a fire under your cheeks as creamy wet sounds gush their way up to your ears.

“I don’t have all fucking day.” He snaps, slapping your buttcheeks with both hands even harder than before. Forcing your posture to slump forward, other hand shaking on his shoulder as another inch pushes in. Already wasted enough of his time with whatever that was, probably just trying to manipulate him to get your way again.

“S’too big—“ you whine frustratedly, wrapping both of your arms around his shoulders.

“Never too big for you,” Jeno exhales deeply. “Sluts like you only know how to get fucked.”

Taking it upon himself, he wraps around your waist good and tight, bucking his hips up and pushing you down at the same time to fully take in each and every inch. Burying himself deep inside of you to the brim, coercing your wet arousal to drip down his length and pour down heavily onto his sack. He curses between the strangled scream you wail out, wedging each inch in as deep as possible. Dragging his wide length against your tight hot walls with smooth rolls of his hips grinding upward. “Fuck that’s it.”

“S’too much.” You repeat stupidly, already fucking babbling. Drooling onto your chin and rolling your eyes shut above him. Nails drag down his shoulders to his biceps, circling his arms for something to keep you grounded to earth, fearful you’ll float away as pleasure builds up higher and higher.

Winding his arms around your waist tightly, he sucks on your neck. Licking at the sweat pooling its way down to your collarbone. Grunting against your skin hot and heavy as you start to relax around him after minutes of grinding his cock between your thighs. “Take it.” He whispers along your throat, biting down hard enough to leave marks. Slamming his hips up harshly, colliding your ass down on his upper thighs and filling the room with the sound of your damp wet skin clapping against his.

Lack of response drives him to pummel inside of you even faster. Bracing his hands under your thighs to lift you up and down his size easier, he begins to hoist your limpened weight up and down. The stretch around his cock snapping with each pull out to the tip, dragging deliciously through your clenching heat. Wet pussy slickening up and drenching his cock making each glide inside of you easier than the last, clinging sticky arousal down to his balls. The skin between his own thighs sloppy with it, one of his favorite parts about fucking you, always amazed by how wet you get for him.

“Always so wet for me.” He pants already out of his mind, exerting more energy to mold your cunt to the shape of his cock. Providing noisy loud squelches with each penetrating hit of his length. It’s always so good with you, the best he’s ever had, as if he’d ever dare to admit out loud. Lost so deep in the heat of your eager tight pussy, he has to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood to not shout out something he could end up regretting later.

“Fuck you baby, so good for me aren’t you.” He opts to say instead, gaining speed as he moves back to your waist and pulls you down onto his cock faster. His length grazing against each nerve that shoots straight through your limbs, the clap of your ass hitting his thighs deafeningly loud throughout the room.

“Uh-huh,” you croon, panting wildly against his shoulder. “Deep, so deep.”

“Yeah,” Jeno grinds hot against your most shallow area, the tip of his size kissing your womb. “Greedy pussy wants me even deeper?”

“Y-yes,” it’s impossible to ask for more, drooling down to your chest. Jolting on his cock like a rag doll. The aggressive pace he’s fallen into bouncing your breasts against his chest, creating more heat and sweat all over your bodies. “Please!”

So perfect how much you cry and moan for him, always perfect and good for him. Rasping his own groans out as he possessively grasps your hips and squeezes onto your ass. Hitting you with another succession of slaps before slamming you down onto his complete length. “Fuckfuck!”

“Pleasepleaseplease!” The combination of your pleasured moans sets something off inside of him. Unleashing his need to feel every part of himself buried inside of you. Reaching to secure your thighs around his waist, he shoves off the bed. Knees bent as he uses all of his strength to stand up and haul your body up in the air with him. The arms around his neck scurrying to wrap around him tighter out of fear of being dropped.

Alarmed, frightened eyes shoot open to look at him, head shaking before his arms flex out using each and every muscle to impale you down onto his cock once again. Ripping an orgasm right out of you before you can even fully process that he’s standing up carrying all of your body as if you weigh nothing. Rushing a powerful orgasm out of you that spills down to his shins, splattering on the ground around his feet. “Fuck—yes!”

Letting out a deep guttural howling moan, he chases after release. Unbothered by the despaired cries you continuously let out as he fucks your sensitive pussy wide open. Bicep muscles flex large around your thighs and torso, dripping with a sheen of sweat the more he uses his lower half to push up and bury his length deep inside of you with each barreling thrust. Pliant like a good little doll as you get thrown up and down on him the exact way he likes. Aroused all the more by how your cunt still squeezes around him despite the sad broken little pained ‘ow’s’ you whimper between moans. Clumsily still trying to keep your hold on his shoulders through each sloppy wet stroke.

“Fuck!” All Jeno can do is let out strings of curses. The blunt tip of his cock hitting deep enough to prod the skin under your navel out in this position. Deep, hard, so tenderless, evoking rough brutality with each violent pounding collision of his thighs crashing against your ass.

“Puppy,” you squeak, unable to form a coherent sentence or thought anymore. Toes curled up around his lower back as your thighs weakly flex to keep a tight grip around his waist. “H-hurts!”

The complaint only fuels him to fuck you faster, blinking away the sweat rolling into his eyes, his hold on you tightens. Crashing your weight down on his length to take take and take. All your good for, to take his cock like the fucking whore you are. Merciless with each slap of his full balls landing against your ass. “Gonna fuck you full of cum,” he says with a tight-locked jaw. Spinning on his foot to fall onto the bed with you.

Without missing a beat he reaches for the backs of your knees. Changing the position to keep his cock buried all the way inside of you. Pushing your legs toward your chest and slapping the sides of your thighs in silent demand to hold them in place. “Exactly like that, good little slut.” He says gruffly, hips returning to full on hammer inside of you without anything to stop him. Not the way you cry and scream, letting your legs flop out weakly from your hold when he brings down his thumb to rub at your clit meanly. Scorching another orgasm to flood throughout your body.

“Jeno! P-please! Enough!”

The hot wrap of your pussy around his thick girth is too good to stop. He’d fuck you everyday, keep you sat on his cock even when he’s busy. Trained like his good slut to be ready anytime, anywhere, at any given moment. Drooling down your neck exactly like this, eyes fluttering open and shut as if you can’t believe this is really happening. Chest bouncing up and down so hard, hitting the underside of your chin. The arch in your spine is painful at this point. Struggling to not allow another orgasm to roll through your body as you lay there in defeat and let him have his way with you.

Curling a hand around your throat, he grabs onto one of your floppy legs, throwing your calve onto his shoulder. Drawing out to the tip of his length, he sucks in a wet saliva-coated breath at the sight of your beat up pussy. Ripe and dripping for the taking, only for him. He feeds the entirety of his cock back inside your velvety soft wet walls. Dropping your jaw open to let out a silent cry as he full on rails your cunt with abandon.

“Made to take my cock,” he groans huskily, throat burning from this workout of fucking you. Pushing his stamina to its limits. But he can’t stop, won’t stop his hips from slipping his cock in and out. Clutching onto your thigh to control your writhing hips that jump with every sharp thrust that shapes your insides to take only his cock. “Only mine.”

Still gaining momentum, he fucks into you with inhumane speed when you shout that you’re gonna cum again. Garbled by the sobs you won’t stop letting out, sounding more like chanted prayers worshipping the way he fucks you. Hips slap down against your thighs vigorously, fat cock making sure to permanently destroy your pussy, playing out the loudest wettest sounds with each penetrating hit.

“Oh God!” You helplessly cry out loud, back bowing upward. Shooting pain from your lower back up your spine as another orgasm rains down on you. This one nearly shoving his size out from the force of your release. Stuttering his movements enough for wetness to squirt out around his cock, splashing all over his groin and thighs.

“Fuck, so sexy.” He sighs, swiping down to where his cock disappears inside of you. “One more.”

“N-no! No more!” Overwhelmed by pleasure, you can’t even sob anymore. Too short of breath and dizzy, numb between your thighs as he pulls out completely and readjusts your legs to press down the fronts of your thighs to your chest. “Je-jeno..”

“Shhh, one more for me. Only me.” Bracing his hands on the backs of your knees, he shakes off the sweat dripping down his face. Shoving every inch of his length back inside of your swollen used up pussy. Grinding pointed and perfectly right against the spot deep inside of you, the special place only he’s ever been able to repeatedly reach.

In a blur he races to reach his release. Pretzeling your body in half with his knees lifted off the bed, fully mounted on top of you akin to a predator that’s successfully acquired its kill. Circling its prey with hungry ravenous eyes, licking at his canine teeth ready to dig in. He fucks you through each tear, each trickle of drool that slips from the corners of your lips, each pulsing painful grip your cunt gives his cock. Furiously digging his toes into the bed to bury his length to the hilt, his thrust grow sloppy. Grinding into you one last time as his hips stutter and the sudden mind-crushing weight of his orgasm slams into him like a car wreck.

“Fuck, every drop,” he whines, hitting you with one more weak thrust as hot sticky semen floods your pussy. “All of it for you.”

Gasping through his orgasm, you blink the glassy wet away from your eyes. Sent over the edge again by the visual of his jaw hung open above you, filling you full with cum, warming its way through your twitching stomach.

The weak orgasm that hits you still tightens your muscles around his length. Both of you hissing when he tries to pull his overly sensitive cock away from it, dropping your legs to rest on his hips. He collapses to your side, biting down on his teeth as he pulls out with a loud pop and cum follows after him, dribbling down to your ass and the bed.

“Puppy..” you whine desperately, continuing to tremble through the aftershocks of repeated orgasms. “Kiss me.”

His eyes widen upon your request, staring up at the dark ceiling, still trying to catch his breath. “What?”

“Kiss me, I want a kiss.” You whisper with less confidence, scratching at his shoulder. “Please..”

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow, eyeing you from his peripheral vision. “I should go to my room, clean off before I fall asleep..”

“What?”

Sitting up, he hops off the bed in search of his clothing. “Yeah uh, it’s getting late.” He mumbles out quickly, hopping one leg into his pants. “I’ll end up falling asleep in here if I don’t get up now.”

“Is that..” You sniffle, sitting up with your arms circling around your chest. “..a bad thing?”

“Well yeah.” Setting your dress onto the bed, he tugs back on his shirt. “What if someone sees me leaving your room in the morning?”

“Because that’s all you care about.” You nod, sucking in your lips to hold in a cry.

“We both care about that, pretty sure.”

“You don’t get it.” You snap, getting up to throw on an oversized t-shirt. “You don’t fucking get it. You never have and you never will!”

“Get what?” Jeno glances around one more time to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Oblivious to the tears that continue to roll down your face as you storm past him toward the door.

“Where are you going?!”

“Leave me alone!” You shout, attempting to slam your bedroom door shut before rushing out down the hallway. Using his chest to halt the wood from meeting the frame, he follows after you, eyes wide and full of panic.

“What the hell is your problem?!” He hisses, fully aware of everyone’s bedrooms that you’re passing by on the way toward the backyard. “Come back here! Let’s go inside!”

“I said leave me alone!” You scream deeply once stepping outside. Running past the pool toward the gate that leads out to the sand and beach. “Go away Jeno!”

“No! Come on! What the hell are you doing! It’s so late!”

“Then go away! Fuck off! God just fucking leave me alone!! You were going to anyways!”

“Stop!” Finally catching up to you, he latches onto your arm halfway through the sand. Toes burying into the now cooled off grains that scratch and soothe his skin at the same time. “Let’s go back inside, right now!”

“Why! You don’t fucking care.” You spit out, snatching your arm away. “Don’t fucking touch me, please! Leave me alone!”

Jeno’s jaw hangs loose, staring at you with a look full of confusion and disbelief. “We were having a good time—I don’t get it, what the hell—“

“You were having a good time.” You bark, shoving at his chest. “You.”

“Is this about him? Is this about Jaemin?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, you know that?!? Ugh! I’m such an idiot! All of this time I’ve wasted on your ass!”

“What are you yelling about?!”

“Do you even know! Do you even have a damn fucking clue how many times your friends have tried to fuck me! And I still choose you!” Digging through your hair in a furious rage, you bellow out a scream between a sob. The sadness you’ve pushed aside consuming your anger as tears push out in rivlets. “You don’t get it! And I’m the dumb idiot that held onto hope that you would..”

“Why are you telling me this?! To piss me off even more!” Jeno’s fist clench, jaw locked tight at the mention of his friends. Who fucking cares if they all want to fuck you. They don’t get to! And that’s the point, you belong to him and only him.

“Oh God,” the sound of waves crashing against sand behind you only spins your head around faster. Trying to fully snap out of every thought and concern you’d locked up because you just liked him too damn much. “I’m gonna be sick. I can’t believe I—I did this to myself. That I let you do this to me!”

“Do what to you?!” Jeno wishes you’d spit it out already. Rubbing at his temples with his thumb and ring finger, he thinks about earlier. The way you were flirting up a damn hurricane with Jaemin. “If you want to be with him, fucking say that! Stop dragging me around—“

“Dragging you around?!” You cut him off, shouting nearly demonically. Grabbing your own throat out of shock at your gravelly tone. “You have the nerve! The fucking gull to corner me every chance you get and tell me I am dragging you around?! Oh my God.”

“Listen, you need to calm down.” Holding up his hands as a sign of peace, he startles and jumps back when you slap them out of your way.

“No!” The corners of your lips drag down more, sucking up the tears that won’t stop. Wet sobs mixing between your struggling breaths. “I’m so so stupid. All of this time, so stupid. Wish I hated you so fucking badly.”

“You do..” he should shut up at this point. But he can’t, much like vomit, speech continues to spew from his mouth despite his mind insisting he shut up. “You do hate me. You hate everything about me.”

“Yeah.” Scrubbing your closed up fists down your cheeks, you glare at him with the most pained expression he’s ever seen on your delicate face. Ripping right through his chest with the lack of hope left in your gaze. “I hate this. Hate how I fall for you so easily.”

Jeno’s mind seems to finally win, digging his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to grab you. He listens, sealing his mouth shut to finally listen.

“Hate when I feel your eyes on me when you think I don’t notice you. Hate how I have to pretend your stupid immature jokes aren’t funny. Hate when I do find you watching me, and you look away, even blush and try to play it off. How pretty your eyes look when they disappear when you smile. How stupid you look coming out of the pool with your messy hair sticking up every direction. How you sing along to all of my favorite songs and ruin them for me.” Letting out a long sigh, you cross your arms to hug your chest, shivering from the cool breeze that builds the longer you stand there.

“I hate how I smile when I see a new text from you. How nice you smell when you shouldn’t, how your clothes always feel softer than anyone else’s. Hate the way you play guitar, how you pretended to yawn during that sappy romance movie we watched last summer when you were actually trying not to cry. Hate how you always play with the beach dogs by barking back at them with your tongue hanging out.”

Jeno can feel the warmth gathering behind his eyes, desperate to pull a yawn right now for the same reason he did while watching Silver Linings Playbook last summer. He pulls at the inside lining in his pockets, biting down on his lip, blinking rapidly.

“But mostly, I hate myself, because I tried so hard.” You blink a fresh cascade of tears, bringing your hands up to hide your face. “I tried so hard to pretend to hate you, to avoid this, to not get hurt.”

His mouth opens to speak, throat locked tight by invisible chains that squeeze around his vocal chords. “I—“

“You don’t care.” Shrugging, you wipe at your face and step around him.

“Wait! No—“ scrambling to stop you, he wraps around your elbow. Practically losing his balance in the sand to stop you as his feet dig in for a better hold.

“Leave me alone!” You plead, ripping your hands free of his hold. “Please. Please do this one thing for me, for once.”

As much as it aches and pinches between his chest, he drops his hands, fingers twitching by his hips to stop you.

Dropping your head back, you aggressively wipe at your eyes, turning away from him without another look.

Standing there with his feet surrounded by cooled sand, he watches your figure grow smaller and smaller until you disappear back inside of the house. You don’t want to be around him right now.. he needs to understand that.

Tomorrow. You can talk about this tomorrow when you’re both feeling more level-headed and have had time to cool down. Sinking down to his knees, he pats over the footprints you left behind. Squeezing his eyes shut as the tears he held in finally find an escape and burn down his cheeks.

This feels wrong, in his heart all of this feels so wrong. But for once he’ll do as you say and leave you alone..

Tomorrow, he’ll fix this.

♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡

Sleep never comes.

Not even counting sheep or chewing down melatonin gummies made a difference. Jeno couldn’t stop thinking about the way you cried and screamed, threw him off and ran away.

You just needed to cool off. The two of you always fight, it’s what you do, and then you fuck and everythings fine again. This fight was different, more intense and left him feeling guilty. With bloodshot eyes he stared at the ceiling for hours thinking of all the different ways he could explain himself to you.

He had fully intended to confess his real feelings to you this summer. Even if it led to getting egg smeared all over his face, embarrassment and rejection. Not as if it’d be anything new, you love to humiliate him..

It’s still early, but he can’t take it anymore. The sound of pots clinking and dishes clattering from the kitchen gets him on his feet. If the guys are already awake and being noisy, you’ll follow in no time. He has to talk to you even if you haven’t cooled off by now..

Pacing in front of your door, he chews at his fingernails. Biting them down to the skin until a few feel raw and sore. He’s psyching himself out, building up the fear of what will happen after he knocks on your door.

“What’re you doing?” Jaemin groans, draping himself against the wall in only his boxers. Eyes puffy and hair sticking up in every direction. “Why are you walking back and forth out here?”

“I’m uh,” Jeno runs a hand through his hair. “Gonna make some coffee, wanted to ask if she wants any.” Coming up with a fast excuse, he points toward your bedroom with his thumb.

“Didn’t she leave already?” Jaemin yawns, rubbing and slapping his face to wake up.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I woke up to pee a few hours ago,” Jaemin yawns again, shaking the sleep away with wide wet eyes. “She said bye, had her luggage.” He shrugs. “Something about having to head home early.”

“What??” Jeno freezes, quickly turning to your door to shove it open. Everything’s gone, the beds made, the closet open and emptied. All of your belongings are gone, as if you hadn’t just occupied the room mere hours ago. “Why would she..”

“I don’t know,” tapping his head against the wall, Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“What??” Jeno’s still in a panic, pulling at a chunk of his hair with a distressed appearance. Why the fuck would you leave?! Without even telling him??

“You know, like, years ago? That one time we were all playing chicken.” Jaemin asks quietly, morning voice still thick and raspy from lack of use. “I thought..” he laughs softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I thought—but you know, when it was your turn..”

“What about it??”

“Obviously all of us thought it was uh—you know,” he coughs awkwardly, rubbing over his bare chest self consciously. “Hot. I’ve been with Jini all these years, but I guess I’ve sort of had a small crush I’ve been ignoring ever since that night..”

Jeno stops pacing in front of your door to glare at his friend. A befuddled expression skewing his face. “What are you trying to say right now?”

“You see, you’re my best friend.” Jaemin straightens up, standing up straight, blinking his eyes open. “Even so, I know to mind my own business but..”

“Spit it out Jaemin.”

“Do you like her?” He squints, lip trembling as if he’s too nervous to even ask. “It’s just..”

“I do.” Jeno says between gritted teeth, holding in his breath to calm down. “I do, and I messed up everything. I fucking—fucked everything up.”

Jaemin nods, patting him on the arm. “Maybe you did, but Laguna isn’t that far of a drive from here.” Adding a nod of encouragement, he squeezes Jeno’s shoulder.

“But..”

“Don’t bring my car back with an empty tank.” Jaemin smiles, motioning for his friend to head out. “Keys are on the kitchen counter.”

Jeno stares at him for a moment, wondering how Jaemin figured everything out. Mildly guilted by the fact that he’s never shared his feelings for you with him.

“Go.” Jaemin smiles, nudging him further down the hall. “The bus to Orange County doesn’t take that long.”

“I’ll explain everything later.” Jeno assures, throwing an arm around Jaemin before running off toward the kitchen. He hasn’t even had time to shower, eat, drink any caffeine. The anxiety rising in his chest lifts his feet off the ground, quickly waving off his friends that yell at him to slow down as he races past them and snatches up the keys to Jaemin’s jeep.

There’s no time to waste, assuming that you’re on your way home, he runs to start the car's engine up. Pure adrenaline sets his foot on the gas before the jeeps even had enough time to warm up, rushing out of the streets to get on the freeway.

He hasn’t thought this through at all. Never even been to your house or visited your city once before. What if you don’t want to see him? This will all be a waste of time.

But he has time to waste on you, he wants to fix this, needs to talk to you. Needs you to know how he really feels about you. Last night was more overwhelming than he had anticipated.

He tries and tries so hard to read you, figure out what’s going on in your head. To know if you even see him as more than a quick and easy way to get off..

What if you tell him to fuck off? Leave you alone like you screamed at him not even more than 10 hours ago..

It’s all he can think about on this quiet long drive. Fighting off his emotions and guilt-ridden conscience that continues to replay your tearful eyes. Alone with his thoughts again, his heart that screams out your name.

“This has to be it.”

‘The big house in the middle of the street with a dusty pink roof, you can’t miss it.’

That’s how Mark described it over the phone when he pulled out of the driveway and realized he had no idea where exactly you live other than knowing you’re somewhere out in Laguna.

‘And the mailbox, you can’t miss the mailbox. My aunt’s like a hippie, she built it herself to resemble a birdhouse.’

Yup. There’s the cute dusty rose mailbox your mom must have made. He nods, messing with his messy head of bed hair that he had no time to even bother fixing before rushing out of the summer house. The drive took nearly 4 hours without traffic. Maybe your bus beat his time, he should ring the doorbell..

God, what if your mom answers?! Or worse, your father?! He really didn’t think this through. He could call you, but what are the chances you’ll even answer him right now.

“I’m such an idiot.” He sighs, sitting down on the steps in front of your house.

Maybe this was a mistake, choosing to impulsively run after you. He fucked up badly, and there’s no way to prove that to you now. Jaemin would treat you way better than he has, he can’t even be upset about it either. He knows his best friend well enough to know he’d worship at your feet probably even worse than he did with Jini. You deserve to be adored and loved.. all he’s ever done is shown you hatred.

“Jeno?”

The sound of a car driving off follows, lifting his gaze to find your confused expression looking back at him as your driver pulls off. He did make it here before you..

“What are you doing here.” And you don’t sound happy about it. Speaking with a stiff tone and lack of curiosity, voice laced with anger. Why would you be happy to see him? He couldn’t have really expected that, even if he hoped for it.

“I, uh,” hopping to stand up, he pats off his jeans. Clearing his throat to ward off the tremble that passes through his vocal chords. “You left.”

Looking over Jaemin’s jeep, you squint, glaring back and forth between the car and back at him. “Did you drive here all the way from Santa Barbara?!”

“Yes.” He says clearly, hands fidgeting by his hips.

“Why.” The stern tone you speak with fails to waver, only emphasized by your stressed features. “Why are you here, why would you do that. And by yourself?! You barely leave the West side! All you ever do is talk crap on the OC. Why would you make this long drive here all by yourself—“

“Because!” He interrupts abruptly, chest tightening up the more you rant at him. “You left!”

“So?!? Why the hell do you care!”

“You—you didn’t give me a chance—“

“Give you a chance??” You repeat in disbelief, eyes blown fully wide. “A chance? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wanted to let you cool off! So we could start over and talk and I could tell you,” he chokes up, staggering back from foot to foot. Air becomes harder to swallow, shrinking in on himself when you interrupt him again, shouting to the high heavens.

“Talk about what! You said enough last night! Made it pretty fucking clear to me that this is a waste of my damn time! You can’t stand me, think I’m disgusting, clearly just fucking used me!”

“That’s—that’s not true.” He swallows, reaching for his throat. “You, you ran away!”

“And you let me.” With flared nostrils, you shoot daggers straight through his chest. “You think.. you can just show up here, at my fucking house? And what? What do you even still want from me? Came here to get your one last fuck in? Kick me one more time straight through my chest to make sure I never breathe again?”

“I let you say your piece yesterday.” He whispers, unable to meet your gaze. “And you don’t hate me.”

Letting out a short tired laugh, you slump into yourself. Shaking your head in pure disbelief. “Is that it? You won alright. I don’t fucking hate you.”

“Then I did win.” He nods, forcing himself to meet your rage filled gaze. “Because I’ve never hated you.”

“What? You’re going to tell me you’ve liked me all of this time? That you’re just an immature asshole with zero communication skills?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest angrily.

“I think I liked you before you ever even noticed me..” he admits feebly, lifting the balls of his feet off the ground to stand on his heels. The same anxious habit he’s had for years. “I should have told you, I know. I should have ended this thing we had going on and been honest with you. I have no excuse for my behavior..”

“You really expect me to believe you now? When you could have done something about this last night? When I poured my heart out for you?” As dramatic as you sound, he can’t fault you for it. You have every right to be as angry as you are. He’s only surprised that you haven’t reached out to slap him across the face yet.

“I’m a coward.” Taking a long deep breath, he instinctively clutches at his chest to calm his speeding heart rate. “After all this time, I never thought that you’d be the first one to confess. I always thought it’d be me, and I was ready to this summer. I know it’s selfish of me, but with you moving away for university next year, I thought..”

“Thought what?”

“That we could—“ Jeno can feel the burn behind his eyes, blinking rapidly at the moisture that’s coated his iris. Gnawing at his trembling lower lip to keep as much of a confident facade as he can. He stares ahead, time standing still as he takes in your face. The furrow between your eyebrows softening, the tension at the corners of your mouth dissipating. Even now he’s afraid of losing you, but hasn’t he already? Does he have a choice besides to let you go now?

“Jeno.”

“We could try hanging out, beyond summer vacation. That I could take you out finally, and maybe even ask you to be my girlfriend.” His eyes blink shut on that last word, digging a hand into his pocket to wrap around the small velvet bag crushed inside there. “Only if you’d want that..”

Opening his eyes, he can’t stop the few tears that trickle out. Slowly blinking at the wetness clumping his eyelashes together. “Only if you want to be mine.”

It was never supposed to be this way. Standing here before you lacking the right words to say, failing to his own fear of rejection. “I’ve never hated you.” He nods, patting his upper thigh nervously. “And I’m sorry for pushing you away when I should have been the one on my knees for you.”

Redness paints the whites of your eyes, shaking where you stand with your arms circling around your waist. He’d reach out to replace them if you’d let him.. wrap you in the tightest hug, chest to chest, pulse to pulse. “And I’m sorry that I came here to do this but..” dropping the velvet baggy from between his fingers, he steps closer to you. Dragged closer by the imaginary weight of the light object that holds all his deepest secrets and fears. “I’m not really sorry that I did.”

“Jeno..”

“You deserve to know that I love everything about you.” Wiping at his cheeks, he lets out a pitiful laugh. There’s nothing he can feel ashamed of anymore, and it took this moment to realize that. He had to steal Jaemin’s jeep, had to drive 20 miles above the limit, had to rush here for this. Because this wasn’t how he had planned for this summer to go.

You were supposed to have the biggest smile on your face thanks to him, but now here you are, crying again. Tracks of tears staining your cheeks, swelling up your eyes that haven’t had time to fully recover from all of the crying you did last night. He doesn’t deserve to hold pride or carry on a false sense of strength anymore.

“I really fucked up, I think..” tugging the velvet pouch out of his pocket, he holds it out for you. “I think that uh, I wanted to be what I thought you wanted. And I was wrong, I was so wrong. I lost myself a little there when I heard you talking to Jaemin, I got jealous.”

“Jeno,” taking a hold of one of his hands, you only seem to cry harder. Drawing him to stand even closer to you. “I wanted you to be jealous, I wanted you to care about me.”

“Might be useless to say this now, but I care about you a lot.” Letting out a sigh of relief, he sets the pouch in your hand. “Even if we end things for good, I want you to know that this always meant something to me. That I’ve always liked you and hoped for more. That I am your puppy.”

“You’re not fucking with me?” You ask, pouting sadly and testing the weight of the pouch in your hand. “What is this?”

“Open it.”

“I’m scared.” You sniffle, hands shaking as you reach for the pouches opening.

“I know you’re going to university up North after summer..” Jeno sighs, anxiously scratching the back of his neck. “And like I said, I had plans to change things between us this summer..”

“Jeno? What is this?” You break into a smile, a new round of tears trail down to gather in drops at your chin. “You didn’t..”

“Because, I really like you.” Clearing his throat, he spreads out the necklace chain that you’ve taken out onto your palm. Swiping the tip of his finger across the engraved writing on the back of the dog paw charm. “I don’t know, you might forget about me after this summer. It’s fine.” He shrugs to seem calm. Not actually fine with the idea of you erasing the memory of him. “But I wanted to give you something to remember me.”

“You got this for me?”

“I don’t know if you remember that night..” he nods, tight-lipped. “You drank too much,” picking up the charm, he lifts the piece of shining jewelry closer to your eyes. “Anyway, it’s just uhm...”

“I do, I remember.” You struggle to hide a smile, tracing over the words that read back ‘if lost, return to owner’.

Jeno frowns, itching to clean the tears off of your chin before they fall and land on your chest. Aching to find the right words that could ease your pain.

“It’s not much, I know..”

“I love it.”

“Do you?” He sighs nervously, unclasping the necklace to chain it around your neck.

“Am I your owner?”

“..I want you to be.” His throat bobs up and down, gulping to soothe the dryness scratching through his throat. “I want to be yours.”

“So you’ve always liked me?” Losing the battle to hide your smile, you bite down on your lip. Sweeping away the mess of tears continuing to run down your face. “When you say you’ve always liked me..”

“Ever since the first summer at the beach house when I called you cute.”

“Even after I was grossed out?”

“Even after you were grossed out.” Laughing it off, he takes a hold of your hand with a raised eyebrow.

“Jeno, I hate you, you know that right?”

“You know that I love that, right?” He asks in return, taking the chance to cup your cheeks and clean off the residue of tears. “It’s our thing.”

“It is our thing..”

“So, what do you think?” Biting at the insides of his cheeks, his smooths his free hand down the side of your neck. Eyebrows raised with wrinkles set between, hopeful that the smile forming on your face is a good sign.

“I think.. you drove all of this way to get here.. and my parents aren’t home.” Shyly smiling, you bury into his hold. Cheeks flamed with heat, demurely lowering your head to look at your feet.

“They aren’t?” His eyes go wide full of excitement, softly caressing the skin lining your throat.

“Do you want to come inside?”

“Am I about to see your room for the first time?”

“If you want to, do you?”

“Of course!” Jeno smiles wide, clearing his throat and quickly reeling it in to appear cool. “I mean.. yes.”

“Of course you do,” you tease, nodding for him to follow you inside. “You likeeeeee me.”

Jeno waits for you to unlock the front door, bouncing back and forth on the heels of his feet. Normally this deep into a conversation with you, his throat would be hoarse from screaming by now. Instead he feels clammy, short of breath; nervously chewing on his lips when you turn to look at him and lean against the door frame.

Relief rushes through him when you pucker your lips together and motion for him to come inside. Somehow this feels like a new start, what he should have made happen sooner than this. Stepping forward, he grabs onto your waist, palms damp as his nerves continue to short circuit.

“I do, I really like you.”

“You know.. I like you a lot.” You reassure, wrapping around his shoulders. “I waited for you even after all of my friends told me to give up and move on.”

“You told your friends about me?”

“Don’t act so surprised.” You snicker, tugging at a tuft of hair above his nape. “You’re kind of a big deal to me, but just so you know.. they all actually do hate you.”

Jeno blinks slowly, slightly offended and flattered. Admiring how much softer your eyes feel on him, lighting up at the inner turmoil appearing on his face.

“You’ve got a lot of ass kissing to do.”

“Good thing I’m a pro at that already.” He winks, sinking into the way your fingers dance along the back of his neck. This really is different, even the way his heart races and his body reacts to you. But one thing that certainly hasn’t changed is his desires and incessant craving to be all over you.

“Kiss me.”

♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡︶♡

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avatar-anna · 9 months

Text

Champagne Problems, Part Two

IT"S FINISHED! whew, that only took forever. part of the reason this took so long to write is that i was obsessing over if it would be as good as part 1, so hopefully y'all like it (but please be nice if you don't). final word count is about 22-23k words...so buckle in, grab a snack, and enjoy!

Part One

*.*

Japan

Harry walked alone through the busy streets of Tokyo, his chin tucked close to his chest and his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his long overcoat. There was a cadence to his steps as he kept time with the song that played on a loop in his head. It wasn't one that anyone here but him would know. Well, him and one other person, but she was a world away.

Rounding the corner, Harry turned into the cafe he'd been frequenting since he'd arrived. He nodded to the shopkeeper before heading over to the counter, pulling an old, weathered vinyl from his bag.

"This is the one I was talking to you about," he said by way of greeting. "It truly is a phenomenal record."

Harry handed over the record, hesitating a little before letting go of it. He'd been listening to it nonstop since he'd left Los Angeles, and parting with it was more difficult than he originally thought it would be. When he first came to the cafe, he'd looked for it within the crammed shelves huddled in the corner. The shopkeeper had never even heard of it, and Harry could only imagine what Y/n would say if she knew. She'd been the one to introduce him to it, the memory of that conversation in her apartment seared into his brain.

"Wings?" Harry had asked, not quite suspiciously, but the glare Y/n sent over his shoulder made it seem like he'd already written it off. Her glare is so cute, he remembered thinking, admiring the adorable furrow of her brow as she rooted through a collection of vinyls that was bigger than anything Harry had ever seen.

"It'll change your life," she'd promised, before sliding the record out of its sleeve and putting it on the turntable. Her record player was littered with stickers, some too faded or covered by others to see them properly.

She'd grinned as the opening chords to the first track played, settling next to Harry as she picked up her wine glass, her lips puckering around it to take a sip. She hadn't noticed him staring until about a minute later, when her eyes met his. Her brows had furrowed once more, but this time it was more confused. She'd nudged Harry's leg with her foot, which was covered in a purple patterned fuzzy sock.

"It's your turn, isn't it?" she'd asked, eyes darting to the Scrabble board on the coffee table.

Harry remembered taking the wine glass from Y/n's hands and setting it on the table next to the board. He remembered taking her face in his hands and kissing her. He remembered her squeak of surprise but that she didn't pull away.

Their very first kiss.

The memory of her delicate hands sliding into his hair, of her crawling into his lap, the little noise she made as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip—it was all-consuming as Harry sat down at his usual table at the cafe a million miles from Y/n and Los Angeles.

"It'll changed your life," she'd promised him. Little did he know, she already had.

*.*

A week after Harry left, you received a text from your ex, a total surprise seeing as you hadn't spoken to him since you'd broken up.

Gavin: I heard about what happened with you and my sister. Can we meet somewhere and talk?

That message sat in your inbox without a response for hours as you tried to work up the courage to say yes. You knew you needed to, you knew you would feel better after the fact, that both of you deserved closure after the colossal end to your relationship, but every time your thumb hovered over the keyboard, you chickened out.

Until finally, you wrote, Okay.

Seeing Gavin again was a trip. He looked the same, yet so different at the same time. He had facial hair for one thing, and his hair was a couple inches longer than it had been when you were together. Deep down, you assumed a public shaming on his part, you feared he would just berate you for all the ways you'd hurt him and that he hated you for breaking his heart and humiliating him.

But that had never been who Gavin was. Your ex was kind and honorable, he tipped generously on dinner dates and warmed up socks for you in the dryer because he knew how cold you got after a long day at work. He was the definition of a sweetheart, and assuming the worst about him was just the fear and insecurity talking.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Gavin," you said, trying to hold all the excess of emotion brimming to the surface as you walked beside him. You'd agreed on a walk through the park as opposed to sitting down somewhere, both of you perhaps too nervous to sit still.

Gavin merely nodded, which was more than you could've asked for given the circumstances. "Thank you. So much time has passed, but...it feels nice to hear."

It was a while before either of you said anything. Los Angeles wasn't a frozen tundra by any means, but it was quite brisk by the ocean, and you crossed your arms across your chest to retain a bit of heat.

Then, Gavin said, "I...I just need to know why. Did I do something? I thought things were good between us. I mean I wanted to—"

Maybe it was the cold, but his cheeks were rosy as his voice tapered off. "You didn't do anything wrong, Gav," you said, wanting to take his hand but refraining. It didn't feel like something you could do anymore. Even if two years had come and gone, you couldn't make yourself cross that line. It didn't feel right.

You didn't know how to sugarcoat your words, but you hoped time would soften the blow. "I just...I realized that you were in love with me and I—I just wasn't. I wanted to be, I wanted to be in love with you, but—And then I panicked. I overheard your mom and sister talking about you wanting to propose, and I just couldn't lead you on. I couldn't let you do that knowing you deserved better than what I could give you.

"But it killed me, Gavin," you said, tearing up just thinking about it. "Hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done, and I've—I've hated myself for putting you through that, and I couldn't face you after, which was unfair of me."

"I just wanted an explanation," Gavin said quietly, his head bent so you couldn't see his face. "All I ever wanted was to understand. I think that hurt more than you breaking up with me, that you couldn't offer me that decency."

You nodded with a sniffle, keeping your eye on the slate blue of the ocean and the clouds covering your favorite shade of sky blue. "It was selfish of me to ignore you, I know that. I just...couldn't. I was scared that you would convince me to come back when that wasn't really what I wanted, and with your family and friends constantly messaging me, I just thought staying away was for the best."

"Y/n, what—what messages? What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know?" Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Gavin's family would never do or say anything to him that would make them look bad in his eyes. But so much time had passed that you thought it would've slipped. He'd heard about the coffee house incident, after all.

With shaking hands, you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. After scrolling through your messages, you passed it to Gavin, letting him look for himself. He was quiet as he looked over the messages from his sister. There were others, but Larissa's were the most vicious. A more mentally sound person would've deleted them ages ago, but you liked to punish yourself when you were feeling particularly low.

"I don't hold any of this against you," you said. "I know you're not your family, but I just...I don't know."

"I wish I'd known about all this before," Gavin mumbled with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry for them."

"Thank you."

You didn't know what to say after that, you weren't even sure you wanted to dwell on the past anymore. It had gone by so quickly in your eyes, but two years suddenly felt like ten. You felt older, more jaded as you walked next to the man you were almost engaged to.

"Are you happy?" you asked suddenly, stopping at a bench and sitting down.

Gavin sat down next to you. He handed your phone back before sighing. "I am. I wasn't for a while, but I am. You?"

You nodded. "Learning to be. I think I was...in a rough place before I started seeing you, and now I think I'm finally on the other side of it."

Gavin's grin was familiar. It felt good to see it, but it didn't give you the butterflies that it used to. Maybe just a little relief. You smiled back, nudging him with your shoulder. "You seeing anyone?"

The blush on Gavin's cheeks told you everything you needed to know, and knowing he moved on settled something in you. "Yeah. We've been together about a year now."

Sometimes you daydreamed about who Gavin would be with when he eventually moved on. Someone perky, but not in an obnoxious way. Maybe she liked to paint and drew pictures of his profile while they had picnics together, because picnics were the kind of dates they would go on. They would hold hands in the popcorn bowl at the movies and wear matching sweaters on Christmas. The girl who would truly steal Gavin's heart would be just as sweet and generous as he was and would make his lunches for work and wipe his mouth at dinner with a smile and love him with her entire being because he deserved it.

"That's wonderful, Gav," you said earnestly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed, hoping he knew you were telling the truth. The only thing you hoped was that he kept her far, far away from his family.

"Are you? Seeing anyone?"

A simple question, and yet you didn't know how to offer a simple answer. Eventually, you shook your head. "Uh...no."

"Brothers scaring the line of willing suitors?" he joked, knowing full well how your brothers could be.

Laughing, you shook your head. "No, nothing like that, I just—It's complicated, I guess."

You couldn't quite believe that you were having this conversation today, especially with Gavin. But talking to him had always come easy, it was one of the things you liked best about being with him.

"If you can believe it," you added, a little humor in your voice. "I was the one who was ready to take things further."

For a moment, you worried you'd taken things too far, but his brows just raised amusingly. "No shit. Really?"

"He wasn't ready. Just my luck. I finally get my shit together and he takes off to another continent."

You didn't resent Harry for leaving. He'd done what was best for him, but that didn't mean the timing didn't suck. You finally felt comfortable and confident enough to be open with someone, and they fled the country.

Okay, so Harry didn't flee the country, but you felt the blow to your ego no matter how rational you were about the situation.

"He'll come around," Gavin promised, which took you by surprise. "You're probably not aware, but you're very easy to fall in love with, Y/n."

Your cheeks flushed, feeling Gavin's words right down to your toes. It didn't feel romantic in any sort of way, but there was some reassurance. Gavin knew you well, and he had been a good friend.

And yet, the only thing you could think as you continued to catch up with your ex was, Then why is it so hard for me to fall in love?

*.*

Harry hadn't realized it, but he'd started to keep a list in his head, a mental tally of all the little things he learned about Y/n and that made her who she was.

The list had started with small trivial things like her coffee order and that she seemed to be particularly fond of wearing bandanas in her hair or that she always carried the same canvas tote on her shoulder, one that read, "You're Doing Great," in squiggly blue writing. From there, the list grew, and he suddenly began to collect bits of information from Y/n like valuable trading cards—what it was like growing up with three older brothers, how long she stayed in Nashville before moving out to Los Angeles, and what the perfect record was for when she was feeling sad. Harry wanted to know everything, every little piece she was willing to give him until he understood even the smallest gesture.

"Why don't you perform your songs?"

It was a question that lingered in the back of his mind for weeks now. Harry had heard Y/n sing on multiple occasions as they wrote together, and he couldn't help but think that she was the whole package. She could sing, had the kind of voice that was soft and low, a little raspy but easy to harmonize with. She wrote incredible songs that held so much depth and emotion and she could play multiple instruments. Harry could see her selling out stadiums and connecting to people through music that she wrote and performed. Yet she didn't.

"I never really had the desire to," Y/n said with a shrug. They were in his backyard, sitting around a bonfire with a bottle of wine between them. It was her turn to pick, and Chris Stapelton was crooning through her phone's speaker.

"Is it like a stage fright thing?"

"No, not at all," Y/n said. "I just don't think that life was made for me, you know? I don't know if I could handle being famous."

Harry supposed he understood what she meant. He loved his life, but it wasn't always a walk in the park. But it did make him wonder if she would ever be with someone like him, someone who did lead a life that she thought she couldn't handle. For the first time since he'd met her, Harry decided he didn't want to know.

"What about...singing backup or joining your favorite musician on tour once he releases the greatest album since...So?"

"I didn't peg you for a Peter Gabriel fan," she murmured, immediately recognizing the title, and Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that she knew exactly what album he was referring to. "But, I guess so. If it was for a friend."

Harry tucked that little nugget of information away. Tour was worlds away at the moment, but it was always good to think ahead, especially when he knew he needed a keyboardist replacement.

Looking up, he admired Y/n in the glow of the bonfire, his heart beating rapidly even though she wasn't even doing anything. Ever since their first kiss a week ago, he just wanted more. His brain could hardly keep up with his heart and how badly it longed for her. And she didn't even realize the effect she had on him. She drove him crazy.

And that scared him. Harry had only recently broken up with his ex, and he didn't think it was possible to feel so strongly for someone after coming out of a pretty serious relationship with someone else. He knew he should untangle the strings, that if he let things get too far, they'd get messy, and he and Y/n would both end up hurt.

But that voice in his head that told him to be careful became a low buzz as Y/n stood up and shuffled over to him before placing herself in his lap. Her fingers came up to play with the hair that curled at the nape of Harry's neck, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the feeling, at her closeness, at the smell of her perfume that lingered on her clothes.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself and not to Harry. "And I don't have any expectations, but I'm okay with it if you are."

Yet. Y/n didn't have any expectations yet. He knew the familiar thudding of his heart, the excited flutter in his stomach as he leaned into her touch. Of course there would be expectations, but Harry found himself nodding anyway, unable to deny either of them the pleasure of her lips sliding lightly against his. Y/n had never initiated anything between them before, and her tentative kiss told Harry she was unsure of herself. At first glance, she came off as unsure when it came to most things, but Harry learned that she held within herself a quiet confidence that he admired.

Harry stood up with her in his arms as he led them back inside. He didn't know where this would lead, tonight or any night to follow. He didn't know if Y/n was ready to sleep with him, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was either. But he wanted her close and to feel those gentle hands a little firmer in his hair. That was all he knew, and he let himself not think about anything else.

The tangles of his feelings were positively knotted, and despite his long list of things he knew about Y/n, he still didn't know where her heart truly lay. But if she was willing to walk through the fire blind, then so was he.

*.*

Two weeks into Harry being gone, and you were starting to wonder when you'd become so pathetic.

In the time since Harry left for Japan, you hadn't written a single song, not even a lyric. It was ludicrous. You'd written by yourself your entire career, but after a couple months spent with a writing partner, you were rendered insipirationless.

Not to mention semi-friendless.

It wasn't that Harry's friends didn't want to hang out, you just weren't sure you could. Outside of Sylvia, you didn't hang out with Harry's team without him, and it just felt weird to start doing so now. You didn't shy away from them when you saw them in the hallways of the building you all worked in, but you never knew what to say past a casual greeting.

Funnily enough, though, you'd said everything you needed to say to Gavin. Meeting up with him eased a heaviness in your chest you'd been carrying around with you for the last two years. You both were able to get the closure that you'd been denying yourselves, and it felt good to get everything out in the open, to receive Gavin's forgiveness after punishing yourself for such a long time.

Seeing Gavin and talking to him left you feeling lighter, but it also left you a little hollow to. With no rain cloud hanging over your head anymore, you didn't know what to do with yourself. The concept of happiness was something you'd never thought you would get, and now that it was within reach you were hesitant.

"Maybe we need a sabbatical, pookie," you said to your dog, kissing his nose. "What do you think?"

Buddy Holly didn't have a response for you, he just tilted his head at the sound of your voice. Sighing, you scratched his head and pressed play on the movie you'd previously been watching before your dog unceremoniously climbed into your lap.

Now that Harry was gone on his journey of self-discovery, you'd gone back to spending your nights alone. In theory, it should've been easy. Before Harry, being alone was second nature, but your first night alone you were at a loss. You kept wanting to reach for your phone and call him, send him a text about the record you were listening to or the ridiculous thing Buddy had done that day. You didn't realize of much Harry had engrained himself into your life, and now he was half a world away.

Reaching out wasn't an option, either, no matter how much you wanted to. He didn't tell you much for his reasons for leaving, a "writing retreat," he claimed, but you knew it was more than that. There was shit he needed to figure out, shit regarding his past relationship, so you felt the ball was in his court.

The next day, you were on the elevator going up to work, arguing with your brother on the phone.

"Nothing's wrong, Hayden," you insisted, rubbing a tired hand over your face.

"No, there definitely is. Evan, Andrew, and I all agree," Hayden said. "Something's definitely wrong with you. And when something's wrong with you, it's usually one of three things. Menstruation, a guy, or one of us, and seeing as we haven't done anything, and your period doesn't—"

"Oh my God, Hayden!" you groaned as the elevator doors opened. "I'm not...menstruating. Jesus! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Hayden kept jabbering in your ear, but you weren't listening anymore because the elevator doors had opened to reveal someone on the other side. Mitch, Harry's friend was standing there, eyes wide as he looked at you, clearly having heard your side of the conversation with your brother.

God, could this day get any worse? you thought. Shutting your eyes, you wondered if you stood there long enough with your eyes closed, the elevator doors would close and take you straight to hell or you would maybe just disappear on the spot. Either would be appreciated.

"Hayden, I have to call you back."

"You're still coming to my game this weekend right?" he asked.

"Wearing the other team's jersey," you muttered, hanging up as your brother began to protest.

Since the elevator doors stayed open and you didn't spontaneously combust, you opened your eyes. "Hey."

Mitch nodded. "Hey, Y/n."

The air was so incredibly awkward, and you wondered why you weren't sprinting toward your studio and locking yourself in permanently. But neither of you moved, and now you felt the need to explain yourself. "I...I wish I had an explanation other than my brothers still seem to ruin my life from hundreds of miles away, but I don't."

You finally stepped out of the elevator and moved around Mitch, who stepped inside. He still had that tense smile on his face, and you wondered if the two of you would ever be able to make eye contact again. Not that you ever did all that much before this God-awful incident. Just another reason to avoid Harry's friends.

"Right. H mentioned you had brothers," he said. "See you around, Y/n."

For my own sanity, I hope not, you prayed to whoever was listening.

*.*

"Do you ever think about what you would be doing if you weren't doing...this?" Y/n asked, gesturing vaguely around her.

Harry looked down to where she was spread out on the floor, her head rested in his lap while he leaned against his sofa. He wasn't quite sure how they ended up on the floor, but he didn't dare move, resisting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. It was shiny, and smelled faintly of apples. He wondered if it was as soft as he imagined.

Blinking, he stumbled around in his brain for an answer, clearing his head of thoughts of silky hair passing through his fingers. "Honestly? No, not really."

"You don't?"

Harry shrugged even though Y/n's eyes were closed. She did that often if there was music playing, as if she was trying to absorb every note into her body while maintaining a conversation. Right now they were listening to one of Harry's current favorites: a Joni Mitchell album he'd grown up listening to with his mum. He remembered when he used to scramble for answers in interviews when he was asked about his favorite artist or album, trying to come up with an answer that the media would want to hear without appearing fake. He'd list classic rock bands like Fleetwood Mac and wear old band t-shirts from the seventies. He didn't not like those artists, he loved them. But when Y/n asked about his favorite record in his collection, he didn't hesitate to reach for Joni Mitchell, knowing she wouldn't judge him for his answer.

"No. I was so young when I auditioned for the X-Factor," Harry explained. "I don't even think I knew what I wanted to study in school then, so it's hard to know what I would be doing now if it weren't for all...this."

And I wouldn't have met you, he thought but kept that to himself. Neither of them was ready for those kinds of words if he was being honest. Y/n was skittish about feelings at the best of times, and he didn't know where his feelings for her started, and getting over his ex ended. It gave him a headache if he thought about it too long, so he didn't.

Y/n sat up, and Harry resisted the urge to pull her back to him. As they hung out more and more, he had this overwhelming desire to be near her as much as possible. A hollowness would form in his chest if he didn't seek her out at the studio, leaving him blushing like an idiot every time he left his friends behind as he walked down the familiar hallway to her door. None of them ever said anything outright, but he could practically hear their teasing thoughts, but he couldn't help it. Y/n had drawn him in from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

"Maybe you'd be a florist," she said with a small grin.

"A florist?"

"Yeah." Y/n's grin grew, and Harry swore his heart grew with it. When he initially started spending time with her, or bugging her, more like, she hardly smiled. He thought it was such a shame. Not only because Y/n had a beautiful smile, but because she felt like she couldn't. Harry never wanted her to feel like she couldn't be happy, least of all around him. "You could have this big truck and deliver flowers to baby showers and weddings and other big occasions."

"Oh yeah? And where are you in this scenario?" he asked, somewhat nervous to hear the answer.

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as she looked at him. "In the passenger seat."

*.*

The third week Harry was gone, a stranger popped into your studio. A sense of deja vu had run through you as you looked up to find someone occupying the space in your doorframe, only Harry never knocked to make his presence known. You'd always just been aware of him when he entered the room.

"Can I help you?" you asked. You were working on a song that you actually quite liked. A new angle, a different approach to songs that you wanted to see through, and interruptions weren't going to help.

"Mitch said to come find you," he said. He looked a little nervous at having disrupted your work, so you eased up on your stare. "He said you could help us?"

Us? you thought. You supposed that it wasn't too far fetched that Harry's team would make themselves busy while he was off on sabbatical, or whatever it was he'd been doing in Japan. You hadn't heard from him much, and you tried not to let that hurt your feelings too much.

Brows furrowed, you said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I would help—"

"He said you've written for country artists before?" the guy said. "We're sort of stuck and he said to come find you, so..."

Sighing, you stood up, but not before jotting a couple notes down in your journal. Perhaps it was kismet that the song you'd been playing around with today had been country in your mind. The prospect of writing with anyone other than Harry felt odd, uncomfortable. But Harry wasn't here, and you didn't know when he would be back and you couldn't just hide in your studio because he'd left.

You didn't know what to expect as you followed the man, Daniel, he'd finally introduced, led you to a studio a couple rooms away from yours. You'd met Harry's writing and production team a number of times, but Harry wasn't a country artist, so Mitch was clearly helping out with a different project, which meant introducing yourself to a whole new group.

Mitch was waiting with one other person, a young woman who was about your age or younger. She had blond curly hair and light blue eyes, a smile on her face at something Mitch said. When you entered the room, you couldn't help but think back to last week when you'd completely embarrassed yourself in front of Mitch. You hadn't seen him since, and even though it was probably unlikely, you'd hoped you'd never have to again.

Introductions were made quickly before a chair was pulled out for you. The young woman's name was Cam, and she was working on putting out her first ever single. "And album eventually, but we're starting out small," she said with a bashful grin. "I'm such a huge fan of your work, and when Mitch said you were just down the hall, I told him he had to introduce me. I swear I love every song you've ever written."

Nodding, you gripped the soft leather binding of your journal, wondering what Mitch was angling at here. From the short amount of time you'd spent with him, he seemed rather quiet. A chill person who mostly kept to himself. You weren't sure why you were being dragged into one of his projects.

"Yeah. That's where I started my career," you said. "I'm sorry—Did you want my help with a song?"

"The whole album too, hopefully," Cam said, and you could see it in her eyes how bad she wanted this. She was ambitious, but not in a way that made you want to run back to your room and have nothing to do with this project. You eyed her scuffed boots and the worn friendship bracelets on her wrists and the hope that lined her body as she waited for you to say something.

"I usually work alone," you said. "But, I—I did happen to be writing something a little country today if you wanted to take a look."

You handed your journal over to the young woman, trying to decide if you wanted to be part of this little team. On the one hand, you thought Harry would be the only person you'd feel comfortable writing with, but...if he had a team, why couldn't you? Perhaps Harry had opened you up to the possibility of branching out and trying things you'd closed yourself off to in the past.

At the very least, you decided, you would hear her out, see how you gelled with this small group. If not for any other reason than as a small favor to an acquaintance. You didn't know Mitch all that well, but you considered him someone you knew.

And to be honest, maybe you were getting tired of staying holed up in a studio by yourself all the time.

So now you were meeting with Cam, Mitch, and Daniel regularly. That first day, you stayed at the studio late at night workshopping ideas and getting a feel for the sound and vision Cam was going for. And it was easy. Bouncing ideas off each other, picking up the guitar and playing a potential riff and letting Mitch carry it somewhere else, working out harmonies and melodies with Cam. You'd left the studio later than you ever had that night, but energy coursed through your veins as you left the building.

You'd never been a part of something at the start with the means to see it through. You usually wrote songs and sold them to whoever wanted them, and with Harry, you'd joined in songwriting when he and his team were well underway, but this...this was new, and you didn't hate it. In fact, you were looking forward to meeting the next day, and the next, and the next...

Weeks flew by as you worked on this album, and you suddenly lived off takeout boxes and snacks as you spent many a late night as you worked on song after song, eager to see this project come to life. There wasn't necessarily a deadline, but you were all just eager to keep working on what you all knew was something special. And today Mitch was going to teach you how to play the drums while Cam met with her record label for an hour. It felt like there was finally light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, one that you'd been winding through the last two years. It felt good to feel this light again, even your brothers got off your back a little, though you knew that wouldn't last very long.

"I'm on my way right now, and I'm bringing Buddy because he's being extra clingy today," you said into the phone. "He's also my reason for going home at a reasonable hour—"

Time stopped as you opened the door to your apartment. Your heart was in your throat, partly because you were startled to find someone on the other side, and then because your eyes finally registered who was on the other side.

"Y/n?"

Blinking, you quickly told Cam you had to go before hanging up the phone, slipping it in your coat pocket before letting it drop to the floor. You ran a hand over your face, wondering if you'd magically conjured him to your door, or if you were so tired you were suddenly delirious, but when you uncovered your eyes, he was still there, hands tucked in his pockets and a suitcase resting by his feet, a cat carrier on top of it.

"Harry? What—What are you doing here? When did you—"

There was no time to think or speak or breathe as Harry surged forward, his hands suddenly out of his pockets and settling deep in your hair, and kissed you.

The kiss was bruising, making it hard to think straight, making it hard to think about anything but him. His cologne flooded your senses as if you'd never smelled it before, making you sigh against his mouth and giving him ample opportunity to slide his tongue against yours as he backed you against the doorframe with a soft thud.

Your hands flew of their own accord, reaching beneath Harry's coat and gripping the shirt he wore beneath it. You needed to feel him, to know he was really here in front of you, that he wasn't going to evaporate in your hands leaving you with only the memory of his kiss. You'd had that particular dream one too many times.

Harry's hands smoothed down your sides, rucking up your shirt and setting your skin on fire when his thumbs brushed your ribcage. Your breaths stuttered until you finally had to pull back to catch it Instinctively, Harry followed, his mouth searching for yours, then your neck, but you held him in place for a moment.

"Wait," you said, breaths shallow. Harry stopped immediately, eyes roving your face in a similar way to how you were doing so. When he finally met your gaze, a small, shy smile, spread across your lips. "H—Hi."

Harry's responding grin was radiant. "Hi."

*.*

"I don't understand, when—when did you get back?"

It was safe to say you weren't going into the studio. There were about ten seconds of protesting before you finally caved, and it had nothing to do with Harry's lips on your neck or his hands sneaking beneath your shirt. "Stay," Harry had mumbled. "Please? There's so much I want to say."

So you stayed, though you hadn't really spoken much. You and Harry had ended up on your couch huddled up together under a blanket, Buddy Holly dozing at your feet. You kept waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. It was nice for a while, but you began to itch with the need for answers. You didn't want to immediately fall back into old habits the second he came back, even if laying flush against his chest was the most peaceful you felt in weeks. You were nervous to talk to him, to hear him say that after staying away for two months, he still didn't want a relationship. But even so, it would be better to know the truth and start getting over it now than to hold out hope.

"Today," Harry said. "I came straight here from the airport."

"Why? Wouldn't you want to go home? Get settled. Sweet Pea probably misses home."

Harry raised his head from where he'd been resting it in the crook of your neck. His brows raised suspiciously to where his cat was dozing on top of Buddy, as if she'd never left. "I think she's rather comfortable."

"You're awfully comfortable too," you said under your breath. Then, even though you felt so warm in his embrace, you sat up, putting some distance between yourself and Harry.

You could tell he wanted to protest, his sleepy eyes and mussed brown curls covering his forehead in a messy tangle told you that all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you. You wanted that too, but your mind kept drifting back to that last conversation, to that last exchange of words, and you let them keep that small bubble of distance between you and him.

"I need to know why you're here, H," you said, raising your knees up to your chest.

Harry could hear the seriousness in your voice, his expression sobering a little. He sat up too, facing you as he took up his place at the corner of the couch. There were only a couple inches between you, but it felt like Harry was still in Japan with how distant you felt from him now. He was home, but was he really? You didn't know how your friendship was going to evolve from here. You supposed you could be okay with just being his friend. It would sting, but you would get over it.

Eventually.

You hoped.

"I...just knew that this was where I needed to be," he said, not meeting your eye. "I came home and the only person I wanted to see was you."

His words meant more than you cared to admit. They filled you with warmth, bringing a flush to your cheeks that you prayed Harry didn't see.

"I missed you too," was all you could think of to say.

"And I—I want more," Harry said. "I was halfway across the world, and I was writing and walking around the city, and all I wanted was to share those moments with you and write with you and wake up next to you. I just...I want you in my life, Y/n."

"As your friend?" you asked, your voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

"However you'll have me."

Your heart leaped in your chest, but you stopped yourself from launching across the couch into his arms. It was all too good to be true. Harry wasn't ready for a relationship before he left, and you'd been gracious and understood where he was coming from. And now that a few weeks had passed, he suddenly wanted to be whatever you wanted him to be. In the back of your mind, the fact that he hadn't said "boyfriend" pricked a sensitive part of your brain. It was silly and minuscule, and it shouldn't have mattered, so you tried not to let it.

Still, you were unsure. You knew Harry would never be so cruel as to feed you words for the sake of placating you, but something left you hesitating. Maybe it was that the last time you saw Harry, he told you he couldn't give you what you wanted and now he was saying he could, or maybe your heart was still protecting you from potential pain, you weren't sure. But you couldn't give in.

Almost as if he could read the jumbled thoughts running around in your head, Harry inched toward you, his expression soft and open. "I can tell you're unsure, and I don't blame you," he said, taking a chance and reaching a hand across the couch to hold yours. "Let me prove it to you."

Brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side. "Prove it?"

"We'll go slow," Harry said as he nodded and moved closer. Close enough to tip your chin up with his knuckle. "We can do that, can't we? We don't have to rush things. We can just...go on a date and see what happens, right?"

Despite the hesitation, a smile twitched at the corner of your lips. "Harry Styles...are you asking me on a date?"

Harry's responding grin was wide and sweet as honey. "Only if you're saying yes."

Eight weeks ago, you'd stepped out of your comfort zone by asking Harry for more, and watching him walk away hurt more than you ever thought it would. Your instinct was to hide, to crawl back into your shell before you could get hurt again. But you knew Harry had been hurt before too, and now he was trying. Even though they'd both had their hearts broken for different reasons and had every reason not to give into their feelings and hide, preferring to be alone.

It took you two years to..."forgive yourself" didn't seem like the right words. To be ready to put yourself into the world again, to allow yourself the possibility of hurting and being hurt in that way again. Your scars had healed over into faint white lines after two whole years. Nearly imperceptible, but still there, a subtle but constant reminder of what you stood to lose if you ruined things again. But also a reminder that you could love and lose and still heal, and maybe even love again. Harry hadn't been there when he left, and at the time you hoped he would be. And maybe part of you knew he would be, because you'd gotten there too in your own way.

The hope that kindled in your chest made you nervous, but it made you excited too.

"I—I don't want you to feel like you have to do this because—"

Harry's index finger was on your lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes nearly crossed as you looked down your nose at it, and you heard his chuckle at what was most likely a silly look on your face. "I know I don't have to do anything, Y/n. I needed some time to clear my thoughts and untangle all of my feelings. I want this. I want you."

Over your time spent with Harry, you'd come to realize he had expressive eyes. While he kept a lot to himself and didn't share much unless it was through songwriting, his eyes said everything. This close to his face, you could see the honesty, the earnestness. You decided to believe him, to believe in whatever had been forming between you since the first time you'd met.

Not holding back, you did lunge for him this time, but gently, seeing as he was so close. Harry seemed surprised by your sudden movements but didn't stop you as you took his face in your hands and kissed him for all he was worth. You felt his face slowly split into a grin as his hands roved up and down your back, as if he was finally reacquainting himself with your body. Or maybe it was that this kiss was different from all the others, with different expectations and intentions and promises for more.

"What happened to slow?" he asked, teasing as you nipped at his ear.

"Tell me to stop," you said, feeling out of breath.

He didn't, you knew he wouldn't, but that only made him grin even more. "I still want to do things properly," he told you, leaning back against the couch and taking you with so that you were on top of him, your body flush against his. "I want to take you out, I want to hold your hand and pull your chair out for you at dinner."

Resting on your elbows, you lightly traced the delicate planes of his face with your finger. Harry's eyes tracked your movements while he waited for you to answer, kissing the pad of your index finger when it passed over his lips. You smiled a little, unsure of where all this giddiness was coming from but hoping it wouldn't go away.

"I want that too," you murmured before kissing the tip of his nose. "But maybe that can start tomorrow."

Harry's hand came up to cradle the side of your face, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. Everything already felt different. New and fragile and breakable. So, so breakable.

"Your heart was glass, I dropped it," you'd written way back. You had the potential to break Harry's heart. But the notion that you wouldn't was so intrinsic in that moment, you felt like the only way you would crack the glass this time was by squeezing too hard, by liking him too much.

You didn't know what you would do if Harry would drop yours.

It was a terrifying thought, one that was too dreadful for the peaceful bliss taking over your apartment. Harry was looking at you like your hair was made of stars or pure sunlight, and it warmed every inch of you down to your bones as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone.

"I can get behind that," he said quietly.

After that, you finally relaxed. Your head found purchase on his chest, comfortable against the soft material of his sweatshirt despite the firmness of his body beneath you. You breathed in deep, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it all out in one soft exhale. With that breath, you felt the last of your doubts flutter away—for now, at least—allowing you to believe in the promise Harry offered you.

*.*

"Come on. If you're not going to let me go to work, you're gonna help me here."

You managed to untangle yourself from Harry, who pouted at you as he remained sprawled out on your bed. Leaving him there, you went to the front door to where you'd left your guitar case when you found him on your doorstep yesterday. Slipping your well-loved guitar from the case, you walked back over to Harry, who was now sitting up on the couch. His eyes tracked your every move as you made your way back over to him. His stare felt heated, causing a flush to your cheeks, but you ignored it as you settled on one end of the couch, resting the guitar in your lap.

"Looks like you already have something in mind," Harry said. He still sounded playful, but you knew he wasn't going to try and dissuade you from this. He was just as eager to write as a team as you were.

Writing without Harry while he was gone was strange. At first you thought you'd be fine, seeing as you'd preferred working in solitude most of your professional career. Yet when he left, you were unable to write. You found yourself looking for him, raising your head to ask what he thought of a melody when he wasn't there, thinking out loud as if he was still in the room to bounce ideas off of.

You'd missed him in more ways than one, that was certain. This new dynamic with Mitch had been good, fun even. You attributed your openness to teamwork to Harry, and now you were nearly finished with an album, a project you'd been part of from start to finish, something you'd never really been able to say before. You'd enjoyed going into the studio to work with Mitch, to share song ideas with Cam and see where she took them. If given the option, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

But something in you settled as you began to idly pluck at the strings of your guitar, Harry sifting through his duffle bag until he produced his leatherbound journal from it. You felt comfortable, complete, not an atom out of place as you began to sing the lyrics of a partial song you were going to work on with your team today.

"There is a town, somewhere down a country road," you sang softly. "I see it now, take it everywhere I go. The river sways, I can almost here it now. As if to say, 'You're not the only one who wants a way out.'"

"That's nice," Harry said, his thumb tapping against his knee in time with the music coming from your guitar. "Something new?"

"I've had the idea for a song about a small town for a while," you said, fingers still plucking at the guitar strings, though not with much intent while you spoke to Harry. "My hometown."

Nodding, Harry said, "You don't talk about your home much."

"Not much to say," you shrugged. "At least I thought so. Now I just keep thinking how so much has changed since I moved away. How much I've changed,"

"Good changes, I hope," he said.

You shrugged again, trying not to let the topic make you squirm. You normally didn't around Harry, but perhaps being away from him for so long had you shying away just a little. "Good and...neutral, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I've changed so much I can't even reconcile who I was then and the person I am now. Not really sure if that's a good or bad thing yet. To be determined, I suppose."

Harry processed the information quietly, letting the conversation end there. You fell into a comfortable silence as both of you played around with lyrics and melodies in your own heads. You eventually grabbed your own journal to jot notes down in, and at one point Harry took your guitar into his own lap to play around, humming quietly to himself.

His plucking of the strings slowly became something less abstract and more concrete, and it eventually became the backdrop to your thinking process. You liked the tune he played better than what you'd originally come up with, and you let it guide your pen as you jotted down words and phrases until you eventually had something that might've been a pre-chorus or a bridge. Shifting closer to Harry on the couch, you showed him what you had so far, hoping he'd be able to fill in the gaps like he normally could.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he took your journal and pen from your offering hands. For a minute, the only sound was the tapping of the pen in his hand in time with the melody he'd been playing moments ago. You watched with slow blinking eyes as he eventually began to scribble his own little notes beside yours, sometimes writing lyrics of his own and occasionally circling a word you'd written and putting a suggestion above it.

The scratching of pen on paper was an unusual lullaby, but sure enough, the warmth emanating from Harry's body and the familiarity of this moment, yet something precious and new blooming between you, was enough for your breaths to deepen, your blinks to become fewer and far between. Even after being on a plane all the way from Japan, the scent of Harry's cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used lingered on his clothes. It was so familiar, as much of a welcome home as him actually being here beside you.

Breathing in deep, you huddled closer to Harry. Feeling your movements at his side, Harry shifted so that you were leaning against him more comfortably, his body solid yet soft beneath your cheek. "I missed this," you murmured, the words clinging together as you inched closer and closer toward sleep. "I missed you."

There was no stiffening of his posture at the words, no hesitation or uncertainty as he said, "I missed you too."

*.*

"Don't leave again," Y/n said.

Harry was pretty sure she was already half asleep, was sure she wouldn't even remember this conversation when she woke up in a couple of hours. But even so, the words made him pause, the pen in his hand jerking almost imperceptibly.

Y/n hadn't brought up his departure since he'd come back yesterday. Even now, she didn't sound resentful, though that could've been the fact that she was seconds away from falling asleep, but Harry didn't think so. Yet in her current limbo between states of consciousness, she revealed something that she probably wouldn't have if she'd been fully awake.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you by going," he said, and he knew he was a bastard for saying it when she was seconds from falling asleep.

A deep breath, then another, then another.

"Don't leave me again," was all she said in reply, perhaps all she could muster just before unconsciousness finally settled over her like a blanket.

Harry's heart clenched. Don't leave me again, she told him. He'd learned rather quickly that despite all that she'd been through, Y/n hid a gentle heart behind all those walls she put up. A heart that had been battered and bruised and hidden away after so much unhappiness. Harry realized early on in their semi-friendship that he never wanted to be the reason for another wall between Y/n and the rest of the world; he wanted to be someone she could entrust to protect her gentle soul, to be someone who helped her realize she was much more fierce than she knew.

Knowing he'd caused her pain by leaving dug at him, even if leaving was in some ways very necessary. Harry needed that distance, that time away to clean up the mess his ex had left in him. Nothing about his previous relationship's demise was simple, and the things he'd begun to feel for Y/n while still trying to untangle himself from his ex only complicated things. Harry knew it would be a disservice to both himself and Y/n if he jumped into something he wasn't ready for. He felt horrible that night she'd laid all her cards on the table before him. He knew that it had taken a lot to state what she wanted from him so plainly, to realize that she was still deserving of more after what she'd been through. And Harry had to offer the same honesty, even if it was something even he didn't want to hear.

But it had been the right thing. For both of them. Of that he was sure. Harry had done a lot of introspecting, had allowed himself to simply be alone in a way he hadn't been for a long time. His last relationship was perhaps the most significant, but it was one in a rather long list of failed attempts to find love. His friends often teased him for not knowing how to not be in a relationship, and after this last breakup, he realized how right they were.

Harry liked Y/n. He was fascinated by her talent as a songwriter and enamoured by the person she was outside the studio. He liked her chunky patterned sweaters and the array of rings on her fingers that changed from day to day. He liked that she wasn't perfect, that she was shy to an almost stubborn degree, that he had to work hard to piece together who she was bit by bit until a beautiful mosaic was laid out in front of him.

But he needed to know that he knew how to be alone before giving himself over to her entirely. Who was he outside of a romantic relationship? Harry honestly had no idea, and while that had never even so much as itched his brain before, it terrified him after things ended with his ex. He owed it to himself to try to stand on his own two feet, to live on his own and know that he could be content to do so. He didn't need a relationship to be happy, that was what he set out to discover.

And once he did. Once he lived and wrote songs and got coffee and ate by himself, and didn't feel like an utter disaster, he knew he'd be okay.

Harry enjoyed himself in Japan. He'd committed himself to this soul-searching endeavor and actually came out on the other side of it pleased with himself. And at the end of it all, when he knew a relationship with Y/n wasn't something he needed but something he wanted, he knew he was ready to go home. He wanted her a lot, to be fair, so much so that he often wrote about her, and talked about her to the few friends he made in Japan. But being alone didn't kill him, and he was able to see that for himself the two months he was gone.

He left his feelings for his ex in Japan, letting every last bit of baggage he'd been quietly carrying around with him slide off his shoulders, holding onto those precious little blossoms of feeling for Y/n and bringing them home, right to her doorstep.

The plan hadn't been to go straight to her apartment, but that was where he told his driver to go when he slid into the backseat of the sleek black car his manager had sent to pick him up. Harry was actually supposed to go home and rest so he could meet with his label and discuss the progress of his album, but he stayed at Y/n's place anyway. He knew these next few months as the album went into recording and production mode wouldn't leave much time to spend alone with Y/n, and he needed these fleeting moments. He needed to hear all about the new album she was helping to write and what she and Buddy Holly had gotten up to while he was gone. He needed to kiss her, to touch her, to let her fall asleep against him while they wrote a song about a small town.

"I won't, I promise," Harry murmured, even though he knew Y/n was already asleep.

It was perhaps a promise to himself. He knew Y/n would never be that vulnerable, wouldn't reveal just how much she cared for him if she'd been entirely conscious. She'd been forgiving, if not a little hesitant when he showed up on her doorstep, but she'd never resented him for leaving. At least he thought she didn't. She'd been understanding when he left, but in her sleepy state, he saw a little bit of the hurt he'd inflicted by leaving, by rejecting her desire for something more with him.

Harry knew he'd done it for the right reasons, but guilt curled in his chest at the thought of hurting Y/n. He would commit himself to not doing it again, to be someone worthy of her vulnerability. Harry was aware of how precious it was for Y/n to open herself up to him like this. He wouldn't take that gift for granted.

Shifting around a bit, Harry took Y/n into his arms and stood up. He padded down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom, where a large, four-poster bed with a mountain of pillows and one stuffed animal lay on. He set her down on white sheets with little red polka dots, pulling up the covers over both of them. Y/n curled into Harry immediately, and he didn't even bother trying to shove away the warmth that spread through him.

With Y/n's cheek squished adorably against his chest, Harry rested his arm behind his head as his eyes flitted about her bedroom.

He'd been inside it a handful of times, but it never failed to amaze him, because for someone so convinced they were undeserving of love, they sure loved heart decorations. Retro Valentine hearts were mounted on one wall, twinkly lights dangling between them; pink and red heart-shaped candles remained unlit on her vanity, a heart-shaped guitar on a stand next to it. Everything centered around something pink or red—the sheets, the pillows, the jewelry dishes and mirrors, even the stuffed bunny under her pillow that Harry knew Y/n slept with, even if she wouldn't admit it.

It was a mystery he'd yet to solve, but he imagined that would come in time.

Soon enough, Harry's own eyes began to droop. He nestled deeper into the bed, trying not to completely drape himself over Y/n. They'd never actually spent the night in the same bed before last night. Sometimes they'd fall asleep together on the couch, but this was different. Last night, they'd collapsed into bed after staying up late talking, nearly well into the morning. There had been no tangled limbs or breaths keeping time because they slept so close together, just two people in dire need of sleep.

In some ways, Harry wondered if it was too much as they were only just beginning to explore this thing between them, but he couldn't make himself leave. He turned over so his back was to her, trying to provide a modicum of space should Y/n want it, but not even a minute later, an arm snaked around his waist, a cheek pressed against his back as one of her legs slotted between his.

It was safe to say Harry fell asleep with a small grin and a full heart.

*.*

The following weeks flew by, and you saw Harry every single moment that you could.

Now that his album was in the later stages of production, he was constantly in meetings for promotion—release dates, interviews, live performances, and concept art for the album. You stayed out of those conversations, as you had your own projects to complete and deadlines to meet. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. You'd never been part of those conversations before, as you merely wrote your songs and sold the demos to artists or bands. Seeing an album from start to finish was intriguing, though perhaps part of the reason was the hand you played in it and how important Harry was to you.

But even with all of that going on, Harry stayed true to his word.

He made every moment count. Suddenly there were flowers on top of the grand piano when you entered your studio, and he stopped by whenever he could. Each petal, each little note attached to the bouquets, filled your stomach with butterflies. And after you were both done for the day, Harry invited you over to cook dinner and listen to records. The atmosphere was different than before Harry left, a more romantic feel in the air as you sat across from each other, the warm glow of candles the only lighting in the room.

With the public attention Harry tended to get, you both agreed to keep things quiet for now. You'd always preferred anonymity, and although you knew your relationship would eventually become public, you wanted it to stay between you and Harry and your friends and family. Hopefully in the future, when this precious thing between the two of you wasn't so new, you would feel more comfortable. Until then, it would be secret dates and romantic dinners from home, but that didn't make it feel any less special or real.

It didn't take long for your friends to notice, though.

You and Harry didn't have much to hide in front of Sylvia and the rest of the people who made up your little group, but neither you nor Harry really went out of your way to tell anyone about the slight change since he had come back from Japan.

One night, Sylvia decided to switch up the usual gatherings from game night to a night at a karaoke bar. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved watching everyone drink and take up a mic in the private room that had been rented out. Harry stayed by your side most of the night, an arm wrapped around your waist, his thumb subtly sneaking beneath the hem of your patchwork top to graze your skin and leave goosebumps in its wake, and a neat tequila in his other hand, your leather jacket draped over his arm after he insisted on carrying it for you. You opted for a margarita, sipping on it idly while you went between talking to Harry and watching the chaos unfold in front of you.

"What do you say, are we up next?"

"We?" you asked incredulously. "You go. I've actually been wanting to see you perform."

Harry chuckled, his nose brushing against your temple. "Come on, love. For me?"

You both knew you had a soft spot when Harry pleaded with you. Just one more hour at his place, just one more kiss, getting his favorite takeout, all of it just required a slight widening of his eyes and him saying, "Pleeeease," or, "For me?" as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose, and he had you. It was mostly harmless, but just like all the other times, it was working now.

"I don't know..." you said anyway, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. Harry only doubled down, which was exactly your goal.

"Please? I'll make it worth your while."

So that was how you ended up in front of the rest of your group of friends, a mic in your hand as you waited for Harry to pick the song. When the opening chords sounded through the speakers, you beamed, looking over at him with raised brows. Harry just sauntered over to you with a small grin, dancing over to you in that silly way of his that you learned was a unique trait he possessed.

"Islands in the Stream" was one of the songs the two of you had bonded over the last few months. You'd played it for him on the drive to Buddy Holly's favorite dog park, and the two of you sang it most car rides ever since.

Harry started the song, and you joined in, keeping your eyes on him for most of it. He definitely had more stage presence than you did, which you were fine with, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy yourself. Harry's eyes were on you the whole time too, his hip bumping against yours and spinning you around occasionally.

By the time it was over, there were cheers all around, and not just because Harry kissed you at the end. You'd made it all of two steps off the makeshift stage in the private room before you were tugged into a corner away from everyone else.

"What the hell was that?"

Sylvia was looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, though a grin stretched her cheeks. You couldn't hide your blush, opting to take the drink that Harry handed you once he found you again. "What?"

"You—You two are unbelievable," she laughed. "So this is real now? You two aren't acting like children anymore and pretending you aren't in love with each other?"

Trust Sylvia to make things between you and Harry awkward. Both of you laughed, though yours was more nervous because she'd revealed a truth you weren't quite ready to accept. Harry merely draped a hand over your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

*.*

"You look nervous," you said, taking Harry's hand that rested on the gear shift.

"Me? Never," Harry insisted, though he gripped your hand a little too tightly for you to believe it.

"It's just one brother," you said, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

You wouldn't lie to him and say meeting all three of your brothers at once would've been a walk in the park. But this was just Andrew, who was only in town for a night. You were pretty sure Hayden and Evan sent Andrew to investigate your relationship with Harry. For that exact reason, you hadn't divulged much to any of your brothers. After the whole, "Are you sure you're not menstruating" incident, you'd been giving Hayden the cold shoulder, so you knew for a fact that he'd enlisted Andrew's help to, at the very least, get back in your good graces, and hopefully get a little intel on your budding relationship.

"Andrew's harmless, I promise," you said. "He's about as threatening as a puppy."

Harry chuckled as he pulled into the trendy bar you had agreed to meet your brother at. "See, I want to believe you, but I've seen your brother play hockey, so...I don't."

Leaning across the center console, you kissed his cheek, quickly wiping away the lip gloss you'd left behind. Even in the dim lighting of the car, you saw Harry blush, which made you nudge him with your nose playfully. "I'll keep him in line, I promise."

You led Harry inside the bar, entering through a side door to remain relatively unnoticed, neck craning for your brother. Andrew wasn't hard to spot, his long arms waving back and forth from a tall table tucked in the corner of the bar. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you walked over to where your brother stood by waiting with open arms.

"How's my little sister?" Andrew asked as he squeezed the living daylights out of you.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to remind him you were older. Instead, you stepped back and introduced him to Harry. For all his nerves, Harry didn't show it as he shook Andrew's hand and asked how he was doing. Even when you knew your brother squeezed his hand too hard, Harry just smiled and sat down on the barstool.

Things went surprisingly well. Despite your earlier reassurances, you'd been a little nervous about the questions Andrew might ask, ones not necessarily thought up by him, but by the brothers who were absent tonight.

"So, Harry, where do you see this relationship with my sister going? I noticed she didn't introduce you as her boyfriend."

Perhaps you'd spoken too soon.

"Andrew, seriously?" you said, kicking him under the table. "Tell Evan to butt out."

"Evan's not—"

"Oh please," you said. That question had your oldest brother written all over it. "Andrew, you leave our brothers out of this or I'll tell Harry what they used to call you in high school."

Blushing, Andrew backed down immediately, a flush crawling up his neck. You didn't like stooping to your brothers' level, usually the silent treatment got your brothers to grovel after pissing you off, but they really couldn't be surprised when you did from time to time. You learned from the best after all.

Clearing his throat, Harry broke up the stare down you and Andrew had been locked in. "Um, to answer your question, I think we both—not to speak for you, Y/n—but I think we both see this evolving into something more, we just haven't had that conversation yet."

His words filled you with warmth. You'd been thinking the same—you wanted more from Harry when he came back, and things had progressed from there. You didn't think boyfriend and girlfriend titles were far off, but now that you knew where you and Harry both stood, you were okay with taking things slow.

Not that Andrew, or your other brothers, for that matter, needed to know that.

The rest of the night went much better. Andrew eased up and was finally able to ask questions that had nothing to do with the intimate details of your relationship with Harry, and when Harry began asking Andrew about playoffs, it was all your brother could do to not talk about hockey.

Your brother left you and Harry in the parking lot with a final farewell of, "You're alright, Harry Styles, and you," he said facing you with a pointed stare. "Stop ignoring Hayden, please. You know how he gets when you don't give him attention."

Huffing, you said, "I'll think about it."

Andrew grinned. Your brothers were a lot of things, but from the moment you became a part of the family, you were a little princess to all of them. Evan, Hayden, and Andrew had their moments, but they never liked to make you too mad. Most of the time. Still, you knew Andrew, and you knew he liked to be the unspoken, "favorite brother."

Harry took you home, his hand in yours the whole way back. Neither of you said anything, unwinding from the interesting night. It honestly could've gone a lot worse, in your opinion. Andrew really was the least of your worries.

Like a gentleman, Harry walked you to the door when you got home. You held back from unlocking your apartment and stepping inside despite the cold, taking his hand in yours. "I'm sorry if things were a little tense tonight."

Harry shook his head. "You really have them wrapped around your finger, you know that?"

"They have good intentions. They just...they were all I had for a long time. They're protective. Especially Evan."

Growing up, your brothers were pretty much your whole family. You were all bonded by the same shitty father, growing up raising and protecting each other. You knew the questions and the protective attitudes came from a good place, especially after the way things broke down with Gavin and his family. Evan saw how much it affected you, and probably just didn't want to see you get hurt again.

"Well, I'm glad. Even if they do slightly terrify me."

"They're big pushovers," you said with a laugh. "And like you said, they're wrapped around my finger. You'll be fine, I promise."

Harry smiled, tipping your chin up. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Mhmm," was all you could manage as he began to kiss your neck, a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk weather licking down your spine. The excitement that surged through you almost had you leaping into his arms. You settled for wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know we've been taking things slow, but I—I wouldn't mind it."

"You wouldn't mind what?" Harry teased, pulling away slightly when you tried to kiss him. "Might need to do a little better than that if you want me to be your boyfriend."

Everything was so easy with Harry. The playful teasing, the serious conversations, getting drinks with your overprotective brother, all of it. You hadn't wanted someone this much since—well, since forever. Harry just made you so happy, and you wanted to chase that feeling, not hide from it. You spent way too much time hiding from life, from love.

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your fingers curling around the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Harry backed you against the door to your apartment, the hum coming from his chest once your tongues brushed together reverberating through you. His cheeks were cold as you held them in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to haul him inside and never let him leave. But he had to be up early tomorrow and had to go back to his cat. You would make sure he'd regret leaving, though.

Eventually, you let go of him, your hands smoothing down the knit sweater he wore. You'd spent ages on the phone with him as he freaked out over what to wear. One coat was too flashy, but that t-shirt said he wasn't putting in any effort and didn't care about meeting a member of your family. On and on until you eventually made him turn the camera around to face his closet and pick something out for him. Black jeans and a black sweater with colorful depictions of the solar system eventually convinced him to finally leave the house. It was a little silly, but you appreciated how much effort he wanted to put into meeting Andrew, who absolutely would have reported back to Hayden and Evan what Harry wore, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"I don't want to be scared of feeling good anymore," you whispered. "I don't want to feel guilty for chasing something that feels right. Please tell me you feel the same."

"I do," Harry murmured. His forehead rested against yours as his hands found the perfect place on your waist, finding the sliver of skin revealed between your halter top and your jeans, and the look in his eyes was something so comforting, a safe assurance you hadn't felt in a long time.

Harry made you feel safe. He made you smile and knew things about you no one else did, not even your brothers, and he didn't seem put off by it. He understood your creative process, gave you space when you needed it, and was there for you when needed someone but didn't know how to ask.

You were still perhaps too scared to even think about the word love, but looking up at Harry then, you thought there might be a day where you felt brave enough to tell him how you really felt.

*.*

The club was packed tonight, bodies surrounding you on all sides. As someone bumped into you from behind, you gripped Mitch's arm on instinct, determined not to fall over or get swept up in the sea of people waiting for the band to start their set.

"Remind me why we're here again?" you asked, shouting over the crowd and thumping bass.

For a moment, you worried Mitch hadn't heard you, but then he shouted back, leaning in close so you could hear him. "Because they asked us to be here. We heard their demos, and you said they had potential. And—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. I just didn't think there'd be this many people."

"Kind of a good thing though, isn't it?" a voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you couldn't help the wide grin that took over your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mitch give you a pointed look, but you ignored it, throwing your arms around Harry. "You found us!"

"Course. I could spot my two best friends from a mile away."

Being regarded as Harry's friend made your stomach tighten despite knowing he didn't mean it that way, especially since you were around so many people. And yet, it had you overthinking.

Don't be stupid, you thought, blinking those thoughts away. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you let go. "Did you get into the venue okay?"

You, Harry, and Mitch talked to—talked at, more like—each other before the show, huddled together and trying not to draw attention to yourselves. Because of the packed venue, you and Harry were able to stand relatively close to one another, your hands brushing occasionally. With Harry so close to you like this and unable to kiss his cheek at the very least, and you could tell he was having the same struggle. He was pressed up against your back, at one point, then his arm was draped over your shoulders, and when the lights finally dimmed as the set began, he was as close as he could be, his arm wrapped around your waist as you watched the band perform.

The band played music that was loud, full of heavy base lines and guitar riffs and drum solos that had the crowd jumping and jostling around. Harry was a steady force at your back until you eventually joined in with the audience, dancing along to the music beside Mitch.

In the few weeks you and Mitch worked on writing Cam's album together, you'd ended up spending more time outside of the studio as well. It was almost always music related, the two of you going out to see live performances in some form or another—local bands, shows at the Troubador and the Whiskey, performers just starting out in dive bars. It was something you typically did on your own, a good way to discover new artists and experience different sounds, and Mitch was more than happy to join you, showing you a couple of his favorite haunts, ones that he played in from time to time.

It was nice to get out of your apartment, to hang out with someone who appreciated discovering new music as much as you did. Mitch had helped you expand your horizons and had even taught you a thing or two about playing drums after you were particularly enthralled by a grunge band. It had become part of your routine as much as writing in the studio had—going out once or twice a week to find new talent and sometimes meeting up with the artist or band afterward to see if they were interested in collaborating. That wasn't always the goal, but there were moments when you couldn't help yourself.

"You were right. They do have potential," Mitch said. Both of you were buzzing after the performance, talking animatedly about the band and their set.

"I know! And I really liked their sound. There was something so nostalgic about it, but not in a gimmicky way, you know?"

Harry walked a couple paces behind you and Mitch as you ambled down the sidewalk toward where you'd parked. He'd been quiet coming out of the show, but you didn't think anything of it.

You kept talking to Mitch, promising to stop by the studio for another drum lesson when you had the chance, or when he had the chance, more like. Now that Harry's album was less an idea and more a fully realized project with a release date, Harry and Co. had been pretty busy lately. And once the album finally came out...well, you'd cross that bridge eventually.

When Mitch was gone, headed home in his car, you walked a little further to your side-by-side with Harry. You leaned in close, not really caring if anyone saw. Even through the layers of his heavy coat, you could feel the warmth that he emanated naturally. You loved being tucked into his side or curled around him, or just being as close to him as possible, an alarming amount. The word "love" fluttered through your mind every now and again, but you swatted it away every time. It was much too soon, and while you'd made many strides, there were still parts of you that remained afraid.

Afraid of what would happen if you got too attached and things ended, afraid of the distance rapidly approaching once Harry's album came out, afraid of your inner saboteur. It was all there, lingering, waiting to strike at any moment.

"Good show, right?" you said to Harry, eager to shake off the dark turn your thoughts had taken. "Mitch and I have been wanting to see them for ages."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes remaining on the street ahead. Then, "I...I didn't realize you spent so much time with him while I was gone."

"I honestly didn't expect to, but he was still working in the studio. We made quite the team."

Because you were so close, you felt Harry's whole body stiffen. A split second too late, you realized your poor choice of words.

"I—I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Y/n," Harry said, and he didn't sound mad at all. Maybe just a little hurt, but you had a feeling he was trying his best not to make you feel bad. "I can't be upset that you kept working when I left. That's silly of me."

"It's not," you assured. "I—You're kind of the reason I pushed myself to work with him, and others," you admitted.

"Really?"

Nodding, you said, "I've always worked on my own. Always. But then we started writing together and things just clicked, and when you left, I—I didn't want to deny myself the opportunity to make great music. I mean, you and your team were doing incredible stuff even before I came along. I guess I just wanted to be a part of something great in that way too. Mitch helped introduce me to a new artist and we collaborated on a project of our own. I didn't...I didn't want to go back to being alone again.

"But it isn't the same," you said, stopping Harry in his tracks. Looking up at him, you smiled, for no other reason than he was there and he was yours. "We...We work differently together. You have to know that."

Harry's responding grin was small. "It is quite magical, isn't it?"

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your hand cupping his cheek gently. The kiss was slow, gentle, a reassurance for the both of you. When you leaned back, yours and Harry's cheeks were flushed as you grinned brightly at each other.

As you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car, you said, "I can't believe you'd be jealous of Mitch."

Harry ducked his head bashfully. "Oh hush. I was not."

"He's your best friend, H," you giggled. "Not to mention very, very taken."

"I believe I mentioned it was silly, didn't I?"

Taking his hand, you kissed the top of it. "You did."

Harry peeled out of his parking space, promising to make it up to you as he handed his phone over to choose the playlist for the ride home.

When you unlocked his phone, the home screen wasn't what popped up. Instead, the messages app was open, a string of messages that hadn't been replied to yet, going back a few weeks.

Can we talk?

I miss you. I miss us.

The silent treatment is childish, H.

Please call me.

Your hands suddenly felt cold and clammy, and Harry's phone nearly slipped out of them and onto the floor.

"Everything okay?"

Harry's voice dragged you out of whatever headspace you'd been launched into. Looking up, you mustered a smile, hoping the car's darkness would mask how flimsy it truly was.

"Yeah. Fine," you said, your voice not sounding like your own.

Quickly exiting out of the app, you pulled up his music, choosing a playlist at random before setting his phone down in the cup holder.

You felt like you were on one of those theme park rides, the ones that reach the heights of tall buildings just to fall straight down. You felt weightless, but not in a good way. It was as if you were falling and there was nowhere safe to land. That feeling in your stomach only grew until you were sure you were going to be sick.

Harry continued on none the wiser, chatting about this and that. You weren't exactly sure what he said, his voice was suddenly white noise. But you must've given him coherent responses because he didn't question your behavior. The only time he did was when you didn't invite him up to your apartment.

"I'm just really tired," you managed to say. "One too many margaritas, I guess."

Not putting up too much of a fight, Harry grinned and gave you a kiss. Despite the dread you felt, it still filled you with butterflies. You cared for him so much you didn't know what to do with yourself sometimes. And now there was...this.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, a sweet smile on his face.

He acted as if nothing was wrong, and it was convincing too. Almost to the point that you wanted to believe it too. Those messages were days old, save the most recent one, and Harry hadn't replied to any of them. That had to mean something.

Right?

*.*

After mentioning what you found to Sylvia, she demanded that what you needed was retail therapy. Shopping wasn't your favorite pastime, but you desperately needed a friend.

You met with her at an outdoor shopping mall, bundled up in your softest sweatshirt and puffy coat for comfort more than because of the weather. You hadn't wanted to go out at all today, or the last couple days since you saw Harry's messages. There had been an attempt to have Sylvia just come over so you could day drink together, but she wasn't having it.

So now you were wading through store after store, internally freaking out about where your relationship was headed. It was just getting off the ground, and now it was crumbling before your eyes. Harry was none the wiser, of course, but that was only because he was busy this week and you pretended to be busy because you weren't sure if you could keep it together in front of him. You needed a third-party perspective, a voice of reason before you sat down and talked to him about all this.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Sylvia asked gently.

One thing you liked about Sylvia was that she was bold and brash and didn't try to mince her words, but you appreciated her tone now. Friend of Harry's first or not, she was here for you, and seeing as there weren't many people you could turn to, you needed her now more than ever. You could talk to your brothers, but you didn't want them to come out and hurt him. You would go to them if there was something serious going on.

"I...I thought we were finally on the same page," you said, and then it all came spilling out of you. You replayed that night in Harry's car as you combed through a rack of dresses. Sylvia was quiet through all of it, not saying anything until you were finished. "I don't know what to do. Is he—I never asked because it wasn't really my business, but he was clearly torn up over their break up. Do you think it's possible that he's not over her?"

Because that was what kept you up at night. Before he left, Harry hadn't been ready for a relationship. You knew there wasn't an exact timeline for healing a broken heart, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and now all you could think about was him leaving you for his ex. The thought terrified you. It made you want to run before you learned the truth, spare yourself the trouble of looking like an idiot.

But you called Sylvia instead, knowing running was not the best option, even if it was the most familiar.

"Oh, babe," she sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Harry was in love with her. They were...there's no other way to put it. They loved each other."

The whimper that escaped your lips was an accident, and when Sylvia heard it, she pulled you in for a hug. "He was in love with her," she repeated as she ran a soothing hand up and down your back. "I truly believe he's moved on Y/n. Harry wouldn't do that to you."

"But what about her?" you said. "She wants him back, and he—he didn't tell me that she's been reaching out, and I just can't help but feel like their history will win out."

"I don't think you realize how happy you make him," Sylvia said. "Yes, Harry loved her, but they broke up for a reason. I don't see him giving things a second go, especially now that he's with you. He's happy, Y/n. He's happy because you make him happy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. You just have to sit down and hear him out."

"You really think so?"

"He lights up at the mere mention of your name. You—You're like the sun to him," Sylvia promised. "So don't run from this, okay? Talk to him. Hear him out. Make him sweat a little for keeping this from you, but you owe it to yourself to hear his side of things."

You nodded, feeling a little reassured by what she'd said. You wouldn't feel a hundred percent until you talked things out with Harry, but this is a good start. At the very least, it kept you from wanting to run and hide from all this.

Laughing a little, you wiped a stray tear from your eye. "You know, when you said you were Harry's life coach, I didn't imagine you'd end up being mine too."

"It's what I'm good for," she said. "Now, let's see about doing a little shopping, hm? Ooh! And maybe we get our nails done."

Looping her arm through yours, she dragged you into the next aisle, feeling lighter with every step you took.

*.*

"Where is he? I'll kill him!"

This was the third time you'd heard that in the last couple of hours.

"Stand down, Hayden," you said from beneath your mountain of blankets. "He's not here."

Your brother's eyes widened as he looked in your direction, as if he didn't expect the pile of blankets to speak. He stalked over to where Andrew and Evan were standing in front of you, taking on a perplexed disposition. None of your brothers had ever really seen you this way. All the pranks, all the times they royally pissed you off when you were younger, you never really let it get to you. You could tell that although they wanted to be here for you, they weren't entirely sure how.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just let me know where he is, Y/n."

They were doing their best to help, and you knew you owed them answers. You did call them after all. Well, that wasn't entirely true. You called Evan, who proceeded to call Andrew because your younger brother was closest in proximity to you. And Andrew called Hayden because of course he did. It was sweet that they all dropped everything to come see you, but now you felt put on the spot.

And you knew Hayden would make good on his word, and your other two brothers would have no trouble helping him, and that wasn't exactly what you wanted.

"I ended things with Harry," you said quietly.

"You said as much in your text, Y/n," Evan said. "But what happened? It seemed like you guys were really happy."

The thought of last night's events replayed in your mind, bringing a fresh wave of tears to the surface. Taking a shuddering breath, you said, "I thought we were too."

It all started last night at this party Harry invited you too. Something about fundraising and live music and dancing, and he said it was the perfect opportunity to get dressed up and go out and not worry about being photographed. You agreed, wanting to put the text messages from his ex that had yet to be discussed far from your mind. You knew you should've said something, but you wanted to give Harry the opportunity to come clean himself. The fact that he hadn't kept you up at night, but you promised yourself—and Sylvia—that you would bring it up after the party.

"Just one more night of normalcy before we have this conversation," you assured her. It was all you wanted. Just one night where this cloud wasn't hanging over your head.

So you went. Harry picked you up in a sports car that usually sat in his garage, practically mauling you when he saw you in your dress. It was simple, but you felt great in it—a short black number with white ruffles at the top and bottom. With your hair blown out and curled to perfection, little pearl droplets hanging from your ears, you felt like a dream, and every time Harry's gaze fell on you to track your figure up and down, your entire body was filled with butterflies.

And the night carried on perfectly. You and Harry sipped on champagne and kept to yourselves most of the night. You didn't really know anyone, and he was perfectly happy to keep you all to himself, kissing your cheeks and neck whenever he could, his hand never leaving your waist for a moment. It was exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything that had been swirling around in your head the last few days. When Harry was dancing and spinning you around in and out of his arms in a corner of the event space, it felt like you were the only two people to exist. There was no way he had any lingering feelings for his ex when he was smiling so brightly and laughing as you spun him out and back into your arms.

And then...it all just fell apart.

"Harry?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Harry dropped your hand, coming to an abrupt halt beside you. You looked up, confused by the tension that suddenly lined his shoulders, but when you looked at the women who'd come up to your little corner, you just knew.

"H—Hi." Harry sounded breathless, his eyes never leaving hers once. All you could do was watch it all unfold in slow motion, all you could feel was the loss of his touch now that his hand was no longer in yours.

You cleared your throat when Harry didn't say anything. It was as if you had to pull him from whatever trance he'd fallen into at the mere sight of her. Dread filled your belly as he seemed to remember where he was, as he remembered you were there, blinking as he embraced his ex and introduced her to you.

"This is my friend Y/n."

His words felt like a sucker punch, all the air stolen from your lungs. You knew you and Harry hadn't put a label on your relationship, but to hear him refer to you as his friend right in front of his ex was devastating.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it.

Was this what it felt like? You never imagined you would be in this position, you never thought you would love someone enough to feel like you were coming undone at the seams at this kind of rejection. But perhaps that was just the universe coming to collect after thoroughly breaking someone else's heart yourself.

"I—I need some air," you heard yourself saying, not even looking to see if Harry noticed you leave or if he was too caught up in seeing his ex.

You didn't just get air, you Ubered home, unable to handle everything rushing through you. That was when you texted Evan, who merely responded with, I'm on my way, and twenty-four hours later, he was there, along with Hayden and Andrew.

You explained to your brothers what happened briefly, doing your best to not go into detail so you wouldn't start crying uncontrollably, though you'd be surprised if you had any tears left. You mostly just felt defeated, almost as if deep down you knew the happiness wasn't meant to last.

"He's an idiot, Y/n," Andrew said, resting a hand on Buddy's head to scratch him behind the ears. Your dog had been resting by your side since you came back last night, somehow sensing your despair. "Don't let him steal your happiness."

You nodded, but only because you had nothing else to say. You knew your brother meant well, but you just didn't believe him. This was par for the course in your eyes. Of course, when you fell for someone, they chose someone else. Maybe you were destined to be on your own, maybe love was overrated.

"Do you need anything?" Evan asked you, Hayden standing next to you. You could tell that they didn't really know what to do in this situation but that they wanted to be there for you. It was sweet, but there really wasn't anything to do.

"I'm okay," you said, convincing no one. "I think I might just take a nap."

"We can take Buddy for a walk. Maybe grab some food while we're out," Evan said. "Andrew, why don't you stay here and make sure she doesn't text him."

You rolled your eyes. "I literally just said I was going to sleep—"

"On it," Andrew said, hopping up to take your phone from where it was resting on your kitchen counter and slipping it into his pocket.

It was utterly ridiculous, but you were sure that was what your brothers were going for. The four of you weren't the touchy-feely type, you never had been. But one thing your brothers could count on was their ability to make you smile, make you laugh. And that was maybe exactly what you needed.

Making good on your word, you retired to your room, but you didn't sleep a wink despite how exhausted you were. Instead, you stayed up listening to records, shared favorites of yours and Harry's, the ones you bonded over together. It was hard to imagine that after such deep connections, the number of stories shared and late nights talking over bottles of red wine. Harry meant so much to you, and it killed you to think you didn't mean as much to him.

At some point, you must've dozed off—your eyes fluttering shut to the sound of Joni Mitchell—because suddenly you were jolting awake with a start. Muffled shouts could be heard through your closed door, which could only mean one thing.

Taking a couple minutes to wake up a little more and bolster yourself for unwanted confrontation, you finally stepped out of your room. The voices grew louder as you walked down the hall—Andrew kept telling Harry to leave while Harry claimed he just wanted to talk to you. You weren't sure if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was here whether you liked it or not, and it would probably be for the best before Evan and Hayden came back or the argument happening at your front door drew unwanted attention.

"You can let him in."

Your voice was quiet, but not unsteady, which came as a surprise to you. It surprised your brother and the person who would've been your boyfriend too, their argument ceasing immediately as they looked over at you.

"Y/n," Harry breathed.

For better or for worse, he looked about as awful as you felt. There were bags under his eyes, and he was in the clothes he wore to the party last night. His tan trousers were rumpled, belt missing; his satin shirt was heavily wrinkled, the buttons mismatched in the wrong holes. His hair was a mess too, as if he'd been tossing and turning all night.

You didn't like seeing him like this, hated it, in fact. This wasn't supposed to be yours and Harry's story. You thought both of you had experienced the heartbreak and had found each other on the other side of it. Now you felt like you were right back where you started, and you hated it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Andrew said, glancing warily between you and Harry. "Hayden and Evan will be back soon—"

"It's fine, Andrew. I promise," you told him, stepping closer to the front door cautiously, worrying that getting too close would ensnare you in Harry's magnetic pull. One whiff of his cologne might send you right into his arms, where your heart still thought it was safe. "Keep them occupied for me?"

It was clear that Andrew didn't agree with you on this decision. He stood there by the door for a long while, trying to assess your mental state. But he finally relented, taking a few steps toward you to hug you tightly. "Don't be afraid to give him hell," he murmured in your ear. Then, after passing back your phone, he left, but not before glaring murderously in Harry's direction.

When you and Harry were finally alone, your apartment was silent for the first time in hours. Almost too silent. Harry just stared at you with this broken look in his eyes, and you...you couldn't dredge up the energy to start this conversation. It was clear Harry didn't either. You watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but you had no desire to help him out.

"Can we sit?" he finally asked, his voice sounding tired and raw.

Unable to handle the look in his those devastated green eyes, you looked down at where your sweatshirt engulfed your hands. "I'd prefer it if we didn't."

Sitting meant forced proximity, and you were already pushing yourself to have this conversation. This distance between you and Harry would be where you drew the line.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding surprised. "Okay. I—I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n."

"For what exactly?" you asked, not expecting the bitterness in your tone.

"For making it seem like we were just friends in front of her, for freezing last night. I—She'd been texting me the last few days and I've ignored her, but I didn't expect to see her."

"I know about the texts," you found yourself saying.

It was clear Harry hadn't expected that. A look of confusion passed over his face as he asked, "Wh—Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" you said, unable to hide the hurt, the betrayal.

"It was nothing, and I didn't want to bring any attention to it. I thought if I just ignored her enough, she would stop, and she did eventually stop, but then I saw her last night, and I didn't want to make her feel worse by showing her I'd moved on—"

"But you haven't," you said. "You're...protecting her. Sparing her feelings while fucking me over. I—I could've gotten over the texts. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt because you hadn't responded to her. But watching you call me your friend was such a slap in the face."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up. I know I did," Harry said, tears pooling in his eyes.

You could tell he meant it. You knew he realized what he'd done was shitty, but could you move on from it?

"I believe that you're sorry," you said. At that, something like hope flickered in his face, but you snuffed it out just as quickly as it came. "But I also think you still have unresolved feelings for her. And I—I don't want to be second to you. Not in that way."

"So that's it?"

You knew Harry like the back of your hand. You knew what the little quiver of his lip meant, understood the tight clench of his fists around the hem of his shirt. You could read every line of emotion on his face, and you wondered if he could pick you apart the same way.

"You know, all this time we've bonded over our respective heartbreak as if our pain was the same," you said, more to yourself than to him. "But what I'm realizing now, what I started to realize last night, was that mine stemmed from feelings of inadequacy, of never being enough for someone. I broke up with someone because I wasn't in love with them, and that devastated me. But you...no matter how the relationship fell apart or who ended it, you loved her, and she loved you. That feeling doesn't just wash away with the evening tide."

"Y/n—"

"And that's...that's okay, you know?" you continued. "You loved her. Love her. That's not a bad thing. But—But I'm in love with you too, and I can't—I'm not going to compete with someone who already has your heart. I won't."

Tears kissed your cheeks as you blinked. Your hands shook, but your voice was clear. Harry could deny it all he wanted, but you saw the truth laid bare before you. You weren't the only person occupying space in his heart, and after everything you'd been through, you didn't want to settle for anything less than what you deserved.

"That's not true, Y/n," Harry implored. He looked a little frantic now that he knew your mind was practically made up. "I fucked up, I know that. I saw her, and I froze. It was just—"

An instinct, a gut reaction, that was what he didn't want to say. "I don't want someone's initial reaction to be to let go of my hand," you said softly, wiping away a tear with a sleeve-covered hand. "I want—"

Your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet. That song you'd written all those months ago, the one that held your deepest regrets and insecurities, all the little things you'd run from. You didn't want to run from it anymore. You thought you found someone to run toward, but you were wrong.

"I don't want what we have to be over, Y/n," Harry pleaded.

I don't believe you, you thought, and you couldn't be with him if you didn't trust his sincerity. "I think you need more time," you said instead of voicing what you felt.

"There's no convincing how much I feel for you, is there?" he said, sounding resigned to the fate that had come to pass.

You shook your head, your heart begging you to hold onto him and not let go, to drag him to bed and sleep until you both forgot. But you didn't do any of those things. "No. Not right now."

Harry finally bridged the gap between you and him. He kept a sliver of distance, the only contact he made being gentle fingers tilting your chin so you'd meet his eye. There was so much emotion swirling there, and you longed to kiss away all the anguish and pain until only love was left, but that wasn't in the cards. Not today, or in the days that would follow.

"I promised you that I wouldn't leave again," Harry said, his gaze unrelenting. Your brow furrowed, not recalling when he made that promise, but he continued before you could ask. "Not in the ways that count anyway, but I intend to keep that promise, Y/n. If you want space, I'll give it to you, but don't think for one second that I won't spend every single moment we're apart wishing we were together. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's what it takes."

It was a surprise your body didn't turn to jello on the spot, that Harry couldn't hear the steady thump of your heart as it beat wildly in your chest. He said all the right things, every perfect word, but right now, that was all they were. And you didn't have it in you to believe him.

"I'm sorry that I did this to us, to you," he said. "I'll never not be sorry. "

Harry stood there, his fingers gingerly holding your chin, for a few moments longer. It was as if he was imploring you to read the message in his eyes, to understand everything he wasn't saying, but you just didn't have the energy.

When he finally left, one last promise that wasn't giving up on you and him yet on his lips before the door clicked shut, all the warmth in your body went with him. You briefly thought of all the times you clung to him to warm up, slipping his hands beneath his shirts and sweaters and nuzzling your face in his neck.

That last touch of Harry's fingers to your chin wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and now he was gone. The person you fell in love with, who knew you better than anyone else in the world, walked out the door, head held high as if this wouldn't be the last time you'd be standing so close.

You weren't convinced. Not when all your mind wanted to replay was his hand dropping yours, his dismissal of your relationship, and his disregard for your feelings to protect those of his ex.

*.*

You didn't see Harry in the weeks that followed, but you weren't sure if that had more to do with him working on his album. Sylvia kept you semi-updated, even though you insisted you were fine with not knowing what he was up to. It was a lie, of course, and she saw right through it, letting you know when Harry was gone for music video shoots, recording and producing music, album cover shoots, and meetings with his label.

Part of you was grateful he wasn't around because it made keeping your distance easier. After everything that happened, you convinced yourself Harry didn't know what he wanted, even if he claimed he was. The proof had been right in front of you, though, clear as day. There were unresolved feelings lingering in the corners of Harry's heart and mind, and he needed to deal with them or get back together with his ex, but you wanted no part of it.

That wasn't to say Harry wasn't on your mind. He was there constantly, taking up space and making you lose focus while writing or walking your dog. You'd never been in love before, and now that everything had imploded, you didn't know how to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

Blinking, you looked up to where Mitch stared at you, an acoustic guitar in his lap. You weren't sure why you agreed to meet with him for a writing session. You hadn't written much since everything fell apart, save the occasional depressing poem, but when Mitch reached out, you figured it was as good a time as any to get back to work and start writing again.

In theory, it was a good idea, but your heart just wasn't in it. It was thousands of miles away shooting a music video.

"Sorry, I thought this would be a good idea, but my head is just all over the place," you said, closing your notebook that only had a few disconnected lines written down.

"I'm sorry about everything," Mitch said. "I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but he really does care about you. Like a lot."

"I know," you said dejectedly. "But he...he still loves her, I think. Or cares for her more than he lets on. Maybe even more than he realizes."

That night, you realized you had a losing hand. You didn't want to run like you'd done with Gavin, but you didn't want to fight either. You just felt...defeated, as if the fickle promise of love had bested you again.

"I can promise you he doesn't, but I know that's between you and him," Mitch said. Nodding to the journal in your lap, he asked, "Can I see?"

Shrugging, you handed it over. At this point, Mitch had learned a lot about you by being your writing partner, so you didn't mind him flipping through it. And honestly, there wasn't much to show anyway. A couple of measly lines did not a song make.

Mitch was quiet as he looked over the few things you'd written down, his expression gloriously passive as always. Since you started writing together, you'd struggled to read his expressions, not knowing what he thought until he voiced his opinion.

"Well, shit, kid," Mitch murmured on an exhale.

"What?"

Mitch looked up, one brow raised. Then, he began to read lines from your journal. "You've got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes...My hand's a risk I fold...Test of my patience, there's things that we'll never—"

"Hey wait a minute, that's not from today," you said, reaching for your journal. Mitch managed to land on one of your poems from a few days ago. That definitely wasn't meant to be part of today's writing session. "Give that back."

"This is good, Y/n. There's a song in here," Mitch insisted.

"Oh please. That's a terribly depressing poem fueled by a bottle of wine."

He pinned you with a stare, but you ignored it, and he eventually let it go. You didn't stay in the studio much longer after that, realizing that not much was going to come out of this session. And Mitch had to leave too, having to catch a redeye to London. "We're finishing up the album there," he explained.

It dawned on you then that you would be alone again. After becoming so used to having a partner of some kind while writing, too. It shouldn't have affected you so much, but it did. Somehow you'd grown to appreciate company while you were writing, and now your two favorite writing partners were leaving. They were the only two you'd ever had, but as history had shown, you weren't a huge fan of change.

You'd grown comfortable, but now the ground was shaking and crumbling beneath you. Though perhaps that should've been the familiar feeling.

"Can I keep the song?" Mitch asked on your way out of the studio. "I have an idea."

This time, you could read what was on your friend's face. And you could sense it, somehow. He wanted to show it to Harry. For the album, or because Mitch felt Harry needed to read the words. At this point, you were emotionally drained, and you weren't going to be there when Harry read your little poem, anyway. What did it matter?

"That's fine," you said, tearing the page out of your journal. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We can still collaborate over the phone or voice notes or whatever."

You thought that was where you and Mitch would leave things, but then he asked, "Do you think you'll ever write with him again?"

Harry was so much more than the person you were in love with. He was your friend, your first ever writing partner, someone you'd confided in. But he was also the person who made you feel betrayal and heartache. You didn't know how to reconcile those two people.

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I hope so."

*.*

There wasn't a single moment where Harry didn't think of Y/n while they were apart. He'd done what she'd asked of him, gave them the space to heal and settle. Harry understood where she was coming from, and he knew that he'd hurt her more than he ever imagined he would.

Everything fell apart so completely, too quickly for him to even pick up the pieces.

He knew he should've told her about the texts the minute he received them, and he couldn't really pinpoint why he didn't. It was in no way to hurt Y/n, or to protect his ex; honestly, he should've just deleted them as they came, but he didn't, and things only went downhill from there.

Harry didn't want space, he knew what he wanted, who he wanted. But he also knew that what he'd done, how he behaved, gave Y/n every right to push him away and not trust him. All he knew was that he'd never regretted anything more than seeing the devastated look on her face when they ran into his ex.

He couldn't take back what he'd done, all he could do was try to make things right the second Y/n gave him the opportunity. Thankfully, recording and producing his second album kept him busy enough to give her the space she'd asked for. Had he liked being so far away from her, both physically and emotionally? No. Hell no, but he just put everything he was feeling into his music, let it fuel him as he and his team found the sound he was going for with this project.

It wasn't until weeks after they'd ended things that he heard from Y/n. Really, Mitch had passed a folded up piece of paper with song lyrics on it and said it was Y/n's, but Harry was so desperate to get something from her that he'd counted it. "I have an idea for it. I just need you to finish it," Mitch had said.

"Finish it?" Harry asked as he unfolded the paper.

To him it looked like a poem, but Mitch seemed to be convinced it was a song. He read over it briefly, then again, and again and again until he was standing in front of his friend for an awkward amount of time.

"She's speaking to you in this," Mitch explained. "It could be a kind of conversation."

The idea had perplexed him, and at first, Harry had said no. It wasn't until the next evening when he was alone in his flat that he considered the folded piece of paper. He thought about all the songs he'd written with Y/n, the thoughts and feelings they'd shared with each and every lyric and melody. This wasn't the same, not even close. He just wanted things to go back to normal; he wanted to relive the moments where Y/n would sit with her guitar, her journal and his in his lap as they compared notes and ideas.

But this would have to do for now.

He didn't try to get in Y/n's head, to try to understand what she might've been feeling at the time she wrote the poem, though he had a pretty good idea. Harry merely did what Mitch suggested and responded to the lines already written down, adding them in where he saw fit.

"Put a price on...emotion, I'm looking for...something to buy," he murmured, quickly scribbling the words down before he forgot them. "I don't want to fight you, and I don't want to sleep in the dirt."

Writing this song gave Harry the opportunity to finally let go. Through it he was able to admit that he had been clinging to a crisp trepidation, a fear of giving all of himself over to Y/n with abandon. For a number of reasons—that things with Y/n would end up in flames like all his other relationships (check), that he didn't even know what love looked like anymore after so many failed attempts at finding it, that he wasn't good enough to be someone Y/n deserved, , that he was going to lose her forever if he didn't pull himself together enough for her.

By the time Harry was done, he felt dejected. The finished song was sad, too sad. It was about heartache and fear, it sounded finite. And that wasn't what he wanted his story with Y/n to be.

We'll be fine, he wrote before quickly crossing it our. Fine. Fine. Finefinefinefinefine—

"We'll be a fine line," Harry finally murmured.

He spent the rest of the night figuring out arrangements and melodies, all of it coming together in his head almost faster than he could write it all down. The album was pretty much in the final stretch. At this point, he and his team were finishing up recordings and working on the promotional aspects of the release, but he knew it down to every atom of his being that this song had to be on the album. It was the culmination of everything he'd experienced and felt, every emotion he'd embraced and shied away from. All of it crashed into each other in a blaze of horns and strings.

And maybe when he finally finished working through the main melody on his guitar, something soft and melancholic, yet soothing and hopeful, he should've gone right to sleep. He honestly should've been exhausted after the emotional whirlwind he'd been wrapped up in. Yet he somehow had his phone in his hands, his thumb hovering over a contact before he eventually hit the call button.

"Harry? What—Isn't it like four in the morning over there?"

Harry couldn't stop his breath from hitching when he heard Y/n's voice. He'd missed her so much it physically hurt sometimes. Part of him thought she wouldn't answer his call, but when she did, his entire body sagged with relief.

"I miss you," he said, not caring how pathetic he sounded. "I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you, and you probably were just being nice by suggesting the whole space thing when you really want nothing to do with me ever again—"

"Harry," Y/n said, her voice gently but firm. "Slow down, love."

Harry could've cried at the softness in her tone let alone the term of endearment. All he'd wanted for the last few weeks was to just hear her voice, her his name on her lips in a way that didn't sound hurt or disappointed.

"You were right," he told her. "I—I was holding back from you, and that wasn't fair to either of us, but especially to you. Y/n, I—I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered. "I think...I think I just wanted you to want me as much as I did."

"I do," Harry promised. "I know I haven't given you much to believe me, but Y/n the way I feel about you is so different than I've ever felt about anyone, and I think part of me was scared of that too after such a tremendous breakup."

For a moment, Y/n was silent over the phone, her breaths filling up his ear and making him long for the moments they spent huddled up in bed together.

"I know...I know we've been here before, but do you think we could try things again?" he asked. He almost didn't want to know, believing that perhaps ignorance really was bliss. But Y/n had put herself out there so many times, had taken so many risks despite everything she'd experienced. He could be brave too.

"What if—What if we started over?" she said.

"Start over?"

"I think we need a clean slate. If you're really and truly over your ex—"

"I am. I swear, Y/n," Harry said, not wanting hope to spark to life in him just yet.

"Then we need to put all of this mess behind us and start fresh."

"I—I'd like that." He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. When he called Y/n, he worried he'd come off a little crazy due to lack of sleep, but now he worried he might've fallen asleep in a songwriting craze and was now dreaming.

"I, um, I know you offered a few months ago, but if you were still looking for someone to join your band...maybe I could fill that spot?"

"You want to work for me?"

"I wasn't going to put it like that, but I guess technically yes," Y/n said. "I feel like you would pay a fair wage."

Harry chuckled, a satisfied sort of exhaustion taking over him now that he felt like his life was getting back on track. "I'll give you whatever you want if it means you'll join."

He just wanted her close, and if this was what a clean slate looked like to her, then he would oblige. Having her close, playing music together, being surrounded by their friends, it would be exactly what they needed to find their way back to each other.

"You should probably go to bed," Y/n said, breaking the content silence that had settled over them.

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed, running a tired hand over his face. "So what have you been listening to recently?"

For a moment, he thought she would insist he get some rest. He supposed he'd be okay with it, finding peace in the fact things were finally looking up for them. But then she answered, and Harry was sure he'd never be able to wipe the smile from his face as he listened to his girl.

*.*

Months later

"Are you in love with Harry?"

The question wasn't directed at you, but you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

Sarah, who was much more quick on the draw than you would've been, smiled and said, "We all are, yeah."

You forced a soft laugh, unsure of where to direct your gaze. This whole interview had been one huge vat of chaos—and blatant misogyny—from the start, but Harry had conducted himself well so far, not balking or raising his voice once at the invasive and downright rude questions that were thrown at him. Perhaps you should've expected a question like this today, but you still struggled to keep your face neutral.

"So there's nothing going on romantically with Harry and the ladies?"

You suddenly found the keyboard in front of you incredibly interesting. What you really needed in this moment was a reassuring glance from Harry, but that would defeat the purpose of keeping your budding relationship a secret.

Attention from the public was still something you were getting used to. You'd gotten into songwriting because it was out of the public eye, but being with Harry would eventually lead you right into it. Not that you minded, you'd do whatever it took to be with him. But interviews like this one still left you feeling flustered.

"And who's back there on keys?"

Even though they were all your friends, you still felt your face flush as red as the leather skirt you wore for the interview.

"Y/n."

"That's Y/n."

"How are you doing back there, Y/n?"

"Fine," you managed to say, your voice barely above a squeak.

Risking a glance at Harry, you met his gaze. He gave you an encouraging smile, and it bolstered your confidence the slightest bit. Just enough to get you through this brief conversation.

"Just fine? Does Harry make you nervous?"

"Maybe Y/n's the one who's in love with him."

"Or maybe she just wants to fuck him!"

An awkward silence fell over the room after the interviewers' comments and questions. You didn't even know what to say, or how you were expected to respond. Feeling the sympathetic stares from the rest of the band, you took a deep breath and tried not to cry, feeling extremely embarrassed.

Harry's jaw ticked, and you were pretty sure you were the only one who noticed. It was the first time he'd reacted to any of the questions asked today. And you could see it in his face that he was beyond pissed off.

This wasn't what you expected, and clearly Harry hadn't expected it either. But you also didn't want him to storm off and make a big scene. You just wanted to get through today and go home and rest with Buddy and Sweet Pea while you and Harry watched a movie together in bed. That thought kept you grounded, and you tried your hardest to convey to Harry that you were okay without saying anything.

"I, um, I met Harry in the studio in LA," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Y/n's a songwriter, but she's generously lent her fabulous keyboarding skills to us this year," Harry said.

"A songwriter?" You felt the interviewer's gaze sweep over you, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Another tick of Harry's jaw.

"Yeah. But I've enjoyed doing this too. Traveling and performing with Sarah's band," you said, a meek attempt at a joke.

"You must be getting laid a lot on the road as a proper rockstar now. You could probably get whoever you wanted. Well, maybe not Harry, but close to anyone. Are you taking advantage of being on the road with Harry? A new man every night?"

You swallowed thickly, the will not to cry hanging on by a thread. "I—I don't think my brothers be cool with—"

"Shut the fuck up, mate."

Shocked silence filled the room. Clearly, the interviewers didn't expect someone as laid back as Harry to speak up that way. A mix of relief and unease washed over you, unsure of how the rest of the interview was going to pan out now. But you couldn't say you didn't feel relieved that he'd spoken up.

"Harry, we're only—"

"You're being fucking disrespectful to the members of my band, and I'm not fucking putting up with it. Either ask me your fucking questions or let me go. My band and I aren't putting up with your bullshit."

Harry hadn't wanted to come here. He knew the reputation of the interviewer, but it had still somehow made it onto the list of interviews and appearances to promote the album. You'd watched as he grew more and more irritated with each question, but he seemed to take them in stride. But the minute they were directed at you, he'd snapped.

A brief break in the interview ensued, producers suggesting that a couple minutes to regroup would do everyone some good. When everyone was ready to record again, a stilted topic change led Harry to introduce and talk about the Peter Gabriel song they were about to play. The rest of the interview teetered between overly professional and awkward. You could tell by the tense line of Harry's shoulders that he wanted to be anywhere else.

At some point while Harry was talking, Sarah looked over at you. "You okay?" she mouthed, and you nodded subtly, giving her a tiny thumbs up from behind your keyboard setup. Everyone in the band knew about you and Harry. It was hard to hide your relationship when he was by your side whenever you weren't rehearsing a song, and like Mitch and Sarah, he was almost always facing you during rehearsals. It was sweet how he was always pulling you aside during lunch breaks and sitting beside you on the piano bench. One time, when Harry had a film crew film a performance of each song on the album, he asked if the recording of "Fine Line" could just be you and him. Both of you sat on stools with your respective guitars as you performed a stripped-back version of the song, your voice supporting Harry's with a soft harmony occasionally. It was a special moment for the two of you, especially because the song meant so much.

After that, there were no questions about what you meant to each other.

At the end of the interview, Harry was quick to leave, hardly sparing anyone a glance as he stalked out. You stayed back to break down your equipment like you normally did, your hands shaking a little as the desire to comfort Harry took over.

"Go, I got this," Mitch said, coming over to help.

"Really?"

Mitch nodded before bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah. We still on for dinner tonight?"

You nodded. "Might have to be at my apartment, though. I don't think he'll be up for going out."

You left soon after that, walking out of the recording room where the interview had taken place. The green room was down the hall, and you entered despite the closed door. "It's me," you said quietly before entering, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Harry was already out of his blue sweater and green trousers, a pair of brown corduroys on as he shrugged into a yellow t-shirt. He looked up briefly, then looked back down again as he slipped a pair of Vans on.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mad, upset, guilty," he said with a shrug.

"Why on earth do you feel guilty, love?"

"That never should've fucking happened," he seethed, but in Harry fashion, it just meant his voice was clipped and low as he tried to get a handle on his anger. "You didn't deserve that. I should've stood up for you."

"I...You did, H." You didn't want to say that it was okay, because obviously the whole situation wasn't, but you knew he wasn't to blame. The topic of him sticking up for you was a touchy one. "You were put in a tough position, yet you still put those assholes in their place. Let's just go home and forget about all this shit, okay?"

Harry nodded, but he still wouldn't meet your eye, which wasn't going to work for you one bit.

"Hey," you said, tilting his chin up with your fingertips. "Don't beat yourself up. Please? For me?"

For the first time since the midpoint of the interview, Harry grinned. He threaded his fingers through yours before giving you a kiss, his lips soft and familiar against yours. You felt some of the tension leave his body until he eventually pulled away and draped an arm over your shoulders, your hands still connected.

"Never fucking coming to this place again," Harry murmured on the way out, keeping you tucked closely to his side.

"Amen to that."

Harry looked down at you, the anger and frustration finally clearing from his eyes. When it came to you, to your feelings, he was very protective. And you were too, in your own way. You leaned on each other, supported each other, and spent time together without ever being sick of one another. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, and even though it might put him in hot water with his management or the interviewer, it meant a lot to you that he stood up for you the way he did. You didn't need him to throw punches or push people up against walls—honestly, that was what your brothers were for—but when it all boiled down, he put you and your feelings first, always and without question.

"I love you," he murmured, his thumb rubbing circles over the top of your hand.

"Even with my crazy brothers?"

"Even with your crazy brothers."

"Hm. Even when Buddy steals your spot on the bed?"

"Even then."

"Even in the mornings when my feet are cold and they brush up against your legs?"

When Harry didn't answer right away, you playfully pinched his side until he laughed and kissed the top of your head. "Babe, I'm gonna love you on your worst day, you know that."

And even though you did, your cheeks became rosy, your whole body tingling with warmth. "Good. Because I love you too. So much."

So much pain had been felt, so much devastation had been endured before you and Harry fell into a perfect rhythm. It wasn't easy, and if you were to look back at the girl who believed she was fucked in the head and incapable and undeserving of love and being loved, you would still think it was all worth it. You would endure it all again if it led you to this moment, if it ended up with Harry cradling your heart of glass in his hands and protecting it as if it was his own.

Hand in hand, you went home and didn't look back at the shattered glass you'd long since left behind.

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