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greenbuns · 21 days ago

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the best ending | e.w

written by greenbuns

° . Pairings : Ellie Williams × Fem!Reader (you)

° . Contains : sfw, light angst, bestfriend!ellie, regrets, unrequited love, make up as friends

"for ellie it was just friendly jokes and fun, for you it was your entire world"

You loved Ellie Williams the way most people loved their favorite music—not always consciously, but deeply, endlessly. She filled the quiet in your life with color. The kind of love you carried for her wasn’t loud or dramatic. It existed like gravity—constant, invisible, inescapable.

You weren’t sure when it turned into something more than friendship. Maybe it was that summer night you both lay under the stars, arguing about constellations and your futures. Maybe it was every time she picked you first for team games even when you sucked. Or maybe it was just the slow, gentle way she started to mean everything.

It was cruel, though. To fall for someone who could never be yours. Not because she didn’t deserve your love—but because she didn’t see it. Not really.

You memorized her laugh. You could draw her smile from memory, the way her eyebrow arched when teasing you, or how she held a pencil in that lazy, almost careless grip when she sketched. You treasured the moments she would toss an arm around your shoulder, call you “idiot” in that low, amused voice that made your knees go weak.

To Ellie, it was playful. Friendly. Comfort.

To you, it was everything. Your entire galaxy.

But you never told her. Because even the risk of losing her was unbearable. You kept it buried beneath late-night calls and shared playlists and inside jokes scribbled in notebooks. You told yourself you were okay with just this— being close, even if not close enough.

Until she came along.

Ellie met her during art club. She was smart, beautiful, the kind of person who made others stop and listen. At first, it was harmless—just stories Ellie told you after class, a few mentions here and there. Then the stories got longer. The mentions more frequent.

Then the polaroids started showing up on Ellie’s wall.

You remembered the sting of seeing the first one—Ellie kissing her cheek, light beaming off their faces like a goddamn rom-com still. You smiled and said it was cute. That night, you cried so hard your pillow stayed damp until morning.

Their relationship bloomed. And yours withered.

The weekly movie nights became occasional rain checks. Then excuses. Then silence.

Els : sorry, got a plan for tonight! next week? :)

You smiled at the text. Threw your phone across the bed. Told yourself it was fine.

You weren’t fine.

The next time you visited Ellie’s house, it felt like you were walking into someone else’s life. Her room—once your shared sanctuary—was filled with signs of someone else. Polaroids lined her corkboard, most of them of her girlfriend. Sketches of her smile. A pressed daisy she once gave Ellie, now taped to the desk lamp.

The space that once held you was shrinking, minute by minute.

She offered you a soda, like nothing had changed.

You drank it. And swallowed your grief with it.

♡ • ♡ • ♡

Months passed with loneliness and unspoken words.

You disappeared slowly. Like the final chords of a song that no one noticed had ended.

You skipped lunch. You stayed late in the library, eyes never quite on the page. You ignored her texts with trembling fingers and teary eyes. Not because you hated her—god, you couldn’t—but because your heart needed to breathe again. To survive.

Each ignored message felt like self-harm. Each silence a blade. But it was the only way you could stop drowning in the ache of being forgotten.

You became good at pretending. You laughed at things you didn’t find funny. You filled your calendar with things to do—anything to keep your mind off her. Off the ache. Off the fact that every piece of you still wanted to run back to her and ask why.

Why wasn’t I enough?

Meanwhile, Ellie began to notice.

She noticed the way your seat beside her stayed empty. How you no longer looked for her in the hallways. How her texts went unanswered and your laughter was missing from the soundtrack of her days.

One evening, she brought it up to her girlfriend. She said she missed you.

Her girlfriend tilt her head and chuckled in amusement, “She’s clingy, you know? You’re better off without her anyway.”

Ellie frowned, “She’s my best friend.”

“She’s toxic, babe. You don’t need people like that hanging onto you. If she can’t handle you being happy, that’s her problem.”

That night, Ellie didn’t sleep. She sat on her porch with her hoodie pulled over her head, replaying every word you’d ever said. All your quiet smiles. All the times you cheered her on when no one else did. How you always stayed up just to listen to her rant about her old man being overprotective.

And she realized she’d made a mistake. A big one.

The next day, Ellie stood outside your house holding a folded piece of paper and a heavy heart.

Your mom answered the door. She had always liked Ellie. But her smile was dimmer now, touched with sadness.

“She doesn’t want to talk, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

Ellie nodded slowly, her throat tight, “I understand.." She spoke weakly, "Could you please give this to her?”

A moment passed. Then your mom took the small note from her trembling fingers.

Ellie left. Slowly, like she hoped maybe your mom would call her back. But she didn’t.

Upstairs, your room was dim, the curtains drawn tight. You were curled into yourself on the bed, wearing that old hoodie you never wore outside, hugging your knees like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

Your eyes were red, puffy—not fresh from crying, but heavy with the residue of it. The kind of ache that never quite left.

Because even when you acted like everything was fine, it never failed to haunt you in the worst way it could.

Your mom knocked softly. “Honey?”

You didn’t answer.

She pushed the door open gently. You didn’t move.

“I know you’re tired,” she said quietly, her voice carrying that same careful tone she used when you were younger and heartbroken over scraped knees or nightmares. “But Ellie came by.”

At her name, your body stiffened slightly.

“She asked me to give you this.”

You finally turned your head, your hair clinging to your cheek where a tear had dried. She was holding a small folded piece of paper—nothing fancy. Just your name written in Ellie’s handwriting. A little uneven. Like she’d been in a hurry. Or nervous.

You sat up slowly, numb fingers reaching for the note.

“Thanks, mama,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Your mom sat beside you, brushing your hair gently out of your face. “I don’t know what happened, sweetie… but whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You nodded, though your throat tightened too much to say anything else.

When she left the room after gave your cheek a soft kiss, you unfolded the letter with shaky hands.

Your eyes lingered on the words.

The letter was simple. Just seven words; “Meet me at our favorite place.”

Favorite place, huh?

You remember the beach. The soft sand, the small waves dances between your toes when you ran towards it.

The place where you once planned a grand high school escape, where you dared Ellie to climb the fence and she got stuck. Where you cried about physics exams and she ranted about Joel’s curfews. Where you once believed forever was possible.

You held the letter that night, fingers trembling.

And in that moment, something cracked open in your chest. Not pain, not yet. Just a fragile flicker of something you’d buried under weeks of sorrow.

You clutched the note to your chest and let the tears come again—this time softer, slower. And for the first time, you cried not just because you were hurting. But because maybe, just maybe — something could still be salvaged.

You didn’t know what to expect.

But you went anyway.

♡ • ♡ • ♡

The beach was quiet at sunset. Bathed in yellow sunlight and glitters that swayed like memories.

You saw her before she saw you—sitting by the wooden bench, her arms wrapped around herself in a midnight blue hoodie, like she was holding back time. The breeze played with her auburn hair that looked more fiery under the golden hour. Her brows were furrowed, her body still.

You stepped forward. A stick cracked beneath your foot.

Ellie turned.

And for the first time in weeks, your eyes met again.

It was like the world stopped holding its breath.

She gave a tentative smile. “You came.”

You nodded, “I almost didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of everything unspoken. Everything broken and held together by hope.

“I broke up with her,” Ellie said, voice low.

You looked at her, a bit shocked but secretly not unhappy, “Why?”

“She said things. About you. About us. Things that—” she shook her head. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I let someone I barely knew make me forget the most important person in my life.”

Her voice cracked. “You.”

Your throat burned. “Why are you telling me this, Ellie?”

“Because I need you to know I’m sorry.” Her voice was shaking, as if the sound of the ocean couldn't keep her calm. “I was selfish. I made you feel invisible. I hurt you. And I fucking hate myself for it. You’ve always been there for me. Always. And when you needed me—I wasn’t.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until her hand brushed a tear from your cheek.

“I miss your laugh,” she said, voice breaking. “I miss the way you smile everytime we did something stupid together. I miss you. And I don’t want to go another day pretending like I’m okay without you.”

You opened your mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. So you did the only thing that made sense—you reached for her. And Ellie wrapped her arms around you like she’d never let go again.

You sobbed into her hoodie. She held you tighter.

And for the first time in a long time, the ache in your chest softened.

“I want a fresh start,” Ellie whispered into your hair. “Please.. I can't lose you.”

You pulled back slightly, searching her eyes. And despite everything, you gave her a soft smile, the one that makes Ellie's heart melted a little, “I want that too.."

You didn’t tell her you were still in love. That her words healed and tore you apart all at once. That the love you carried was still very much alive.

Because sometimes, love wasn’t about confessions. Or fireworks.

Sometimes, it was about choosing someone again. Even after all the pain.

And for now, this was enough.

The best ending you both needed. [•]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

> hope u guys enjoy this! tysm for reading, have a great day/night <3

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