#one of the channels I watch the lady just wanders around Japan to all the spas

[happybird16]

New career goal: ASMR massage model

[waywardtakami]

- don't leave me

✦pairing: hawks x gn!reader

✦c/w: language, slight mha manga spoilers, 16+ only , angst

✦a/n: hello!! I'm very excited about this fic, it's my first gn one! It's been sitting in my wips for so long and I'm finally happy with it. hopefully people will still read this without there being smut. thank you! <3

✦summary: hawks gets hurt during a mission...

✦w/c: 2k

Keigo had left you again to fight in another mission. He had only been gone for a few days, but you wished he was with you instead. You missed him so much. He hadn't been physically by your side in so long, causing your heart to ache again. Times like these were practically torture. Waking up without him by your side was agonizing, but you were used to it.

His job was all-consuming and you knew him being away for large amounts of time would affect you when you committed yourself to this relationship. There was a constant worry for his life and maybe a little for your own. 

You and Kei decided to keep your relationship as private as possible so no one would go after you. He didn't want anyone to kidnap or hurt you. 

Even though his musk scent was flooded throughout your shared home, you still tried distracting yourself the best you could.

After making your favorite food, you plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV to try and take your mind off him. 

As the TV flickered on, your boyfriend's face flashed across the screen. A gruff voice played over what was being shown. You assumed it was just something about his stats or a recent interview per usual. It didn't help the feeling in your heart subside by seeing him.

You changed the channel, again and again. But every channel had been taken over by the same broadcast. You eventually fixated and listened.

Your heart dropped.

Hawks had been accused of murder. 

"Murder...?" you mumbled to yourself. "No..he...what?" Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was about to thump out of your chest. You were stuck in a pool of emotions of confusion and immense shock, it was like your head was on fire. 

Dabi...one of the League of Villain members was behind this. All the information you received was from Keigo's colleagues and the media. 

Keigo had been hurt bad...real bad.

The fact that you couldn't do anything about it had you overwhelmed and panicked. When you finally found out which hospital he was brought to through FatGum, you drove yourself there.

Of course he was brought to one one of the furthest ones from where you guys lived. On top of that, traffic was horrendous. With everything that had gone down, the citizens of the city were frantic and trying to get home to their families.

Your hands and entire body practically trembled while driving. Your eyes pricked with tears at the thought of Keigo's wounded state. "He's fine he's fine he's FINE!" You kept telling yourself over and over. 

When you made it to the hospital, there was a large number of people in the waiting room. The sounds of people clamoring in and trying to get a room were deafening. You hurried over to the front desk. 

"Hello Ma'am I need to see Hawks, he should be here." She wouldn't let you in his room. You wanted to see him, no you needed to see him. You started crying, pleading, begging for her to let you go in his room. But the front desk lady apologized and insisted he needed to rest and isn't accepting visitors. 

You knew it was really because she probably thought you were just some fan of his. Or maybe even a reporter trying to sneak in photos. But no, you were his baby, his life, and they weren't going to let you in.

"I'M HIS DAMN PARTNER FOR GOD SAKES!" You yell while slamming your fist against the counter. You didn't realize how much impact you put into your fist until you felt pain in your hand. The waiting room goes almost quiet and heads turn to look at you. You glance back to see all the faces turned to you. 

Your voice softens from embarrassment. "Please...just let me see him." Your fist still against the counter looking at the nurse with tears streaming down your face. 

She stands up and moves closer, "I'm so sorry, I believe you…" She slides a clip board with a few papers attached. "...but we can't let you in just yet he's still recovering from his injuries, he needs to rest right now. Please fill these out while you wait." She looks back up with you with a faint smile. She really does believe you. She can see it in your eyes, the pain, she understood.

You release your hand, and pick up the clipboard. Looking at her on the other side of the counter you give her a face flustered nod and mouth a quick "thank you."

You go sit down comfortably in one of the empty chairs to wait for keigo to wake up...

The news of your wounded boyfriend was already half across Japan. After filling out the forms you scroll through your phone to calm yourself down. You kept seeing post after post about him. Almost all news headlines had his name. 

You think to yourself about how much of it is all bullshit and that he's fine. Deep down you weren't sure if the words your brain kept telling you were true. You click on one of the posts about him that reads: 

"THE NUMBER TWO PRO HERO DEAD" 

Your heart skips a beat, but quickly you realize it's just a fake. You scroll through, lightly skimming the bullcrap you were reading. You scroll and see a photo taken of him the night he was brought to the hospital. You wonder how the press even got a photo of him. You focus on the photo, he does look dead. It only showed his upper body, completely covered in burns. More tears forming at the corners of your eyes just seeing him in the photo. Oh and his wings, his big bright vermilion wings...gone.

You were a complete mess at this point but your sniffles and choked sobs were interrupted by the front desk lady waving to you. "He's awake." 

Quickly following her into the room you see him. As you stand in the doorway for a moment, your heart sinks. You hurry to him. He had bandages wrapped around his head. His hair was short and mostly singed off. And his wings...they really were gone. "I'll leave you two alone," the nurse walks out and closes the door behind her.

You turn back to him.

"Kei?" you whimpered out.

His half lidded eyes look at you. His formerly bright, charming and yellow pupils have become dark and filled with anguish. He was wearing a mask over his nose and mouth with two tubes coming from the sides of it. He couldn't speak or breath himself, due to his throat being burned. 

Of course he knew it was you. Tears welled up deep inside and coursed down his cheeks. Seeing him like this had your body nauseas. You move to cup your hand on his face, feeling the material of his mask rather than his soft subtle skin. You graze your thumb against his cheekbone to wipe away his tears.

You pick up one of his hands to hold it in yours. "Kei….I'm so glad you're okay." You were sniffling through each word. He slowly raises his arm to point to the phone sitting on the table near his hospital bed. Handing it to him, you watch as his calloused fingers type out what he wants to say. 

"Angel, I've missed you so much, please never leave my side." You faintly smile at him, wishing you could hear those words come from his mouth and not the AI voice. 

"I won't leave you Keigo, I'm here, I won't go anywhere."

He types again. "I'm pretty beat up, but I think I'll make it."

Your ears focus on "think" for a moment. "Yes Kei you'll be fine, everything's gonna be okay. You felt a bit better being in his presence but you still couldn't bear the sight of him. Your eyes began to prick with tears once again and this time Kei was the one who bought his hand up to brush your tears away just like you did moments ago. 

You try your best to wrap your arms around him without causing him anymore pain. You could feel him wince when you laid your head against his chest. "Sorry Kei I didn't mean to hur-" He waves his hand and shakes his head, signaling that it's okay.

Your body looked calm despite how tangled your mind was.There were many questions that flooded your mind. So many things you wanted to say. But you could worry about the details later. Right now you were finally with him again, there was no way you were letting him leave you ever again.

You were bent over, upper body on top of him at an awkward position. You didn't want to hurt him, so this had to work.

Despite the position, you took in the moment with your boyfriend. Feeling his chest slowly rise up and down. You close your eyes and imagine you were back home with him in bed. Just snuggling on a weekend afternoon, light shining in on him making his wings light up beautifully against the sun. His golden locks and glowing skin, his scent washing over your senses. Your warm bodies practically glued together. You wanted that again, you wanted everything back to normal.

He moved one of his scarred hands to your back, slowly rubbing up and down. He knew he wasn't going to make it. He was fighting so hard on the inside. So damn hard...for you. He didn't want to leave you, he couldn't. His mind wandered about the life he had planned to have with you.

He faintly smiled under the mask when he imagined you walking down the aisle...holding your first child...sitting in little rocking chairs growing old together. That's all he wanted.

Both of your tears never stopped. You were both silent. The only sounds to be heard were each other's quiet sniffles and the monitor Keigo was attached to, making a faint beep to his heart beat. Still laying on his chest, his breathing started to slow and so did the beeping, being lost in the moment you didn't notice really but he knew.

He waved his hand signaling for you to stand up and brought his hand to take off his mask. He couldn't hold on much longer. Every aching pain inside him felt like knives stabbing his insides and with each stab more time from his life was taken.

"Kei, you need to keep it on to breath, please." He shakes his head and takes it off anyways. The beeping still started to slow. The mask hung off the side of his face. His honeyed voice now husk from the burns. 

"Baby...I love you so...so.." He coughs making him hiss at the pain.

"No..fuck..Kei stop, you're going to be okay just put the damn mask on." 

"I'm too..far..gone, I have no more fight left." 

Holding his jaw in your hands,your face inches from him. "No you have to stay strong for me, please don't leave me again, I can't do this without you." 

"Kid...please...when I'm gone...find someone else and-

"NO- I ONLY WANT YOU!" You cry out, holding his head to your chest. Long-lasting sobs leaving your mouth.

"I love...you" His breathing is heavy from trying to speak. He needed to tell you this. He needed you to understand how much he loves you.

Moving his head from your chest. "I love you too...kiego." You manage to say through your choked sobs. 

You move to have your lips brush his, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could inhale your breath, feel the warmth of your skin. He closes his eyes and connects his lips to yours. It was deep and passionate, like you were kissing him for the first time. You held one side of his face with one hand, and held his hand with the other. 

But when you pull away, his eyes don't open. It's like that's all he wanted, no needed. One last kiss, one last touch. To feel you. 

His breathing completely slows, and you're left with the prolonged beep of the monitor. He was gone. The man who was always too fast for his own good, had left you and the world too fast.

✶tag list: @levithestripper @sleepysnk @conniesspringersgf @regretfulfairies @miyanom @sashatotie @romeoandjuliet96 @strawberry-pp @megvmi-s @cinnamonnn-roll @gooddayzarerare @kkodzvken

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut  words: 2.2k

a/n: and here we are at the end, tbh im a little sad this fic is over, it was so fun to write and i am DEFINITELY more in love with Atsumu than i was before

one | two | three | four | five |

Epilogue 

Four years have passed since you and Atsumu finally got together, and this is the third year in a row he has an away game scheduled on your anniversary. It’s hard for you to actually be mad, he can’t control his schedule. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be disappointed.

And Atsumu hates that he’s let you down again. Wanting more than anything to finally spend your actual anniversary together instead of substituting for an early or late celebration. You’re a good sport, and he loves you for that, supporting him and his volleyball career without complaint despite his long absences and track record of missing important events.

Though the night before he’s set to leave, you’re sitting beside him on the couch, tucked under his arm while the two of you watch something on the TV. For the past few minutes, you’ve been fiddling with his shirt between your fingers and he knows you’re gathering the courage to say something. He’s pretty certain he can guess what it’ll be about too. And all he can do is brace himself when he hears you huff.

“What if you mysteriously came down with something?” You finally say.

He has to laugh at that. “That’s pretty diabolical of you.”

You shrug, already feeling silly you brought it up at all. It’s not really a big deal, but it’s been three years since either of you were even in the same country on the day you swallowed your pride and stormed into his dorm room to confess to him. Sue you for being a bit put out by it.

“Did you poison my dinner or something?” His heart lifts at the small chuckle he gets out of you from that.

“No, but don’t give me any ideas.”

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes still on the TV as he jokes, “Besides, ya think they have any chance of winning without me?”

He feels your smile against his chest, then jolts at the jab you give him in the side. But still you say, “They’d be nothing without you.”

Pulling you into his lap, he cradles your face in his hands and looks at you seriously. And even after four years, you’ve never gotten tired of the way he looks at you—still like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I know it sucks.”

“It does,” you pout.

Pressing his forehead to yours he murmurs, “I’d be with you if I could.”

You love these intimate moments with him, when you both let your teasing natures fall away and all that’s left is how much you love each other. Even after four years, it’s still abundant, and somehow still growing every day. So, you sink into his embrace and reply, “I know.” And you do. That’s what makes it bearable. Knowing that even though he’s off in some exciting country, playing the game he loves—there isn’t a minute that goes by that he doesn’t think about you.

“You gunna watch the game?”

It so happens that this year, his game landed on the exact date of your anniversary. When he’d found out, he’d vowed to make you proud; to make him being away so often worth it to you. And it makes his heart swell when you say without hesitation, “Of course.”

So, a couple days later as he’s about to leave for the airport, he tugs you to him, lowers his lips to yours and kisses you as if he’s going off to war or something. He knows it’s a bit overkill, but he doesn’t really care. He wants to do everything he can to make it up to you. And damn, is he slapped in the face with how much he loves you when you finally separate and you tease him, “Sheesh, you’ll be back in a couple days.”

His response is to kiss you again and again muttering between kisses, “Gotta get my fill now to tide me over.”

He only leaves when you’re practically shoving him out the door. “You’re going to be late!” He reluctantly let’s go of you, hefts his duffel over his shoulder, takes his suitcase in hand and heads down the hallway towards the elevator. On his way there, you shout, “Say hi to the boys for me!”

He smiles smugly, winking over his shoulder at you. “Will do.” Knowing full well his teammates are extremely jealous of him because of you. And why yes—he absolutely does love rubbing you in their faces.

Once he’s out of sight, your smile falters as you shut the door and turn to your now empty apartment. A sadness falls over your heart that’s familiar but unwelcome. You have to find something to distract yourself, otherwise you’ll just let yourself wallow, which you know Atsumu wouldn’t want.

On the night of your anniversary, you eat dinner at Osamu’s restaurant as you normally do on the nights of Atsumu’s away games. You sit at the bar alone, watching the game on the many TV’s around that Osamu always has on the sports channel when Atsumu is playing. Tonight, you notice Osamu chats with you more than he normally does, and you’re certain he’s picked up on your somber vibes.

He even sits at the bar next to you, talking with you about the game and doing an excellent job of distracting you from the hole Atsumu always leaves whenever he’s gone. Tonight, that hole feels even bigger than it usually does.

“He’s playing good tonight,” Osamu notes, his trained eyes fixated on the TV. No matter how many games you watch, or how often Atsumu talks about volleyball, you’ll never have the same understanding of the game that Osamu does.

Chin resting on your palm, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is he?” To you, it always looks like Atsumu is playing well.

But you like listening to Osamu’s technical breakdown of his gameplay and aren’t opposed to helping his endeavor of distracting you. “He’s tuned in,” is all he says by way of explanation.

You watch the TV with newfound interest, noticing that Osamu seems to be right. Atsumu is normally pretty focused, but tonight whenever the camera shows a closeup of him, the look in his eyes is razor sharp. And yet, he’s still making those insane plays that catch his opponents completely off guard. You can feel your pride bubbling up in your chest like it does every time you watch him play, quirking your lips upward into a small smile.

You love how much Atsumu loves volleyball, and whenever you can you go to his games here in Japan because watching him on TV is nothing compared to in person. Plus, it’s way more fun getting swept up into his arms in the heat of the moment after a win than several days later when the excitement has died a little.

You watch Atsumu the rest of the game, noting how the closer they get to match point, the more tenacious he becomes. But unlike other times, when he gets too excited and starts making insane plays that might not work, he seems to be dialing in even further, pulling the best out of all of his hitters even when they’re at the end of their rope. You at least know enough about volleyball to appreciate just how amazing that is.

To your delight, the Black Jackals win, and as usual several of the players get interviewed afterwards. Somehow, Hinata and Bokuto are still full of energy despite playing a full match, speaking excitedly to the interviewer. The coverage switches to Atsumu’s interview, and you can’t help ogling him a little bit. He somehow manages to look good, his hair damp from sweat but eyes gleaming from the adrenaline of the match.

And as you suspect, like Hinata and Bokuto, he’s pretty amped after the game. Amped enough that he completely ignores the interviewer’s questions and looks right at the camera. Immediately, you’re struck by the feeling that he’s looking directly at you. “I’ve only got one thing to say and that’s happy anniversary to the lovely lady I got waiting for me at home.”

The interviewer flusters, changing gears quickly and trying to get Atsumu to comment more on his relationship, but all he does is give the camera his signature smile and a wink before turning his back to the screen and rejoining his celebrating teammates. You don’t hear what the interviewer says next. You’re pinned to your seat, stunned, until your natural reaction is to burst out laughing at his proclamation.

Osamu just eyes you curiously, a small smile splaying across his lips as you say, “Only Atsumu—I swear.”

He shrugs. “Hey, you picked him.”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Yes, I did.” And you really wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter how long or how many times he’s apart from you.  

You leave shortly after the coverage of the game has ended, bidding Osamu goodnight and thanking him for his company and hospitality. He waves you out, and once you’re on your way home, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the loneliness you’ve successfully kept at bay until now. The thought of climbing into a cold bed that feels too big when Atsumu’s not there settles into the front of your mind and it’s hard not to spiral into the sadness that’s been looming over you all day.

You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you, trudging towards your apartment that you know is going to suffocate you with its silence. You know it’s pretty pathetic missing him so much, feeling sorry for yourself that you’re alone once again on this day, but you can’t help it. The hope that next year will be different is nearly gone by now, your determination to refuse to accept it finally broken.

Entering the dark apartment, you toss your keys onto the counter and make your way to the living room, fully intending on spending the rest of the night mindlessly watching some TV show until you fall asleep. Subconsciously, your thoughts wander to what Atsumu is doing right now. The team usually goes out after games, especially ones they win. And it’ll be a day or two until they leave wherever they’re at, so they have plenty of time.

Part of you aches at the thought of him out, having a good time with his team, while you’re here—alone, watching some lame TV show and feeling sorry for yourself.

What you don’t know, is that Atsumu has forgone the celebration tonight. In fact, he’s rushing to the airport to catch his late flight back to Japan. He booked this flight the day after he found out he was going to be gone again. He might not make it back in time to be there on the actual date, but he hopes the gesture is enough.

On the flight, he thinks about your reaction, imagining your laugh and beaming smile at the sight of him. Daydreaming about sweeping you up into his arms and kissing you until you’re both breathless and dizzy keeps him awake, though he doubts you’ll be when he arrives. That’s alright, he perfectly happy surprising you in the morning too.

He gets back to Japan in the early hours of the morning, and when he enters the apartment, he finds you fast asleep under a blanket on the couch, the TV casting a faint glow into the room. He smiles softly to himself, allowing himself a minute to appreciate how adorable you look. Leaning down, he finagles his arms beneath your shoulders and legs and hefts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom. To his surprise, you don’t wake up. Instead, you mumble quietly, and his heart nearly bursts at how even in your sleep you press closer to him.

Tucking you in, he kisses you lightly on the forehead before climbing under the covers beside you. Pulling you into his arms, you fit nicely in his embrace, and he falls into an easy sleep.

~

In the morning, your eyes flutter open, blearily looking around and realizing you’re now in the bedroom. When did you move in here? Did you put yourself to bed last night without realizing it? It’s then that your eyes snap open at the realization that the apartment smells like breakfast. Heart thundering against your chest, you throw the covers off you and head towards the kitchen so fast you almost trip in the hallway.

Upon seeing Atsumu standing at the stove, his back to you, it’s hard to keep your feet under you. And without your permission, tears well up in your eyes so fast that a few drops are already sliding down your cheeks. You sniff to try and get a hold of yourself, which gets Atsumu’s attention.

He whips around to find you standing at the entryway of the hallway with tears streaking down your face and immediately his heart softens. “Happy anniversary, love,” he says by way of greeting.

You can’t stop yourself; your feet move before your brain can catch up with them, throwing yourself into his open arms. He squeezes you tight, and then your lips are on his, your fingers tangling into his hair pulling him closer as you slot your body against his. He can’t help chuckling at you, despite thoroughly enjoying this reaction to his surprise.

“I’m trying to cook breakfast,” he says between kisses.

You don’t think he’ll be very hard to convince to abandon the eggs on the stove. With one hand, you turn the burner off. “Don’t care,” you say, pushing him back towards the bedroom.

He happily obliges.

~

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[j--meat-hook--j]

A Trip to the Mainland (Taiyuu cooking event) (?)

@taiyuu-high-oct

A Train from Taiyuu Island to Mainland Japan took a couple hours, hours of ocean, boredom and more ocean. Staring at the TV, Zeke remembered a time before Taiyuu, before Japan even. 

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A small town on the coast of Germany, a large building, a small apartment. 

A teenager enters, around 17 years old, wiping his feet and looking around, the clock reads 8pm. He spotted his younger brother in the living “room” by himself watching cartoons. The younger one couldn’t be older than 9. 

“Hey, kiddo. Where’s Mum?” 

“She got called into work.”

Frustrated in his mother’s irresponsibility and lack of note, the older brother tried to keep the conversation going as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Watchin TV.”

“Oh, so you found the remote?” “No.” Flick. The channel changed. 

Opening the pantry the older brother found… half a loaf of bread and a whole lot of empty space.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?”

“No. Mum was gonna get groceries but she got called into work.”

Biting his fist in frustration, the older brother pounded the pantry door with his head. Silently seething in anger the older brother put on a happy face, the older brother came out and sat next to the younger brother. 

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight, just you and me.” “Won’t Mum and Dad get angry?” “They’ll never know, I got a little extra money from work today.”

“I mean… sure.”

“Alright, get your stuff ready and we’ll leave in a few.” The older brother wrote a note for their Mother, if she returned home tonight. 

When the two got ready and were almost out the door, the younger brother stopped.

“Umm... Schlaut?”

“What’s up Zeke?”

“Are you sure Mum and Dad won’t find out?”

“Hey, we’ll leave our trash in a public bin, they’ll never know.”

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Finally on the Mainland of Japan Zeke had a couple trips to make. 

The first stop for today was to withdraw money, but look like a cool guy, Sunglasses on. Wandering around the Whatever City, Zeke can’t remember what it’s called, he started to get his bearings. 

‘Alright, grocery shop’s there, post office’s there and-’

Zeke felt a rumble down to his core.

‘It’s going to be a thunderstorm tonight.’

Finally finding an ATM in Whatever City, that took forever. Taking his “Credit” Card out Zeke approached the ATM, noone was nearby anyway but he still felt he had to play the part. 

Feeling the ATM Zeke felt all the different compartments, searching for the most used 4, Zeke found what he needed.

Trying the first one: Whirr, Zzzt And Dispense. 1000 Yen, not quite what he needed. 

Next compartment: Whirr, Zzzt and Dispense. 5000 Yen, close but not the notes he needed. 

The Third compartment: Whirr, Zzzt and Dispense. 10,000, exactly what Zeke needed. 

Grabbing an extra 13 10k Yen bills Zeke had enough to pay for his tuition, with some left over. 

That wasn’t right, only take what you need. Zeke remembered when this all became second nature to him, why quickly searching these machines became so easy. 

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“That’d be 50 Euros sir.” A cashier lady, in a large mall grocery store. 

“I’m really sorry, can you wave it just this once?” Schlaut, now at the age of 19, pleaded to the cashier holding a 20 Euro note. 

“I’m sorry sir, if you couldn’t afford it you shouldn’t have picked it up.” 

“But this is all we have for the week, we’ll go hungry without this food.” Schlaut 

“Then get 20 Euros worth of food or get out of the store.”

“Fine. C’mon Zeke we’re outta here.” Zeke, now 11 years old, followed his brother out of the store.

“What’s the plan now Schlaut?”

“I dunno kiddo, we’ll figure something out.”

It wasn’t long into the usual walk home when they walked past an ATM, it’s screen illuminating the sidewalk. The screen flickered strange colours, reds, blues even a neon green. Schlaut paused, did a slow turn on his feet and paced to the ATM. 

“Zeke?” “Yeah Schlaut?”

“Are you doing that?”

Zeke’s stiffened and he turned his face away from his brother. 

“Zeke look at me.”

Zeke reluctantly looked at his Older Brother, the pupils of his brown eyes glowing a slight blue. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Zeke was looking at the ground in shame.

“No no no no nononono nono, no Zeke. You did something very, very right.” Schlaut hadn’t felt this excited in a while. 

“Let’s play a game Zeke, see if you can find some paper in this machine.” Schlaut pointed to the ATM. 

“You mean money, isn’t that stealing?” Zeke was willing to do this, but he wasn’t very happy about it.

“Hey, we’re only going to take what we need ok? No more. We’re not villains, we’re survivors. See if you can find a 20 note and a 10 note.” Zeke had found a way to save us!

“Ok. I’ll try.” 

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Returning back to the present Zeke held about 2000 Yen too much in his hands. The fridge at Taiyuu was running low, this money seems appropriate for everyone to use. 

Zeke went to that small grocery store he passed by earlier. Fresh fruits and vegetables, that’s what Taiyuu needed, none of that instant shit. Apples, carrots, broccoli and one pack of the cheapest Cup Noodles he could find. 

‘How would the others at Taiyuu react? I don’t think Sako or Spellman would be particularly fond of me anymore. Ah well, they won’t find out. All the years of pulling this same stunt we were only found out once.’

Zeke paid a total of 1962 yen.

“Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.”

‘Only found out once.’

Supermarket (Schlauts Quirk)

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“How’s that Zeke, just enough to get us through this week. Mum should have  the day off tomorrow so we’ll cook a whole bunch then.” Schlaut, now 21, said to his brother Zeke, now 13.  

“Yeah, maybe Dad’d have time to help as well.” 

“I doubt it kiddo.”

RUUUUUUMMMBBBBBLEEE

“We should get going before it rains, seems like a storm is brewing. 

Off they were on the usual walk home, Through an empty courtyard, groceries in hand. Not too much, just enough to get by. 

“Hey Asshole!”

Schlaut turned, almost like he was expecting this.

“Yes, Gregory?” 

A potbellied man, more of a sphere than a man, called out to the two. 

“You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”

“Us?” Zeke panicked.

“There’s about 4 of them, stay behind me Zeke.”

“What, who are you talking about, how do you know these people?”

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

3 other men came up from behind the Sphere Man. One looked too long to be normal, another looked like a leaf man, the last one had spines coming out of his back. 

“Yeah, not so tough are ya now there’s more of us.” Sphere man said, he sounded like he was from New York, which is weird because this is Germany. 

“Huh, Good one boss.” The Leaf Man said, he had a very deep voice.

“Yeah, good one boss.” The Spine Man said, he had a very snively voice.

“Hehehe, heheh hehehe hehehe” The Long Man said, he had a very creepy laugh.

“You made it easier for me.” Schlaut butted in, sounding far too confident for a 4 on 1 fight. 

RUUUUMMMMMMMBLLLLLLEEEEE

Long Man reached over and punched Sphere Man in the face. 

“Aaaah, Tony, whaddya doin? Hit him not me!” Sphere Man was both confused and angry

“Heheheh, heheh, Hehehehhe!” The Long Man’s laugh seemed very panicked and confused. 

Leaf Man punched Spine Man, Spine Man grabbed Long Man. It was a free for all, none of the assorted goons and henchmen ever came near Schlaut and Zeke, Zeke leaned over Schlauts shoulder.

“What are they doing Schlaut? Why are they here?” Schlaut looked back at his younger brother. “Don’t worry, Zeke, they’re taking care of it themselves.” Schlaut looked at Zeke for a moment, just one moment was all it took for Zeke to notice the slight red glow from his brother's pupils. 

It wasn’t too long before the four strangers were all on the ground unconscious. Not once did the 4 even take a step towards the Funkee brothers. 

“Let’s go Zeke, it’s all taken care of.” “But… but-” “Let’s GO Zeke.” 

RUUUUMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLEEEEE

They turned to continue on their way home, when Zeke heard skidding. No. Rolling? Turning around in curiosity Zeke saw Sphere Man rolling towards them, like a ball. A very angry ball. 

“Schlaut, look out!” Zeke jumped, panicked and….

FLASH

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM

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Not done for the day yet, still gotta send a letter off to Mum back in Germany, quick visit to the Posty and back to Taiyuu. Card, letter, shipping. Totaling 300 yen, that is cheap! 

Hey Mum,

Taiyous Taiyuus going great, i think im really hitting it off with everybody here. This place seems more my style than uA anyway. Theres a whole bunch of really weird people here. One person can  even shapeshit shapeshift!

Anyway hows things with you, hows the new job in France? 

Has Schlaut come back yet?

Love, 

Zeke

“Just one letter, wouldn’t a text be better?” The teller was confused.

“It’s just a little tradition we have. Notes and written things are easier to keep anyway.”

Zeke made his way back to Taiyuu, hours on the train, again. The news reports were going on about a villain by the name “The King”. Luckily Taiyuu covered the costs of going back to Mainland Japan. Making his way back to the kitchen area Zeke deposited the fruits and veggies into the communal fridge. However, Zeke kept the Noodle Cup.

Zeke set the kettle to boil and thought of the day everything changed, the day Schlaut left. There was no bang, there was no warning. Around when Zeke was 13 Schlaut just, poof, gone. The whole family thought he was dead for months until Zeke’s 14th birthday, where Zeke got an RC car, brand new and very high end. It came with a note.

Hey Kiddo, Happy Birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there this year

Noone ever really bothered Zeke again, of course Zeke still had his friends but noone bullied, assaulted or even annoyed him again. The icecream place even gave him a discount. Teachers were a whole lot nicer, even recommending him to hero courses like UA: LA, Shiketsu and Seijin. That was 2 years ago. 

The screech of the kettle brought Zeke out of his thoughts. Filling his Cup Noodles with boiling water Zeke had made a shitty meal at Taiyuu.

BOOOOOOOMMMMMM

“Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot.”

Maybe not.

[harryandmolly]

like the back of my hand - 2018 (part one)

Summary: a relationship within a collection of moments

Warnings: language, sexual references

Word count: 10.6k (ish)

July 4, 2018

The first time he sees her she looks like the drunken reality version of a fairy tale.

She’s wrangling a truly enormous golden dragon pool float with a wingspan of about 10 feet, reaching from the edge of the pool to try to drag it closer. He notices her hair first. A sweeping wave of reddish gold falls over her fair, heat-pinked skin. By the noises she’s making, he knows she’s frustrated. Her curtain of hair is too thick to see through. She’s short and strong – he can see the tone in her arm muscles as she reaches and holds her balance with dancer-like precision. Her legs are striking, too, thick and white and sculpted. Before she even turns around, he hears the words in his head.

Oh, fuck.

And then she does turn around and seats herself delicately on the back of the dragon, taking her bottle of Stella Artois Cidre with her for the ride. She kicks off the side with little pink toes and makes a jokingly strained face as she paddles out beside a petite blonde sitting nervously on a float shaped like a rosé bottle. His heart rattles when she laughs at something the rosé girl said. Her whole body convulses with it. She’s probably a little drunk, but she looks so alive. Her full lips drop open and a cackle rolls out. She clasps at her chest and holds her drink away to avoid disaster. When she calms down, she seems to feel his eyes. She looks over. He waits for a shock of recognition on her face. He feels his heart stumble yet again when she smiles politely, a ghost of curiosity in her gaze. She might recognize him vaguely but she doesn’t know who he is.

He isn’t the tortured “I just want to be normal” artist. He really doesn’t mind that every woman he meets these days knows him, his face, his music, parts of his story. He gets off on the rock star aspects sometimes. But this time, this girl, something makes him react differently. He’s enamored. Every new little thing he notices in that span of ten seconds he spends staring at her makes him want to giggle.

His friend has to grab at his arm to get his attention. With only a few pre-gamed beers in him, he’s able to refocus. He meets his friend’s friend Casey, a twenty-something lesbian feature film producer who lives in the host house with five roommates. Casey has big white teeth, short cropped hair and a thick southern accent. She’s friendly and tells him she likes his music, especially “Lost in Japan.” He thanks her graciously and compliments the house.

“It’s a little crazy, honestly. All of us can’t believe we get to live here. Where are my other roommates? Uh…. I think Emily’s inside with the weed. Caroline’s over there,” she points to an outdoor sectional next to a set of glass doors, “Sammi and Lilly are in the pool—”

He doesn’t hear anything else when he sees who she pointed to. Dragon girl and her smaller, frecklier rosé friend have locked arms to keep from floating away as they discuss something that looks important, if not just interesting. He doesn’t know which one is Sammi and which is Lilly but he needs to find out.

In the pool, she’s listening to Sammi tell a story about paying her brother and his friend in tequila and wine to move her into their current house. She looks up at the back of the tall curly-haired guy that walked in. She can feel celebrity on him. He didn’t roll up with an entourage or make any kind of entrance, though. He looks very normal, but too hot in that “he’s definitely famous” sort of way. She can’t place him, though. She scrolls through her mental rolodex of things she enjoys that were meant for a youth audience, given that he looks younger than her – Disney Channel shows from when she nannied? Old Teen Wolf guest star?

“Sam,” she hisses, nodding in his direction, “Is he… somebody recognizable?”

Sammi looks over her shoulder and clocks him. She turns her head back, blue eyes wide under curly lashes, looking genuinely shocked. “That’s Shawn Mendes.”

“Oh! Right! He did that sad song from the new Fast and the Furious movie?”

“No,” Sammi laughs, “That’s Charlie Puth. Shawn Mendes did “Stitches” and “Mercy” and stuff like that.”

“Oh!” she cries again, slapping the water with a flat palm, “Yes! I love “Stitches.” Shit, I should be talking quieter. I guess Casey knows him.”

“I think Casey knows the guy with him, I think he was here at the Memorial Day party.”

“God, look at us with our A-listers at our house,” Lilly hums, looking impressed with them. Sammi matches her expression and wiggles her eyebrows.

“He’s young, though, right? Like 17?” Lilly continues, eyeing him cautiously.

“I think he’s older than that,” Sammi murmurs as their floats drift closer to where Shawn and Casey and company stand.

“I hope so,” Lilly whispers. Sammi snorts a laugh and kicks at her float. Lilly kicks back and Sammi squeals, clinging to the edge to keep from unseating her bottle. The noise catches Casey’s attention.

“Guys, these are two of my roommates, Sammi and Lilly. Ladies, my friend Greg and his friend Shawn.”

“Hi,” Sammi laughs, weakly reaching up a hand while she stays close to the edge for support. Lilly giggles as she watches them shake. Since she’s too far from them to make contact, she waves.

She wants to slide off the dragon and hide underwater when he smiles at her. His cheeks are a little flushed, perhaps from the heat or the alcohol. He has the slightest divot in his chin. His hair has just enough product in it to look really cool. He’s tall, too, over six feet, she guesses. Too bad he’s a teenager.

She floats closer to the edge of the pool and reaches a foot out to hold onto the stone, her legs separating a bit as she does. He has a question or a comment ready to engage them but loses it entirely.

“You wanna get in?” Greg prompts, angling his head at the pool.

“Yeah,” Shawn croaks, looking away from the legs he wants to be crushed and killed by, “Let’s get some beers.”

They stroll off to the coolers. Casey bends to reach Sammi when she sits up.

“You know Shawn Mendes?” Sammi hisses. Casey grins and bobs her head.

“I didn’t think he was coming. No, I mean, I know Greg through Kingsley. I’ve never met Shawn.”

“How old is he?” Lilly whispers. Casey shoots her a dangerous look.

“He’s 19, girl. Get in on it.”

She barks a laugh in response. “19. Please. God. The last thing I need.”

Casey, ever wise, raises an eyebrow and cocks her head. “I dunno, dude, I’m gay as they come and I can see the appeal there.”

“As can every teenage girl in this country between the ages of 13-18. I have to grow out of that sometime.”

Casey cedes, throwing up her hands and noticing another group of friends to chat with. Sammi turns the rosé bottle toward Lilly.

“I think you should, too,” she mentions, feigning casual. Lilly rolls her eyes.

“Can you imagine? God. Maybe he’d write a song about me,” Lilly teases.

Sammi opens her mouth to respond when Greg and Shawn return, beer bottles in hand, stripped down to bathing suits. Shawn, after quick consultation with Greg over the coolers, takes his shot and sits on the edge closest to Lilly.

“I like your dragon.”

She looks up at him and down at her floatation device. “Oh, thanks,” she chuckles dryly.

“The rosé floaté is cuter,” Sammi argues playfully, jumping in when she realizes Lilly is going to turn in on herself and not engage.

“I think the unicorn floating beer koozies are the cutest,” Lilly replies, using the excuse to hunt for one as a way not to look at him and feel her resolve turn to mush.

Shawn picks up the one bobbing against his leg and hands it to her with what he hopes is a smooth half-smirk. She takes it with a smile that barely resembles a smile, her eye contact with him shorter than with a passing stranger. He feels a little defeated, so he sucks down half the bottle of beer in a gulp.

Slowly, though, as he and Greg ease their way into the cool water to stand with Sammi and Lilly on their floats in the shallow end, occasionally reaching out to hold them as they threaten to drift, the dynamics shift. Lilly opens back up, much to Sammi’s delight and encouragement, and actually does crack jokes and ask questions and make prolonged eye contact, though still more with Greg than Shawn.

“So are you just in town for 4thof July or?”

Shawn doesn’t realize the question is directed only at him until he looks up and sees her big blue eyes looking straight at him.

“Oh! Uh, no. I’m here for a couple meetings. We’re planning stuff for 2019,” he says, bobbing his head casually.

“That’s intimidating. I don’t even have a plan beyond my next sip of cider. Do I get another? Do I stop? Do I lie back on this dragon and contemplate the meaning of my existence?”

He cracks up at her dry humor. “I don’t know about your existence, but I’m getting out to grab another beer. Want a refill?”

She smiles at him genuinely, her lips curling up as she tilts her head affectionately. “Yes please.”

She drops the last sip down her throat. He watches it as she swallows and feels himself do the same. His fingers brush hers as he takes the empty bottle. She pretends not to watch his back muscles pucker and flex as he lifts himself out of the pool. She also pretends not to google him while he fetches their drinks. He hopes she didn’t see the little jog-skip he does to return to her faster. She does and hopes he doesn’t see her blush in response.

They spend hours together like that in the pool, trading positions – Sammi on the dragon, Greg on the bottle, Lilly and Shawn sitting together on the edge. Shawn on the dragon, Sammi on the bottle, Greg and Lilly keeping them from floating away as they talk about anything. Sammi’s boyfriend Drew leads her away around sundown. Greg, upon realizing Sammi has a boyfriend, wanders off but encourages Shawn and Lilly to stay. His blessing doesn’t matter by that point. By hour five, Shawn had found his soul mate.

He’s enchanted to say the least. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight but damn if this wasn’t the closest to it he’s ever felt. Every shift of her body on the ledge of the pool makes his heart kick up a beat. Every time she swishes her feet in the water and comes within inches of brushing him feels electric. Every question she asks him seems like the most thoughtful, most important thing in the world. She teases him, she listens to him, she smiles at him, she confides in him. She is perfect.

She is trying so hard not to see it. He’s a 19 year old that looks 22 and she doesn’t think that is at all fair. She also hasn’t been kissed since 2014 which strikes her as more of the same. He watches her every move closely in a way that feels less predatory than boyishly fascinated. She feels beautiful and a little powerful. When he takes her hand to help her off the float and lead her out of the pool in search of burgers and hot dogs, she should’ve let go immediately. It isn’t fair to her or to him to linger, but he is becoming addictive.

She does retract her hand from his much larger one when they reach the stairs. She takes the railing instead and notices the contrast between the cool metal and his radiating masculine heat. She still feels it behind her, though, as they climb the stairs. He notices with a sigh that her hair smells like chlorine and strawberries. It’s drying into sticky chunks on her peachy back. He wants to gather it all in his hands and run his fingers through it while he sings to her.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

He shuts that thought down before it went anywhere sappier.

They eat together on the sectional outside her bedroom, wrapped up in the house’s beach towels. He has a burger, she has a hot dog. They share a bowl of chips and salsa. He asks about growing up as an only child, she asks about Toronto. After another two drinks each, he leans in closer and she lets him with the excuse that the fully set sun is reducing her visibility. He asks her about her unfinished screenplay. She asks him about what he’s writing.

He’s drunkenly convinced they are in love by the time they’re climbing the stairs with the rest of the party stragglers to reach the balcony for fireworks. He stands close behind her while they burst, watching her face more often than the actual light show. Emily dutifully shoos everyone back downstairs for the rest of the party. The palm tree twinkly lights come on now in the full darkness, giving the whole pool deck a romantic glow. He can’t help himself. He brushes his hand against hers as they walk down the stairs. He reaches out to open the gate and starts to say something about being really happy he tagged along with Greg when he feels the locking bar swing out and hit him right in the lip.

“Oh, shit,” Lilly groans as Shawn gasps and grabs his mouth. The other partygoers don’t seem to notice.

“Fuck, I did this literally twice this week alone. C’mon, I have an ice pack in my room.” She ushers him back up the stairs and down into the basement.

He’s embarrassed, but hell, he gets to see her room.

She seats him on the bed calmly and almost maternally. He looks around, poking the inside of the offending wound with his tongue and wincing. Her room is stylistically a little bare; he can tell she just moved in. She has white pillar candles in the fireplace as decoration which he thinks is cool. He likes that her bedspread is yellow.

He looks up at her sheepishly as she hands him the blue freezer pack wrapped in a paper towel.

“This thing’s been getting a workout,” she jokes, sitting beside him and watching as he brings the ice pack up to meet his reddened lip. She bites down on hers and scoots a little closer to him, her brain hazy but aware enough that she has a man in her room, sitting on her bed.

“Am I bleeding?” he murmurs, his eyebrows pulling together as he lowers the pack. She leans in to inspect, shaking her head.

“No, just a little swollen. Keep the ice on it.”

They’re silent for a few slightly uncomfortable minutes. She wonders if this means she really can’t kiss him now. What, is she crazy? Of course she can’t.

He pulls the ice pack away again and licks his lips. He looks at her. She smirks.

“Yup. Still pretty.”

He blushes and ducks his head.

“You have such pretty lips,” she confesses, letting out an aggravated sigh. He shivers and grins at her, opening his mouth to respond when he sees her face go blank.

“Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with me?” she says to herself, deadpan, “You’re a 19 year old rock star.”

“Well… thank you for calling me a rock star,” he begins uncertainly. She snorts.

“This is so not a good idea for me,” she says again, mostly to herself. He doesn’t pick up on that.

“Why not?” His voice is a little pouty, and a little hurt underneath that.

“Because I’m not ‘casual kiss at party’ girl. And I just moved here. I don’t even have friends yet. If I don’t have friends yet, I shouldn’t be kissing the ones I just made, that’s bad planning.”

“You don’t have to be ‘casual kiss at party’ girl.”

She shoots him a look that shuts down wherever that could be going. “You’re 19. The only girls in your life right now are ‘casual kiss at party’ girls. As it should be.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“No, I guess you had to get into it a little to write the songs you do,” she concedes, folding her legs towards him. He does notice that.

“I get what you might be thinking. It makes sense. But I don’t do this a lot,” he says gently.

“What, run into iron gates with your perfect, pouty man lips?” she groans, falling back onto the bedspread and grabbing at her Olaf pillow pet.

He chuckles and looks at her fondly. “Casual kissing at parties. I don’t do it a lot. I’m not ‘cool music industry’ guy. I just… I saw you tonight on the dragon and talking to Sammi and I felt like my stomach fell out.”

She’s not used to being told anything like this. She’s trying to decide whether to believe him or decide he’s saying what he needs to. His eyes are earnest. She pulls herself back up to sit and sigh.

“You’re fucking adorable.”

“Thank you, so are you.”

“But I’m not mature enough for this. So I’m not kissing you, Mendes.”

He shrugs, resigned. “That’s ok. The universe seems to not like the idea of my kissing anyone tonight.”

She looks up him. His eyes are turned down to his lap and he looks a little bummed. She wants to suck that swollen bottom lip between her teeth and feel him moan. She shakes that idea off and instead brushes a hand through his hair.

“Stupid universe.”

She holds onto her resolve long enough to get him back upstairs with the rest of her roommates and the remaining guests. He was among the last to leave, her number as his parting gift.

He doesn’t wait 24 hours to text her. He waits 9 – just after he wakes up on the hot, dry morning of July 5th. He thanks her for a great party and tells her he’ll be back in town in a few weeks and he wants to see her.

I’d like that. And now I’ve listened to your music and definitely won’t mix you up with Charlie Puth again!

He lives for that text. Even as they continue their conversation, he scrolls back up just to look at it and laugh.

Ok I just listened to “Mercy.” First of all, I fucking love it. Second of all, who hurt you??? I’ll fuck ‘em up.

He responds to tell her it’s not about a girl, actually.

Bullshit. Don’t protect her.

He insists it’s about loving something that’s difficult, like his music career. She begs off.

An hour later, she texts him again.

I just watched your Carpool Karaoke. I think I’m in love with you now.

He responds, are you just watching every video of me on youtube???

Maybe, she replies.

He loves that idea.

++++++++

August 12th, 2018

“So you really thought I was Charlie Puth?” he sighs.

“Yes. I mean, no… I mean… listen—”

He interrupts her flustered babbling with a laugh so she knows he’s teasing her.

“I knew you both existed. It’s not like I had never heard of you. I knew there was a Charlie Puth and a Shawn Mendes but I didn’t know which one of you was which. If he had come strolling into my backyard, I would’ve wondered if he was you. But Sammi told me who you were before I could make a fool of myself.”

“Thank god for Sammi,” Shawn replies. It sounds like the end of the conversation. With a pang, she realizes she doesn’t really want him to hang up.

“I gotta go, it’s so late here and I have to try to knock out a few hours of sleep. I’m glad I accidentally called you though,” he laughs, standing with his phone and walking to the trash with his empty food containers.

“I really enjoyed it, call me on purpose sometime and we can continue our discussion about why people should’ve been listening to Zenon, girl of the 21st century the whole damn time.”

He barks a laugh and it shakes one out of her in response. She bites her lip as he settles and waves goodbye, signing off with a nod.

++++++++

August 17th, 2018

“So you have a song on the soundtrack but never saw the movie?! C’mon, Shawn,” she groaned, tipping her head back against the cushion. When he asked to Facetime her a few days later, she was in bed watching old Gilmore Girls episodes and feeling sorry for herself when an interview she booked with a film production company was abruptly canceled because they hired someone else.

Lilly decided stepping outside felt more neutral than sitting in bed, even though the sun was going down. And he was snuggled up on his hotel room couch in Tokyo in a hoodie looking like absolute boyfriend material.

“I know, I know, that’s bad,” he laughed, nodding and ducking his head shamefully.

“The movie’s so good! Actually, the second one’s even better. And the music is better in the second one.”

After a moment of quiet, she realized what she’d said. She fixed her gaze back on the screen and saw him look mock offended. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“Oh my god! I didn’t mean that.”

“You definitely did though,” he chuckled.

“I mean… listen, your song wasn’t in the movie. Maybe that was what it needed, that would’ve put it over the top,” she babbled.

“Sure. Ok.”

+++++

August 20th, 2018

Shawn: God I haven’t been to the beach in so long

Lilly: Well, we should go when you come back. I’ve been meaning to go out and see Malibu. You down?

Shawn: Hell yeah, Malibu is dope.

She can’t believe how excited she is to see him again. Every time she feels her mind wander to how he looked in her pool with a beer in hand, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the conversation with her, she chants the number 20 in her head.

She remembers being 20. During her 20th year, she changed her major to journalism for no good reason and fell madly in love with a very damaged boy named Bennett who treated her like garbage. She cringes when she thinks of herself at 20.

She knows it’s not fair to assume he’s as stupid as she was then, or even to suggest that she is a pillar of wisdom now at 24. But he’s also a pop star. When he left her room that night after returning her ice pack and planting a kiss on her cheek, she looked him up on Tumblr and found the multitudes of women lusting after him as she expected. That kind of attention makes her nervous. He has no reason to be interested in a serious relationship and she’s secure enough to admit that’s what she wants at this point in her life. But she can’t deny how much she already likes him. She’s sure if she spends more time with him and sees the speed at which his life moves, it will erase any idea of more from her mind.

But as she’s cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway with him in her passenger seat looking out the window and grinning hard, it’s difficult to imagine feeling differently.

He’s picking through her iTunes playlists, gently teasing some choices and praising others. They bounce between classic rock, country, top 40 of various eras, and, at her insistence, some of his music.

“I just bought your entire discography for the purpose of forcing you into my own personal Carpool Karaoke. So sing, monkey!” she cries, slapping her hands on the wheel as they get stuck dead in traffic again somewhere around Thousand Oaks.

He’s laughing. She has such a sharp wit, he can’t help but delight in it. He gives in, because he thinks she just really wants to hear him sing and he wants to make her smile, maybe show off a little.

“Ok, fine, which one do you want me to sing?” He feels himself going pink and turns his face to look out the window at the disgruntled travelers.

She debates internally, bobbing her head back and forth. “Well, I really like “Stitches” because I’ve actually had that song for a while but the last few days I’ve been really into “Nervous.””

He nods once and selects it from her playlist. “”Nervous” it is.”

She bounces in her seat, grinning from ear to ear, nodding as he starts getting into it, belting it out just for her. Soon they’re both blushing and enthralled by each other but pretending not to be. When he finishes the song, she’s biting hard on her lower lip to tamp down her smitten smile, shaking her head.

“Thank you for indulging me. You… are a very good singer.”

He snorts and sits back, satisfied, and thanks her quietly. He’s silent for a comfortable minute, then he gets an idea. “I wanna hear you sing.”

“No, you don’t,” she corrects him, widening her eyes at the road, not daring to look at him. Her reaction only makes him push harder.

“Now I really do! Come on, pick a song.”

“No.”

“Pick a song or I pick for you.”

“Pick any song you want, you can’t force me to sing.”

“No, but if I put something on you really like you’ll start singing anyway.” He grabs her phone and starts perusing her options. “Ok… oh shit, yeah, One Direction, perfect.”

“Oh my god,” she giggles nervously, knowing he’s right.

“What’s your favorite One Direction song?”

She sighs dramatically. “I mean… if you’re going to make me sing, I want it to be something I can actually sing well enough.”

He’s shifting in his seat with excitement, his black board shorts crinkling. “Ok, what are we picking, eh?”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes at his accent. “Maybe… Taylor Swift?”

“Ok,” he nods, tapping on her phone to pull up some options. She feels her heart throb harder. He scrolls, impressed by the amount of songs she has to choose from.

“Do “You Belong with Me.” I can… kind of sing that. I think. We’re gonna find out. I hate you, by the way.”

“Shut up and sing,” he snaps jokingly. When the song starts, she shakes her head.

“Wait, no, no, not this one.”

“Oh, come on…”

“No, do “Fearless.” I can do “Fearless.” I’ll do “Fearless.”” Her words stumble out fast and a little scrambled. He would feel bad about putting her on the spot, but she’s so cute when she’s nervous.

The instrumental part starts and she’s trying not to smile but the way he’s looking at her is making that hard. The first verse is well within her normal range. She croons along seriously, trying to show off whatever talent she honed in her short-lived vocal classes back when the only thing she wanted to be in life was Hayley Williams. She’s watching the road carefully as the verse opens up to the bouncier, louder chorus. She raises her voice along with Taylor’s and sees him smile wider in her periphery as she gets into it.

She turns sincere around the bridge and leans her head back, reaching up into falsetto. He tilts his head back too and watches her, fascinated. He wants to press repeat when the song ends and make her go again. Even better, he wants to make her sing every song on her phone. When it fades out, Lilly purses her lips and ducks her head.

“That was really good,” he insists, wondering if she doesn’t know. She sighs, knowing he really couldn’t say otherwise.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll keep my day job. Just kidding, don’t have one.”

He notes the way she deflects with humor. He shakes his head, hoping maybe if he keeps singing, she’ll join him. They flip through more songs in her summer playlist. It’s heavily populated by country artists he doesn’t know. She is pleased to educate him. When “Driving All Night” by Jake Owen comes on, they’re both quiet, bobbing their heads as the Pacific comes into view.

“You should cover this song,” she murmurs shyly, glancing at him.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I love this song. It’s so sexy and romantic. And you’d sound better than Jake Owen anyway.”

He pulls out his phone. She doesn’t think anything of it until he opens his notes app and looks at her earnestly. “What’s it called?”

“You’re writing it down?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot. What’s it called?”

She’s baffled, giggling. “It’s “Driving All Night” by Jake Owen. You’re gonna cover it just because I told you to? That’s too much power for me.”

He smiles. “I won’t post it anywhere. I’ll just record it and send it to you.”

She takes a deep breath and exhales. It’s hanging there between them. He’s being so sweet to her, they both know what he means by it. He decides to try to tone it down a little.

They arrive at Zuma Beach, marveling at the lack of people despite the gorgeous summer day. It bodes well, though, for keeping them out of the tabloids. He insists on paying for parking since she drove. She winks at him when he hands her his platinum Amex to hand to the parking attendant. He rolls his eyes and snickers at her.

They set up to the left of one of the lifeguard stations with chairs and towels. They settle in next to each other facing the water and Lilly moans.

“This is amazing. I’ve been here five minutes but I think it’s my new happy place.”

“Agreed. This is awesome.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, heads tipped back with small, sleepy smiles on their faces. Shawn doesn’t seem worried about being recognized. She tries not to look around to see if anyone has noticed him.

“Tell me something,” she whispers, turning her head to him.

“What kind of something?”

“Tell me… something you’re excited for coming up.”

“Uhm, well, I’m doing a bunch of festivals this summer. Going to Brazil and a couple other cool places I haven’t seen yet.”

“That sounds fantastic. I’d love to go to Brazil.”

“You like to travel?”

“Love it. I’ve always had the bug but it bit me harder when I went to London. Can’t stop thinking about it now.”

They talk about his favorite places and hers. That turns into college stories and early tour stories, which morphs into love lives and what they were like as kids and how they feel about their families. If he wasn’t half in love with her already, he is now. After two hours of flowing conversation, he stands and runs his hands through his hair. She admires his back and ass, tilting her head. He turns to look at her and she lets him catch her staring.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases.

“Gorgeous,” she admits, nodding and fanning her face, “And so is the beach.”

He sighs and reaches for her hand, tugging at it.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“The water.”

“But what about our stuff?”

“Not many people around. No one’s clocked me yet. We’ll watch it. C’mon.”

She lets him help her out of her seat but drops his hand as they head to the water under the guise of adjusting her suit. She marches ahead of him and now he gets to admire the expanse of pale skin she probably hasn’t been protecting with sunblock all that well today. She shakes her hair out from where it sticks to her sweaty back and chest. It’s salty and matted from the sea air, making her look like a mermaid on legs. His breath actually, physically catches in his chest looking at her.

“Oh, it’s cold,” she declares in confusion, her eyebrows pulled together.

“It’s not bad,” he insists, wading in up to his waist without hesitation.

“You’re too Canadian for your own good,” she replies, shuffling after him, not to be outdone. She flaps her arms and hisses when she walks in a little deeper. He resists the urge to drag her into his chest and cradle her against his bleeding warmth.

He kicks off over a wave and it catches her a little further back, pushing her backwards and swallowing her up to her shoulders. He laughs at her reaction. She splashes him, he splashes her back. She wants to grab him and lift herself onto his broad, defined back and let him take her wherever he wants. In fact, that thought haunts her throughout the day.

After a while, they head back to the chairs and dry off. He reminds her to reapply sunblock. She asks him about writing songs, about his celebrity friends, about home. He asks her about her own writing, about her best friend Lauren, about her dreams.

The sun begins to hang low and the beach empties out. She’s reminded of their long drive back inland and of his plans early the next morning.

“I don’t want to go,” she confesses, the sincerest he’s seen her all day.

“I know. This was a perfect day.”

She feels an odd connection to Malibu now and an even stronger one to Shawn. She thinks in the course of a few weeks he might’ve accidentally become one of her best friends. She doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want him to leave and forget about her. She doesn’t want to go so far from the ocean again.

“Let’s come back here,” she insists.

Her hair glows redder in the sunset. He goes as far as to cup a hand around her cheek and place a quick kiss on her forehead. “We will. I promise.”

They sing “Malibu” by Miley Cyrus and “Hotel California” by the Eagles together on the way home. They order a large pizza for dinner and eat all of it. He leaves in an Uber after they had both fallen asleep watching Must Love Dogs. He wakes her up when his car arrives and tells her not to get up and that he’ll be back in a few weeks. She misses him as soon as he’s gone.

++++++

September 1st, 2018

“If you knew how many women on the internet want you to tie them up, you would be amazed.”

“Oh my god, don’t tell me that,” he whines, plucking at a thread in his jeans.

“Seriously! Spanking, breathplay, daddy kinks—”

He interrupts her, whirling his head around even though his phone was pressed to his ear and no one was paying attention to him. “Lilly, I’m in public.”

“Keep a straight face,” she teased.

“You just said ‘daddy kink’ to me, how am I supposed to keep a straight face?” he hissed, slumping into the lobby couch, willing himself to disappear.

“This is how millennials and gen Z’ers discover their sexuality and embrace it. They read, they write, they draw. It’s a beautiful thing and you get to be a part of it.”

“Is that how it happened for you?” he whispers curiously.

She’s quiet for a minute, debating what to tell him. “I mean, yeah. Nothing is the same as personal experience but when you’re reading it, you get a sense of what interests you.”

“Makes sense,” he agrees, his voice begging her to elaborate.

“I’m not going to start listing off my kinks, Shawn, so get that out of your head.”

He laughs. “Worth a shot.”

Their beach day was almost a distant memory now. They start talking on the phone and FaceTiming more. They’ve got the long-distance friendship thing down pretty well by this point. She’s impressed by how much time he’s able to make for her. She knows better than to expect this all the time. She knows she’s lucky to get what she can from him now when he’s just touring festivals and not flung into a new city every day for months on end like he will be next year on tour. She also knows he’s been writing heavily, which puzzles her because he just released his third album.

The next time he’s back in town, she has another adventure planned.

“I’ve decided to get my first tattoo.”

“Really? Awesome. What and where?” he asks, rubbing his chin and smiling goofily, glad she can’t see him. He gets a flash of a few locations he’d like to see one on her and blushes.

“The inside of my left foot. I’m getting a silhouette of Peter Pan, Wendy, John and Michael flying.”

“That’s perfect for you, that sounds great. When are you going?”

“That’s the thing. I want you to come.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re an old pro with the tattoo thing. And you have strong hands that I probably won’t break if I squeeze too hard.”

He laughs. “The hands are the moneymakers, you can’t break those.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be gentle with you, Mendes.”

He shivers as the implication and smacks his palm against the wall to refocus. “I actually got one of my finger tattoos in LA. I can call him for you, he’s really good.”

“That would be great, I was going to ask you for a recommendation.”

They set the date according to when Shawn would be back in town the next week. He springs for an Uber, claiming her foot would hurt too much to drive after she gets inked. They sit and wait while the tattoo artist prepares, Lilly’s bare legs bouncing wildly as she stares off at nothing.

“You ok?” he questions, reaching out to her knee to still her. His big, hot hand does get her attention. Her skin jumps a little. She smiles wearily.

“I’m a tough chick, I can handle a little pain, but I’m a little worried.”

“I know, I get it. It’s really not all that bad though, I promise. If I really hated it I wouldn’t have gotten five.”

“But maybe you’re way tougher than me,” she argues.

He snorts. “Doubt it. You do Orangetheory. You’re way tougher than me.”

She bumps his shoulder with hers playfully. The tattoo artist leads them back and sits them down, readying her foot for the stencil.

“Worse comes to worse, you don’t finish it all today. If it’s too much, you can come back,” Shawn reminds her, leaning in to watch as the artist stencils it the way she wants.

She takes a deep breath as he turns the needle on. Without looking away from her foot, she reaches for one of Shawn’s hands and holds it between both of hers. He squeezes her fingers supportively when the needle makes contact. She gasps gently, her lips popping open as she lets out a ragged breath. He knows he shouldn’t be aroused by her face and her noises while she’s in pain but he bites his lower lip anyway, committing them to memory.

She sandwiches his hand between hers. He scoots closer to her in his chair, feeling more welcome. She shoots him a faltering smile.

“You ok?” he murmurs. She nods in response.

“You have tiny feet,” he points out, cocking his head as the tattoo artist smiles.

“My feet are average sized, thank you,” Lilly replies dryly.

“They look little. How tall are you again?”

“I’m 5-foot-2.”

“You’re so tiny,” he marvels, stroking the outside of her palm with his trapped fingers. She’s silent, holding herself together.

“You’re doing so good, I was crying by now when I got my first one.”

She glares at him. “You told me it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“I lied.”

She chuckles and he feels better, knowing she’s relaxing. She sits back in the chair while the artist works. Instead of staring intently at the needle, she distracts herself by staring at Shawn.

“Were you a nerdy looking kid or did you grow up good looking?”

The tattoo artist and Shawn both snort a surprised laugh in unison.

“What?” Shawn chuckles.

“Like, were you one of the kids in middle school or whatever it’s called in Canada that all the girls liked? Or did you grow into that?”

“I… no, no, I had braces for almost 5 years. I was terrified of girls. I was not a kid girls liked,” he explains.

She furrows her brow and purses her lips at him, flinching when the artist moves to another spot on her foot. She squeezes Shawn’s hand harder. He smiles.

“I want to believe you but I don’t think I do. I see you now and I can’t believe you weren’t cute growing up.”

“I’ll send you pictures,” he promises, nodding at her. After a few seconds, he asks, “Why are you asking this?”

She looks embarrassed. “I’m suspicious of boys that grew up knowing they’re hot. There were guys I went to school with that were horrible because every girl in class had a thing for them and they just never grew out of being cocky little shits.”

“And you’re worried that’s me?”

“That sounds bad. I don’t think you’re a cocky little shit. You just seem too good to be true sometimes.”

Shawn looked a little smug, covering her clasped hands with his free hand. “And then you remember I’m 20 and that’s why you won’t go out with me.”

The tattoo artists covers up a laugh with a cough. Lilly’s eyes blow wide open. This thing between them is not something they acknowledge. Shawn seems playful enough about it, so she decides to engage.

“I feel like I was a different human being at 20. I’m not saying I’ve reached enlightenment now at 24, that’s stupid. I just—”

“I know, I’m just teasing you.”

“It’s less about your age now than it was,” she admits quietly. He looks interested now. This is new information.

“I thought at first there’s no way I could relate to a 20-year-old on any level other than very basic friendship. But you proved that wrong. So I guess if I’m being really honest with myself, which I am because I have an electric needle in my foot, the only thing left of concern is your job.”

Shawn ducks his head. The tattoo artist looks like he’s not paying attention at all, which makes him good at his job.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Shawn whispers, looking bashful and a little hurt. Lilly shuts down, worried that her honesty was too much. She keeps his hand in hers, rubbing it absent-mindedly as she continues to stare at the tattoo.

She and Shawn are quiet for the rest of the session. She can only imagine what the tattoo artist must think. When it’s finished, Shawn leans in to take a good look. She’s smiling at it fondly.

“It looks great,” he murmurs, sounding distracted. She releases his hand. He flexes it and marvels at the pinkness of his skin from having it grasped so tightly. He looks at her, “Are you happy with it?”

“I am. Blissfully happy. It’s perfect.”

Shawn helps her stand after they work to carefully bandage the spot and put her shoe back on. He holds his arm out to her for support as he walks her out to the Uber. She doesn’t really need it but she takes advantage.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” she tries once they’re on their way back to Burbank.

“I should get back to my hotel, actually, I have to catch a red-eye.”

She feels awkward around him for the first time since she refused to kiss him in her bedroom while he had an ice pack on his lip.

They arrive at her house. He asks the driver to wait as he steps out and meets her by the front steps. He pulls her in for a hug and it’s warmer than she expects. She presses her face into his neck and hopes he feels what she’s trying to say through the action. He pulls back and pecks her forehead.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promises, opening the door to climb back into the car.

“When will you be back?” she almost whines.

“It’ll be a little longer. Probably six weeks.”

She looks hurt under a brave face. It makes his stomach turn. It also goes to prove her point about his job as an obstacle to their relationship. He dips his head in the car and doesn’t watch as she walks up the stone steps under a curtain of bougainvillea.

++++++++

October 14th, 2018

“Sometimes when I miss you the most I watch your music videos,” she admits, two glasses of red blend deep.

He raises his eyebrows at that idea. “Yeah? Which one’s your favorite?”

“Well, I hate “Stitches” because you get the shit beat out of you.”

He laughs heartily at her bluntness. He sips his beer and relaxes against his hotel bed headboard, gazing at the skyline. He can’t remember where he is anyway, so he closes his eyes and imagines sitting in her bed with her head in his lap, hair spilling in every direction.

“I didn’t ask which ones you hate,” he reminds her.

“I really like “Nervous.” It makes me smile,” she whispers, pulling Olaf to her chest and pecking his white, sparkly forehead.

“I like “Nervous,” too.”

They’re both quiet, ignoring the meaningful silence between them.

“You know what’s not fair?” he pipes up.

“Hmm?” she hums through a mouthful of wine.

“I don’t have videos of you I can watch when I miss you.”

She sighs. “I’m not an international superstar.”

“Send me some.”

“I don’t know that I have many of just me… hold on, let me put you on speaker.”

He waits as she scrolls through her phone.

“Wow, I really don’t have any videos of myself. I have some stupid drunk snapchats—”

“Oh, I definitely want those,” he laughs, straightening up at the idea.

“Like, my drunk lip sync game is strong.”

She’s going through videos and giggling to herself. He’s perfectly content to just sit there and listen.

“Oh my god, SEAN!” she cries suddenly, her voice a moan of longing and nostalgia.

“What?!” he asks, alarmed.

“Oh! Not you, sorry. My college friend Sean. I haven’t talked to him in a long time. He works for Apple now.”

“Oh, ok,” he chuckles, dragging back another gulp of beer.

“Oh my god, I’m such a fucking lush,” she laughs, alarmed at the number of drunk videos she has, “I’m sending you all of these because they’re all hilarious. And now I’ve gone too far back into 2008, not a good look.”

“No, send me those, too.”

“From when I was 13? Hell no.”

“That sounds like gold, honestly.”

A few more seconds of scrolling and she sighs once again, aggravated. “Sorry, bub, I have very little for you. Certainly not of the quality of your music videos.”

“That’s ok, send me what you have and then just do new ones.”

“Of what?”

“Of whatever. Of you at home, hanging out, cooking, singing—”

“I know better than to send you video of me singing.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles, “Don’t do that, I’ll be too tempted to post it.”

“So I need to document more of my life to share with you.”

“At least for a while until I get back to LA.”

“How much longer?”

“Two weeks.”

“I’ll see if I can hold myself together until then,” she teases, releasing her empty glass of wine on her coffee table, “But for now, it’s time for bed. I’m glad you had a good show. I miss you, pal.”

“I miss you, too. I’ll see you soon. Sweet dreams.”

And she does send him videos, usually when he’s least expecting it. He got the first one in the car on the way to the airport to return to Toronto. It was a two minute diatribe about the heat wave in Los Angeles and her despair at finding her car to be registering 118 degrees when she went to Ralph’s for groceries. She blew him a kiss thoughtlessly at the end of the video. When he was alone in his own bed that night, twitching and sleepless, he re-watches the last thirty seconds, thumbing over the status bar on the bottom of his phone a few extra times to watch and hear the loud kiss.

He gets another when he’s just waking up in Pickering while visiting his parents. She’s gone to Malibu without him and his heart aches at the idea. Though a little guilty, he’s also pleased to see she didn’t light up there the same way without him. She walks him around Zuma Beach for almost 10 minutes, rambling about nothing. He watches that video in full 3 times that day.

His favorite is one he gets while out in the city with his buddies, he can’t remember where exactly. She’s lying in bed on her side curled up so she looked like she was talking to him during one of their unplanned sleepovers. She’s telling him about the girls she met from Emily’s musical and this conversation they had about their place in the industry as women and their insecurities and their strengths. She tells him how she stayed quiet during the conversation, partly in an effort to let these wise, wonderful, talented women have their say and learn from their words, partly because she thought if she started talking, she’d explode. She looks right into the camera lens during this video and it’s startling to him the hole he feels in his chest at her pleading gaze.

“So, really what I realized is as much as I liked listening to these women talk, I realized I didn’t want to talk to them as much as I wanted to talk to you. So come back to LA, your second home, to your partner in crime and your beach buddy. I miss you like crazy. It actually hurts me. Ok I’ve had an emotional evening and if I start talking about how much you mean to me, I won’t stop. Not that you don’t deserve to hear it and be reminded of it regularly, but it’s almost 2 AM and I’m trying not to be that girl anymore. So, as always, I love ya and I’m proud of you every fucking day and you make me want to be great.”

++++++++

November 5th, 2018

“So like… with Harry, it’s like…” she trails off, grinning. He feels his stomach churn at the idea that she might talk about him this way when he’s not around, “It’s like he’s an old friend who I love but never get to see or talk to anymore. When he shows up anywhere on Tumblr or whatever, I’m like, ‘aw, I love Harry.’ But Niall…”

He sits up when he sees the devilish look on her face. “But Niall what?” he prompts, sounding uneasy.

“But Niall is my mans,” she says simply, blushing at him through the screen.

He rolls his eyes. “God. This is why I can’t take you to industry events, y’know, because I’m worried you’ll kidnap him.”

“I wouldn’t, I definitely wouldn’t, but I would shamelessly bat my eyelashes all night until he either gave in to my advances or asked me if I had some kind of condition.”

Shawn bursts out laughing at that, imagining the scene. “Yup, yup, I’m never going to take you to meet him.”

++++++++

November 28th, 2018

She’s focused on trying not to drop her phone, coffee mug or purse as she wrangles her way into her bedroom, the sun beating down on her exposed neck. She pushes inside and right away, there’s something wrong. There’s a large black suitcase resting against her dresser. Alarmed, she looks up and sees him at the far end of the room. He’s shedding a leather jacket on her chair, looking both delighted and guilty.

“What are you—”

He interrupts, “You ruined my surprise! I was going to hide and scare you.”

“Fuck, Shawn!” she cries, dropping her belongings on the dresser and racing for him, deciding to launch herself into him when he holds his arms out to her. He catches her easily and spins her as she locks her arms around his neck. He has her a foot off the ground and slows their twirl, eventually lowering her slowly until her feet touch the ground. He buries his face in her neck and keeps her there. When he can finally stomach it, he pulls away, stepping back with his hands on her shoulders.

“Why are you crying?” he laughs, brushing her arm playfully.

She wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. “Because I’m fucking surprised, goof, you weren’t supposed to be here for two days. I was going to pick you up from LAX like a dutiful best friend. I was going to order sushi so we’d have it ready when I brought you home.”

His heart flutters both at her idea and the mention of her home as ‘home.’ Like it was sort of his, too. “I’m sorry. That sounds like a great plan. If you want, I can call an Uber and go back to LAX and we can try again.”

“No, this is better,” she insists, planting her face back into his chest, make-up smearing on his white t-shirt.

“I missed you,” he admits, rubbing her back gently, rocking them.

“I missed you somethin’ awful,” she agrees, stepping away and pushing at his chest, “You were gonna scare me?”

“Yeah, I was going to hide in the wardrobe.”

“Wow, you had a scheme.”

“I had a whole plane ride to plan it out.”

“And how is it you’re here two days early?” She sits in the middle of her bed. He follows her to prop himself on the edge, not wanting to get too comfortable without her permission.

“Well, don’t get too excited, because my meetings got moved up. So you don’t have extra time with me, it’s just sooner than we planned.”

“I’ll take what I can get, Mendes, you’re a busy man.”

He shrugs. “I’ll always make time for you.”

She cocks her head and smiles, unsure of how to react when he says those sweet things to her. She doesn’t get the sense that he’s actively trying to wear her down. She thinks he’s just saying what he means. She wonders if he’s in love with her.

He leans forward, eyebrows raised as if to tell her a secret. She leans with him.

“I brought my guitar,” he whispers. She jolts back, clapping her hands.

“Yay! Now I can finally learn to play and then seduce Niall like I’ve always wanted,” she jokes, kicking her legs out and biting her lip.

“Funny, funny girl,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes as he gets up off the bed to get his guitar case.

She watches him as he bends down to unlock the case, her eyes wandering to the inch or two of his Armani boxers that peek at her from above the waistband of his jeans. She bites her lip again, her heart still pounding from the surprise of finding him in her room.

“God, I love that you’re here,” she whispers earnestly. He lifts the guitar and turns to her, smiling shyly.

“Good surprise?” he asks.

“Great surprise,” she confirms with a nod, scooting back on her bed until she hit the mass of pillows in front of her headboard. He wants to crawl on top of her and never leave. Instead, he picks up the guitar and starts plucking out something he learned for her.

In a flash, before he can even start singing it, her head snaps up from her gaze on his fingers and she widens her eyes. “Is this…?”

“Lights out, I still hear the rain…” he begins, singing at her through a satisfied smirk. She buries herself deeper into her pillows and covers her mouth and nose with her hands.

Up to that point, she couldn’t have imagined loving that song more than she had for the last ten years. But he learned it for her, he took the time out of writing and touring to learn her very favorite song by her very favorite band just to sing it for her. He sings the whole thing perfectly and emotionally, shutting his eyes and nodding his head and getting into it. When the last note fades out, he rests a hand on the guitar and smiles sheepishly.

“You are something else,” she laughs shakily, sitting up from the pillows. Her face is all red. He wants to cup it in his hands and stare. He holds onto the guitar a little harder.

“You wanna learn “Jasey Rae?”” he offers, gesturing at the guitar.

She blinks, tempted. “No, I want to learn one of your songs.”

His heart pounds as he shifts in his seat. “Ok. Which one?”

“Which one is easiest for a beginner?”

He laughs. “None of them.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches out to poke at the strings under his fingers. “C’mon, I know you want to hear me sing your music.”

He’s busted. He shakes his head, giggling bashfully. “I give. Let’s learn “Like To Be You.””

“Oh, hell yes, duet time. Let’s High School Musical this bitch.”

He rolls his eyes at her uncanny ability to twist his romantic gestures into humor. He still has another trick up his sleeve, though.

“C’mere,” he gestures, kicking off his shoes and spreading his legs. She raises her eyebrows. He pats the space between his thighs.

“Come there?” she chokes.

“Come sit between my legs otherwise I can’t show you where your fingers go.”

She looks suspicious but crawls over to him, stopping when she’s a breath away from his lips to turn and scoot back into his chest. He lifts the guitar over her lap and lays it down to show her different parts of it. He shows her the strings and names them and shows her how to use a guitar pick. He positions his head over her shoulder and guides her hands, singing quietly as he shows her the first few chord progressions. She picks it up quickly.

“Did I ever tell you I played the harp when I was little?” She’s looking down at the guitar when she says it, cheeks going red.

“Really?” he laughs in disbelief.

“Yeah. For two years. I wanted to play an instrument no one else I knew did so I picked the harp. My mom and I took lessons together.”

“That’s fucking adorable,” he coos, resting his head on her shoulder. She spares him a glance and shrugs gently, not enough to shove him off.

“So you’re gonna be a pro, then. Ok now put your fingers here and here,” he explains, demonstrating by moving her hands around for her.

“I get worried I might lose you a little,” she sings authentically, light and airy in her falsetto he’s grown to really love. He harmonizes with her. She falters slightly at the unexpected addition, grinning at him as she continues, pulling herself back on track. He nods along, impressed by how well she knows the words.

She struggles with where to put her fingers, but she’s motivated and it helps that she knows the song. Slowly but surely, she puts it together and within a couple hours can play it through at a slow tempo. When she runs it through solidly the first time, he wraps his arms around her and shakes her.

“You did it! You’re a fuckin’ rockstar!”

She squeals and burrows back into him, delighted at his enthusiasm. He wiggles behind her and manages to squeeze his phone out of his impossibly tight back pocket. “C’mon, let’s get one on video.”

“Nooooo, Shawn, no Instagram, not with me all snuggled up to you, Lauren will never let me hear the end of it.”

“Not for Instagram, just for me, ok?”

The look of sincerity on his face breaks through her resolve quickly. She nods and he goes to great lengths to set it up, perching it on the mantle above her fireplace and sitting behind her as she strums.

It sounds nice. Julia Michaels’ voice is heartbreakingly beautiful; the recorded version of the song aches with want and frustration and guilt and regret but with Lilly, it’s different. This is the closest they’ve come to discussing their relationship since the day of the tattoo snafu. She’s singing honestly and with the grace of someone with a nice voice who is paying more attention to the guitar parts she learned pretty quickly. He’s staring at her the whole time, bobbing his head and singing to her and with her quietly. When the song ends, she looks up at him with a grin and looks to the camera.

“We did it!” she squeaks, throwing her arms out. He laughs and stands up from behind her, walking to end the recording and put his phone back.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, patting her ankle.

“Are you kidding? Thank you! That was great. And hey, now you can take me on tour and we never have to be apart,” she teases. His demeanor shifts a little.

“I have to talk to you about that, actually.” Her eyebrows raise in anticipation.

“I wrote a new album,” he explains quietly, clearing his throat and looking down at his crossed legs.

“You released a new album in May,” she laughs, her voice on edge due to the look on his face.

“No, I know, and we won’t release it for a while, but I wrote it. And… the reason I’m telling you this is… because a lot of it is about you.”

She stares at him blankly. “A lot of it?”

He bobs his head back and forth noncommittally. “All of it.”

“All of it?” She’s trying not to panic, he can see it on her face.

“It just… came out,” he babbles, waving his hands frantically, “Like lyric vomit. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never written this many songs myself before, much less about one person. I didn’t know what to do. I was calling Ryan and Teddy and Ed trying to figure out if I was just fucking crazy or what and I sent them the stuff I had and they said it’s good, it’s like, really good, they say it’s my best stuff. And I didn’t know what to do because we have this… thing, this fucking elephant in the room at all times and I had to tell you because I’m so excited about this music but it’s… it’s all about you.”

She’s just staring at him, her heart beating faster with every word that spills from his panicked mouth. She looks down at the guitar which feels really heavy all of a sudden. She hugs it closer like a shield between them.

“Is it… I mean… what kind of songs are they?”

He hesitates. “Romantic ones…?”

She’s quiet for a while. It’s killing him, but he doesn’t dare speak. She wiggles uncomfortably.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear it,” she whispers, her smile shy and apologetic. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“I’m excited to play it for you. When it’s… y’know, done.”

He leaves for a dinner with people from his label. She sits on the edge of her bed for a while, gnawing on her top lip and staring at the tile floor. It occurs to her now how badly, how irrevocably she may have screwed this up.

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @crapri