totallynotslothhh - Tumblr blog

totallynotslothhh · 1 day ago

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HARD PERCEPTIONS

Pairing: joost klein x fem!reader

Word count: 4,054

Warning: smoking weed, friends to lovers, smut, fingering, lot of fluff, dirty talking, unprotected sex, cum inside

Description: Is it really possible to be so clueless that you don’t realize your best friend likes you? Apparently, yes.

Author’s note: I just got a sudden wave of motivation because I listened to a song, so of course my hopeless romantic side had to come out somehow. So here’s a little one-shot with lots and lots of plot and sweetness. Thank you for all the support I’ve been getting on my other works, I love you all 😭 and AS SOON AS THIS DAMN PIERCING HEALS I promise I’ll write that one-shot for you freaky gooners. Enjoy the read!

big kisses!

(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!!🙏)

——————————————————————

The cool breeze brushing against my skin made me shiver from the temperature difference on my sunburnt skin. I had been under the sun all day, and now, under the orange streaks of sunset and the distant shadow of the moon, my skin welcomed the pleasant chills. I’d spent nearly the whole day at the beach with my best friend, Joost.

Of course, like two idiots, out of 12 hours in the sun, we remembered to put on sunscreen only twice. It wasn’t a disaster, but his skin, more sensitive than mine, was clearly more affected. It was kind of funny how he would randomly curse under his breath every time his red arm brushed against something.

Now we were lying in a field; not just any field, but the field we’d escaped to since high school to smoke weed, talk about music, reptilian governors, alien invasions, dreams, wishes.

It was the place we ran to when the pressure of simply being alive became too much.

The one thing I truly felt lucky about was ending up in his class when I was thirteen.

How was it possible that two souls so alike had never met before? We shared the same perceptions, the same passions, the same thoughts -borderline clinical, really. Sometimes I felt like he was the only one who could understand me. Really understand me.

“You brought it, right?” The laid back, half-doubtful tone of the bleached blond’s voice hit my ears and made me lazily open my eyes.

We were lying on a beach towel big enough to fit at least two more people. Our shoes were carelessly abandoned in a corner, and his shoulder bag was resting beside my backpack. We were pretty close: he was lying with his hands behind his head, legs crossed, radiating a kind of bliss. He still wore his swim trunks under a pair of black shorts and a plain, light white polo shirt. His hair was a mess; he had recently bleached it again and reshaved the back.

I’d be lying if I said he didn’t look good.

“I’ll check” I replied softly, suppressing a sigh as I sat up. I crossed my legs and leaned toward my backpack, rummaging inside while glancing over at Joost, whose eyes were fixed on my face; probably trying to see if I had brought the weed.

As if I’d ever forget it at home. Obviously not.

“Should I roll it now?” I asked, my hand paused inside the bag after grabbing the little green nug sealed in a plastic baggie.

“If you want” he replied, his tone somewhere between wanting to smoke and not caring when it happened. He knew we were going to smoke regardless. So, I made the call.

I pulled out the baggie, the grinder, and a crumpled pack of Camel Blues hidden in the dark corner of my backpack. A soft chuckle escaped him, which automatically made me smile.

What an idiot. He wanted to smoke just as much as I did; he was just playing coy.

I placed everything on the towel in front of me and brought the cigarette to my lips, dragging my wet tongue along the paper to weaken it and make it easier to break. As soon as the bitter taste hit my tongue, I looked up: he was already watching me. He’d been watching me for a while.

His gaze wasn’t heavy, nor was it suggestive, it never had been. It was just impossible to decipher, and yet comforting. The storm within those blue irises, his small eyes, those pale lashes… it was all impossible to make sense of, to label. And that’s what made it beautiful.

I saw him sit up, his weight supported by his arms behind him. I turned my attention back to the little blue and purple silicone grinder in my hands. I dropped some tobacco in it, set aside the filter from the cigarette, then grabbed the bud; just enough to make sure we’d feel the effects.

“You staying over tonight?” Lately, that had become a pretty common question. He’d just broken up with his latest girlfriend and had taken it hard at first.

The sleepless nights talking, either on the phone or over tiny cups of coffee and an overflowing ashtray, were too many to count. I’d seen him wrecked, his dark circles doubled, his mood like that of a stray dog. And even though he said he’d been the one to end it, it still hit him hard.

“Mhm, yeah. Sure” I answered immediately, while my fingers worked to mix the heavenly substance with the tobacco. I’d be lying again if I said I didn’t like it, that it didn’t affect me, that my body felt nothing whenever he hugged me, touched me, looked at me. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a fluttering low in my belly, or that the smile on my face didn’t come naturally every time we joked around.

For years I’d convinced myself I didn’t like him, but the truth was that I probably had a crush on him.

A massive one. While he was still dating someone else.

I never even had the courage to admit it to myself, let alone to him.

“Why? Didn’t you sleep last night?” I asked, lifting my eyes to him and catching his face turned upwards, eyes closed, the first button of his polo undone. He looked almost ethereal: the curve of his nose, his neck, his lips, the closed eye, those blond lashes resting gently on his cheek, and his fringe shifting with the light breeze.

I quickly looked back at the grinder, trying to avoid the increasingly intense blush spreading across my face.

“Yeah… but not really. I sleep better when I’m with you.” His warm hand landed on my knee unexpectedly as he leaned in to see what I was doing. It was a routine he’d seen a thousand times, yet it always seemed to fascinate him. I looked up at him, and a strange heat bloomed in my chest.

“Instead of talking nonsense, can you just pass me the Rizlas and filters?” I chuckled, which caught his attention and sparked a kind of playful challenge in him. Before pulling away to get what I’d asked for, he gently pinched my cheek with two fingers. I pulled back with a fake sigh.

“Why? Are you embarrassed?” he teased, clearly joking even as he dug around my now half empty backpack with indie vibe. He grabbed the Rizlas and a filter, then looked back at me, his expression somewhere between amused and teasing, before handing them over.

“I’m not embarrassed” I answered firmly, even though there was nothing firm about my tone. My gaze dropped and the smile I couldn’t wipe off my face gave me away. I heard a low hum and caught him in my peripheral vision as he slumped down again. He rested his head on my bare thigh; since I was still in my bikini, with a light blue shirt worn as a cover-up, slipping off one shoulder and exposing my legs.

“You always are” he murmured, his voice brushing against my skin, the faint scruff on his upper lip lightly scratching my thigh. His arms wrapped gently around my waist, shifting the shirt as they moved.

His hands found their place against my skin, warm and steady, igniting a fire inside me that his touch only made worse.

I couldn’t help but think: he knew. He knew the effect he had on me.

“That’s not true” I replied, defensively, as I grabbed a piece of cardboard and rolled it into a filter, placing it on the Rizla I then filled with the grinder’s contents. His fingers moved along my skin and I arched slightly, letting out a frustrated sound at the distraction.

“Stop it, Joost, come on” I said, shifting my hips a little to keep the joint from falling apart. I wrapped and sealed it with a swipe of my tongue and pressed the edges to make sure it stuck.

“Boring” he muttered, even more teasing than before and rested his hands firmly around my waist again. I held my breath until everything was ready.

He watched me: my hands, my leg.. lazily but intently. And honestly, I would’ve let him look at me like that in any other situation too.

He had really gotten comfortable: head resting on my thigh, hands around my waist, his legs mirroring the way I sat, and his polo slightly lifted at the back, revealing a sliver of pale skin to the gentle breeze.

“I rolled it” I said, placing the joint between my lips and grabbing the lighter from inside the cigarette pack. I felt him nod, his hair brushing against my skin and sending another wave of chills across my body.

I cupped the flame and lit the joint, taking a small drag and exhaling through my nose. Then I took a longer hit, letting the dense smoke fill my lungs. He groaned slightly as he sat up, bringing his face close to mine, eyes locked on the joint, silently asking to take a hit.

I held it out to him, watching as his lips wrapped around the paper. His eyes met mine -again.

We were dangerously close, just a few centimeters apart. His hands on the ground but aligned with my hips, like they were ready to grab me again. His gaze locked on mine, his body leaning in.

He took three hits, exhaling the smoke through his nose; except for the last one, which he blew directly into my face.

I let out a laugh, pulling away and breaking eye contact before it dragged me under again.

“You’re really pretty.” Those words, spoken so nonchalantly, so sincerely and lightly, were enough to make my chest tighten and bring a new shade to my cheeks, quite different from my natural skin tone. I turned my head toward the field, the usual little smile still playing on my lips as I took another drag and when he saw my reaction, a soft laugh escaped him.

He leaned back against me again, his arms wrapping around my body once more, and for the entire time we smoked, he decided it was comfy enough to make me hold the joint for both of us. It was awkward, funny, but above all, divinely familiar.

I mirrored his previous posture, with the only difference being that I used one free hand behind me to support myself. I could feel the effects start to settle in: my eyelids getting heavier, my thoughts beginning to blur into one another, and a blissful sensation accompanied by the loud thud of my heartbeat echoing in my ears. It wasn’t like the first few times anymore, my body had gotten used to the substance, but those first minutes always sent me straight to heaven.

I had almost forgotten about Joost, maybe because he had shifted away from me.

I opened my eyes again and turned my dilated pupils toward his figure lying next to me and like before, he was already watching me. I playfully placed a hand over his face, trying to block his eyes, just as I brought the joint back to my lips for one of the last hits.

“You scared of my stare or something?” And at that moment, it was like only his voice existed for my ears. Nothing else mattered. That soft, kind, warm voice, dripping with teasing, drowned everything else out.

“Hm?” he finished with a little laugh, grabbing my wrist with his hand and slowly guiding my palm down to his lips. My eyes were drawn to his movements. When he began placing soft kisses right there on that part of my body; never once looking away, I didn’t move a single inch.

I didn’t look away, like that moment was the only image in existence.

His lips wandered, staying in the same area, leaving sweet kisses from my palm down to my sensitive wrist.

“I’m not scared of your stare, it’s just that…” I murmured, slowly pulling my hand back with a sigh, suddenly feeling frustrated.

Why was he acting like this? It bothered me not being able to react, not being able to give in or respond.

It bothered me that he was doing all these innocent but easily misunderstood things.

“It’s just that…?” he whispered as he sat back up. He reached out his hand toward me, and I passed him the half smoked joint, doing everything I could to avoid the eye contact I’d been so addicted to just moments ago. I took a deep breath, the cool air rushing into my lungs almost jolting me out of the daze I was in.

“It’s just that you do it on purpose. You mess with me, and I never know how to react when you’re like this.” I didn’t mean to, but my tone came out especially pouty. My lips naturally curved downward, and my eyes traced the crumpled edges of the towel like I needed the distraction.

It felt like I was confessing my feelings, like I was laying myself bare while my brain was moving in slow motion. Like maybe… it was time.

But I didn’t want to ruin anything with him.

When he didn’t respond, I turned my attention to him. Strangely, he was staring at the joint, letting it burn out passively in the open air. His expression was thoughtful, like my words had flipped a switch in his head.

But I didn’t want that either.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, biting down gently on my lower lip as I looked at him: to check if everything was okay, if I hadn’t broken something between us.

“I mean, it’s just that-”

“I like you.” I didn’t get to finish my sentence. My brain completely short-circuited the moment those words left his mouth.

What?

He looked at me for a few seconds, like he was trying to find some kind of explanation in my frozen expression. His eyes dropped from mine to my lips, slightly parted without me even noticing. I licked them, watching as he swallowed a nonexistent lump in his throat that felt too real to ignore.

“I like you, y/n. Why do you think I suddenly broke up with my ex out of nowhere? It hurt too much to keep you in my heart and not be able to do anything about it… I can’t keep pretending you’re not driving me insane.”

My brain took its time to process that, so much so that I didn’t even manage to make sense of the order of his words before our lips collided. My body moved before my thoughts did.

I didn’t kiss him softly.. God, no. I captured his lips in an urgent kiss, one overflowing with all the repressed feelings that had finally been given permission to come to light. I climbed into his lap, his hands gripping my bare thighs that were now parted against him. I cupped his face, savoring the sensation of his wet tongue moving sloppily against mine for the first time.

I could feel his breath on my skin, his groans against my lips. I finally got to taste what it was like to have him crushed against me.

And we kissed; for moments, for heartbeats, for what felt like entire minutes, just basking in the overwhelming realization that we belonged to each other.

The burning end of the joint held between Joost’s fingers brushed against my skin, and that alone made me break away from his mouth. A small whimper of pain escaped my lips, and my head dropped immediately to look at the joint now lying on the towel.

He chuckled, and I shot him a glare, only to burst out laughing when I saw that he hadn’t even stopped. He hadn’t loosened his grip on my thighs at all.

“I want you..” he whispered with a smile, letting his hands roam over my ass, squeezing and spreading it, making my cheeks flush bright red.

Maybe it was because we were both high, or maybe it was the atmosphere, the fading light slowly giving way to a sky full of stars, the situation I’d imagined myself in for years. A mix of sensations: his gaze on me, his lips that wasted no time attaching to my neck, searching for spots to bite, lick, and kiss as if he wanted to mimic the constellations above us. Maybe it was his hands slipping from my ass under my bikini, making his touch feel even more vivid and electric.

I don’t know. In that moment, the shivers spreading across my skin made my nipples harden and my body clench around nothing, already imagining what it would feel like to welcome him inside my warmth.

“Joost…” I managed to breathe out, eyes still closed, while his only answer was to bite down into the curve of my neck: hungry, passionate.

I gripped his shoulders and with a soft moan tugged at the collar of his polo, trying to silently ask him to take it off.

After what felt like endless minutes, he finally pulled away and slipped it off in one motion, giving me the chance to grab the nearly finished joint and light it back up.

Our first time was going to be high; A thought that made a goofy smile appear on my face, instantly erased when his lips crashed into mine again, hungrier than before.

I had just taken a hit, and as our tongues twisted together again, I let the smoke drift from my mouth into his. The sensation of passing it to him through that messy kiss made me grind against him.

Our cores were pressed together, separated only by a few layers of fabric. The warm, sharp taste of the weed became the soundtrack to the wet sounds escaping from both our mouths.

His hands slowly found their way to my bikini top, gently pushing the cups aside and replacing them with his palms.

He touched me slowly, with a tenderness I had never felt before, pinching my nipples gently and pulling away just enough to look at me, his eyes half-lidded and a small smile shining on his saliva slick lips.

I caressed the back of his neck and arched my back when he lowered his mouth to my chest, taking one of the pink buds between his teeth.

“Please, Joost…” From the deepest part of my throat, that plea came out, one he obeyed without hesitation.

He didn’t pull away from my breast, but his free hand slid down until it reached my throbbing core. I wrapped my legs tighter around his hips, and when he tapped his middle finger against my clit, I saw stars.

I was being stimulated by both his hand and his mouth, and his gaze never once left my face, drinking in every flicker of pleasure that twisted across it.

“How long have you been waiting for this moment, huh?” The vibrations of his voice teased my nipple in the most delicious way.

His middle and ring fingers slipped between my folds and pressed against the rough pad of pleasure that made me lose my breath.

Not even enough air to moan properly.

“How much do you want me… how much do you want my cock..hm?” He sped up the movement of his fingers, bringing his face close to mine to look into my eyes: now smaller, struggling not to close.

He held me tightly by the hips with the hand that had been on my chest, while, in contrast to the urgent pace of his fingers, he gently brushed his nose against mine.

I tossed aside the joint filter I was still holding, dropping it to a far corner of the towel, and grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look into my eyes while he pumped his fingers in and out of me, the wet sound of them sliding through my walls echoing in my ears.

“Talk to me” he whispered, stealing a tender kiss from my lips, and after just a few seconds pulled back again, his gaze locked on mine.

I didn’t know what to say. My lower belly was drenched in pleasure from his touch, my legs nearly frozen around his hips, my chest heaving, making it impossible to even think, let alone speak.

“I waited for you for so… so long” I murmured through the moans I tried to suppress, right before he pulled his fingers out, dragging them along my outer lips, then catching my clit between them.

My body tensed again, my back arched involuntarily, and I shut my eyes tight; unlike him, who didn’t look away for even a second, watching every flicker of bliss play across my face.

“Really?” His voice was soft, tinged with the haziness of the high. I reopened my eyes and nodded, earning a moment of relief as his hand reached to slide my swimsuit to the side, baring my need to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked, almost regretfully, before kissing along my jawline, then my neck, and finally back to my lips, never waiting for my answer.

I smiled without thinking, raising my eyes to his and running my hands to the back of his neck.

“I was scared.” The vulnerability in my voice was unmistakable. Even through my ragged breathing, the tenderness wrapping around us like a blanket of intimacy was impossible to miss.

He paused, pulling his face just far enough from mine to take in my features bathed in the dim natural light of a sun that had just dipped below the horizon. I bit my bottom lip, and he smiled at the sight before cupping my face and planting a series of soft, quick kisses on my lips, like he was trying to pass me a message without saying it aloud.

A message that said: “Trust me, like you always have.”

There was, in fact, a mutual exchange of trust when I found myself on top of him, his full length buried deep inside me, and the control entirely in my hands to move however I pleased.

He lay flat on the towel, arms wrapped around my torso, his hips matching my rhythm with thrusts of his own, adding intensity. His mouth stayed close to my ear, releasing filthy sounds, low groans, without shame, without hesitation.

His skin, flushed in places, was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen: the feel of his skin against mine, my chest pressing into his, my hands clutching at the grass beneath the towel, and the ever present breeze that had accompanied us until that very moment.

“I’m close…” I moaned into his ear, feeling his hands tighten on my overheated skin, his thrusts gradually taking over as exhaustion began to slow my movements. My head was still spinning from the lingering effects of the high, everything feeling even more heightened and raw.

“Come… fuck, come for me…” I heard him curse, grip tightening even further, his hips slamming upward with a lewd rhythm, the wet sounds of our slick bodies crashing together filling the air.

I tensed, and his head fell back against the softness of the grass. I cupped his face between my hands and kissed him, right as I felt his hot release spill inside me, painting my walls in white. I whimpered, back arching, as a few final thrusts carried me over the edge into the most powerful, blissful sensation I had ever experienced with anyone.

Our lips stayed locked, our breaths still mingled, our tongues still hungry to explore each other.

His hands rested gently on my waist, stroking my skin to help soothe the tension from my trembling muscles.

When we finally pulled away, both gasping for air, our eyes met and in them we exchanged the most honest ‘I love you’ either of us had ever said, even without speaking it aloud.

In that moment, we loved each other.

We were high, yes… but we were entirely aware of it all. And the darkness that finally fell over that field became the perfect backdrop for the confession of our love.

#joost klein x reader #joost x reader #fanfic #joost fanfic #joost x you #joost klein smut #joost klein x y/n #joost klein fanfic #fanficz #joost klein fluff #joost klein x you #joost klein rpf #joost klein real person fiction #joost smut #joost fluff

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totallynotslothhh · 6 days ago

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SILENT WORDS PT.2

pairing: joost klein x deaf fem!reader

word count: 3,874

warning: the protagonist is deaf, lot of angst, fluff, fighting, crying, lack of communication

description: her emotions mix with his, creating a huge chaos in their relationship. Will they be able to merge their worlds despite the strong and clear contrast between them?

author's note: HERE WE ARE, after my computer tried to sabotage me, I'm still here. My eye decided to get inflamed, I haven't worn contacts in a week, and I honestly just want to AAAAAAA. Anyway, I cried while writing this second and final part, it felt like cutting out my own heart, but that's exactly how I like it 😔 (you do too).

That said, let's pretend twt doesn't exist anymore and enjoy your reading.

big kisses!

(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!! 🙏)

part.1 part.2

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“answer me, please”

sent today at 10:58 PM

“let me explain everything, you can’t just disappear like this”

sent today at 10:58 PM

“please y/n”

sent today at 10:58 PM

“I’m coming to your place”

sent today at 11:01 PM

missed voice call at 11:17 PM

“open up”

sent today at 11:17 PM

“I’m not leaving until you open the door”

sent today at 11:19 PM

“rather than leave you alone, I’ll sleep out here tonight”

sent today at 11:19 PM

missed voice call at 11:22 PM

“let’s talk y/n”

sent today at 11:22 PM

“I’m not leaving anyway”

sent today at 11:22 PM

My phone’s vibrations were driving me crazy. Joost had been flooding me with messages and calls all day.

He had to come to terms with it. I could feel my heart’s arteries burn at the mere thought of talking to him, of facing him, of eventually putting an end to that relationship.

Because that’s what was going to happen.

I had seen it in his eyes, embarrassed and hesitant. I had seen it in the way he moved, shoulders hunched, as if being seen with me brought him some kind of shame. I had seen it in his tight lips. In the scowl he wore.

In how he avoided speaking to me. In how he avoided staying too close.

But what had I done? What did I do wrong?

Was I too emotional? Too trusting?

Had I gone too far imagining a relationship with him? Imagining a thousand futures together after he ended up in my bed almost every day following that first time? After I found him shirtless in my kitchen one morning, making breakfast like he really was my boyfriend?

‘Good morning.’ His eyes, helped by his thick glasses, crinkled into a crescent, making space for a smile that asked -no, begged- for my attention. He was focused on what was in the pan, probably pancakes, though that name was generous for how misshapen they looked.

He wore only soft shorts, falling gently over his thighs. His hair was messy, though clearly pushed into a more “tidy” look, except for a few rebellious strands.

I smiled seeing him like that. I smiled feeling he was mine. That sight was mine, the privilege of experiencing him that way was mine. He was mine.

Or had been. Maybe.

I didn’t sign anything to him, not even a good morning. I just walked over to him and clung to his arm, almost like a sleepy koala.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his, rubbing my tired face against his warm skin, occasionally nibbling him gently and feeling him shiver slightly. Without opening my eyes, I reached out to signal that I wanted a hug: I placed a hand on his soft stomach, caressing it and sensing more shivers beneath my touch. One of his hands, evidently free from the pan, cupped my cheeks and chin, gently taking hold of my face. His fingers lightly sank into my skin, tilting my head back and lifting it.

Then his lips -lips that had explored every corner of my body, that had been soaked in my taste just the night before- landed on mine. At first it was a simple kiss, but our tongues met immediately, almost prematurely.

We tasted each other, again.

We kissed, deeply.

We claimed each other, as if bound by a thread, a connection, a magnetic field.

I instinctively wrapped my hand around the wrist near my face. He pulled back for a moment just to kiss me again repeatedly, then bit my lower lip. I opened my eyes and pulled away, shaking my head with a soft giggle; one of mine, faint and barely there, but ones he always noticed.

‘I was making breakfast.’ He moved his hand from my face and signed the phrase with both hands. I somehow felt it in my ears, even without my hearing aids. I licked my lips and glanced again at the kitchen counter, made of old wood that always smelled like home.

I frowned, teasing him, when he flipped the pancake with a spatula, revealing its darker side: a sign it was almost burnt. I raised my eyes to his and exaggerated my skeptical expression. He shrugged, showing his teeth in a grin and his chest trembled with laughter.

-a sound I couldn’t hear in that moment, but one that made me smile all the same, that gave me chills.

It felt like my ears actually caught it.

‘Your fault. You’re distracting me’ he signed, gesturing for me to move away. I smiled and shook my head, stepping aside just to grab the dishes and at least help him set the table. I leaned on the table, crossing my bare legs and folding my arms beneath my chest, bare under the shirt I was wearing.

I watched his back, his movements, the slight curve of his hips, interrupted by the waistband of his shorts. I looked at the red marks I had left on his shoulders the night before, the faint muscles in his arms that flexed every time he reached for something on the counter. His neck and head tilted toward the stove. His long legs, tense but still relaxed.

I stared him without noticing, pulling away from the table to wrap myself around him again. I rested my hands back on his stomach, loving the perfect softness there. I closed my eyes and held him tight, pressing the left side of my face to his back, right where his lungs were.

The warmth he radiated made me want to stay there. The feel of his heartbeat, the subtle vibration of his voice gave me a clue.

Was he humming? Probably. The vibration was too steady for it to just be talking.

I let myself be lulled, eyes closed, by the faint sensation against my skin. I could’ve stayed like that for hours.

But I never would again. I’d never hold his warm body again. I’d never again notice the goosebumps that rose on his skin after a caress, after scratching the back of his neck while he was curled up on me, half asleep.

I’d never again feel the sweetness of his lips.

Never again feel the vibrations of his chest against my ear. Never bite his fingers again when he playfully teased me in sign language. Never be enchanted again by his eyes silently tracing the lines of my face.

I’d never again have his presence taking up every corner of my mind. Never again hold his hand in the dark room, never again wake up in the morning from the gentle kisses he left along my skin.

I’d never have him again as my safe place.

But was he ever really a safe place? Do safe places make you feel that ashamed? Do they make you regret your feelings so much?

Do safe places make you feel so unsafe?

“please y/n, I need to see you, it can’t end like this. not after all these years”

sent today at 11:34 PM.

-as if it were my fault-

I couldn’t take it anymore. He was just as stubborn as I was, he would definitely stay outside my place all night, and I had to leave for work in the morning anyway. So what was I supposed to do?

I wiped away a solitary tear that had slid down the damp skin of my flushed cheek out of inertia and got up from the bed, which now felt as hard as stone against the irritated skin of my body.

I didn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t want to, because I knew I looked like a wreck. I knew my eyes were red and swollen, my lips chapped. I knew I had let myself be consumed by what had happened and I was almost ashamed of myself.

-you endured so much pain before and in the end a guy can break you like this?-

But he wasn’t just any guy. He had really managed to see inside me, to look beyond the appearance of my hearing devices. He had truly captured my heart.

I turned on the living room light and, rubbing my eyes, pressed the button that unlocked the front door of the building. I didn’t move; I checked my phone to see the time.

“11:39 p.m.”

-almost midnight-

I turned off the phone screen, still clutched in my hand, stood on my tiptoes and checked through the peephole. He was definitely coming up the stairs. And in fact, after counting 24 of my heartbeats, the distorted figure of the blond man appeared in front of my door.

I held my breath, and when I saw him reach for his phone -probably to send me yet another message- I stepped back and opened the door.

Our eyes met. His heavy breathing was obvious from the way his chest bulged. His pupils were narrow, his lips slightly parted, his hair arranged in a recurring chaos and his hands were covered by those fingerless gloves he liked to wear so much.

I looked away and let out a sigh, stepping aside so he could come in, letting a trail of his scent flood the entrance of my home.

100, 101, 102, 103…

My heartbeat was racing. I was trying to focus on that when, after closed the door behind him, I saw him turn toward me and search for my gaze.

‘I’m sorry’ he signed with his hands, his shoulders hunched, as if he were ashamed.

-ashamed. the same way he made me feel, and just the thought of it brought a flush to my cheeks again.-

Just that realization made me retreat into myself, my expression turning sullen: I furrowed my brow, pursed my lips, and narrowed my eyes.

‘If you came here to act like a wounded puppy, you can just leave’ I signed, nervously, with the urge to scream in his face.

What would it be like to yell at him? Probably incredibly frustrating, more frustrating than the awareness that I wasn’t even capable of raising my voice. That I didn’t want to.

‘Let me explain’ he looked at me, practically begging with his eyes. He took a step forward, but I stepped back and shifted to the side, still near the door but making it clear he wasn’t to touch me. And he got it, just like he always did.

He watched me, then took a breath.

‘Explain what? Explain why you made me feel like I was wrong? Explain how you didn’t hesitate to look away from me? Explain why suddenly it was like you didn’t even know me?’ I was angry as I signed, I was disappointed, sad. I was overwhelmed. With trembling fingers, I finished the sentence, maybe too quickly, before wiping the tears from my cheeks, forcing myself to stay focused on him.

‘You’re right, y/n, you’re right’

‘But I would’ve talked to you, I would’ve told you that same day’ he finished, closing his eyes and letting out the sigh he had been holding in for what felt like forever. He shifted his weight onto his right leg and I placed my hands on my hips, signaling he had full freedom to continue.

Our arguments weren’t usually like this. They were warmer. What was all this coldness in the unspoken words? What was this fear, this uncertainty? Did it really have to be this hard even with him?

Usually, we teased each other a lot, even during fights. We were both stubborn, always wanting to be right even over the smallest things and in the end it always ended in kissing, sloppily overwhelmed by the desire to shut the other up. As if our mouths really knew how to speak for us, how to make us understand each other.

And it all felt so real, so tangible, that now, even though we were close, it felt like we were light-years apart and I’d have to scream just to be heard by him.

‘I feel strange when I’m with you, I feel-‘ he stopped moving his hands, I wasn’t following anymore anyway.

I looked at the floor and shook my head. It hurt too much… too much. I didn’t want to accept the truth that was slamming into me. I didn’t want to understand the gravity of Joost’s feelings. I didn’t want to accept that he was “breaking up” with me.

I didn’t want to really lose him.

A sob escaped me, tears traced down my cheeks again and my hands immediately rushed to wipe them away. My lower lip trembled, clenched tightly beneath my upper teeth.

He was probably forced to come closer: I wasn’t looking at him, I wasn’t concentrate on him. He had to break the silent pact we had made, the one where he wasn’t supposed to touch me. He brought his hands to my cheeks and lifted my face gently. My face seemed to disappear between his fingers.

‘Look at me’ I read on his lips, but I shook my head, feeling myself shrink even more inside. He kissed my forehead and my heart skipped a beat.

Why did he have to do that?

I felt like the thorns of my own feelings were pressing into the skin of my throat. I didn’t want any kisses, no reassurances, I didn’t want anything from him.

I pushed him away, bracing my hands against his chest, my fingers clenching the soft fabric of his hoodie before letting them slide off, forcing his hands away from my face.

‘I don’t want to lose you either. Why do you think I’m here? To ruin everything? Let me explain’ he signed this time with a kind of urgent gentleness, that soft gaze that maybe fooled me.

-and fooled me it did-

‘I like you, okay? I like you so much it’s scary. Maybe that’s what scared me the most..’

‘..It scared me to realize I wanted to start something real with you’ He paused between phrases. He didn’t even know how to justify himself. By now, the tears rolling down my face felt almost natural. I didn’t even care anymore. They slid along the tracks already carved by their twin sisters. The lucky ones fell off my jawline, while the others were wiped away by the back of my hand.

My hands, those same hands he always wrapped between his to warm them up. According to him, they were like ice cubes.

‘I know I acted badly, but in that moment I needed space. And even now my mind is a mess.. but not because I don’t want anything to do with you’ I saw hope in his eyes, a glimmer that reflected what he was feeling. I hadn’t stepped away from him again. I hadn’t pushed him away.

‘Then why did you act like that? You pushed me away. You made me feel small like an ant’ I signed, swallowing a sob, planting my feet firmly on the ground, no longer caring how he saw me, or even if he heard my sobs. It was a joke. His words, that fake hope, it was all a joke.

‘I didn’t mean to make you feel that wa-‘

‘But you did. You did.’ I interrupted him, signing the words with a new kind of anger.

He looked at me and sighed, rubbing his face with both hands just moments later.

‘Do you see what it’s like to be with you? It’s hard!’ he signed with frustration and didn’t even have the decency to keep eye contact with me. So I tapped his shoulder, drumming my fingers against him to force his eyes back to mine.

‘And why is it hard? Go on, let’s hear it. I already know where this is going, so don’t you dare feed me bullshit.’ My eyes filled with tears I immediately wiped away. I didn’t even let them be born.

He stared at me with a frown on his face. He felt guilty; I could see it. I knew what thought had passed through his mind. I knew it all too well.

‘Y/n…’ he signed my name, tracing his fingertips near his eyes in the shape of a crescent moon. It almost disgusted me to see him sign my name, knowing full well that it didn’t belong to the hearing world, to the world he was part of.

‘Our worlds are so far apart, so different… I make music that you…’ I felt like throwing up. My stomach twisted in a painful knot.

What was he insinuating?

‘You know what your problem is? Do you?’ I moved closer to him, eyebrows drawn together. All I got from him was a sigh and a nearly defeated look.

‘Your problem is that I’m deaf. That you can’t act the same way with me as you would with another girl. You don’t have the tools to handle a real relationship with me… that’s why you’re scared to love me!’ The expressions I gave him probably spoke louder than the words I was signing.

He didn’t even try to deny it, didn’t try to contradict me. I would’ve been fine even if he had called me stupid. I would’ve been fine if he had lost his temper.

‘You have to understand life isn’t like when we were fourteen anymore’ his shoulders dropped as if he had just unloaded the weight of the world onto me. That all too familiar feeling of being wrong settled on me like a label.

‘If the problem is my deafness, then you can just leave.’ I signed, moving toward the door, grabbing the handle, opening it wide and motioning for him to go.

He gently touched my shoulder and lowered his head toward mine but I pulled away. I moved aside, opened the door even wider and looked him straight in the eyes.

Once again, our eyes met -but this time, there wasn’t the surprise of seeing each other after nine years. There was the coldness of finally coming together after nine years and realizing it wasn’t what we dreamed.

There was the weight of my insecurities, the burden of his inadequacy.

I wanted him to insist, to stand his ground like always, to grab my shoulders and kiss me. I wanted to be proven wrong, to know that my deafness wasn’t a problem for the singer I had fallen in love with. I wanted to feel safe with him again.

But instead, he just stood there, looked at me for a few seconds and then walked out. The door closed behind him.

Why couldn’t he picture a future with me?

Why couldn’t he see me by his side? In my head, there were so many futures with him and they stayed there, for a long time.

There was a future where he always woke up before me, rushed out without even having time for coffee.

Another where he was always away, and his house was also mine. A thousand pictures hung on the walls, a calendar with red marked days counting down until he returned from another tour.

One where we had a mortgage, a child, a dog, and a pile of unpaid bills. A home full of affection, full of the desire to be together.

One where he had never lied to me and the magic had never faded. One where my deafness wasn’t a problem, where the space between us wasn’t so defined and empty. One where words truly didn’t matter, didn’t exist, didn’t weigh more than a single gesture.

I didn’t see him again all summer. I avoided the places where I knew I might run into him.

I avoided our café, avoided the grocery store near his house, avoided every street, every alley that could remind me of him.

I didn’t get any more messages. No more calls. I didn’t read any news with his name in it, didn’t smoke on my balcony anymore, didn’t touch his clothes still left in my closet.

I stopped buying the shampoo he loved, the one that left a scent in my hair that he couldn’t stop talking about. I didn’t let my thoughts wander back to him.

I didn’t want to know anything about him. I forced myself not to think about him anymore.

What I didn’t know… was that I was consuming his mind. I didn’t know that on that Monday evening in October, while I was walking home from the station along the edge of the road, like I did every day, seeing me triggered something inside him.

All the possibilities of erasing me from his thoughts went up in smoke.

He pulled over, rolled down the window, and leaned out. I recognized him immediately when our eyes met. My heart started beating again, and my steps slowed, instinctively. He had a crooked little smile on his face, his mustache freshly trimmed, and -had he changed his glasses frame?-

“Let me give you a ride home.” The vibrations of his voice settled into my hearing aids and I hunched my shoulders after reading his lips to make sure I had understood correctly. I buried half my face in the scarf I was wearing and then I got into the car. Without thinking twice.

Was I waiting for him? Maybe.

Was I looking for him? Maybe I hadn’t been waiting for anything else.

His hands ran along my sides, his lips kissed mine like they hadn’t been waiting for anything else in months. I crashed my tongue against his, and I felt his breath merge with mine: stronger, more intense.

I tried to move my hand along the wall I was pressed up against, just to find the light switch. I found it after blindly feeling the cold surface twice. Then I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, fingers sinking into his hair.

He grabbed me by the thighs and lifted me off the floor. My breath caught in my throat and I tried to pull my face back just enough to look him in the eyes.

His pupils locked onto mine, after lingering for a second on my lips, swollen and glistening from the messy kisses we had shared. I tugged gently at his hair with a tenderness I couldn’t even measure. He smiled, showing those bunny front teeth that, in that moment, perfectly fit who he was: turned on and softened.

That night was proof that repressing my feelings hadn’t worked. Ignoring thoughts of him had only made me want him more.

But now what? What would happen next?

How would we handle this? Did I still really love him?

Did he truly want me, like he’d made me believe? Would he still dominate my thoughts? If not my mind, then at least my bed?

I didn’t know. He didn’t either.

The only thing I did know was that seeing him asleep against my breast, arms wrapped around my waist, legs tangled with mine, gave me an extreme feeling of everydayness.

The realization that I had let him back into my life so easily rocked me gently to sleep.

He was a drug too strong to withstand withdrawal from.

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