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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Freshers - College!Ross Macdonald

A/N: HII!! This is my first time writing anything on Tumblr, let alone the 1975 related. I hope you guys like it. Ignore how my grammar is all over the place, quotation marks and commas confuse me.

I move to university in about two weeks, I doubt anything like this will happen, but a girl can dream. Anyways, enjoy! Also, this is dedicated to @hypersonic04 <3

word count: 1.6k

♫ My Funny Girl - Harry Teardrop // Eighteen - Pale Waves

It's almost been a month since you moved to the city for university. Tonight, you're at a coursemate's flat for Pres. Trashy guilty-pleasure pop blasts through the speakers and you're busy avoiding people, drinking by the window. You watch the condensation trail behind a departing aeroplane over the cityscape. You're thinking about where you are now, the kind of people you brush shoulders with, and how easy it is to feel so desperately alone out here.

Despite the air of maturity and the swill of liquor in your mouth, it always shocked you how laughably predictable university boys can be - especially those on your Film course. It's been a month and you're already bored by the typical film bro spiel of "why Tarantino is the best director of all time" and how "there's something manic pixie dream girl about you".

Speaking of, you feel a tall, masculine shadow cast over you interrupting your intense thinking. Cue the "what's your favourite film" question, you think to yourself.

"What's your favourite film?"

Right, here we go again.

"Depends. Who's asking?" you laugh to yourself, still watching that blinking plane.

"Um, me." Now that felt more like a question.

"And, who are you?" You whip around and see a tall boy in a black hoodie. Who is this? He's cute... is your immediate response to the stranger.

You playfully prod at him with your empty solo cup, "Youuu are not on my course."

He laughs gently, casting his eyes to the floor. Despite his shy cadence, there's an effortlessness and confidence about him that is rare to find among these overgrown teenagers. "No, I'm not. I do History."

You squint and he senses your confusion about his presence at a Film student function.

"I came with him", he gestures over to the couch. The scantily clad, mop-headed, binge-drinking, serial flirt, Matty Healy, lounges across your girl friends' legs. You scowl. You and Matty have argued in and out of every seminar you've ever shared. It surprised you that someone like the boy in front of you was here with him.

"He actually told me to ask that question"

"Hm?"

"Your favourite film? He said it's a good conversation starter but I'm beginning to think," he makes a note of your comically disappointed expression, "that he is very, very wrong"

He smiles at you. You can't help but smile back at him. The image of him preparing to talk you flashes in your mind. You smile harder.

"Roman Holiday", he leans over to hear you better over the drowning sound of pop, exposing his neck and the chain dangling around it. "My favourite film is Roman Holiday"

"Never heard of it--"

"YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF ROMAN HOLIDAY?!?!" He certainly didn't need to lean in to hear that. He laughs at the inner film nerd in you coming out.

In that moment, he could see it. You and his best friend having passive-aggressive discussions during seminars. It's stupid to admit the twinge of jealousy he felt at the idea. I mean, you had only just met. Maybe it's the alcohol or Teenage Dream on the speaker, maybe he wants to see that enthusiasm and hear you talk about films forever and ever.

"Maybe we could watch it sometime."

It doesn't help that you blush easily. You can see yourself now, a vision in bright red.

"Does that line work for every girl?"

"I don't know, I haven't used it before," he smiles and rakes a hand through his hair. Fuck.

Wait, let's not get ahead of ourselves. "Who are you again?" you ask before you can glow any brighter.

"I'm Ross."

You reply with your name and extend your free hand to shake his.

The speakers go quiet over this exchange. A drunken voice exclaims "RIGHT, LET'S GO!" followed by peals of laughter and excitement.

You look at each other, hand in hand, knowing that you just started something good. Something good that you don't want to infect with even louder music, sweaty bodies and strobe lights - not now at least. If only Pres could last forever. You let go of his hand.

People flood out of the flat, but a girl friend of yours whose flat this is hangs back when she sees the pair of you not moving.

"Hey, could we stay here actually?" you tell her.

Having hosted so many film parties and Pres, she knows you're usually the first out of the door. She knows that you never do this or feel this, especially not for boys you've only met. But there's something about him and this squeezing in your heart. You don't want him to leave you.

She smiles, turning the speakers back on, the volume set to low. It's Boom Clap by Charli XCX. You wouldn't know this 'til much later, but she thinks you two make a good couple. "You don't need a key to leave and the door locks by itself, so feel free to stay."

Before she disappears out the door, Ross exclaims "Take care of Matty!!"

"No promises!!" she shouts back.

---

Saturday bleeds into Sunday. You're sitting on the floor with a boy you just met. He does History, you do Film. The Bluetooth speaker died in the middle of Colors by Halsey, but you both were too engrossed in conversation to realise it.

The October wind picked up, tossing the plastic cups across the room, but he was too busy looking at you, how the air danced and played with your hair. Neither of you could figure out how to close the window, you were both guests here after all. When he noticed you shivering, his black hoodie immediately came off. He blushed as you put it on, how the sleeves extended past your hands. It was hard for you not to hug yourself and take in his smell of petrichor and aftershave in its entirety. It was hard for him not to hug you.

By this point, you could name all his favourite teachers from secondary school and why the 1900s was his favourite century. He could list your top 10 films in order and the details about your hometown that you love. He recounts what it was like growing up in Wilmslow with Matty. You never knew Wilmslow ever existed, you never knew anyone's words could soften you to Matty.

As he speaks, you notice the distant whir of passing cars, the wind, the hum of the light bulb, and how this is all so tragically and desperately transient.

"What's wrong?" he asks as if he has known you a long time. He has made a note of how expressive you are, how whatever you're thinking or feeling is easy to detect just by looking at your face. You wouldn't know it, but he decides right then and there that he wants to recognise every micro-expression your face could make.

"I like talking to you," you admit, almost sadly.

"I like talking to you, too."

You glance out the window. "But you do know what they say about the people you meet in the first semester," they don't stay.

"Yeah, yeah, I do know, but" he delicately places his hand on your knee, "you're someone people want to keep."

Silence. There's an unspoken force about the two of you. It encourages you to submit to the endearing teenage stupidity and rash decision-making.

"You're someone I want to keep," he says finally. Whilst your eyes, tipsy and excited, have been jumping from surface to surface, his has been fixed on you the entire night.

A thump from the front door interrupts the moment followed by crashing and inelegant, drunken moaning.

"Ohmygod you guys are STILL HERE?!?!" screams that coursemate of yours, popping her head through the door. "MATTY, THEY'RE STILL HERE!"

A tiny "ᶠᵁᶜᴷ" can be heard from another room. You and Ross laugh to yourselves, not surprised by the scene unraveling before you two.

"You know I love you guys but do you mind fucking off?"

Ross is already stood up and helps you onto your feet. You could get used to this. You plant a chaste kiss on her sweaty forehead followed by "You know I love you. Use protection."

"Have fun, mate!" Ross yells down the corridor as you make your way to the door.

"ᶠᵁᶜᴷ ʸᴼᵁ"

---

You strike yourself as more tipsy than you realise as you wiggle the door handle and cry, "OHMYGOD, IT DOES LOCK ON ITS OWN!!"

And he's looking at you, smiling that same warm smile, as you get excited over a door. You're still wearing his hoodie.

You notice him staring, "what?"

"Nothing"

"You look like you want to say something?" He takes in a breath and shrugs. "If you wanna say something, just say it," you laugh.

To that, he lifts up your chin with his finger and kisses you.

As soon as he backs away, you toss your arms around his neck and inelegantly smash your face onto his. You can feel him smiling as you kiss. His arms pull you closer at the waist, hands underneath his hoodie.

"I've been waiting to do that all night," he whispers as you pull away. The streetlights and skyscrapers blink through the windows of the dimly lit corridor. Only this time in the face of the city, you don't feel alone anymore.

"Are you busy today?" he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You're still slung around his neck. It's all stupidly endearingly familiar, but also so new. You kiss through the conversation.

"No, no, not busy... do need to do my laundry though."

"Good, so do I." You silently agree to do it together.

You take his hand in yours and walk down the stairs.

"I'm someone you wanna keep, huh?"

"You're someone I wanna keep."

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mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

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Hey I just read all of your college Ross pieces and I love them!!

What about one night if reader goes out and ends up too drunk and calls Ross so he comes to pick her up and takes her home. Maybe she's trying to talk about her feelings for him but he doesn't want her saying anything she'll be embarrassed by. Or she asks him to stay the night so he sleeps on her floor

A/N: Oh. My. God.

FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you for the love and for readingg <3 It really means the world to me. SECOND OF ALL... ANON... YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE. I am going to PASS OUT. Thank you for this request, my heart might just burst. I might have gone over board, this is the longest thing I've written thus far. Anyways, here goes nothing... enjoy ;)

Drunk Call - College!Ross Macdonald

word count: 1.5k

♫ Heavenly - Pale Waves

This party is excessive and headache-inducing - the music is bad, the people even worse. You don't even know why you're here. When your flatmates asked "why that party?", you simply replied, "just for something to do".

You're slumped down by the foot of the couch, tangled between legs, empty bottles, empty cups. No matter how much you hammer at the side of your phone, all that blinks back is a fat 0%.

The liquor is not sitting right in your stomach, you're not in the mood, and each thrum of bass reminds you of him.

You haven't seen Ross for what feels like forever. He had gone back to his hometown for the week whilst you stayed in the city. There was something noticeably different about the setting without him, the lights felt dimmer, the air felt colder.

You were conscious not to disrupt his week at home, spending so many nights staring at an untouched keyboard. Oh, the amount of text messages you thought up but never sent.

But you knew he would be back today, which was your main source of hope in this tragic, alcohol-punctuated moment.

Without a second thought, you pull at a semi-familiar friend's trouser leg and ask if you can borrow their phone. After a reluctant "yes", you're punching a familiar number onto the screen, then the bright and inviting call button.

The phone buzzes softly in your hand as you lift it to your ear.

Pick up pick up pick up pick up--

"Hello, this is Ross speaking."

You relax at the sound of his voice. You were beyond the border of missing him.

"Hello!!" you exclaim, loud enough to hear yourself over the music - which is to say deafening from his side of the line.

"Whoa," it's like you can hear him wincing, "is that who I think it is?"

"Mhmmm"

"Where are you? Are you okay?" You selfishly smile at the twinge of panic in his voice as he registers the state you're in.

"My phone... it died... This is the only number I know," you gulp, "off by heart."

He's speechless, already devising a plan to save you. If only you could see him now, a blushing mess, half worried, half desperately in love.

"Are you busy?" you add before he can react to the former statement.

"Uhh no, just finished practice. Where are you?"

"Oh, practice... GUYS, I'M ON THE PHONE WITH A ROCKSTAR!!" you announce with such pride to a room full of strangers and acquaintances, once again almost deafening him on the other side of the line. And yet he's hanging onto every word, even if it hurts him.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," he laughs, "don't worry, I think I know where you are."

"My hero!" you tease, "but please come soon, the music is so bad and I miss you, Ross, I FUCKING MISS YOU--"

You accidentally hang up.

---

Not two minutes later, you see a familiar, flushed face enter the room. Did he run here?

The scene is hazy and fragmented, but you could recognise the space he takes up in any room, even in this state. Ross towers over the crowd, a vision in black denim, searching over moving heads and smoke. Then he locks eyes with you.

You wave at him, still sitting on the floor by the couch. He seems to sigh in relief, hand on his heart.

You spring up as he approaches, unaware of the bottles and cups you've knocked over. He takes you in - you, slightly unravelled but the same as ever. Still beautiful as ever.

"ROCKSTAR!" you cry as you flop into him, catching his eyes crinkling at the name. And you're back in his arms, so inviting, not so dissimilar to the comfort of home. "How did you know I was here?!" you beam at him.

"Matty mentioned it. He wasn't invited," he laughs.

"Lucky him."

You stand there in the middle of the room holding each other for a while, both revelling in how much you've missed each other. For a second, it's warm and quiet. If it took one long week and a bad party to experience this, you think, then it was all worth it.

Suddenly, the song changes to a particularly insufferable one. You both groan like you're one body, one mind.

"Let's go?" he says.

"Let's go."

---

You dance in and out of streetlights down the path to your accommodation, humming one of his band's songs, one from the night of the gig. Ross's walking right beside you, arms at the ready in case you fall or turn where you're not supposed to. Even as you stumble, he gazes at you with amazement at how beautiful you look without even trying.

"What was that thing?" you blurt out.

"What thing?" he hums in response, his alertness veiled by a sense of calm, eyes still glazed with wonder.

"You know, that thing you said when we first met? I'm someone you want to keep, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I never said that." he teases, his playful grin giving away his lies.

You throw your arms out and scream into the night, "I'M SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KEEEEEEP!!"

He laughs awkwardly, eyes widening at your sudden outburst. But he adores you. In this moment, that's his only truth.

"Ah, okay, let's take a break"

He settles you down onto a nearby bench. You take in a deep breath of fresh air which turns into a yawn.

Your head starts to droop, but he quickly rests it on his shoulder as he lowers down to sit next to you. Always ready to take care of you, to save you when you let him.

"So suave, so so nice, so nice" you mumble drowsily, half to him, half to yourself.

"What was that?"

"You're so nice... And so good-looking," you can't stop your mouth from moving, "I really like being around you and I missed you so much, but I don't know if you felt the same!! But you're so nice, sometimes I just want to--"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he slithers his arm around your waist and hoists you back up onto your feet before you say something you'll regret.

But he's unable to bite back a smile. In another world, he would let you speak, but he knows you and knows better than to let you talk yourself into a hole you can't escape.

Not yet, he thinks, not like this.

"Hey! You could compliment me, you know," you nag as you start walking again.

There's a pause as he really considers his response.

"...you know you're gorgeous, right?" he finally sighs, breath visible in the crisp night air, "besides, everything I'd say, I'd want you to remember."

---

He gently lays you down in your bed, but you can't seem to let go of him.

"I don't want you to go", you whine, "won't you stay?"

"For how long?"

"Stay forever."

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, your arms still clasped around his neck. Only you have the power to render him speechless like this. It's so easy for you to get what you want.

You let go of him, aggressively patting the empty side of the bed.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't share beds with drunk girls," he says. He takes a stray pillow and blanket, and plonks them onto the floor beside you so he can monitor you as you sleep. By this point, you've already passed out.

---

Ross can't sleep. He doesn't mind the floor, but stirs at every sound and movement you make, constantly checking if you're okay.

Throughout the night, he finds himself looking at the details of your room, at books, concert tickets, and photos of friends and family - pieces of you that he wants to know more about.

He watches you, so peaceful, in awe how he has someone like you in his life.

My life would be so boring without you, he thinks.

---

You wake up just as he walks into the room with a cup of tea. He sets the cup down by the bedside table with a soft smile. The air of domesticity is something you could live in forever.

"Hi," you mumble through fluttering eyelids, filtering the Sunday morning sun.

"Hi. Are you doing okay?"

You nod as you sit up. He sits on the bed, brushing the stray hairs from your face, the warmth of his hand like a healing force. You can't tell he hadn't slept because of how happy he looks just to be there.

You reach over for the tea with the comfort of knowing he made it just how you like it.

"I didn't say anything weird, did I?" you croak, sipping the tea.

"No, not at all," he replies.

There's a moment of silence. The morning birds fly past the window, the steam of the mugs mists your eyes.

"I missed you too, you know," he finally says, "I missed you so much."

A/N: Didn't proofread this but HOPE YOU ENJOYED. I'll probably edit it a bit when I come back, but I wanted you to have this sooner rather than later, anon. THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST AGAINNNN

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