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arrianna21 · 5 years

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~Caramel Eyes, Mocha Paws~ Chapter 2

While you’re still processing the events from Halloween night, you run into a familiar face, or two.

Word Count: 5,124

Yawning deeply, you watch the steam from the espresso maker shoot out with a hiss and you fill the mug with coffee. Squirting the foamy milk next, you sprinkle some cinnamon on top before handing the latte to the waiting customer. The woman gratefully takes it, ushering her toddler to a table before the boy can grab an extra chocolate muffin from the display case. You softly smile at him and turn to the next customer, a business man just wanting a double shot of espresso. Ringing up his order, you quickly make the coffee, noting a group of college students coming inside as the line of patrons steadily extends.

Damn Elanor for calling in this morning. Your phone had pulled you from the depths of sleep as your co-worker asked if you could cover her shift, something about a last minute schedule change for a tutoring session. Her professor wanted her to come in and help a group of students. Mumbled groans were all you could manage as you partially listened, eyes barely opening to squint into the darkness. How she functioned at both the crack of dawn and late into the night, if needed, was beyond you.

The clock on the wall shows seven-thirty am, making the two and a half hours feel like days. Your actual shift doesn’t start until this afternoon and your outlook only dims as more customers keep filing in with no indication of stopping. Shaking your head, you rid the sluggish thoughts of sleep and continue working as the college students order an array of specific requests ranging from hot chocolate with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon to half-caff vanilla lattes, no added sugar. At least one just wanted a simple green tea.

~*~

You’re thankful when your other co-worker shows up for the evening shift, more than glad to pass the baton over. It’s a quarter until four and you’re ready to call it a day as you rush out the door, little bell chiming above your head.

Walking home, you automatically head towards the nature trail. Stopping just short, you watch the orange and red trees sway calmly in the faint breeze. With the sun shining above, the forest appears tranquil, offering no signs of danger. Despite your encounter Halloween night, there’s no way you could stop from venturing down the path. The events that night hardly seem real, easily feeling like an odd dream gone haywire as a result of your rampant imagination. Then again, your ankle makes sure to remind you as the long hours of standing causes it to make its presence uncomfortably known. Thankfully, the ache is fading, nearly gone except for the occasional twinge when you step a certain way. Regardless, the sun’s still out and the trail is more visible, so there’s no chance for you to accidentally wander off.

Resolutely, you head down the dirt path, paying close attention to your surroundings this time. The wind ruffles the trees, sending a shiver down your spine and you tuck your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. Fall is on the brink of shifting into winter and the air is becoming frostier, your cheeks instantly cooling as a result. Hearing a rustling to your left, you cautiously stare into the cluster of trees.

Amber eyes, nearly blend in with the golden leaves, if not for the large brown lupine standing in between the trees. You don’t move, legs automatically stiffening in preparation to run as you wait for it to approach or retreat, though it appears to be observing you in the same manner.

Cautiously, you give a small smile and a short wave, body moving awkwardly with jerky motions. “Hello again.”

The wolf, taking that as a signal to come closer, walks out from its hiding spot, effortlessly stepping over short bushes as they snap from underneath. Just like on Halloween, its form towers over you as it stands tall on hind legs. Your head barely reaching the middle of its chest. When it’s standing directly in front of you, it carefully leans down and bumps its snout to your forehead. Your grin widens as warmth cascades throughout your body, muscles relaxing from their tense state. Inhaling quickly, it sniffs near your neck before moving down to your arms and shoulders. Its head retreats back up and you can’t help the twitch when its nose makes contact with the underside of your jaw, tickling your skin. It backs away slightly, a faint whine sounding as it notices you flinch.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure, “it just tickled, that’s all. You can probably smell all the coffee grinds and syrup from my job,” you note and the werewolf cocks its head curiously.

A low rumble begins in its chest, the same one you heard when you were being carried that night. Its caramel eyes regard you and again it gently bumps your head, a contented sigh leaving its maw.

“I guess you like the smell, huh?”

It grunts in agreement, seeming to respond to your question.

Lifting an arm, you carefully hold it up towards the beast and it stares down at you. Keeping eye contact with its golden irises, you tenderly touch its snout, the mocha-colored fur soft beneath your fingertips. The werewolf lowers its head some more, allowing you higher access, and you reach up to pet one of its triangular ears. It automatically twitches, so you switch tactics by gently scratching it instead. Another rumbling hum echoes from its chest, the tremors vibrating under your hand. Snorting softly, it bends down, body crouching to almost all fours where the wolf prods at your ankle.

“Are you wondering about my ankle?”

A low bark is your response and the werewolf stands upright.

“It’s doing better. Just a little sore that’s all.” You give a reassuring smile and it bumps its head against your shoulder.

A sudden growl disrupts the peaceful moment, echoing across the space, and you cringe when your stomach finally finishes its grumbling. The wolf hums curiously, cocking its head to the side. Slowly, it lifts a heavy paw and rests it on your abdomen. Despite your thick clothing, you can easily feel the sharp press of claws digging into your side, though the weight isn’t uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I kind of missed my lunch break.” Despite a brief lull once the lunch traffic left, you only had time to munch on a bag of chips before you went back to work. Apparently your snack has completed its purpose of temporarily sating your appetite and has now worn off.

The wolf grumbles, chocolate colored ears flattening against its skull before it’s leaning down to bite the back of your hood so it can pick you up. Just like before, you dangle quite a few feet from the ground as you’re carried over to a nearby tree stump and promptly placed on top. Once you’re sitting on the makeshift wooden seat, you glance up at the werewolf and it shifts its head away, pointedly looking down at the fallen autumn leaves before caramel eyes rise to meet you. There’s a moment where neither of you move, animal and human quietly watching one another. That is, until your body once again voices its hunger.

With a swift nudge to the side of your head along with a huff of air that fans your face, you watch the wolf spin around and dash into the trees, a flash of mocha-colored fur soon disappearing. You can only stare wide-eyed as you watch the shaking branches come to a stop, the sound of the animal’s steps fading away. For a split-second, you’re mortified that your grumbling appetite spoiled the mood by running the werewolf away.

A few minutes pass and eventually you see a dark figure coming through the tree line.

It appears your friend is back, and it seems to have brought an offering.

In its maw, a large branch is caught between its teeth, a couple of peaches hanging from the leaves. The wolf steps closer, lowering its head so the branch is within reach.

“Is this for me?” You wonder, eyeing the ripe fruit that appears to glisten in the sunshine. It grunts in affirmation and you pluck the peaches free, stuffing them in the pocket of your hoodie while you hold onto two of them. Taking a bite, you feel the sweet juice flood your tongue and you hum delightfully. “Sweet,” you murmur, holding out the other one in offering. “Want one?”

Your lupine friend rumbles, seemingly pleased with your reaction as it tosses the now barren branch away and opens its mouth to accept the peach. It takes a huge bite, eating it whole, teeth easily crushing the pip with a distinguished crunch while its tail sways back and forth in contentment.

After finishing one, you reach for another and start chewing it too. “Thank you,” you hum, standing up as you start walking again. It rumbles briefly and follows after you, staying close beside you, heavy steps thumping on the dirt with each stride. The two of you walk in silence, the air soothing as you eat. “So what happened Halloween night, that was real. You’re real, I guess,” you note. The werewolf hums, nodding in response.

“Do those goblins roam around in this forest too?” Unease prickles your arms at the thought of the creatures having free reign of the woods with nothing to prevent them from wreaking havoc as much as they pleased.

A quick shake of the wolf’s head lessens your worry, even more so when it grunts, clearly displeased at the thought.

“That’s good,” you say before adding, “but you can. Do you live here?”

A nod.

“I see.” You pause, pursing your lips momentarily. “Are you like a guardian of this forest?”

Another nod.

“Interesting. I figured, since you’re obviously not dangerous—,” a huff of annoyance has you amending that statement, “to humans, er, me, I mean.”

It chuffs in agreement, caramel eyes warm as it stares down at you. Sinking your teeth in the peach for another bite, the juice drips from your mouth and onto your hand. You go to swipe the sticky substance on your clothes, but the wolf beats you to it as it brings its head down, nudging your arm. Raising your palm upwards, you allow the mocha-colored lupine to clean your hand, long, pink tongue licking away the nectar.

Stopping in the middle of the trail, you observe the traces of clear saliva on your skin, the drool sliding down your wrist as you follow its path. “Thanks,” you say before rubbing your hand on your pants as you continue walking once more.

You make small talk, with the occasional huff or grunt of response as it listens to your recollection of the day, how customers come and go at a fast pace, but how you also enjoy the constant movement.

Soon you’re arriving at the edge of the woods, house sitting in the near distance. Tossing the peach pit to the ground, you stop and turn to the wolf who’s watching you. “Thanks for keeping me company, and for the food too,” you say, and the brown wolf rumbles before bumping your head lightly with its own. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

The wolf nods before tilting its head to the side, giving a perplexed hum upon seeing your frown.

Laughing slightly, you shake your head. “It’s nothing. I just wish I knew what to call you, rather than just wolf,” you admit. “I mean; I was just assuming that you’re a boy. . .”

Another nod and you sigh in relief. “Well, I’m glad I was right. Maybe I should just keep it simple, like Wolfy, or something.”

The wolf snorts, shaking his head at the basic name.

“Well, I don’t have any other idea. Unless you’d prefer wolf man, Mr. Wolf, Fang maybe.”

He sneers, lips pulling back for a short second to reveal sharp teeth as he huffs in disdain before sighing in resignation, giving a gruff bark.

“Does Wolfy sound better now compared to the other ones?”

He growls almost begrudgingly, brown tail twitching as it harshly whacks the tree behind it, before faintly nodding.

“Alright, Wolfy, it is,” you grin and the werewolf rolls his caramel eyes at you. “See you around, Wolfy.” He leans close and swipes his pink tongue across your cheek, cold black nose bumping the spot right after. “Goodbye to you too,” you say, gently petting his snout.

Walking across the stiff brown grass, you climb up the steps of your porch. Looking into the forest, you barely catch a glimpse of golden eyes before they dissolve into the trees, autumn leaves masking everything else.

~*~

The next day, you’re setting the cups on the counter and calling out the order along with the names written on the side. A couple bundled within their coats come to retrieve their hot chocolate and iced coffee before exiting the shop, the bell above the door chiming loudly. When there’s a lull in customers, your co-worker practically collapses beside the cash register, upper body sprawling across the wooden countertop.

“Please no more customers for another two hours at least,” she groans, facedown on the aged counter.

Taking a wet rag, you wipe around her to get the sprinkles of food crumbs left by previous patrons. “Yeah, good luck with that,” you snort. “We’re just getting started with the night shift crowd.”

She sighs before righting herself as the door chimes, announcing the little old lady walking in with her small dog in tow, the pup popping its head out from her bag to watch the conversing and busy people. Her red clothes wave with the wind, curls of long white hair flying from the breeze. Plastering a chipper smile on her face, your co-worker turns with a greeting before she recognizes the short person.

“Another mix of autumn’s finest leaves, Ms. Penelope?” She asks the older woman who eagerly nods.

“Yes please, I’m afraid I ran out yesterday,” she explains, withered hand reaching into her pocket for some money to give you.

“I’ll be right back with that,” your co-worker tells her and you go to ring up the order.

Taking the change, you smile at the miniature beagle as it props its head against the edge of her purse. “How’ve you been doing, Ms. Penelope?” You ask, setting her change in the palm of her hand.

She promptly tosses the coins in the tip jar, the nickels and quarters clattering to the bottom. “Quite well, my dear. The weather has been so nice, hasn’t it?”

You nod. “It has. I hope you’ve been staying warm.” Though she’s usually wearing her long flowing shirts and billowing flower printed skirts, it’s rare you ever see her without the hand-sewn scarf and gloves.

“Always am,” her creased lips pulling up at the corners. “But sometimes you just need to feel the wind on your skin, without any extra accessories getting in the way,” she touches her face briefly and drops her hand the dog, nails lightly scratching the back of its ears. The pup turns and sniffs its owner’s hand, burrowing its nose deeper into her skin as it snorts. “Oh, it appears Grimsly smells your dog friend,” she says with another smile.

You pause, eying the beagle as its attention shifts from her hand to you. Bright cobalt eyes watch you, tiny nose sniffing towards you as it gives a small yip. “He must have a good nose.”

“Grimsly’s senses are damn impressive,” your co-worker replies. Elanor comes through the doorway with a small bag and passes it to Ms. Penelope. “And so is his memory. He can pretty much track everyone in this town.”

Ms. Penelope gently pats the dog’s head. “He’s a good boy alright. Thank you, dear, for the leaves,” the older woman says before taking the bag and shuffling out the door.

Both of you wave after her and once she leaves you reach for the broom to begin sweeping, but your co-worker beats you to it. “There’s not much we have to do. Go sit down for a bit, I can take care of this,” she tells you, motioning you to a seat at the vacant corner table near the snack rack.

You reach for the broom, but she keeps it away and you sigh. “I’m telling you Elanor, my foot is much better,” you reassure, going for the broom again.

She spins around, putting her back to you and you reach under her arm, only for her to playfully elbow you. “You’d say that even if you were in a boot,” she scoffs. “I’m honestly surprised your parents didn’t freak out more than they did.”

“Over a bruised ankle?”

“A bruise that also oddly has teeth marks,” she pointedly stares at you to which you roll your eyes.

“You mean, sharp branches that scratched me when I fell,” you snort.

She continues sweeping while you can only lean a hip against the counter, watching the broom’s bristles collect the dust, coffee grinds, and other ingredients. “On Halloween no less.” Elanor pauses for a moment and props her arm on top of the handle to look at you. “For all you know you were struck by a witch’s curse.”

That sends a chuckle through you. “Sure, okay. Actually,” you point a finger at her, “I did see a crow that night, so maybe it was cawing an incantation. That, or your maybe your tattoo came to life and tried to spook me,” you smirk, tapping her arm where the inked black bird is drawn.

“Whatever, don’t believe me then,” she scoffs.

Her words conjure up the feeling of hypocrisy as you’re reminded of the events of that night. If werewolves appeared to be real and sometimes walked you home, who’s to say other creatures couldn’t exist as well? For all you know, your wolf could be a genetically engineered beast, something that somehow escaped from a science lab. Yet, you can do nothing to explain the goblins and the dark forest that you’ve never heard anyone mention before, not even in old ghost stories.

The bell chimes once more, breaking you free from your thoughts. Elanor continues cleaning, but turns to greet them in a cheery fashion when she quirks her head with a smirk on her face. Before you can ask her what’s with the look, she whispers that she’s got to piss really quick, setting the broom against the wall before leaving you to hold down the fort.

“Welcome to Café Frappe. What would you like to drink?” You politely recite, turning to the counter only to find a guy walking towards you as he types away on his phone. “Aren’t you the guy from the library?” You can’t help but ask, recognizing the plain black hoodie engulfing the person underneath.

The guy glances up from his phone. “Oh hey, wolf girl. How’s the ‘research’ going?” His fingers flex to do an air-quote and you barely catch the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Fine, thanks for asking. I’m finding some interesting stuff actually.” You reply, casually admiring your fingernails.

His smile grows. “Oh yeah? What kind of stuff?”

“Uh—” Truth be told you had only gotten through some of the books’ introductions. While a part of you was fascinated by the wealth of information, the other part felt ridiculous, as though your mind is unable to process all that happened as reality. “The full moon doesn’t force them to shift, but. . . it can affect them in different ways,” is your lame fact recital. Needless to say, you’re far from being an expert in the subject matter.

A hint of a laugh bubbles within him as he bits his inside cheek. “How so?”

You gulp. “Well, the full moon can make them stronger.” Strong enough to kill goblins with hardly any effort apparently.

“Really?” Sliding the hood off his head, you see chocolate brown eyes gleam under the dim lights. “That’s interesting, because I think I’ve heard that before from somewhere. So then it must be true, right?”

Your eyes narrow and then roll at his humor. “I’m sure it depends on the type of werewolf or something along those lines. Anyway, what would you like?” You ask, professionalism kicking you back in motion.

“Just a black coffee.” Punching the numbers into the register, you tell him the total and he gives you some cash. Collecting the change, you try to hand it to him, but he waves it away. “Keep it.”

“Oh. Thanks,” you tell him, putting the dollars and coins into the tip jar. He nods before returning to his phone once more. You to grind the beans, the mechanical sound echoing loudly throughout the store before you pour it into the coffee maker, powder landing into the filter as you let it mix with the water. “Here or to go?” You turn towards him, showing both the ceramic chalkboard mug and paper cup in your hands.

Glancing around the small space, he scans the room, which only consists of a smattering of people scattered around various tables before answering, “Here’s fine.”

Taking the mug, you grab the chalk. “Name?”

He blinks. “I’m not going anywhere and you’re not that busy to need to call out my name,” he points out.

“Habit,” you reply, scribbling on it anyway before pouring the steaming coffee and handing it over.

He takes it, glancing at your writing on the black mug, snorting to himself. “Library guy, seriously?”

“Could say the same about wolf girl.”

He shrugs. “True.” Taking the hot cup, he walks over to the table in the nearby corner pushed next to the rack of snacks and shelf full of flavored coffee bags. Sliding the chair back with his foot, he sits down and sets his bag on the floor. You watch as he pulls out a laptop, taking a sip of coffee as it turns on.

“So what’d I miss?” Elanor asks from behind, causing you to jump at her voice.

“Nothing much. Just a customer with a simple order,” you say, going over the counter a few times with the rag even though it’s still clean.

Begrudgingly, she retrieves the broom and returns to sweeping. “Psh, of course you’re the one that gets the easy orders,” she mutters in irritation though when you look at her you can see her smiling.

A couple of hours pass as it trickles to closing time. The lamps on the sidewalk flicker on, bringing some more illumination to the café though hardly any patrons remain except for two people and your library friend. For the last two hours, he’d sat in his seat, typing away at his computer, clicking between various tabs and websites as he worked on whatever it is that he does.

Since it’s a weekend night, you typically won’t hurry customers along since most of them are students finishing a paper or getting some last minute studying in before a major exam, so you work slowly to give them extra time. As you and Elanor wipe the tables and stack the chairs, the two boys sitting across from each other close their books and collect their writing utensils. By the time you get to their table, both have finished cleaning up and returned their mugs to the counter before exiting the café.

“Okay, I have to ask. Who’s the guy over there?” Your co-worker wonders as she picks up one of the guy’s chair and flips it over.

“Huh?” She gestures behind you and you glance over your shoulder to which library guy immediately drops his head back down to his computer, a flush of pink spreading across his cheeks. “Oh, just someone I met at the library.”

“Nice.” She leans in close. “What’s his name?”

“That’s a good question because I have no idea.” You spritz the cleaning fluid on the towel and wipe it across the table.

Elanor’s eyebrows scrunch together at your answer. “Why didn’t you get his name?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I didn’t think we’d see each other again,” you whisper, sneaking a glance behind. Even though you both were talking quietly on the other side of the café, it’s not by any means large, and though his back is to you, it still feels as if he could easily hear every hushed word.

She grabs all the used napkins from the table and crumples them in her hand, resting her fist on her hip. “Well, you two have been staring at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, so I didn’t know if this was a mutual form of foreplay.”

“Elanor,” you hiss in dismay. You lean closer to her. “It’s not like that. We barely know each other.”

“Well, get to the knowing part already. At the very least get his name, so the crush train can start moving.” Under her breath you hear, “I’m sure it’ll eventually get to where it needs to be.” You reach over to pinch her arm and she lightly slaps you back. “I’ll wash the other mugs while you bring me his.”

“Just grab it when you walk by,” you tell her. She flips the last chair over and heads down the aisle on the opposite side of him, looking back at you before shrugging helplessly.

Sighing, you stick your tongue out at her and finish with the last table. When you walk towards him, your steps slow until you come to a stop beside him. Though you didn’t mean to stare, you catch a glimpse of some website, something pertaining to music if the staffs and notes were any indication, before a calendar pops up on his screen.

“Looking for more supernatural things on other people’s laptops too now?” The guy asks without turning back.

You come forward so you’re more in front of him and set the cleaning supplies on another table. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be nosy. Are you finished with that?” You ask, gesturing to the empty mug.

He looks at the cup before nodding and handing it to you. “Oh yeah, thanks.”

Taking the mug, you purse your lips, shifting awkwardly on your feet as you place it with the wet rag and cleaning bottle.

He glances up, regarding you as he scratches his neck. “Anything else you want to ask?”

“My name’s Y/N,” you blurt.

He blinks. “Cool,” is his dry response.

“Are you seriously not going to tell me your name?”

“Why do you want to know?” He chuckles, shutting his laptop. After putting it in his bag, his leg slides the chair across from him out and gestures for you to sit.

“Well,” you sit down with a huff, “we can’t exactly keep calling each other ‘wolf girl’ and ‘library guy’.”

“Technically, we can,” he points out with a smirk, flicking his bangs aside.

“I’m not just some wolf girl. It’s not like I spend my time running around with wolves.”

“Don’t you?” He mutters.

You still. His smirk is still there, but you can see a glimmer of gold pooling within his brown irises, the tiny flickers swirling as they slowly grow. Leaning forward, you look carefully at him and he glances away to the dark windows before you can make eye contact.

“What do you mean?”

His gaze remains fixated on the café scenery before turning slowly to you and he blinks, chocolate eyes void of any shine, seeming to not have heard you. “Hmm? Oh, I meant because of those books you’re reading.”

“Right,” you say, scrutinizing him carefully. “So what about you? Are you part of a pack of werewolves or just a typical know-it-all?” Propping your arms on the wooden table, you lean forward, wondering if it’s possible to get any information out of him. Two can play at this game, you don’t mind.

Following your movement, he casually puts an elbow on the table and rests his chin on top. “I actually prefer well-informed individual, but call me whatever you want, wolf girl.” The smirk is back, his eyes shining mischievously. “If that’s alright with you, Y/N. Besides,” he pushes against the table and stretches, sitting back against his chair,” I haven’t exactly seen many wolves around here. Have you?”

Yes. “Not really,” you answer with a shake of your head.

“That’s a shame,” he pushes against the table and goes to stand. “You’d think with this much forest there’d be more.” Bending down, he grabs his bag and hefts it over his shoulder as he slides the chair back in place.

You scramble to your feet as well. “Look, I didn’t mean to interrogate you or—”

Your surprised by his laugh, white teeth flashing as he notices your embarrassed state. “Don’t worry, wolf girl, it’s fine.” Shoving a hand in his pocket, he steps forward until you’re mere inches apart. “If I didn’t have somewhere to be and if your co-worker wasn’t impatiently waiting,” you glance over your shoulder to find Elanor exactly as he described, finger nails rapping against the counter while she looked at her phone, “then I’d love to continue this conversation. Maybe next time,” he says with a shrug.

Lending you one more smile, you watch as he walks away and heads for the door. You gather the cleaning supplies and mug, scowling at Elanor though you only manage to keep your face stoic for a few seconds.

“It’s Yoongi, by the way,” you hear and you turn to find library guy with a hand on the door.

“Good to know,” you say.

He gives you a nod while you wave in return before he’s pushing the door open and vanishing into the night.

Turning back to the counter, you find Elanor regarding you with a quirked brow.

“What? I got his name, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, eventually.”

After putting the cleaning supplies away, you take the mug to the back with her right behind you. “Hey, my flirting skills aren’t on the same level as yours,” you say, turning on the sink as you start washing the cup.

“True,” she agrees. “So what’d you think?”

“Of him?” She nods. The sponge you’re using stops as you think. “I mean, he’s definitely cryptic with his answers. We barely know each other, so we’ll just have to see.”

“Keep me posted,” she says before going to collect her things and you half-heartedly nod as you resume washing.

He may be cryptic, but at least you finally got his name. Though you’ve only spoken a few times, you had to admit you were looking forward to more conversations.

— — —

A/N: Wow, almost a whole year later! I know I’m so sloooow, but I want to get faster. Anyway, it’s finally here, and the mystery man has been revealed. Thoughts? A lot of y’all guessed right, but regardless, I hope y’all liked the new chapter. Thank you again for always being patient and for reading my stories, even if they take a while.

#bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts #wolf!BTS #wolf!au #fanfic #My writing #Caramel Eyes Mocha Paws

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ddproductionsw77 · 5 years

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Hit A Wall

Fandom: IT (2017), IT: Chapter Two (2019)

Pairing(s): Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak)

Characters: Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak

Rating: T (M if language and sex centered discussions offend you)

Description: Eddie is falling, hard and fast, but he struggles with getting past a certain point without hitting a wall (Aged-up to high school)

Author’s Note: I haven’t written anything in a while, let alone Reddie so please be forgiving. I tried to be as in character as possible! Thanks!

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Eddie Kaspbrak would probably have to admit that he was slightly obsessed with Richie Tozier. The first few weeks they were together were the worst, though. His every thought, every free moment was dedicated to him. He was so very taken it was on the verge of problematic.

No, it was problematic. He couldn’t concentrate in class because either Richie was right there beside him, arms brushing “accidentally” every few minutes, or Richie was not next to him but he knew would be waiting for him right outside the classroom door once the bell rang.

Mercifully, it seemed that Richie was just as obsessed with him. Coming to meet him at his locker every morning at school, calling him almost everyday after school to talk even for just seconds before heading to work, stopping in at the Corner Street Drug where Eddie worked just to be near Eddie even though it had been explicitly decided between them that no one could know they were together. No one but the other Losers, of course, because there would be absolutely no point in trying to hide their new relationship status from them. Derry wasn’t the place for a boy to be in a relationship with another boy, it just wasn’t.

But that was okay as well, considering they made up for it almost every second they had away from prying eyes.

They were on Eddie’s bed, doing homework with Eddie’s god awful stereo system cracking lightly in the background. Richie was supposedly doing some assigned reading but was laying on his back with his legs sprawled over Eddie’s, having set his book down on his chest twenty minutes prior, eyes closed. Eddie absentmindedly traced the curve of Richie’s knee with nonsensical patterns as he hummed, staring at the advanced geometry textbook beside him. They had their final tests before winter break the following day and Eddie was determined to maintain his 4.0 GPA even if it killed him.

Eddie was sure that Richie had drifted off when the Trashmouth sat up suddenly, throwing the book — The Scarlet Letter— across the room to land lightly on the rug. Good thing too, considering his mother would probably have a stroke if she found her Eddie Bear snuggled up with A Boy... the boy being Richie Tozier would add insult to injury, he was sure.

“Eds, you’re going to wipe yourself out if you keep cramming before the test,” Richie complained, “Besides, it’s fucking boring just listening to you mumbling about the SIN and COS of what the fuck ever for hours.”

Eddie turned his head shortly to glare at his boyfriend, the breath momentarily catching in his throat to find Richie so very close. When would he ever get used to that?

Still, he managed to keep his expression unamused as he raised his eyebrows, “Don’t fucking call me that and what exactly do you suggest we do instead, asshole?”

A smirk curled across Richie’s lips and made Eddie instantly forget all about his exam tomorrow. The tall boy leaned forward till the curls of his black hair tickled Eddie’s forehead and spoke in a teasing, enticing tone, soft and intriguing, “I can think of a couple things...”

And then his lips captured Eddie’s and any remaining fragments of logical thought flew from Eddie’s mind as his hands moved of their own accord, dropping his pencil and grasping Richie’s face, pulling him closer. It wasn’t enough to be close, Eddie mourned, he ached for something more, something beyond close.

Richie grinned against his lips, opening his mouth and brushing his teeth over Eddie’s top lip, tracing the bottom one with his tongue. A moan sounded from the back of Eddie’s throat as he opened his mouth, meeting Richie’s tongue with his own as he moved his hands back to tangle in his boyfriend’s hair. He felt short on oxygen but couldn’t find it anywhere within himself to give a shit.

How had he allowed himself to miss out on this for so long? He’d gone years, years, silently pining and longing and the whole time he could have been doing this!

Richie gently began easing Eddie back onto the bed, moving on top of him as he went. A thrill of excitement trailed up Eddie’s spine as Richie’s fingertips found a strip of skin were his shirt had ridden up.

He gasped into Richie’s mouth as the other boy slipped his hand under his shirt just to run his fingertips over the side of his rib cage. Richie took to opportunity to dip his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck touching his lips against the hollow there, leaving Eddie instantly breathless as he whispered, “Shit!”

Richie chuckled, a sound he felt in his chest as much as he heard in his ear, and mumbled, “So, you like that, huh, Eds?”

Any other time, Eddie would have snapped at him for the nickname but the boy couldn’t even seem to form coherent sentences at the moment and so didn’t even try. As he planted more kisses against the sensitive skin, Eddie made some foreign sound that seemed a mix of a groan and a growl and without thinking, gave his boyfriend’s hair a small tug. Richie sucked in his breath and took a break from Eddie to bit his own lip, “Jesus fuck, Eddie!”

A thrill of electricity coursed through Eddie’s veins, hearing the arousal in Richie’s voice, making it go gravelly and sexy in a way that Eddie had never previously thought possible. He pulled at his boyfriend’s hair again, bring the boy’s lips back to his to capture the responsive moan. Their tongues fought for a moment before Eddie released his hands from Richie’s hair, moving down to his chest to push him back.

Richie looked down at him momentarily confused before Eddie whined out, “Shirt!”

Together they managed to unzip Richie’s old, ratty sweatshirt and toss it to the floor to be shortly followed by the Led Zeppelin shirt he’d had on beneath. Richie reached down, slipping his hands under Eddie’s sweater and slowly pushing the fabric up as Eddie arched his back, allowing the shirt to be pulled off.

Eddie instantly pulled Richie back down into another searing kiss and somewhere in the back of his brain a pesky little voice reminded him, quite unnecessarily, that they’d never done this before.

Well, he’d never done this before. Richie had done more than this with multiple people. Richie was experienced, at least experienced than Eddie. And with that thought, all Eddie could think about was that they were edging farther and farther out of his comfort zone…

It’s fine, Eddie. You’re having fun. It feels good, doesn’t it? So just lay back and relax…

Like Holly Mason did?

The thought came to Eddie’s mind against his will and he tried to force it out again by running his hands down Richie’s back, finding the trail of his spine and lightly following up and down. But it remained and seemed to bubble up inside and grow louder and louder.

What about Holly Mason?

She’s done this with Richie. She’s done more than this with Richie. You remember how Richie told you all about his first time with his first girlfriend, Hot Tamale Holly... Remember, Eddie, that’s what he called her? Remember how they only dated for two weeks and had already fucked by the end of the first? Remember Eddie? Remember?

Eddie screwed his eyes shut and without thinking, without wanting to, turned his head away from Richie, who took this as an invitation to continue kissing along Eddie’s jawline and back to the hollow of his neck.

Why are you ruining this for yourself? Just stop thinking about Holly Mason, it was two fucking years ago! And so was Becca Clarke after her.

But Sandy Montgomery wasn’t two years ago. She was just last year... just five month ago, if you do the math, Eddie. Remember Sandy, Eddie?

Of fucking course he remembered Sandy Montgomery.

She’d actually been around for awhile. Holly and Richie had only last two weeks, Becca and Richie a month but Sandy... Sandy’d been around for months, seven of them to be exact. They’d broken up when Sandy left for college, being two years older than them.

Eddie had hated her even more than Holly or Becca because Holly and Becca weren’t even likable but Sandy... Sandy had been. She’d been funny and witty and seemingly the perfect match for Richie. She’d definitely been the only girl that Richie had dated to make friends with the Losers. And Eddie couldn’t help but remember in that moment how Richie had looked at Sandy when she giggled and buried her face in his chest, when he’d drawn her in to kiss her forehead, when she’d run her fingers through his hair as she walked by.

Seven months.

He and Richie had only been together two.

You know he screwed her too, don’t you? Of course you do because he used to tell you about it, remember? He called her Sexy Sandy. Oh Richie and his nicknames, right, Eddie Spaghetti? Not quiet as sexy as Hot Tamale Holly or Becca the Babe or Sexy Sandy, is it, Eddie Spaghetti?

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

Eddie growled, this time there was no mistaking the sound for something else, and wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist, jerking to the side and rolling them over so he was on top now. Richie grinned up at him and for a second all those pesky, awful thoughts went away and Eddie was back in the moment. For a second it was just him and Richie and the voices in his head were shut up and he wasn’t scared or nervous because there was no one he trusted more in the world than Richie.

What are you gonna do, Eddie? Making out shirtless can’t have any real zeal once you’ve lost your V card and Richie lost that a long time ago. You’re the only virgin in the room right now, honey, and you don’t even know how to make this interesting for him, admit it.

Eddie’s vision blurred but he could still make out the smile slipping off Richie’s face. His boyfriend sat up, taking his face in his hands, “Hey, hey, Eddie Spaghetti, are you o—“

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Eddie half yelled before remembering his mother sleeping down the hall. He looked toward the door, eyes wide and quickly climbed off of Richie to go and listen for any noise on the other side. He closed his eyes as he put his ear to the wood paneling and felt humiliated as a cool tear ran down his burning cheeks. He quickly wiped it away and, hearing nothing, turned to lean his back against the door as he avoided Richie’s eyes.

“Okay... what the fuck just happened?” Richie asked lowly, as aware as Eddie that they had to keep their volume to a minimum.

Eddie shook his head, “Nothing.” He pushed off the door and plucked his sweater off the floor. Pulling it on over his head, he held out a hand toward his boyfriend, “Hand me my textbook, Trashmouth.”

Richie stared at him, still shirtless and still in Eddie’s bed, his hair still messy from Eddie’s frantic fingers, “What’s wrong with you, Eds?”

“Nothing! Just give me the fucking textbook and put your goddamn clothes on! I just want to go to bed, okay? I’m just tired and we have exams tomorrow so fucking leave me alone!” Eddie snapped jabbing his hand out toward Richie again.

His boyfriend narrowed his eyes on him before reaching beside him and picking up the textbook. He held it out but didn’t let it go once Eddie gripped it, instead looking right at him and saying, “I’m not going to let it go, you know that, so you might as well just tell me now.”

Eddie jerked the textbook away, going over to put it on his desk, before turning back around, “I just want to go to sleep, Richie. I’m fucking exhausted, can we just go to sleep?”

Richie ducked down to pick up his t-shirt slipping it on and laying back down, gesturing silently for Eddie to come join him. Relieved, Eddie did, crawling under the covers and immediately turning his back to Richie. There was a pause before arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back against his boyfriend’s chest.

It took a second but Eddie made himself relax as he reached up to turn off the lamp on his bedside table.

Eddie couldn’t find Richie anywhere. He’s just gotten out of class and his boyfriend was nowhere in sight, basically unheard of since they’d begun dating. With a sigh, he started toward his locker and spotted Mike putting away his things for the day. Eddie grinned and walked to his friend, “Hey Mike!”

“Oh,” Mike glanced at Eddie before his gazed darted away, “Hi Eddie.”

Raising an eyebrow, Eddie cocked his head to the side, “What? You seem weird?”

“I’m weird?” Mike asked, a sarcastic laugh escaping from his mouth and he turned to smirk at Eddie, “At least I’m not a Junior in high school and still a virgin.”

Eddie mouth fell open and he felt like suddenly everyone in the hall had stopped to stare at him. He looked around to find that they actually had, whispering to each other and giggling as they watched him sputter. Whirling back around to Mike, Eddie shook his head, “That’s personal, shithead! It’s between me and—“

“If you were going to say Richie, you should know he’s who told me,” Mike laughed, gesturing to the surrounding crowd, “Told all of us, actually. He called you a tease, said you just mess around but never actually put out. You realize you’re the only Loser who’s still a virgin, right? Do you know how pathetic that is?”

Eddie swallowed as some of the people around them began to laugh. Horrorstruck, he backed away from Mike and turned to shove his way through the crowd as the laughter grew louder and louder.

He pushed the closest bathroom door open and rushed inside, slamming the door shut.

“Hey, tease! This room is occupied!” A familiar voice snapped.

Eddie spun on his heels and dropped the textbooks he’d been carrying at the sight of Sandy Montgomery sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink with her skirt hiked up, her legs wrapped around his boyfriend.

Eddie stared in horror for a moment before anger boiled in his chest, “Wh—What are you doing, Richie?!? You realize that we’re the ones dating right now, right, assface?”

Richie took his lips away from Sandy’s neck, the same corner where he’d kissed Eddie’s before, and shook his head, “Yeah, Spaghetti Man? Well, boyfriends are supposed to put out so I guess we’re both a little disappointed, huh? At least Sandy’s a team player.”

Eddie couldn’t believe his eyes as Richie, his Richie, the Richie he’d been tripping over since he was basically a kid, took Sandy’s face into his hands and kissed her like he was suppose to kiss Eddie. He thought he might be sick as he felt a burning in his throat and squeezed his eye shut tight only to find the image of his boyfriend’s betrayal carved there as well—

Eddie wasn’t fully aware of throwing Richie’s arms off him or of frantically clawing his way off of his bed or of crawling across the floor as he sobbed. He did it all in that sickly in between state where he wasn’t fully awake yet but also wasn’t sleeping anymore. Moving to the wall opposite his bed, Eddie gripped his knees and curled up to himself.

“Eddie?! Eds! Jesus, what’s going on?” Richie whisper-yelled in the dark of the room and Eddie sobbed louder. He couldn’t see, couldn’t see, couldn’t—

The lamp beside his bed came on and Richie rushed over to him on the floor, sweeping his hair, soaked through with cold sweat back from his forehead. “Shh, it’s okay! I’m right here—“

Eddie slapped his hand away hard with a crack, choking out, “Get off of me!”

Richie threw his hands up as if in surrender, “Okay, okay, calm down, damm! I’m not touching you!”

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, tears chilling his red cheeks. He sat in silence for a long time, collecting himself and trying fruitlessly to stop his crying.

Now Richie’ll think you’re a tease and a crybaby. Great job, Eddie Spaghetti!

Groaning, Eddie shoved his palms hard into his temples, praying he could just find some off switch for his brain. Some button to just power the damn thing down.

Finally, he dropped his hands and slowly peeked up to find Richie sitting cross legged right in front of him, as close as possible without any part of them so much as brushing against each other. Richie was picking at a hole in the knee of his sweatpants and glanced up for a second before returning to it, “Are you going to talk to me about it?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and said nothing, looking back at his hands. His hands that had been tangled in Richie’s hair just hours ago and yet, it seemed, were incapable of anything more than that. No wonder Richie thought he was a tease... maybe he was.

“Look, if it’s me that’s your problem, then I can go. Exams are tomorrow, I know how important that is to you. If you’re pissed at me over something than I’ll fuck off so you can get some sleep.” Richie shrugged, continuing to pick at his sweatpants. “Whatever it is that you’re pissed about, I guess I’m sorry.”

“You—“ Eddie cut himself short before swallowing hard and starting again, “You didn’t do anything... it’s me.”

“What about you?” Richie asked, pausing in his fiddling to look right at Eddie. Eddie liked Richie so much in moments like these. Quiet moments, private moments, where it was just them and Richie managed to actually be… genuine. Real. No joking, no sarcasm… Just Richie.

“I just,” Eddie thought about telling Richie the truth right then but before he could his brain flooded with images, ideas of how Richie might look at him if he knew what Eddie was thinking, fearing… And what if he thought it was funny? Because it fucking wasn’t. “I just think I want to be alone.”

No you don’t! Why the fuck would you say that?

Richie sat there for a moment, looking at him as if he hadn’t fully understood the request yet. Then he rocked back, nodding as he stood up, “Right, yeah, okay.”

Eddie watched as his boyfriend quickly located his shabby hoodie on the floor and his backpack under the windowsill. Richie was pushing the bedroom window open when Eddie found the strength to clamber to his feet.

Stepping forward, Eddie bit his lip before saying, “Rich, wait...”

Richie paused and the cold December air from the outside filled the bedroom, making Eddie shiver. He waited for his boyfriend to turn around but when he didn’t, Eddie cleared his throat and continued. “It’s like 10 degrees outside. You can’t go out there.”

Richie sighed and finally turned to face Eddie, throwing his hands up, “Okay, what the fuck to you want from me, Eds? Because earlier tonight you were definitely hot with the making out and the undressing and then you were just ice cold out of nowhere and totally blew me off. Now, you say you want to be alone, then you say I can’t leave— What the fuck? I gonna whiplash if you don’t make up your damn mind soon.”

Eddie looked away, “I just don’t want to put you out to freeze to death, dickwad, but if you’re going to be an assho—“

“I’m the asshole?” Richie remarked, annoyed, “I’m the one trying to actually figure out what the hell is wrong with you and I’m the asshole? Fuck that.”

Eddie knew Richie was right. He was the one being stupid. He was the one who was a scared, pathetic, virgin loser.

Find his voice once more as Richie started to sling his backpack over one shoulder, Eddie spoke up in a high pitched, embarrassed voice, “I— I’m a virgin.”

Richie stopped, looking over his shoulder with a confused and bewildered expression, “Okay?”

Eddie shook his head with a long, annoyed sigh, “No! Look, I’m a virgin,” He gestured to Richie, faltering, “And you’re— you’re not...”

Sliding the backpack from his shoulder, Richie shrugged, still bewildered, “So?”

Eddie’s mouth fell open, “So? So, I’ve never done—“ He fell silent, his face on fire with shame.

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, “That’s kind of what being a virgin means.”

“Shut up!” Eddie felt his eyes prickle and quickly turned away, his entire being burning with humiliation, “For once just shut up, Trashmouth! You don’t get it! Just—“ He swallowed, “Just leave me the fuck alone!”

He heard a long sigh and then silence until, “Explain it to me.”

Eddie pressed his palms into his eyes, willing back his tears, “Just fucking go.”

“No!” Richie snapped, “You said I don’t get it so fucking explain it, dumbass! Because you’re right, I don’t understand how you being a virgin and me not being one is a fucking problem.”

“It just is!” Eddie half yelled, whirling around, before lowering his voice and glancing toward the door. “Seriously, Richie, leave me alone.”

Richie stared at him long and hard before sighing and shrugging, “Well, I’m not leaving till you talk to me, so looks like you’re shit out of luck.”

Staring up at the ceiling, Eddie shook his head, “You slept with Holly Mason a week after you started dating her. You didn’t even wait that long with Becca Clarke.”

“Eddie—“ Richie started to object only for Eddie to continue on, cutting him off.

“Beep beep, my turn!” Eddie snapped, “And Sandy! Sexy Sandy! She must of been special because you two waited a whole two weeks, right? And then there is the multiple hookups with strangers you told me about in great detail, thank you so fucking much for that!”

Richie scoffed and looked away, biting his lip.

“We’ve been together two months, Richie. And tonight was the furtherest we’ve ever gone. And I know it’s my fault, okay? I know I’m the tease, I’m the problem—“

“Eds, come on—“

“I just, I want to and we start to and it’s great and then I just hit this wall and I can’t do more than that. I can’t do it.” Eddie deflated, looking at his feet as he quietly finished, “I can’t do it and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Richie echoed, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Eds, except maybe acting like a psycho earlier...” Eddie looked up to glare at him and he winced, “What I mean is that it doesn’t bother me, you know? That we haven’t... it’s not about that with us. So, when you hit the wall, I don’t care if we have to stop because, you know, I can wait. I’m not that sex obsessed. Besides… I can always take care of myself later.”

Eddie glared at his boyfriend again, who only smirked in response.

Apprehensively, he spoke up again, “But what about the others? How am I suppose to compete with them? With Hot Tamale Holly? And Becca the Babe? Chrissy from last years homecoming after party? And Hannah from the AV club? Sandy?” Eddie felt tears well in his eyes again and cursed himself, looking at the ceiling again.

“Compete?” Richie half laughed, “Eddie, there isn’t even a competition! Sandy, Holly, Becca, being with them, any of them, didn’t matter. It was just sex! It’s not gonna be that way with us. When it happens, it’s gonna be something completely different... you gotta know that.”

Eddie nibbled in his lip, “I don’t know when that is. I can’t give you a time and a place, I don’t know when I’ll be able to…”

Richie shrugged, stepping closer a little timidly, “I don’t need you to. When you’re ready, I promise you say the word and I’ll come fucking running. And you can bet your ass it’ll be the best sex, like, ever.”

Eddie turned scarlet, choking out, “What? How could you—?”

“Because it’ll be you and me. Nothing is gonna compare to that. Not Sexy Sandy, or Hot Tamale Holly or any of the others. I know that.” Richie smirked, looking Eddie hard in the eyes.

Eddie felt a shiver go up his spine that had nothing to do with the still open window behind Richie. He stepped forward until their chests nearly brushed, “You know, sometimes I don’t get it. You wanting to be with me. But... I’m glad you do.”

Richie grinned, falling into a terrible southern accent as he said, “Aww, Eddie Spaghetti, you sure do sound sweet on me!”

Eddie’s smile dropped, “Forget it. I actually meant I don’t get why I’m with a fucking idiot like you, so just forget what you think you heard me sa—“

He was cut off by Richie grabbing his face and kissing him, hard on the mouth. He instantly responded, kissing back in an almost feverish manner, standing on tip toe to wrap his arms around Richie’s neck as if trying to keep him just this close for the rest of time.

Eventually, they parted, both breathless.

“Wh—What was I saying?” Eddie asked, still a tad dazed.

“Oh, you know, the usual. How much you like me and how amazing I am, yada yada.” Richie chuckled, grinning at his boyfriend.

Eddie rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Richie’s cheek as he said, “I think that’s just what you hear anytime someone near you opens their mouth, Rich.” He smirked and nodded toward the bed, “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

Richie nodded, laughing a bit, “Yeah, you have an exam in,” He glanced a lot the alarm clock over Eddie’s shoulder, “Two hours, shit! That sucks!”

“Oh my god, beep beep!”

#richie #richie tozier #eddie x richie #reddie #eddie #eddie kaspbrak #fanfic #it (2017)#it chapter two #it chapter one #it (1990)#stephen king #the losers of '89 were here

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bbbarneswrites · 5 years

Text

Future’s Now

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: For every time Bucky thought of his past, you made him think of his future. Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, mental health issues 4,314 words

Notes: Hello! It’s been a very long time since I posted something...and for that I’m sorry. My writing skills seem to be drying out each day and even when I want to write, I just can’t put anything together. This piece started last year and I finally got myself to finish it! It’s not my best but it’s something. I’m hoping to be posting another piece soon until next week. Meanwhile I hope you enjoy this one. Feedback’s always welcome! Happy reading! <3

As soon Bucky steps into the bar, he’s welcomed with the warm temperature of the crowd and its noise, the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. Choosing that place most definitely isn’t his smartest choice, he admits, but the Winter Soldier knows how to blend in anywhere like no one else.

(Plus, this is as near as he can get to his apartment so he can’t exactly complain).

The small dancefloor is packed with people, mostly young and drunk and way too happy when compared to his shit mood but that doesn’t stop him from taking the farthest seat at the bar’s counter, his brown locks falling against his face as soon as he places his order for the strongest drink in the menu. That’s all he needs for now–a drink (that won’t make him drunk, much to his dismay) and a few hours away from the Tower and its residents, including his long lost best-friend.

After completing his fourth mission in about a week and a half, Bucky can’t help but feel annoyed and useless as his teammates keep pestering him about his well-being. Always hearing something among the lines of coping and therapy and health, he pushes all those concerns away because those are things that doesn’t matter now.

Not to his redemption, anyway. Because neither of those things will ever erase whatever shit he’s done over and over for decades in a row.

But this is his easy way out.

It should be easy enough. To spend a night somewhere around people who don’t give a fuck about him or his health. People who might hate him for what he’s done. People who’d rather have their drinks than to pay attention to what’s surrounding them. He just needs a night where he can be a nobody instead of a super soldier in a team of super human beings. And so, that’s the last thing on his mind as he takes sip after sip from his bitter drink–getting recognized.

That doesn’t happen until he takes a note on you standing right beside him, having taken the duty of ordering another round of drinks for your friends. Even though Bucky isn’t in the party looking for something or someone, he has eyes and he can’t deny you’re beautiful. And it’s funny how you’re the first girl to really catch his eye during his first hour spent at the bar.

Your hair frames your face just perfectly and the little make-up you’re wearing it’s enough to do its job and highlight your features. Your outfit isn’t the boldest one he’s seen around but it still makes him squirm a little on his seat, his eyes incapable of not flickering over the expense of your legs exposed by a black skirt, t-shirt tucked under the waistband.

You are beautiful and he can’t deny that.

But his mistake is to think you’re just another face in the crowd.

“You know, if your mugshot hadn’t been plastered in the news for months in a row, you’d give a nice NYU senior.” You say smartly, lips holding back a grin and eyes brimming with amusement while all Bucky can seem to do is stare dumbly, like a fish out of water. “A hipster-like senior, maybe? Really into arts and acting if you squint.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything but his mere raise of eyebrows is enough of an answer for you, given that you huff out a little laugh and turn your attention back to the bartender, now lining up six little cups of tequila in front of you.

Putting two and two together and now everything makes sense–the young crowd, the pop music and the insistent drinking. It’s a fucking student party and he’s right in the middle of it. Choosing that place most definitely isn’t his smartest choice, Bucky admits, but he’s surprised to acknowledge that he doesn’t want to leave. Not now, anyway.

“Guess you’d be surprised to know I was an art student back in the day.” Bucky finally breaks his silence, unable to hold back a little grin as he watches you raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Not all history books put that up, huh?”

You chuckle incredulously, eyes firmly set on his imposing frame as he just shakes his head with a deep breath and turns his attention back to the glass hanging from his fingers, holding back back a grin of his own. Bittersweet is the right word for the feeling beaming in his chest, as he misses the days where he could just talk to a girl like a normal guy but dreads the problematic person he’s become after all these years.

Bucky wonders if you’d still give him the time of your day if you knew only half of what he’s done as the soldier.

“Yeah, not all books do that. It’s a shame, really, if you ask me.” You sigh dramatically, placing a hand on your chest until Bucky is snickering in reply and you’re laughing at his sassy reaction. “Okay, so if you really were an art student, what’s your deal when it comes to it? Paintings? Performances?”

Bucky takes a sip of his drink, his lips curving in a small grin as he watches your antecipation over his answer–raised eyebrows, elbows resting on the counter, the tequila shots momentarily forgotten as you stare at him.

For someone who just wanted to get lost in a crowd less than ten minutes ago, he’s very well enjoying being the center of your interest and attention so far, much to his surprise. Oh, life, and the way it always come back to bite him in the ass and make him swallow his own words.

“Just sketching, mostly.” He answers with a small shrug, his eyes falling to the dirty wooden counter. Once you hum encouragingly, curious eyes still upon his bulky frame, Bucky continues. “Just got in art school for Steve. Wouldn’t let his sorry ass miss a chance just ‘cause he’d get beat up by bullies.”

When Bucky dares to glance up to you again, your eyes are somewhat sorrowful but there’s still a little hint of playfulness that you take up with an amused smile, making you look suddenly mischievous just like that.

He decides right then that he likes the sight, and it makes him think that if this was any other kind of life or universe (where he isn’t as fucked up as he is now), he’d do something about it.

“College kids are a bit more level-headed, you know. Or are supposed to be.” You tease, throwing him a cheeky wink as your fingers reach for one of the little tequila cups lined up in front of you. “Not all of us drink our problems to oblivion like I’m doing now. Or beat up other kids. Just sometimes.”

As you shrug and down the shot in one go with a grimace, Bucky can’t help but smirk.

Maybe he was hoping to be recognized, deep down in his consciousness. Maybe he was hoping to have someone to spit drunk but bitter truths to his face about his past. Maybe he was hoping for someone who wouldn’t coddle him, just take things as messy as they are. Maybe he was fooling himself into thinking that he didn’t want to meet someone in that night. But he’s pleasantly surprised to know all of that really is happening–just not in the way he’d been expecting.

Turns out, you don’t need to spit bitter truths to make him feel like a random guy in bar. Not an Avenger, not a recovering soldier, not a ruthless assassin. You only need to be you, talking to him as if he’s a nice NYU senior, really into art and acting, if one squint. Funny.

“Drinkin’ to oblivion sounds like a smart choice.” Bucky tips his glass between his gloved vibranium fingers but lets out a short laugh in the way. Your eyes follow the movement of his lips and he can’t help but grin, chest flaring in mild smugness with your reaction. “Can’t exactly do that with the super soldier thing and all.”

Just as Bucky takes the last sip of his drink, you raise a hand for the bartender and his cup gets filled up to the brim again. Words muffled by the rock song blasting through the room, the order is placed on your tab, just like you request it. And then, your fingers are expertly lifting up the little tequila cups together, a grin on your face as you turn to the side and rest your hip against the counter.

You are beautiful and he can’t deny that.

“Bucky Barnes.” You start, a smile on your face as you lean closer to him and lock your eyes with his. When Bucky nods in a silent urge, you swipe your tongue over your lips, feeling nothing but gleeful as he follows the movement. “Find me. And then I can maybe pose for one of those sketches of yours.”

And he does find you.

(Or FRIDAY does for him, that is).

He remembers the time where things like these were usual to him–the suits, dancing, parties and all that.

Bucky used to be that guy who liked going out, seeing and knowing people. He liked to dance, to get his best suit out of the wardrobe for a night out. He liked to have a good time with someone by his side, to feel comfortable and confident in his own skin. He liked to be a free spirit, not caring about people’s judgement over his actions and his life choices. But fast foward to this day and age, from the second the invitation is sent to his name to the actual gala party day, Bucky completely dreads the entire situation altogether.

The one thing he’s completely sure of is that he hates Tony Stark and his pompous events.

Bucky Barnes is now a former assassin with a troubled past and issues that can go down to his bones. Not exactly a perfect poster boy or a favorite between the Avengers. His day-to-day consists of occasional anxiety attacks, isolation and guilt trips. Sleepless nights, bad dreams and whatever else a man like him is supposed to have.

And still, the so dreaded night is nothing but pleasant.

He drinks and laughs and dances and it’s a nice change from the times where he used to stick to the corners of the ballroom with people tiptoeing around him.

It’s a nice change to have someone who treats him as a whole, like he’s not made of glass or a ticking bomb that may explode at any second. Bucky might hate the parties and dislike the attention but he won’t snap because of it. Strange enough, the damn night grants him a pleasing sense of nostalgia as it makes him think of the Sergeant in a less bitter way than he’s accustomed to.

Twirling you around on the dancefloor, drinking just for the fun of it, enjoying the company of his teammates. Doing so suddenly doesn’t feel so foreign as he thought it would be.

Despite it all, Bucky can’t deny he likes this much better–both of you sitting in the corner of an old diner, waiting on your orders as the stereo plays catchy 80s songs and you pretend to sing along. Every person who passes by your booth gives a double take because you look anything but ordinary in that moment.

Between his jet black suit and your flowy mint green gown (a Dior, courtesy of Tony Stark himself, as a thank you for convincing Bucky to attend the gala), it’s clear that neither of you really belong to that place, at least not while sporting the very much expensive looking attires that will be returned in a few hours.

The burgers and fries and milkshares combo arrive in no time and after a suspicious glance from the waitress and a change of genre on the stereo (now playing a Ariana Grande song (that he’s surprised to know), you’re falling into mindless conversation between one salty fry or two.

“I need to know something really important about you.” You start, pointing one of your fries towards him in a rather threatening way, though he can clearly see you’re playing just by the mischief in your eyes. “Do you believe in astrology? Horoscopes and all that? Think wisely about this.”

With the milkshake straw between his lips, Bucky mulls over your question.

Back in the day, his life was simpler but way too busy for him to be thinking about something as seemingly silly as astrology. His sisters had magazines about it though and sometimes read bits and pieces to him, only to be always shrugged by the older brother. The traits they veemently claimed he had as a Pisces man, now don’t make much sense so maybe Bucky isn’t that sure about his astros anymore.

“I know I’m a Pisces but that’s all about it.” He finally answers, huffing out a laugh and offering a playful apologetic shrug when you glance at him in pretend hurt. “Just never put much thought into it. Can’t blame me, I was born in 1917. Why?”

In a ploy that is clearly meant to rile him up, because there’s definitely a hint of curiosity laced to his voice despite the nonchalant answer, you mirror his shrug and take your time on sipping your vanilla milkshake.

And Bucky knows he’s supposed to feel something but not this–at least, not yet.

Under the pink-ish lights of the diner, his mind is all over the place with just how pretty and just unapologetic you look in the moment. The straps of your dress are very thin, but just enough to expose your collarbones and skin, a simple necklace that hangs a little star closing around your the base of your neck. Despite the long night, your make-up is pretty much intact though a few strands of your hair are out of place. It’s right then, Bucky realizes he never wants to miss this sight–or rather you, again.

(Getting out of his comfort zone scares him a whole lot, yes, but feeling this infatuated with someone this damn quickly feels even scarier, if he’s being honest).

“Pisces are very compassionate people, you know.” You break his momentary misery, smiling cheekily despite the straw still hanging between your lips. “Very intuitive, loyal and kind. They can be a little unpredictable with their feelings, though. I can definitely see the pisces in you.”

An unfamiliar warmth spreads through Bucky’s neck and despite the unexpected blush, a rather grim laugh escapes from his lips, anyway.

He doesn’t mean to be this bitter but supposes it’s probably in his nature now, especially after the shitshow that has been his life since HYDRA. The one thing that Bucky can’t deny is the fact that even with his deep layers of grief, your sweet words are easily breaking all the way through his heavy heart.

So much that he feels soft, light as ever. He’s not made of glass or a ticking bomb that may explode at any second–he’s just Bucky.

“I think you see way too much in me, baby doll.” Bucky huffs, looking adorably sheepish as you offer him an unimpressed glance. “Just sayin’, I’ve been called a lot of things but compassionate and kind aren’t one of them.”

Stopping midway through a bite of a french fry, your face quickly shifts from tenderness to indignation.

By being who he is, Bucky doesn’t need somebody to pick up his fights. He’s stubborn as all hell, and Steve is one to testify to that. It’s hard to accept help from someone when you’ve got an historic as dirty and shady as his, he doesn’t think anybody in their right mind should be meddling in his business. It’s not a smart thing to do–being somehow associated with a former rogue assassin.

And it’s true, Bucky Barnes definitely is a protective fucker, so he goes out of his way to protect his people from his own actions. Still, he can’t help but feel his chest flare over your own protective reaction towards him.

“That’s because people are stupid, Bucky Barnes.” You huff, voice sounding nothing but firm though there’s still a hint of empathy laced to it, one that makes Bucky smile softly. “They see what they want to see. Most of us close our eyes to the truth because it’s convenient, easier to judge.”

Silence falls between you as Bucky mulls over your words.

Over the years, there’s been a fair share of excuses for all the crimes he committed as HYDRA’s puppet–he was just a small piece of a bigger game, not in control of his mind, a victim just like other prisoners and experiments. When it comes down to it, Bucky knows it’s different, too personal when it comes to him. So he doesn’t fail to remember that it was his hand that pulled the trigger every time, his face that people last saw before their death.

He lives with the memories, sleeps upon them, and he doesn’t blame people for hating him.

That doesn’t mean the fact sits well in his heart, that he doesn’t seek redemption through his actions, that he doesn’t care about what his family thinks about him. About what you think about him. And despite knowing who you are and what you stand for, Bucky would be liar by denying the hint of fear creeping up the corners of his mind.

“Did you?” He mumbles, watching you frown in mild confusion for a second before a sigh escapes from his lips. “Did you ever judge me for what I did? Before you knew me?”

With your expression changing once again, this time from confusion to pure and unashamed affection, Bucky doesn’t expect your next move.

It takes a second for you to get up from your seat, the skirt of your dress swaying as you squeeze the way into his side of the booth. Bucky almost thinks that’s the end of it until you’ve got the lapels of his Valentino suit in a fist, pulling him to you so quickly that he barely processes your lips crashing into his.

When Bucky feels you smile against his lips, arms sliding up to close around his neck, he breaks out of his stupor to pull your body closer to him–hands on your hips, just slightly lifting you so it’s enough to bring you to his lap between the tight fit of the corner table. And while both of you know it’s highly inappropriate to be doing this in the middle of a diner so late into the night, discretion is thrown into the wind as soon you melt into the kiss.

A change of song makes you break apart from his lips with a laugh and Bucky bets it’s from a girlband he can’t quite remember the name.

Tightening your arms around his neck, he can’t help but smile by feeling your face buried against his skin, soon enough with your lips lightly pressing little kisses over the collar of his button-up. It’s right there that Bucky realizes–even though you haven’t said a word, he’s got the answer in the best way possible.

Your eyes were always open for his truth.

Sitting half asleep in the kitchen island of your little apartment in Queens, a lukewarm mug of tea between his fingers, Bucky can’t help but replay the twisted images of his nightmare over and over again.

It’s been over a year since the last time he’s even had one but the familiar heavy feeling settles back inside his chest like it never really left.

Irony seems like a right take on his situation–years and years spent with HYDRA having his body and mind harmed to no end, added to the many more he’s spend on the run until he was put back under and deprogrammed, to then become dust in Wakanda. He’s gone through hell and back but yet, he’s surprised to be visited by the ghosts of his past.

Over a year ago, he couldn’t care less about his nightmares.

They were his own–a sick, twisted way of coping and redeeming himself for his time with HYDRA. Sometimes if felt like a reassurance, a reminder that it was never him, never his own volition, only HYDRA. But even then, they were never like this one. It was always his victims, glimpses of bloodied places, hints of pain, blurried memories and faces that belong solely to the puppet he once was. It was never about Steve, his family, the Avengers, never about someone too close to his heart.

(Funny to see how his mind has betrayed him. Life is right there making him swallow his words once again).

Bucky can’t shake the image of your body strapped to the chair.

At first, there’s no comfort to seeing you safe and sound once he finally wakes up. It only makes him anxious, the possibility that his nightmare could eventually become a reality crushing his chest. It makes him angry, because out of all people in his life and all bullshit he’s been through, his subconscious chooses you to haunt him. It makes him painfully aware that anything can go south in his life, no matter how comfortable he feels.

But right now, Bucky’s heart can’t help but feel lighter as he watches you step into the kitchen in your baby blue pajamas and fuzzy socks, looking cozy and sleepy and just very you.

Knowing him inside and out, you silently walk over, arms reaching out around his waist and just lightly squeezing closer to your chest. Your cheek pressed between his shoulder blades and his own hands covering your own over his stomach, Bucky easily feels like he’s safe again.

“Whatever’s going through your head right now, you know it’s not true. Right?” You mumble, voice muffled with the fabric of his t-shirt, though he can still feel the warmth of your breath and your hair tickling the nape of his neck. “Unless you’re thinking about us adopting a pet. I’m all up for that, just so you know.”

Though it’s small, an unexpected smile makes its way to Bucky’s lips. To match, his cheeks burn to a rosy tone over the mere thought of an earlier discussion–a dog or a cat, Bucky, so we can finally be a family. And now, he doesn’t voice his sudden agreement, but he’s most definitely taking you to the shelter soon in the morning.

Gently prying your hands from him, a little noise of distaste coming from you that makes him really laugh, Bucky turns around on his seat and then there’s you standing between his legs.

“So no breakfast in bed tomorrow morning then? Goddamn, doll.” He huffs, eyebrows drawn together in pretend annoyance until you’re playfully slapping his thigh. “Breakfast in bed. Got it.”

The sound of your laugh echoing through the apartment and the sweet sight you make after such a hellish hour is enough to send him reeling back to a simpler time.

Where he could enjoy a night with his best-friend, win a fight or two as a welterweight boxer, provide what he could for his family, meet a nice dame that he’d eventually give out his mother’s ring, passing on the Barnes legacy with a kid or two, or whatever else a man from his time is supposed to do. And though Bucky hadn’t let himself think of that for a long time, he can’t help but to do so with you.

His life is anything but simple but his life with you can be just that and more.

“I’m not opposed to breakfast in bed, I’ll say. Nutella pancakes.” You wink, a tender smile curling your lips as your hand reaches out to cup his jaw. Beard harsh against your palm, you brush a thumb over his lower lip. “Are you okay enough for breakfast in bed tomorrow morning?”

Lips pressing a tiny kiss to your finger, arms reaching out to your hips and forehead meeting yours as he leans closer, Bucky nods.

“Just if you’ll have me for breakfast in bed tomorrow morning.” He chuckles quietly, sighing as your hand falls to his neck, fingertips into his hair. “I’m good, baby girl. Promise.”

Life and the way it always come back to bite him in the ass and make him swallow his own words. All it takes is a tug down from your hands until your lips are meeting his and Bucky is just melting away. It’s sweet, soft, and it makes all of his worries fade just as quickly as they fogged up his mind. You feel warm, welcoming and familiar–just like home is supposed to feel like, whether if it’s now or seventy years back in the past.

“Okay then, Mr. James Barnes.” You mumble, lips still brushing over his after the broken kiss. Eyes still closed, his lips curl up in a small smile when you squeeze his neck. “Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast in bed with nutella pancakes. And then, we’ll make it a day out to visit a few thrift stores I’ve been meaning to go. Got it?”

Thrift stores like his baby sister would drag him to and that he’d usually hate with all his might.

Though the idea doesn’t sound so bad now–it’s a hint from his past with a twist of his future that makes Bucky realize that despite of all the ghosts glooming over him, he’s still standing tall, still hopeful for the life twenty-one year old Bucky Barnes planned out.

And so, with another kiss pressed to your lips, he promises to fullfil his own wish.

“I got it.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #mcu #avengers #bucky barnes fanfiction

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writingsbychelle · 5 years

Text

The Perfect Mixture

Summary: Bucky is the barista in your favourite café. One time you notice how your heartbeat seems to pick up every time you visit the cosy café. Did the barista put too much coffee into your drink or is it something else?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: /

Warnings: /

Word Count: 1.874

Opening the door of your favourite coffee shop you were greeted with the familiar scent of roasted beans, fresh flowers and the variety of baked goods being presented in the display next to the counter you walked to.

“Hello (Y/N),” the barista and owner of the place you called your second home greeted you, knowing your name after the countless hours you spend in his café, drinking coffee, eating a brownie while you were finally making some progress on the book you were writing.

Over the course of several months, your routine never changed, not even once. You always entered the café at 11 am on each Tuesday and Friday, laptop tucked inside your brown messenger bag alongside your phone, notebook and a pencil, occasionally even a book for the college class you took or one you were currently reading for yourself. Without even looking up, Bucky would grab a brownie, always the corner part, from the display, placing it on a small plate before carefully putting it on the counter for you to grab after the pastry got joined by your cold brew latte with a soft hint of hazelnut flavour. It had taken a few weeks for this routine to settle but once you noticed the gesture you couldn’t help the gentle smile that was tugging on your lips, your eyes flickering upwards to his handsome face while you felt the heat rise up your neck.

“Thank you,” you’d always mumble, handing him the money for your order, stuffing two dollars into the tip jar next to the small board with the ‘special of the day’.

After grabbing your drink and food you would sit down at the table sitting by the windows, towards the back of the café, always the same table, always the same order of pulling out your stuff. First, you pulled out your phone to answer any text messages, then you’d place your laptop on the wooden table, opening it and while waiting for it to start up you’d set up your notebook, searching for the page you last wrote on before getting to work.

Bucky had started to memorise this exact routine of yours, getting used to the look of concentration on your face when you got stuck with the plot, the way your tongue would sometimes poke out or your pencil tapping against the table while you tried to find the right words. The café was usually quiet whenever you came in, allowing him to watch you while you were working, getting lost in the way your eyebrows frowned whenever you couldn’t think of a particular word, the way your eyes drifted away from your laptop to the outside world or the way your head would move along to the music playing softly in the background, ever so slightly you could’ve sworn no one would notice it.

The brunette had to admit it, he felt like a stalker more than often when he caught himself watching you. But to his defence, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, you were breathtaking to him and he felt himself getting more and more attached to you, happy you choose his coffee shop as your regular and not the brand shop from down the street.

Unknown to the tall man behind the counter you had a very specific reason to come to ‘The Winter Bean’ instead of the coffee shop with the star in its name and it certainly wasn’t the incredibly tasty coffee or the perfect brownie, even though you weren’t necessarily aware of it yourself.

“Morning, Bucky,” you smiled, placing your hands on top of the counter while you waited for the barista to finish your beverage.

Handing you the cup he shot you a smile as you already handed him the money for your order, “Here you go. Enjoy.”

“Always,” you grinned before making your way to your standard table, following your typical routine while Bucky decided to wipe down some of the free tables, seeing as the rush from earlier was finally over.

You didn’t notice just how much closer to your table he was when you felt your heartbeat speed up, making you question just how much caffeine Bucky had put into your cold brew latte as you noticed small details you usually didn’t think you were paying attention to.

The smell of maple syrup, fresh flowers and something light and bright you couldn’t quite define, but definitely familiar to you, filled your nose, the way Bucky’s arm flexed while he held the cleaning cloth in his right hand, swiping over the table to get rid of any crumbs, the other pressing a tub against his hips in which he put the empty cups and plates.

For seemingly the first time you noticed how the barista styles his hair, a few strands falling into his face while the rest was brushed backwards. The way the soft midday sun illuminated his entire face, softening his features while making him appear even more buff than he already was.

The stubble on his face.

His way too defined jawline which made him look like a god.

The way his clothes seemed almost too tight for his body, stretching over his shoulders, his biceps, his abs.

The cute little apron he wore.

For some reason you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the barista, following his every little move while your heart seemed to run a marathon inside your chest, making you certain that if Bucky were to come any closer he would be able to hear the frantic beating of your heart.

You could've sworn that your barista had made a mistake with your coffee, probably putting too much of the caffeinated liquid into your beverage, which would explain your weird behaviour.

Yes, that had to be it.

Deciding you needed some sleep to deal with the symptoms of your caffeine overdose, you stood up with shaking hands, quickly packed up your stuff, practically stuffing it into your bag before you hurried out of the cosy café, leaving a baffled Bucky behind, his eyes drifting to your untouched coffee and brownie.

You felt silly.

Silly for actively avoiding your favourite café just to instead sit in the crowded Starbucks down the street, always struggling to find a free table where you could spread out your stuff, their cold brew latte not even close to being as good as Bucky’s. You didn’t know why but something kept you from setting your foot into ‘The Winter Bean’, your body knowing the way there on its own but you always having to change your direction to go to the chain café instead. At the same time the brunette barista couldn’t help but worry, he saw you walk past his café regularly so he was sure you were well but at the same time, he kept wondering if he had done anything wrong, what the reason was for your sudden avoidance of the coffee shop.

He wanted, no, needed to see you again, ask you what went wrong, the thought that it was his fault constantly nagging in the back of his mind. But at the same time, he didn’t want to bother you, respecting you enough to give you the space you needed for whatever your reason might be. Meanwhile, you knew that you couldn’t hide forever, you needed to face Bucky, overcoming the awkwardness of whatever stood between you and getting back to your regular routine. Packing up your things you decided you couldn’t wait any longer, after bringing the cup back to the counter you walked out of the overly crowded coffee shop, turned right and walked back to your favourite place in the world.

When you came to a stop in front of the door you couldn’t help but hesitate, your hand hovering above the handle of the door until you saw the brunette barista look up, your eyes met through the glass door as you pushed it open, the little wind chime above it ringing out, ultimately announcing your entrance.

“Hey, Bucky,” you quipped after you stopped in front of the counter, looking up at the barista through your eyelashes as he placed his elbows on the surface, leaning against it.

“Hey, (Y/N). Before you say anything, I just wanna say I’m sorry for whatever I did.”

You couldn’t help but gape at him, momentarily speechless and fumbling with what words you were gonna say next as you started to fidget with your fingers, “Uh…no it’s. I just wanted to ask you if you, by any chance, put more coffee in my cold brew last time? Because my heart was racing quite a lot…”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I didn’t put more coffee into your drink,” he smiled at you, something cocky and sheepishly in his expression, “Besides, you didn’t even touch your drink or your food last time.”

Suddenly it hit you, hard, your heart always started racing way before you even stepped into the café, just the thought of seeing Bucky and being near him made it speed up and hammer against your chest, excitement filling your veins.

Fuck…you were completely in love with Bucky. The barista chuckled at your stunned expression, sliding a piece of paper across the counter he was leaning on, his phone number scribbled onto it in black ink.

“Can I take you out on a date tonight?” he asked, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips, unsure if he was reading the signs correctly or if he was interpreting things wrongly.

Feeling heat rising up your neck, slowly creeping to your cheeks you nodded slightly, your head slowly inching over the counter, closer and closer to Bucky’s face. You felt his breath fanning over your face, your heartbeat picking up even more to the point you were sure he was able to hear the rapid hammering inside your chest, his left hand reaching up to your face, his fingers cupping your jaw while his thumb brushed over the corner of your lip. Just as your lips were about to touch you hear the wind chime above the door ring out, causing you and Bucky to jump apart only to see a smirking tall, blonde man stand in the doorway.

“Steve, hey,” Bucky breathed out, his voice slightly pressed as he felt frustration at his best friend raise.

“Am I interrupting something?” he teased, knowing well enough that he did, in fact, interrupt something.

Letting his head hang low Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at the awkwardness of the situation, a smile tugging at your lips as well.

“I’m…gonna go. I’ll see you at 7?” you smiled at the barista, his head shooting up and he gave you an apologetic smile as you fixed the shoulder strap of your bag.

Bucky quickly jogged around the counter, meeting you in front of the glass door to his café to hold it open for you, pressing a quick kiss against your cheek as you walked out onto the street, waving goodbye to Bucky and his friend, “Bye, Bucky. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye,” the blonde man waved quickly before Bucky turned towards him, the smile leaving his face as the barista pointed his finger at him.

“And you…”

Before you were able to hear what he was going to say to his friend the door fell shut and you were walking down the street, excitement filling you up as you were barely able to contain the big smile stretching over your face.

FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!

Tag List

Forever Tag List: @marvelsbunch @trees-and-ink @stardustbooknerd @heartbreaker6995 @alex--awesome--22

Marvel: @thebookamongmen @caswinchester2000

Bucky Barnes: @thisismysecrethappyplace @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @stanclub

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #*writing #marvel #bucky barnes

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jjkfire · 6 years

Photo

JIMIN FINALE

Jimin x Reader x Tae // College!AU // 25k words

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Genre: Fluff, Angst, | Warnings: Anxiety

A/N: hello i think i’ve written and rewritten the finale over a dozen times lol and idk what else to say other than i hope you like it! If you’re reading this after reading Tae’s, this finale starts to differ after the sentence ‘How can they be bad for you if they make you feel understood, make you feel at peace? ’

You’re long gone by the time Taehyung wakes up, already having made the trek back to your dorm for a quick shower prior to your 8 am class. The moment you woke up with his arms wrapped around you, you knew you had made a mistake. It was just once… a small mistake, you reason but you knew that you were only digging yourself deeper into a hole where you’d soon have to figure out your feelings for either of the boys, but right now your strategy is to pretend they aren’t there.

Friends. That’s all they are to you. Friends, friends, friends. You hope that if you repeated it enough times, your damn heart would finally listen to you. Though, that’s not usually the case is it? So, you get smart, you tell Taehyung that you’d much rather meet up at the library to complete the project, instead of meeting at his or yours because you’d get work done faster but really, it’s so he doesn’t have a chance to get you to cave. You invite Jimin and Hoseok too because that’s what friends do right? Study together? Of course, Hoseok never shows up because apparently the library has an odd smell he isn’t fond of, it’s the smell of stress and despair, he explains, and you can only laugh at that.

There’s tension in the air when the three of you sit at a table and you can clearly tell that Taehyung and Jimin are having some sort of a silent conversation between the both of them but you’d rather not ask and you’d rather not get involved because you had plenty on your plate already. There are times though when the three of you go out for dinner, Hoseok joining once or twice, where it suddenly feels like you’re transported back to your winter break, well, the beginning of it at least and everything seems fine, great even and this is what you want… For everything to be… normal. But of course, your heart didn’t know how to do normal.

The following Monday after you submit the project that your asshole professor so gladly assigned only a week prior to this, he announces that the project you had all just submitted would be the last partner project of the semester and you could almost hear a collective sigh ringing around the class, but�� there was always a but, you frown —but, he continues, the weekly written assignments will go on until the end of the semester and they are to be done individually. There’s a mixture of groans and tiny hoots of delight but you’re not sure how you feel about it, probably something in the middle because on one hand, this is the excuse you are looking for, one that means you don’t have to spend all that time with Taehyung and on the other it means added stress since, truthfully, Taehyung had been carrying your ass for all the assignments.

Your workload for the semester begins to pick up and you try your best to stay on top of things, spending most of your free time in the library, a hidden one at the top of the astrology building where you know none of your friends will find you, simply choosing to study alone. Of course, you still make time for your close friends, all four of them and you like how things are now, completely… normal, but with time, you begin to slowly carve both Jimin and Taehyung out of your life, throwing yourself into activity after activity just so you had an excuse to avoid them. Taehyung especially takes cue to leave you alone for the time being when your response to his texts are nothing but lacklustre, a little too afraid to push you, to ask what’s wrong in order to avoid a repeat of the fight that happened freshman year. He can’t bare to lose you again and if giving you your space meant that the two of you would still stay friends, he would gladly give you that.

You know the boys are confused, obviously so by how you seem to keep them at an arm’s length, no longer responding to their flirty antics, no longer choosing to spend time with them if it did not involve eating in a public area. It’s a thought that bothers Jimin because everything had seemed to be fine, the night where the two of you had cuddled after the early library study session only a few weeks ago. But again, you’re just so confusing sometimes that he doesn’t bother trying to understand you. He simply leaves you be, waiting for you to reach out to him… except, you don’t.

He finds it unfair that he’s always the one having to make plans, always the first to text you. You don’t seem to be too interested in him, neither as a lover or even a friend and in all honesty, that hurts him. He’s not sure where you are most of the time because you’re neither in your room nor at your usual library spot and of course, that worries him. Any decent friend would be worried but he’s stuck thinking why should he be worrying about you when you obviously don’t have a care in the world for him? So, as much as it pains him, he stops asking where you are or if you’d like to grab dinner, hoping that maybe you’d be the one to ask him those questions but unsurprisingly, you don’t.

Alone.Being alone is something you quite enjoy, which many people find weird, but you think there’s some power with being comfortable with simply your own presence, not having to latch on to another person to be content. It’s liberating almost, to be free, to be able to have your lunches and dinners just on your own, having the time to just unwind and relax. People often mistake those who are alone as lonely, but you feel quite the contrary, in fact you feel as far from lonely as possible. It’s quite selfish but you like the idea of not having to worry about anyone else other than yourself and perhaps you needed it, this time alone to figure everything out and just focus on you. The whole debacle with Jimin and Taehyung, which actually is neither of their faults but solely yours and your confused heart’s, had completely drained you so perhaps you needed this, needed some time away. If anything, it’s been nothing but healing and maybe, finally getting to rekindle your friendship with Solji is just what you needed. She’s your silent saviour, the type of friend that ignores things when you want her to but is down to talk about it whenever you show her you’re ready to, and for that, you’re nothing but grateful. She’s the kind of person that doesn’t blame you for not replying to her texts because she takes equally as long and perhaps that’s what makes the two of you such good friends. Conversations with her are light, uplifting and it’s just what you need after a long day of classes. You think about how it’s nice to revert to this, to just you and her.

Yet, an emptiness seems to linger, one that makes you feel uncomfortable. The uneasy feeling is a reminder of how quiet life is now that you had pushed away almost everyone who cared for you. They deserve better, you sigh. The thought of reaching out to the two boys dances at the fringes of your thoughts but you brush them away for you fear that your indecisiveness only hurts them. Your finger hovers nervously over their numbers, wondering if it would be okay to call them out of the blue to tell them you missed them, but you simply shake your head at the thought, locking your phone before you place it on your window sill, shutting your eyes momentarily as you sink down into your bed for a short nap. Distractions, you sigh. They are nothing but distractions. You want to believe it, you really do and your head screams at you to do so but your heart tugs you another way because how can they be solely that when they bring you comfort? How can they be bad for you if they make you feel understood, make you feel at peace?

Your disappearing act is one that Jimin is far too familiar with and though he remembers telling himself that he should just not care about you, he can’t help but feel like he’s done something wrong for you to just drop him from your life like this. It’s been at least a month since the two of you spoke and he stares at his phone, the previous exchanges between you and him mostly him asking if you’re free and you replying with how you had a group project to work on or a club meeting to attend.

Let me know when you’re free?

Of course, is your reply.

But that’s the last thing you ever texted him and it’s been exactly 31 days since then. It’s hard for him to believe that you couldn’t even take a few hours out of any one of those days to just… talk to him.

It’s not like he has nothing to do most of the time, he himself has been pretty busy with both classes and rowing practice. Aside from that, there’s been parties aplenty this whole semester, seemingly nothing else for college students to do but study and party since the temperatures are too frigid for anything other than the two. He attends each one, hoping to see you there but you never show and most of the time he gravitates back to Taehyung and Hoseok, glad that at least your absence meant that it was just the 3 of them again, like old times. Yet, he feels like a small part of him is missing and he can see it on both Taehyung’s and Hoseok’s faces too. They’ve discussed you once or twice, Taehyung mentioning that he met up with you for lunch once and that he talks to you from time to time but usually only for class-related things because he had messed up, big time. At least she talks to you, Jimin scoffs and he had meant to ask what exactly Taehyung meant when he said he messed up but the thought is fleeting. The boys simply look at each other, letting out a series of sighs, everyone coming to the conclusion that you’re a complicated being and in a semester that’s so fast-paced, nobody really has the time to stop and figure you out but something tugs at Jimin’s heart, as if telling him that he should be the one to.

It’s unlike Jimin to be drunk, to drink this much especially since he wants to be up early tomorrow to practice on his rowing but for some reason, he misses you an awful lot today. It’s not how good you sound moaning his name, or how amazing you feel underneath him that he misses but rather it’s your embarrassed smile, that he misses, the one you always try to hide from him when he says something that makes your heart race. It’s the way you tell him the most awful jokes, ones that aren’t even funny, but he finds himself laughing along because your laugh, it turns around his entire day for the better. Most of all, he misses you, just you, because though you may not know it, your presence alone is able to silence the dark thoughts in his head, ones that tell him he’s a mediocre rower and an even worse student. The way your fingers rest on the curve of his waist, your soft voice just mindlessly murmuring quiet compliments, makes the noise around him disappear and even if it’s only for that moment, at least he gets some peace. He wants to believe that he’s simply making things up in his head, that he was fine before he knew you and that he didn’t need you, didn’t want you. He likes to think that maybe if he returns to his old ways, that if he just follows his three favourite rules, then everything would be fine again. Maybe if he had just followed his three rules in the first place, he wouldn’t be here, feeling like absolute shit.

He kisses two maybe three girls that night, but each time, he feels unmoved, tired even, as if going around and being promiscuous no longer gave him the same satisfaction that it used to. It’s not like the girls he meets are dull or bad kissers, they’re amazing, but they’re just not… you. So, he downs a myriad of liquors, hoping they’ll help him forget all about you but it only makes it worse, for every drunk thought he has is about you. You’re just a phone call away, he murmurs to himself and he wants to put himself out of his misery, to just ring you up and tell you how much he misses you but why should he? Why should he pour out his feelings to someone that never bothers to check in with him? Pathetic, he thinks. He’s still hung up on you while you’re away, living your life without thinking of him.

Sitting on the couch, he stares at his phone, aimlessly tapping in and out of a few apps. A short thought crosses his mind and he lets out a short laugh before he shakes his head because he shouldn’t, he tells himself he shouldn’t, and maybe it’s the alcohol that makes him do it or maybe it’s because rowing has been going nowhere but downhill for him or perhaps it’s because he just misses you, plain and simple. It’s more likely that it’s a combination of the three but either way he finds his hands moving against his mind’s command, his thumb swiping at your contact number to send you a message.

Nerd, he begins his text with his favourite term of endearment for you, smiling wistfully as he wrote it. He misses saying it out loud, misses the way you would scowl at him whenever he said it. Just tell me what I did wrong, he continues. The question seems hopeless, more like a cry than a query because he genuinely wonders what he did to you that made you up and leave his life with no explanation whatsoever. Each word of his text is typed out carefully, making sure that despite the fact that he’s drunk out of his mind at the moment, his text looks coherent, as if he’s coming from a confident stance, demanding an answer, instead of the truth where he’s just texting you from a broken couch of a frat house, the message more like a cry for forgiveness from a drunk, sad loser.

nerd, just tell me what I did wrong.

He sees the message staring at him and he lets out a snort because pathetic, it looks absolutely pathetic, sad even. The cursor at the end blinks at him continuously as if it was mocking him, telling him, surely he could write something less pitiable. He sighs, thumb reaching for the backspace because he’s better than this, worth more than some mere girl’s thoughts but he hears a sound, a whoosh!, indicating his message had been sent. Jimin stares at his phone, horrified, tapping at it incessantly as if it that would do anything to stop it. He’s hoping that it’s just some sad joke, that his phone would tell him the message had not been delivered but then he sees 3 dots appear after a minute or two on the bottom left of his screen, indicating that you’re typing and in a moment of panic, he simply holds the power button on his phone, watching as his screen fades to black.

His heart is pounding in his chest and though he likes to believe it’s because of the alcohol, he knows it isn’t because no, his heart doesn’t race like this, not even on competition day. This feeling only ever comes when you’re involved, your presence alone sometimes enough to make him feel like he had just run a marathon, maybe even two. Sometimes, he misses it because it makes him feel like he’s capable of love, capable of caring for someone for more than just a handful of days. It usually comes without warning, the feeling. It’s as if the entire contents of his chest is shaking because he’ll be so nervous at times like when he’s sat in the theatre next to you, wondering if he should reach for your hand or sometimes it happens when he wakes up for rowing practice with you wrapped around him, still fast asleep and he finds himself debating if he should kiss you on the forehead before he leaves, hoping that you don’t wake up if he chooses to.

His drunken trudge back to the dorm from the party in the thick of winter is tristful and blue, the chilly air doing nothing to make him feel better, only amplifying his emotions. As he finally reaches his room and lays in his bed, he imagines you in his arms, your body snuggling closer to his. It’s sad, tragic almost that it’s come to this, that he has to rely on his imagination for comfort, but what can he do? How could you, someone he had thought would make barely an imprint in his life, have him frowning in his bed every other day. How could it be that the first time he chooses to lay his heart on the line, opening up to someone other than Taehyung and Hoseok, has him feeling so messed up?

[01:22] Jimin: nerd, just tell me what I did wrong.

The message is so out of the blue that it takes you by surprise. You’re stuck staring at it for a few seconds because Jimin hasn’t attempted to talk to you for more than a month now. You miss him, a lot, too much in fact but he hadn’t talked to you in a while and you thought it was because he stopped caring, that he had proven you right and was still the same fuckboy he was a semester ago. It’s funny because you find you heart twitching at the message, as if you’re glad that he’s finally texted you, that this one sentence shows that he still cares, but his silence is mostly your fault. After all, you’re the one that has been brushing him off for weeks before his last text to you. You could’ve at any time picked up your phone to talk to him because a phone does in fact work both ways but you’re wrecked with absolute guilt, the words of his rowing team members haunting you till today.

Dreamcrusher.

It should be a word that makes you laugh because his teammates had worded it so childishly, but that word alone had made your heart sink down to the very pit of your stomach because if there’s one thing you never want to be, it’s a burden but you had become just that, you had become the sole cause of Jimin’s downfall. He never mentioned it to you, the way he was struggling with rowing, not even when you asked, which gave you all the more reason to believe that it was all your fault. He wanted to spare your feelings, you know that, but he shouldn’t, not at the expense of his athletic career or scholarship. You had spent the days after the revelation watching previous highlights of the men’s rowing friendlies, Jimin’s performance worse than usual, his strokes off, his posture horrible. His lack of sleep had been affecting his rowing, you guess but he didn’t have the heart to tell you. It’s a subject you weren’t quite sure how to bring up, so you did what you do best, which was to shut yourself off, make yourself unreachable. It worked perfectly fine, you reason because the last time you checked, Jimin had been performing a lot better now that he didn’t spend his nights chatting away with you, holding you, making sure he’d only nod off to sleep when he finds that you have too. You don’t know what compelled him to do that for you, to care for you as much as he did and it hurt you to walk away from that, but if you didn’t do it, you know he wouldn’t either because despite the fact that he’s a sleazebag sometimes, he’s too kind to you, in fact all of your friends are.

You stare down at your phone, letting out a deep exhale as you read his text again

Just tell me what I did wrong

You let out a soft whine because he hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s more so of what you did wrong but that’s a can of worms you’re not ready to open now, maybe even ever so, your reply is,

[01:23] You: ???

[01:23] You: nothing?

Because it’s the truth, he’s done nothing wrong.

You find yourself sulking as you sink in to your bed, noting that when you are sprawled out, you take up almost all the space but somehow your bed still feels empty. Jimin, you sigh. He had come into your life and turned it upside down. He had made you crawl out of the supposedly safe cocoon you had built for yourself, one where you kept your problems to yourself and maybe that scared you a little, no actually, the fact that there was someone who could actually make you feel safe enough to do that, absolutely terrified you. It’s perhaps why you keep trying to convince yourself that the radio silence between you and him is good, always trying to paint him in a bad light, telling yourself that yes, though you made the choice to cut him out of your life first, he’s probably more than happy about it, glad that he could be somewhere off making love to a random girl despite the way you and him are definitely more than just friends, or at least was. You know he likes you, or at least he did, you’re not that dumb, you know how to pick up a hint or two. You could see the way he would look at you softly, the same you did with him and there definitely was something there and maybe that’s what made you run. Being the reason for his under performance in rowing, that just meant that you could’ve cut the cuddle nights with him out of your life but instead you had decided to leave him entirely, not even trying to keep him around as a friend anymore. Why is that?

You think that you distanced yourself from him this much because he scares you, because he makes you feel so much all at once and yet is also a source of comfort for you. The idea of someone wanting to stay, wanting to be with you, makes you feel like jumping out of your skin because you’ve never had anyone who wanted to, or at least you’ve never let anyone close enough to make you think of that prospect. You’ve been nothing but unfair to him, never giving him the benefit of the doubt, never giving him a reason and most of all, never giving him the chance to explain himself. You always took things at face value and then twisted it so it would work against him, making it easier for you to point at him and say he’s a bad guy, a rotten egg, someone you shouldn’t give a chance to, but if you thought about it, he always wanted to clear things up for you yet you would never let him. Be it about Mina or his rowing, you always made decisions without hearing his side of the story and you often wonder if it’s too late now to ask.

When you check your phone in the morning, there is a tiny read receipt next to your message to Jimin and you wait, and wait, and wait throughout the whole day but a follow up message from him never comes. It’s not really his fault, the message you sent him isn’t even one he can actually reply to. Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask him questions, anything to show that you still want to be friends but you don’t because, again, you’re scared. It’s then that you find yourself nodding, admitting that it is a little too late to ask and that it always will be because you would never dare to ask.

[01:22] You: ???

[01:22] You: nothing?

Those are the messages Jimin wakes up to after finally deciding to switch on his phone, not that that was an easy task. He had rolled around in his bed for a good twenty minutes thinking of what exactly your message could contain but he came up empty because he genuinely does not know what he did wrong.

Jimin finds your reply hilarious because great, that’s exactly what he was thinking! That he had done nothing wrong! To say that your response is both confusing and underwhelming is an understatement because what the hell are those two messages supposed to mean? If he had done nothing wrong, then why are you avoiding him like this? He puts his phone away with a sigh, getting out of bed to wash up and put on his rowing uniform, hoping that his morning workout can help him clear his head. Chasing you is an utter and complete waste of time because it exhausts him to no extent and yet no matter how many times he tells himself that, his mind often drifts to the thought of you.

Though the text Jimin sent you made you fall off kilter for a bit, you simply brush it aside, choosing not to dwell on it and move forward. You were quite happy with yourself because so far, you’ve managed to stay on top of your shit for a ground-breaking record of 4 weeks, a whole entire month and really you were hoping that it would stretch out right through the end of the semester but of course, you fall behind on one of your homework assignments and then like a house of cards, everything just collapses. You’re left frantically trying to play catch up with your numerous classes, all your free time devoted to work, work and more work. You’re all over the place, your mind unable to focus in the statistics class you’re currently in because it’s too busy thinking of all the things you have to get done. The bell rings and along with the rest of the class you’re hastily packing your bag, wondering why you even bothered to attend lecture today when you knew you wouldn’t be able to pay attention at all.

“Y/N?” You hear someone call but it’s faint and it doesn’t register in your mind.

“Hey, uhh Y/N?” You hear someone say louder, this time with an accompanying tap on your shoulder.

“Yeah?” You turn around, your eyes going wide because wait… how does he know your name? You’re all too familiar with his because boy does he have a reputation on campus and not to mention that your eyes usually hovers over his picture a few seconds too long when you take the occasional glance through the special naked edition rowing calendar that Jimin had gifted you on your birthday.

“I’m… Jungkook,” He smiles and you laugh silently to yourself, wishing to say, I know, but you keep your lips sealed. “I’m on the rowing team with Jimin. You both live in the same dorm, right?”

“Yes...?” You answer with your eyebrows furrowed because his question catches you off guard.

“Great! Could you pass this to him for me?” He asks, handing you a notebook. “They’re my old notes for an ethnic studies class he’s taking.”

You hesitate for a second, your face contorting in displeasure.

“Can’t you just… give it to him at practice?”

“Ah, I’m not going today because I have something to attend to.”

You stand there just staring at him blankly because you don’t want to have to see Jimin. You haven’t had to in more than a month now and you’re not planning on starting now.

“Please?” He extends his hand, pushing the book towards you. “The exam is on Monday and he really needs it…”

There’s another beat of silence before you reluctantly extend your hand. “Sure,” You smile, awkwardly and Jungkook thanks you, before quickly running off to his next class.

As Jungkook fast walks to the lecture hall in the building across the street, he can’t help but think that the exchange with you had been so… uncomfortable, as if you for some reason, didn’t want to do it. Odd, he thought. Jimin had made it seem as if you and him were really close but then again… he hasn’t talked about you in a while. He really would deliver the notes to Jimin himself but Jimin had been asking for them since last week and if he didn’t get them by today at least, he’s sure that Jimin would flay his ass come next practice so when he spotted you in the class, which he didn’t even know you were in, it was like a miracle, a blessing and yet the whole encounter just left him feeling… off. But he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on that because none of it is really his problem anyway.

12 am.

That’s the time that blinks on your phone’s home screen and you let out a sigh collapsing onto your bed after having spent more than 8 hours in the library, even studying through dinner. You’re pushing yourself too hard and you know that but its like you had a point to prove. Perhaps it was what Taehyung had said over lunch that one day that set you off down this path or maybe that’s just an excuse you’ve latched onto to justify just how badly you’ve sunken this time around. His words still ring around the depths of your mind, his soft, desperate warning of ‘maybe you should slow down’ clawing at your conscience. Sometimes it teeters on the side of maybe he just meant well and other times it sends you on a tailspin and you’re filled with anger. Either way, you tend to do what you do best, which is to close yourself off and try to bury yourself under all your pending assignments.

You were doing so good, you murmur, being able to keep your anxiety at bay for so long was almost unheard of to you but tonight, tonight is when your streak ends and it crushes you. It starts with the quick short breaths, feeling as if you’re like a fish out of water and then your hands, when you bring it up in front of your face, they begin to shake uncontrollably as if they had a mind of their own. You hear short knocks on your door and your phone ringing, but you just want it to all go away, you want it to be quiet, completely silent. Against your very wishes, tears fall from the corner of your eyes and you wrap the pillow around your head, wishing that for just one goddamn second your mind would stop working, that it would just let you breathe, relax, but of course that never happens. The knocks on your door grow louder and in a moment of your frustration you storm towards your door, wiping away your tears hastily before you pull it open.

“Oh, uh, hello.” He waves awkwardly. “Shit, were you busy?”

Your frown morphs into a face of surprise when you see the person who’s been rapping on your door. Park Jimin. His demeanour is reminiscent to when you found him standing at the very same spot on your birthday, looking all shy and scared and though you’ve seen him at your doorstep more than a dozen times, it’s so foreign seeing him here now because it almost feels like it’s been an eternity since you last saw him.

“Um, no…”

There’s just an awkward silence that lingers between the both of you as you two try to figure out what to say, a million different things waiting to be said. Jimin’s just staring at you, his eyes raking over you quickly and his mouth hangs slightly agape as if he’s not too sure if he should say what’s on his mind.

“So… is there something I can help you with?”

“Oh right,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, like he always does when he’s nervous. “Jungkook told me he passed you his notes?”

Ah, right, that… You had completely forgotten about that. You nod, moving away from the door that he holds open, his feet hesitating as if unsure if he should step in. You rummage through your bag, looking for the notes and when you finally find the notebook, you quickly walk over to pass it to him, willing your hands to be steady as you hold it out in front of him.

Jimin can see it, see how your hands are shaking, see the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He doesn’t know how you think you can fool him when there’s dried up streaks of your tears running down your face, your eyes completely swollen and red. He can’t help but wonder if it is his place to ask. Do you even want him to ask? Your eyes look at him as if you’re imploring him to ignore it, to pretend everything is fine, to walk away, but he can’t… He can’t take that this is the first time he’s seen you in a month and you just happen to look so broken.

“Thanks,” He murmurs as he accepts the book from your hands, his gaze lingering, and he sees you licking your lips nervously as if you know that he knows.

“No problem.”

The conversation is so dry, so cold and it’s as if you and he are merely acquaintances that are meeting after decades of not seeing each other, just wanting the painful courteous conversation to end.

“Hey… uhh—” He hesitates at your doorstep and your hand stills at the doorknob. “—are you… are you okay?”

It’s a simple three-word question and you’ve answered many times with the standard answer of yeah, I��m fine and you give him the same exact answer, almost like it’s an automatic response except, tears begin to pool at the corner of your eyes. Jimin hesitates again at your door, one foot in your room and one out as if he doesn’t know what to do because is he overstepping a boundary here? Did you want to be left alone? He takes a chance, stepping into your room to close the door behind him and all he does is look at you, the familiar earnest expression he flashes at you when he knows you’re lying to him and you can only let your head hang low as you silently sob.

You feel useless, just hopeless because why couldn’t you function like a normal human being? Why couldn’t you go through a whole semester without being so… fragile, as if every little thing would set you off? Out of all the people you knew, you didn’t want to break down in front of Jimin, didn’t want to subconsciously guilt trip him into staying and consoling you. It had been a simple question, just a casual are you okay? but hearing it at that moment in time is all that is needed to trigger the cascade of emotions you’ve tried to hide away for far too long now.

Jimin doesn’t say anything to you, placing the book on your table before he steps up to you and holds you tight. You hate looking so weak, hate that he has to see you like this but right now, your brain is just fried and all you feel are emotions, too many of them washing over you like a wave so, you relent, letting his embrace envelop you. There’s only soft whispers, his familiar voice telling you it’s okay as you murmur words of apology again and again between your sobs. His hand smooths over your back, rubbing soothing circles as he sways you from side to side, hoping that at the very least this was helping in some way.

“Can you stay?” You ask him ever so softly, as if you’re afraid of what his answer will be. “I’m really sorry to do this to you but please, can you stay?”

You word the question as if you think his answer is going to be no, as if he had better things to be doing right now and it makes him frown.

“Sure,” he answers equally as soft before he grabs by the wrist gently to guide you over to your bed.

You know you’re being selfish, you know the very reason you stepped away from him is to avoid this because the fact that you used him like a crutch every time you veered off course was what caused him to perform poorly in rowing but… you want to be selfish, just this time, one last time, you promise yourself. You know you’ve said this before but, right now you just needed him, needed his warmth, his words, his presence because you’re not sure what to do with yourself… how to stop these thoughts that seem to swallow you up whole but Jimin, he always knew how to keep them at bay.

When the two of you settle in your bed, it’s a little awkward, neither of you knowing where to put your hands or feet but after some time, just like always, you somehow find the right spot, nestling yourself perfectly against Jimin. There’s a warmth that bubbles up in his chest when he feels your fingers curl around his waist, albeit a little too tightly but that’s the last thought on his mind. He’s missed this, by god has he missed this and he wishes that this was happening under different circumstances because he doesn’t like seeing you like this, so quiet and downtrodden. He wonders how long you’ve been keeping it in, just what toxic thoughts swirl in the depths of your mind and he wishes he could erase them all. The quiet thump of his heart that he hears in his ears mixes with the sounds of your soft sobs and he brings his hand to hold you closer, leaving soft kisses on the top of your head, hoping that it’ll calm the storm in your mind.

‘Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to tell a story?’

That’s Jimin’s classic line but he doesn’t say it tonight, he saves you the trouble and starts telling you a story in hopes of calming you down. Considering that he had spent numerous nights with you the previous semester, it’s a wonder how he still has stories to tell you. Although, you’ll admit that you’ve never even once managed to stay up to listen to any one of his stories, you always remember bits here and there, often drifting in and out of sleep, his voice almost like a lullaby to you.

His voice starts out a little quiet, almost as if he was a little apprehensive, not trusting himself to speak around you but slowly his voice returns to that calm pace, one that you’re familiar with. The tale is about how his five-year-old self had managed to get his head stuck in a metal railing. It’s an oddly hilarious story and you try to picture chubby toddler sized Jimin trying to use the brakes as he hurtled full speed towards a small set of stairs. His tiny body went flying forwards and he found his head which was relatively large for a kid his age he had informed you, stuck in a circular metal piece. It was embarrassing he admits, his mother having to call the fire department to cut the railing apart as his head had refuse to budge even after they had lathered him up with oil in an attempt to slip him out of the metallic death trap as he describes it. It’s something he’ll never forget, especially since no one has ever let him live it down, Taehyung and Hoseok always the first ones to bring up the story after a few too many drinks. Your soft laughs tinkles in his ears and he smiles, noting that the iron grip you had on his waist is now replaced with a gentle hold, your fingers tapping periodically as you snuggle against his chest.

“I guess that wasn’t a good story huh?”

“Hmm?” You hum in question looking up to him with your eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re usually asleep by now,” He laughs. “You never really stay up to listen to me.”

“I’ve always wanted to, but your voice… it’s just so calming,” You smile. “Anyway, I thought it’s about time I actually heard one of your stories from start to finish because… you always listen to all my ramblings, and my stories aren’t even half as interesting.”

They are, they’re just as interesting and Jimin, he doesn’t have too good of a memory, sometimes even forgetting what he had for lunch yesterday but he always tries to keep a few of your stories in mind. Sometimes, he’ll be talking with his parents and he finds himself telling them one of your stories. He hadn’t realize he had been doing that until his mother pointed it out which resulted in him sinking in his seat with blush tinted cheeks.

“Thank you,” You murmur. “I know you have a lot going on so, thank you for taking the time… to just… stay.”

“Of course.” Is Jimin’s answer but he has a frown on his face because he’s befuddled, absolutely confused by how you had worded your sentence and almost all of your other sentences tonight. Since when has this, him holding you, him being here for you become something that he wouldn’t do at a drop of a hat? He’d do it any time, any day but you say it as if you think he doesn’t want to be here, as if this is a chore to him. He doesn’t get to ask though because as he mulled over all of this in his brain, trying his hardest to construct a sentence that would properly convey his thoughts, you’ve drifted off to sleep, your signature murmurs filling up the silent room. Anyway, he’s not too sure if he would have had the courage to say the sentence that he had so carefully curated in his mind out loud.

The single bed in the dorms really aren’t made to hold more than one person and yet, with you next to him, it’s the most comfortable to him and it’s stupid, he knows that but your warmth, your touch, lulls him to sleep in a way that nothing else can. Your presence to him is comforting and if anything the best part is waking up to you still wrapped around him, often letting out a soft whine when he pulls away from you. It’s hilarious to him and dare he say, cute and perhaps he anticipates that moment this very Saturday morning because for the longest time, Saturdays have been coined the day where the two of you often sleep in considering that he doesn’t have to be at the boathouse by 5 am, but of course, you’re nowhere to be found. It almost feels like the whole of last night was simply a figment of his imagination but as he rises to grab Jungook’s notes of your table, he finds a note on the book written rather hastily.

Sorry about last night. I know you’re a busy guy so thanks for staying but if we could just pretend none of it happened, that would be great. Thank you again.

A disappointed sigh escapes his lips because he’s so tired of it. So tired of pretending that the two of you are or rather were nothing, so tired of you dodging questions that matter, so tired of you ghosting him all the damn time. He should be frustrated, he has every right to be but instead, he feels an overwhelming sense of worry for you because you have a horrible coping mechanism whenever you’re stressed and he wants you to see that but how can he when you shut him out in all ways possible? He thinks he isn’t really one to talk anyway because he does the very same with his rowing, bottling up all his emotions and struggles related to the sport. Just like you, he didn’t want people intruding in on that part of his life, rather have it closed up and walled away where no one can see so he could pretend like everything was alright. It's with that that he returns to his room, doing just what you had asked of him, pretending like none of it had happened.

Every time you have a breakdown, you remind yourself that you don’t have time for this, that you can’t afford being behind on any of your work so you pick yourself up, power through again, adding more and more on your plate so that by the end of the day you’re so drained that all you can do is drag yourself to your bed to get some sleep. You know this method never works in the long term but you’re stubborn and you refuse to seek help even when you know talking things out always makes it better because you didn’t want to do that, to have your friends carry your emotional burden too. Though the mental health services on campus is free and simply a phone call away, you always push the thought of calling them up away because you think calling them meant admitting that you’re struggling and as much as you knew you were, you didn’t want to acknowledge it because you’ve always been strong, you’ve never felt like this until college knocked you down. You just had half the semester to go and then everything would be alright again, you reason. You didn’t need help, you were fine all on your own. It’s a lie, one you tell yourself constantly, so much so that you’ve come to believe it.

Jimin doesn’t hear from you or about you for another month and it’s midway through April before he sees you, not in person no, but on social media, a single post by Solji congratulating you on being the featured student of your department for the semester. There’s a host of activities and organizations that she lists you’ve been a part of and Jimin shakes his head, wondering how you could keep up with so many things when he could barely juggle rowing and his studies without going completely insane. He’s proud of you, of course he is because he probably knows better than anyone how much work you’ve put in just so you could excel in college and here you are finally being rewarded for it. A true nerd, he laughs to himself. Perhaps you finally had it all figured out, perhaps he was wrong to worry because it seems like you’re fine after all.

He wants to send a congratulatory message, to say something but everything he thinks of sounds ridiculous or obnoxious, so he sets his phone away, thinking if he should go old school and just leave a note under your door because knowing you, you wouldn’t reply anyway and not having to see a read receipt next to a text seems like a good idea. It’s when he walks past the local florist, the same one he had stopped at when it was your birthday last year that he sees the perfect gift. It’s a small potted pincushion cactus and he laughs to himself reminiscing about the time when you had asked him what flower reminded him of you and he had answered with cactus which elicited an adorable scowl from you. He remembers you being mildly offended, even adding that you’re not much of flower person anyway.

You had taken Jimin’s answer as an insult but really, he said it because you were just like a cactus to him, strong and resilient, no matter the harsh conditions. You may stumble every once in a while but you would always seem to find your way in the end and he admired that about you, though that didn’t necessarily mean that he would approve of your coping mechanisms.

Honestly, everything about the plant screamed you, the spines of the plant reminiscent of how you were always so guarded but in actual fact it was all to protect the inside of the plant which was soft and vulnerable, just like you are once you let your walls come down. You embody subtle beauty just in the way cacti do, usually looking uncharacteristic when in comparison with its surrounding landscape but when you wanted to look good, boy did you know how to work a room, just like a cactus flower when it blossoms. Often, he thinks you’re quite unaware of your ability to do so, but he’s all too familiar with it. Cacti, they only bloom in the spring, sometimes for only a day or sometimes they don’t bloom at all for years. That’s another quality both you and cacti share, he snorts, unpredictable in every sense.

Jimin admits he’s horrible at analogies and his thoughts often don’t make sense but ask him again and his answer would still be cacti because as he gazes at the tiny potted plant that he has set down at the cash register, he can only think about how cute it is and that you are too.

With the tiny plant in hand, he makes his way back to the dorm, planning to leave it at your doorstep, no note, no nothing because it didn’t need one. He hoped the plant would be a message that only you would understand, that you would know that he was thinking of you but a few steps into the courtyard of the dorm and he couldn’t believe his luck, his head perking up at the sound of your laughter but what he sees doesn’t make him smile, no in fact it does quite the opposite, it makes his heart drop to the floor.

You’re standing there in front of him, next to Taehyung and of course the sight of both of you usually puts a smile on his face but this time he has to force one on.

“Jimin!” Taehyung smiles. “Guess who won nerd of the year?”

You laugh rolling your eyes at him before you turn to Jimin to give him a curt smile.

“Yeah, I saw that on Facebook,” He laughs awkwardly. “Congrats nerd.”

You smile back adding a thanks, shaking your head at his stupid nickname for you that seems to roll of his tongue just as easily despite the fact that you haven’t heard him say it in a while now.

“A cactus?” Taehyung asks, noticing the plant in Jimin’s hand. ��Planning to add some green to your room?”

He should have just said yes, he really should have just to avoid any further questions but his eyes shift towards you and his answer slips out of his mouth without him thinking.

“It’s for someone actually.”

“Who’s the lucky person?” You snort, laughing. It’s a cute gift you have to admit.

You, you’re the lucky person.

Is what he should’ve said but the reason he can’t seem to is the very same reason why his heart dropped when he looked up to find you standing next to Taehyung. It’s the fact that the gift he has for you in his hand doesn’t hold a candle to the one in yours. The large bouquet of roses you have in your arms is grand, beautiful and absolutely fitting for you while his was simply quite the opposite. As he peers down at his tiny potted plant he can’t help but think that he’s an absolute idiot. You look simply stunning with the bundle of roses in your arms, radiant and elegant. So, maybe Jimin had gotten it all wrong. Perhaps you are into flowers after all and perhaps roses are your favourite. After all, Taehyung did know you better. In any case, whether you like flowers or not, you deserved a bouquet like that, not the tiny succulent in his hand. What was he thinking, getting you a stupid cactus? Damn it, he should’ve known Tae was going to go all out but at the time he swears the cactus seemed like a good idea.

“Well… They’re uhh for um… someone.” Is Jimin’s inconclusive answer.

“Dude, is it for the girl from last weekend? Hoseok told me about…” He trails off, noticing the awkward cough that escapes his friend.

Jimin cringes upon hearing that sentence because he doesn’t want you to know that’s what he’s been doing with his weekends. Why? He’s not so sure because it’s not like you really care, as evident by the lack of emotion on your face.

“Y-yeah, her…” Jimin lies, because it’s easy and he doesn’t have to rack his brain for a separate answer. “Anyway, I’ve got to go... Congratulations, again,” He smiles in your direction before he takes off in the exact direction he came from, missing the way you mumble thank you stupidly, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The tiny cactus finally takes residence on the window sill of Jimin’s room after he had spent two hours at the library doing absolutely nothing but sulk and he sighs, gazing at it as if it were you he was looking at. It’s been months since he had a decent conversation with you and he misses you, even if you push him away. He wonders why Taehyung still gets the friend treatment while he gets the cold shoulder. What was Tae doing right?

Jimin has found himself in front of your door numerous times, bending down just to see if your lights are still on because this torture, this silence, he just wants it to end. Yet, his knuckle always hovers above your door before it retreats to his side and he finds his feet taking him back to his room.

He’s not so sure why he doesn’t just corner you and get you to answer him and perhaps it’s because he’s afraid of the answer you’ll give him. Not that he has any inkling of what that may be because he’s at a complete loss, can’t even begin to take a gander at it. The only thing he can come up with is that you’ve simply lost interest in him and that thought alone breaks his heart because maybe if you’d give him a chance he could win you back, somehow. It sounds pathetic, desperate but he considers you to be more than a fling, or a friend and he’s let you in on so many things that he’s never said out loud. He treasures that, treasures you because as stupid as it sounds, he’s his happiest when he’s with you, his mind quiet and content, his body relaxed and warm. Your horrible jokes and earnest thoughts always draws his mind away from the pressure that comes with rowing and it’s funny because you do it without even knowing that you put him at ease. To him his relationship with you has always been give and take, even if you don’t know that your presence does the same for him as his does for you. So, when he plays back that night from a few weeks ago in his head, he can’t help but feel like you made it seems as if being with you is a chore, when it is far from it. He wants to be there because he cares, because you are his source of comfort and if he could be that for you too, then he’s more than happy to be. It’s funny because he can say all of this right now when he’s alone but when you’re in the room with him and there’s a lull of silence, it’s like his mind betrays him and suddenly words don’t exist, his brain scrambling to put things together but they’re never eloquent enough to be said out loud.

There’s so many things between the both of you that have been left unsaid and Jimin wonders if he could just get himself to say them, that everything would just go back to what it was, that you’d once again be there just for him to even smile at at the very least. He’s not asking for much, just friendship will suffice, even if his heart yearns for more, but with you, he’ll take things a small step at a time. Of course, these are all just ifs and buts and he knows they’ll never amount to anything if he just sits here on his bed and sulk, but he doesn’t know where to start, what to do and you had made it vaguely clear that you didn’t want anything to do with him. So, with that, he changes into his sports gear, hoping that a heavy indoor rowing session will take his mind off you but neither the loud music pumping in the boathouse nor the roaring of his pulse in his ear as he rows past the required benchmark, is able to silence the thoughts he has about you. Even when you’re barely in his life, you seem to take up most of it, he scoffs.

Receiving the award is both a blessing and a curse because on one hand it validates all the work you’ve put in and on the other, you feel like you have to keep up and continue to outdo yourself or else everything is going to fall to pieces. You know you’re only one missed assignment away from a breakdown, it always seems like you are but you didn’t know how to stop, how to take a break because usually, once you do, you fall into a pit of hideous thoughts and you’re not quite sure if you’ll be able to climb out of it alone. So, like the idiot that you are, you turn to alcohol to drown out the thoughts that are trying to force you to face your reality and instead hope that the copious amount of liquor you ingest will numb your brain.

You step into the frat party that Hoseok had invited you to with a sense of vigour, almost as if you were determined to drown yourself in shots and with that large smile on your face, neither Hoseok nor Solji can tell that you have that certain secret agenda. They had taken your enthusiasm as a sign of you finally letting loose, which they both wanted you to do. Once the drinking games start, it’s the sign of your demise because you’re horrible at them and you end up drinking more than you had intended. In your drunken haze, you have half the mind to ask where Jimin and Taehyung are because neither of them had shown up and even if they planned on being fashionably late, the hour hand is hovering past 1 which honestly meant you should be heading home soon. Hoseok simply lifts his shoulder, flashing you a classic grin before flopping down on the couch, his eyes barely able to stay open as he goes on to whine about how much he misses his significant other, as he has done every single time you’ve met up with him, drunk or sober. After 30 minutes or so of just lazing on the couch, bobbing along to the music, waiting for the effects of the alcohol to subside to a level where you could at least stand up, you finally decide to head home.

Though it’s almost spring, it’s still a little cold out but you decide to walk home anyway, deciding that a light stroll would probably help you sober up some more anyway. Your mind is still a haze and you’re basically on autopilot as you hum to yourself, dragging your feet across the cement pavement. It’s where the pavement meets dirt that you come to a stop, pondering if taking a walk to the point on campus that brings you peace, a small patch of forest that extends into the lake like a peninsula is good idea or simply retreating to the comfort of your pigeon-hole sized room is a better one. Though the clear night sky and the bright stars seem to call out to you, you turn on your heel and continue towards the pavement, digging your hands into your pocket for your keys.

As luck would have it, you stand in front of your room, turning all your pockets inside out only to find that your key isn’t with you. You stand there cursing, letting your head rest on the door with a thud as you mumble insults under your breath. Sometimes you wonder why you don’t have your key permanently strapped to your body considering how many times you’ve forgotten it and just how many times you’ve paid the penalty to the front office whenever you ask for a loaner key. It’s students like you that prompted the change to auto-lock doors, you scoff, the university exploiting your forgetfulness until they milk you dry of every penny.

You stumble into the common room opposite your room and sink onto the couch, not willing to get your RA to open your door for you now that it was almost 2 in the morning. You toss and turn, your feet hanging off the armrest, your body itching at the thought of how these seats probably haven’t been cleaned for years. After fussing around for a few more minutes, you sit up completely, finding the 100 year old couch too uncomfortable, your head throbbing at the sudden movement. You’re seeing in double vision maybe even quadruple vision if that’s a possibility and with a huff, you swing your body around, planting your feet on the ground as you cradle your own head in your hands, pondering your next move.

It’s a bad idea, a horrible idea, you know it and yet, your feet move by its own volition. You don’t even have time to tell yourself to stop, to turn around because before you know it you’re already at the top of the stairs, turning right to find Jimin’s room. You hesitate at the front of his door, your mind screaming at you to walk away but you know, you’re not really yourself after you’ve had a few shots of tequila and it’s with that liquid courage that you knock on his door. It’s a soft knock at first but then it grows in volume as you become desperate, afraid that someone would find you like the loser that you are at the moment, looking dishevelled, tired and definitely drunk.

Jimin is curled up on his side under his blanket, silently battling with his thoughts when he hears an incessant sound of someone knocking on his door. He grabs his phone from the window sill to see that it is 2 in the freaking am. He grumbles lowly dragging himself out of bed to trudge towards his door. He pulls it open with an obvious frown on his face because who the fuck would knock on his door at this ungodly hour of the night?

"Jimin!"

Oh, you.

"Jim— Hi," You smile when you're greeted by a shirtless Jimin, squinting as his eyes adjusts to the harsh lights from the hallway.

"It's 2 am, nerd," He groans. "What do you want?" He wants his voice to sound gruff, disinterested but seeing you at his doorstep already has his heart palpitating.

"You," You hiccup, a light laugh tumbling out of your lips and Jimin sighs because from the way you're using the doorframe to support your weight, it's obvious that you've gone way past your drinking limit.

He only stares at you, unsure of what to say because did you really mean that or was the alcohol coursing through your system making you say things you'll regret in the morning?

"I can't find my keys so can I stay here tonight?" You ask as you push yourself off his doorframe, trying your best to stay standing on your own two feet. You look down towards your feet nervously, noting the awkward silence that seems to hang between the both of you

Ah, he sighs to himself. Of course you’re only here because you needed something. He’s not sure why he thought you’d be here for any other reason.

Jimin doesn't answer, he simply drags you into his room by softly tugging your wrist and you stumble forward, shuffling behind him.

Flipping on the light switch, he grabs a shirt and shorts for you to change into, passing them to you without uttering a word. You gladly accept them, changing into the clothes as Jimin makes himself comfortable in his bed again, his hands sweaty, his heart hammering against his chest despite the stoic face he puts on. When you're done, you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed in a zig zag pattern and Jimin only laughs when you finally find your way to him.

You scowl at him as you climb into the bed, sinking down next to him. He feels you impossibly close to him, the familiar feeling of warmth beginning to stir in his chest. He hasn't really done this with you in a while so he's not really sure if you meant you just needed a bed to sleep in or if you wanted to cuddle with him while you were at it. In fact, if he thought about it, this was the first time you’re in his room and he curses himself for not cleaning up yesterday. To be fair he wasn’t expecting you or anyone at all and right now he doesn’t really know what to do with himself because like always you seem to render him stupid. As he debates with himself wondering what he should do, he feels your arm wrap around his torso, your soft fingers finding it's home at his waist as if the past few months hadn’t happened. Jimin stills, holding his breath before he lets out a sigh, melting into your touch, his body reacting before his mind and slowly, he lets his arm slip under your body, his fingers too curling around the curve of your waist.

"Since when do you sleep shirtless?" You ask with your head placed on his chest. He hopes you can’t hear his heartbeat like he can hear it in his ears.

"Since always."

"Then why do you always have your shirt on when you sleep in my room?" You question, tilting your head slightly to look at him. Jimin's not sure but your tone seemed to have a tinge of disappointment to it and it makes him chuckle.

"Well if you want, I'd gladly go shirtless next time," He smirks. "While we're at it, how about no clothes at all?"

"I mean I don’t mind that at all," You shrug, trying your best to sound confident but he feels you bury your face in his chest to hide a shy smile and the thought of you blushing is enough to make him smile too.

"Why didn't you show up at the party?" You ask in an attempt to switch the focus of the conversation. "I was… waiting for you... and uh you know… everyone was."

"I have a race tomorrow, nerd."

"When has that ever stopped you?" You laugh.

"How irresponsible do you think I am?" He laughs in return. "It's a big race. Against our long-time rivals."

"Ah right, the Lions," You murmur. "You've been training non-stop for this... You have to beat them."

"Oh, do I?" He questions, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You have no idea how many times I've been told the very same line this past month."

"But I mean you have to Jimin. I hate them with every single fibre of my being," You groan. "The last time they were down here for the football game, they trashed our bars and this one guy smacked my ass so hard I swear his handprint was imprinted on my ass the next morning. Fucking asshole."

"Huh, I want to try that," He smirks as his hand leaves your waist to teasingly ghost down towards your butt and you grumble at him while you guide his hand back to your waist.

Jimin laughs, playfully squeezing your side as he did so and he watches on as you scowl at him. Cute. Just the reaction he was hoping to get out of you. He just loved the way you would furrow your eyebrows and scrunch your nose at him.

"So, you have to beat them alright? I know you will," You yawn, your hand leaving his waist momentarily to rub at your eyes.

"Alright, I'll try... We'll try," He sighs, pursing his lips. He has no heart to tell you that his form has been struggling and that in his opinion, the very fact that he was still on the team was a blessing.

Jimin is still sifting through his thoughts, going through his technique, thinking of his form and position when he feels some sort of pressure on his lips, which he soon identifies as your lips pressing against his. Without thinking, he quickly responds, moving his lips with as much fervour as yours because your chapped lips feel like home and warmth blossoms across his chest as your thumb grazes his cheek. He's a little too late though because you're pulling away before he has much of a chance to savour the moment. He chases your lips desperately, but you're already placing your head back onto his chest and he frowns at his missed chance.

He lets out a soft whine, upset that he had missed the very moment he had been craving for weeks, perhaps even months now. Jimin was confused of course, unsure as to what that kiss really meant and as if you had read his mind, you suddenly speak up.

"That was for good luck," You smile. "Not that you need any... I just needed an excuse to kiss you," You laugh.

An excuse? You didn't need one. You could kiss him 15, 20 times without any reason and he would've gladly reciprocated each time.

"An excuse?" He asks aloud, and he almost screams at himself for doing that, for ruining the moment.

"An excuse," You nod sleepily before you yawn, your eyelids growing heavy.

At this point, his head is spinning. Half of his mind begs him to keep quiet while the other half is screaming at him to just go ahead and ask you. He's so afraid that he wasn't going to like the answer you were going to give and he'd rather pretend the answer he had in his head was the one you were going to give.

But he can't resist. He just needed to know once and for all.

"And what's the real reason then?"

You let out a long hum and you must not have any idea how torturous it feels to Jimin.

"I miss you," Is all you whisper. "I miss you," You repeat but this time at full volume and you let out a long sweet sigh, as if those 3 words had just liberated you.

So, you kissed him because you missed him? Then why did it always feel like you were trying your best to stay as far away as possible from him? He had way too many questions for you but his heart was singing at the way you had said those three words with so much sincerity. It wasn't exactly what he thought you were going to say but it was good enough, enough to make him feel like a warm mess inside.

"I miss you too," He whispers as he presses a soft kiss onto the top of your head. You smile at that, nuzzling your head into his chest, your hand tugging him closer towards you and he holds you tighter, a wide smile on his face.

God, if only you knew just how much he misses you. You always had this ability to silence his thoughts with words that you seem to utter so effortlessly. It was as if you had a handbook that told you just what to say to calm the storm that was going on in his mind.

Before you knocked on his door, he had been tossing around in his bed, giving himself a mental pep talk for tomorrow because his nerves were quite literally of the charts and he didn't need that affecting his performance. Then, you came in, nonchalantly taking your place next to him and saying things like:

'So, you have to beat them alright? I know you will.'

'That was for good luck... not that you need any.'

You had said those sentences without any visible doubt, as if you had already decided he was going to win, as if you truly believed that he had what it took to live up to his team's expectation. Perhaps you were saying all of that just for the sake of it and maybe to anyone else, those words sound like a rehearsed spiel but honestly it was all he needed to hear to calm his nerves, even if it was just momentarily. Then again, you could've meant nothing by those words, that it could've just been the alcohol that was doing the talking but in any case, that would've made you the first person to actually have confidence in him and god only knows how much he needed to know that he had at least one person standing in his corner.

His palms stroke your waist soothingly, his mind and heart finally calm at the feeling of you laying atop of him. Everything was so familiar, from where you hand rested, to how your knee was placed just below his hip. It felt right, it felt like everything was where it was supposed to be. He shuts his eyes, a smile still apparent on his lips as he falls asleep to the sound of your quiet breathing and occasional murmurs because oh, how he has missed this.

The familiar sound of quacking ducks ring around the room and panic begins to rise in Jimin's chest. This was it, it was officially game day. He pulls away from you, trying his best to quietly peel your limbs away from him but the moment he reaches to lift your arm, you clutch onto him, your knee pinning him down onto the bed. Jimin laughs at you, softly pleading for you to let him leave but you simply shake your head from side to side as you tighten your iron clad grip on him.

"5 more minutes," You murmur and Jimin shakes his head at you. Damn, how he wished he could stay. If it was up to him he'd stay with you for hours under these sheets if that was what you wanted.

"I have a race to get to, nerd," He mumbles and reluctantly, you finally release him from your hold, a soft whine escaping you as you watch him climb over you to get off the bed.

Jimin is a literal ball of walking nerves as he rummages around the room for his gear and other essentials. He's talking to himself, quietly chanting the same sentences repeatedly and even worse than that, he's genuinely shaking. You can see how his hands struggle to put everything in his duffle bag.

He lets out a sigh as he puts his final piece of clothing into his bag, zipping it. Finally, he moves towards his bed to collect his phone from the window sill, offering you a short, soft smile, one that in your opinion screamed: help me please.

Poor, poor boy. He looked like he was going to break down the moment he stepped out of his room. You grab his free hand, your thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his hand and he jerks under your touch but he soon relaxes, offering your hand a small squeeze.

"You've been training day and night for months now and you're going to do great, don't worry," You smile and you feel Jimin completely still, his eyes wide as he takes in your words. "I know you feel like you're going to empty out your stomach at any given moment, but you've worked so, so, hard... so, just calm down, alright? You've got this, doucheface," You laugh as you squeeze his hand, hoping that he heard the sincerity in your words.

"I really liked the speech up till you called me doucheface," He frowns.

"How about asshat?" You try. "No? Maybe dickbag?"

He scowls, squeezing your hand with a much tighter grip as you try to stop laughing.

"You've got this, Jimin," You correct, and he nods approvingly, swinging your hand around with his.

"Thank you," He whispers, and he hopes you can hear just how much he means that. You only nod as you used your other hand to pat his hand lovingly. In that moment, he makes up his mind. After this race today, he was going to finally tell you that he goddamn liked you. It didn't matter that the thought of doing so made him feel just as nervous as he was a few moments ago but he'll be damned if he went on for another week without letting you know how he felt about you because keeping it in is torturous to him. Pretending that your absence doesn’t affect him breaks him in ways you can’t possibly understand.

"Thank you," He repeats again but this time he leans down for a kiss on your forehead. Was it a little too much? Maybe... but considering he was actually thinking of going for your lips, this was a modest alternative.

You let out a short hum, as if to say it isn't too big of a deal, which it isn't... Jimin had spent many nights trying to calm you down and this was only you telling him the truth in hopes that it would calm his nerves all the same.

"Go get 'em!" You shout but he stays unmoving, his eyes staring back at you softly. "Go! You're gonna be late," You chuckle, giving him a light kick on his thigh as a form of encouragement.

He scowls at you before waving you goodbye shyly and you wave back, slowly curling up under his sheets just as soon as he shuts the door. With the blanket pulled up over your head, you blush while you relish the way the feeling of his lips lingers on your forehead, a stupid smile on your face as you bury your head deeper into his pillow.

Ding!

Your phone vibrates, and you pull down the blanket to reach for it, swiping at your screen sleepily.

[01:22] Jimin: thsblk you

[01:22] Jimin: *thank you

[01:22] Jimin: sry im just so nervous I can barely type properly

[01:22] Jimin: but really just thank you… again

You smile at that, shaking your head. You could just picture it, him nibbling on his lips as he types out his texts, still a nervous wreck.

[01:22] You: hahaha np

[01:22] You: just relax. you’re gonna do fine

[01:22] You: you’re gonna win! I know it!

You laze around in his bed for a few more minutes, your fingers playing with his sheets as thoughts toil around in your mind. You know this race is a big deal for Jimin, the first competition of the year that matters, one that will decide if he will get a spot in the varsity boat and it’s probably why he’s so incredibly nervous.

With Jimin’s status of rowing extraordinaire, one would expect the bank of the lake to be lined up with people but the audience for his races are usually quite empty, the event only watched by a handful of people, usually parents of said rowers because who the hell is up at 5 in the morning on a Saturday morning?

Jimin often keeps his rowing race schedule a secret because he has this crippling fear that everyone would come to see him only for him to cause the team to lose the race and so he downplays his races, often saying that they’re postponed or something of the like to discourage any of his friends from coming. After some time, you catch on, especially because when you ask him with both Taehyung and Hoseok there, they send you death stares, signalling for you to avoid the topic.

This time though, you think it would be nice if you showed up, even if maybe he doesn’t want you there but he didn’t explicitly say don’t come… so you decide it’s fine. You’re not too sure how rowing races work but you sure hope it allows you some time for a shower because you look like a mess and you think showing up to a race with smeared make-up all over your face would only make his teammates hate you even more than they already do.

6.30 am

That’s when the race finally begins and you realize that you’ve come to the race severely underprepared because one, you didn’t know it would be this cold and you’re left shivering in your thin coat as you stand awkwardly by the lakeside. Two, everyone seems to have a foldable chair out, along with some binoculars in their hands and you have neither. Three, your stomach grumbles at the sight of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill and even if it’s 6.30 in the morning, you wouldn’t mind chowing down some of those but you don’t know anyone and you have absolutely zero social skills to start up a conversation with someone more than twice your age. Anyway, before you can get acquainted with any of the 60-year olds around you, you hear a loud horn, signalling the start of the race. You’re not quite sure what you’re looking for, not sure where the race ends but you follow the boat with the boys all dressed in blue, your school’s colour. There’s obvious excitement in the air and you find the whole scene rather cute, for you’re surrounded by old people shouting their children’s names and for some reason it makes your heart melt.

Seeing the two boats row side by side in competition, in person, is rather odd since you usually watch some of the races online. The boats glide across the water, moving furiously fast as you hear faint shouting from the coxswain, his screams encouraging his teammates, drowning out their thoughts of giving up. From the start, Jimin’s boat has a slight lead but then it drops behind for a few 100 metres and your heart sinks too but in a few minutes or so, it’s back in the lead again, only for this to repeat in a loop, over and over again. You decide rowing is a much too stressful sport to be watching when you have a splitting headache and an empty stomach, but you keep your eyes trained on the boat holding your school’s team, on the boat that holds Jimin.

As the boat drifts further and further from your view, you watch as those around you pull out their binoculars and you can only stand around, squinting to see who’s ahead. Judging by how it’s deathly quiet aside from the occasional come on!, you’re guessing that the lead the boys previously had is growing shorter. Standing on your tiptoes, you strain your head forward, looking as far as your eyes can reach but it’s no use, you don’t even know where the finish line is because usually on the videos you see it’s a bird’s eye view and a neat yellow digital line going down the middle of your screen to demarcate the end. Ah, technology, you sigh. In any case, you’re not left wondering for long because there’s a burst of cheers from one side where the majority sits and you turn around to see the parents all dressed in blue celebrating and you can only smile before you look out onto the lake to see the boats bobbing in the water in the far distance.

It takes some time before the boats return to the front of the boathouse where the race began and you’ll be honest your feet feel like they’re about to give way because you’ve been standing in the cold for far too long now but it must not feel like anything in comparison to the boys stepping out of their boat. You watch as one by one, the boys are greeted by their parents who had made the journey for the game while Jimin stands off to the side receiving congratulatory pats from his coach. You stay rooted in your spot, not really sure how to greet him or if you should make your presence known at all. You’re shuffling your feet awkwardly waiting for his exchange with his coach to end and when you see him drift off to the table where some of the leftover food is laid out, you quickly make your way over, trying to avoid being seen by any of his teammates.

“See, told you you’d win.” You had meant for it to sound enthusiastic, but it comes out as more of a quiet murmur instead.

Jimin’s head perks up at the sound of your voice, quickly swallowing the food that he has in his mouth when he sees you standing in front of him.

“Nerd... Y-you watched the race?”

“I mean I tried… I watched half of it but then I didn’t have binoculars so…”

He snorts at that, laughing before he smiles at you.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I know you hate being up before 7 so, thank you,” He grins gratefully, and you smile in return, giving him a small shrug before you take a nervous glance to your side, noting the stares from his teammates.

“Honestly, I’m really only here for the free food… Is this why you never told us when your races are? You’re afraid Tae, Hoseok and I would clear this table in seconds?”

Jimin shakes his head at you, taking a bite out of his burger before he sees you take another quick glance to where his teammates are standing. Why do you keep doing that?

“Well, I mean… tell me honestly what else am I supposed to think when you have three burgers in your hand?”

“To be fair, I’m incredibly hungover and very hungry so, you can’t blame me.”

You unwrap a burger, biting down into it and Jimin notices you taking yet another glance to your right. You grow quiet, nodding as Jimin talked, only saying a few words in reply between eating and he wonders what happened, why you’ve suddenly shut off on him like that. He means to ask you what’s wrong, but he hears someone call out to him, his teammates walking over to tell him it was time for pictures and he nods. He turns back to you to tell you to stay for a few minutes but he can only laugh as he watches you wolf down the remainder of your burger quickly before you make your way to his side.

“Hey, um congratulations on winning,” You smile after you swallow the remainder of what’s in your mouth. You lick the corner of your lips, shifting your weight between your two feet and Jimin can tell instantly that something was definitely off, his smile slowly beginning to fade. Your eyes constantly shift towards his teammates and you rub your palms together nervously like you’re afraid of something, but he can’t pinpoint what exactly it is. “I have to uhh… go but we’ll talk soon yeah? Congratulations, again!” You grin as you hug him and before he can answer you, before his arms can even reach around you, you’re scampering away back to the dorms.

Jimin stands there, utterly confused because it had just been a matter of seconds and you had went from your normal snarky self to the equivalent of a docile dog, cowering with your tail tucked between your feet.

“That was Y/N, right?” Jungkook asks, reaching for a hot dog, breaking Jimin’s train of thoughts.

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Huh, thought you guys weren’t that close anymore,” Jungkook mumbles, recalling just how you hadn’t wanted to do that favour for him.

“I mean… we—” Jimin fumbles with his sentence because wait, how did he know that? For the most part he hasn’t been really vocal with anyone at all about what’s been going on between you and him. “What do you mean?” He questions.

“I don’t know… you haven’t talked about her in a while and that time when I passed my notes to her, she asked me why I couldn’t do it… almost as if she didn’t want to do it.”

“I mean I don’t know, she’s just like that sometimes… but yeah she and I, we’re good, we’re fine,” Jimin replies and he doesn’t know who he’s trying to lie to, himself or Jungkook?

After the photo session and a subsequent congratulatory team speech back in the locker room of the boathouse, Jimin sprints to your room, only to find that you’re not there. He’s not surprised really because he hadn’t expected you to be there in the first place. He sighs, shaking his head before he trudges back up to his room.

Jimin’s an absolute fool when it comes to you and he doesn’t know why he always keeps trying when you do this to him time and time again. You pretend like everything’s great, smile at him, talk to him, and then ghost him whenever he tries to reach out to you. You send him round and round on some wild goose chase, trying to figure out where you and him stand and the answer is never conclusive. At this point, he’s basically given up because there’s nothing more he can do from his side and if you’re so adamant on keeping him away, then maybe he should just do that, just stay away.

It’s when he decides to do that, stop trying to talk to you or see you that he finds you at the frat house of all places. He catches your gaze briefly, not intentionally but he watches on as you send him a polite smile before sending a small nod of acknowledgment. Somewhere in the recedes of his mind, he feels himself beginning to formulate thoughts like maybe it’s a sign… for him to go and talk to you but just a glance at his phone, at the numerous texts he’s sent you that’s gone unanswered is enough to tell him that he should stay rooted in his spot because no, you’re simply not interested in him anymore.

You didn’t want to be at this party, you had absolutely no intention of being in a frathouse on this Friday night but Solji the cunning fox bamboozled you into coming here. Movie night with Hoseok, she had claimed and like an idiot, you believed her. You should’ve known, you sigh, so here you are, wandering the noisy hallways on your own, having seemingly lost both Hoseok and Solji amongst the many strangers waddling in and out of the living room.

You try your best to avoid any of the open areas, not wanting to have Jimin spot you again so, you slip into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink before settling by the countertop bar just outside the kitchen area, sighing heavily as you set your drink down.

“Same,” The guy in front of you laughs noting your sigh, mirroring your feelings about the frat party. “I’m guessing you were forced into coming here too?”

“Yeah,” You laugh.

“I’m Jae by the way,” He smiles. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” You smile in return.

Jae tries to make conversation with you, asking who you knew in the frat, what your major was and you find this all to be futile because it’s so noisy that the both of you aren’t really speaking, it’s more like the both of you are just shouting so that both you and him can hear each other. You engage in the mindless conversation anyway because one, you’ve given up on looking for your friends and two, you’re avoiding Jimin.

As the conversation progresses, you step closer to him, leaning in just to hear him and though the conversation is boring, at least he isn’t creepy, you shrug mentally. You’re midway through answering his question, leaning in close to his ear as his other hand reaches behind you, seemingly to hand you your drink but then you hear a

“You fucking asshole. What the hell are you trying to do?”

Everyone in the room diverts their attention to your back and you turn around to find Jimin shoving a much larger guy that was standing right behind you. You catch a glimpse of the man’s face and you recognize him instantly. He’s the creep from that night in the earlier semester, the same one Jimin had saved you from and you shudder as he takes a short glance at you. The fact that you’re sandwiched between the two men with Jimin a few steps away, has your hands sweating.

“What’s your fucking problem?” The man growls, shoving Jimin back.

“Don’t try to play dumb with me,” Jimin snarls. “You just fucking roofied her drink,” He points toward your cup.

“What the hell are you on about?”

“I saw you, asshole,” Jimin jabs the man before him, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“Are you fucking hallucinating? Just because your bitch ass can’t handle some alcohol doesn’t mean you have to start a fight,” The man snorts, shaking his head.

“Drink it,” Jimin points to your cup.

“What?”

“If you didn’t roofie it, drink it!” Jimin shouts, grabbing the cup off the counter, offering the drink to his opponent.

The man steps closer, a soft scoff leaving his lips as he sizes up Jimin and everyone in the room knows if a fight ensues, Jimin wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Jimin, stop,” You plead softly, trying to pull him away but he shrugs you away. You hear Hoseok hurriedly making his way through the crowd to dissipate the tension but anything he says goes unheard.

“Yeah come on man why are you causing a scene? You know my buddy wouldn’t do something like that,” Jae gestures towards the cup.

“And you too,” Jimin sneers. “Don’t think I didn’t see you sharing looks with him, gesturing at him as you talked to her. And if you think he didn’t do it, then drink it,” He smirks, offering the cup.

Jae gulps, unsure of what to do, only choosing to stay silent.

“You know, you have some real balls accusing me of some shit like that,” The burly man in front of Jimin grumbles, a tinge of nervousness painting his features as he watches his friend flash him a panicked look. “Just because you think half the girls in here think you’re hot shit, you think you can just start spewing nonsense and everyone will believe you?”

Jimin lets out an indignant scoff because was that really all he could come up with?

“Yeah, you talk big and all that shit but I don’t see you trying to deny it,” He jabs at his chest. “Look, this is simple. If you didn’t do it, show us you didn’t then,” Jimin smiles, stretching his hand outward, the cup almost touching the man’s lips. “Just drink it.”

“Or what? You’ll fight me? Over what? This stupid bitch’s drink?” He laughs, pushing the cup away. “You can’t seem to leave her alone, can you? What? The last time you found her all pressed up against me before you took her away still on your mind? Still jealous?” He refers to the time you had first met him as he turns around to wink at you. A shiver runs through your body and you recede from the argument, your back bumping into Hoseok who holds you steady.

He’s riling him up, wants a reaction, and Jimin knows it. Hoseok steps in, trying to defuse the situation but anyone in the room can see how Jimin has his fists balled up, his jaw clenched. The fire in his eyes alone was enough to tell anyone that he wasn’t going to back down. The guy wanted a reaction? Oh, he’ll get one.

Without warning, Jimin reaches up for the man’s collar, driving him forward until his back clashes with the marble countertop. There’s a scream, a few cheers from the crowd but Jimin hears nothing but the sound of blood rushing in his ears, pure anger flowing in his veins. A loud thud sounds as the man’s fist connects against Jimin’s cheekbone, the rings on his fingers leaving a few scrapes behind and you let out a light yelp, trying to reach forward before Hoseok holds you back. The scuffle escalates and Jimin’s throwing calculated punches, still holding the man against the counter and though both of them are slightly inebriated, the fight is nothing short of intense.

It takes several frat brothers to hold both Jimin and the man apart, Jimin staying silent, his chest heaving as his opponent continues to berate both you and him until he’s thrown out of the house. The room is filled with silent murmuring as you stand at the edge of the crowd in utter shock, trying to understand what had just happened. It’s Jimin that comes up to you, grabbing you by the wrist softly as he murmurs, “Let’s go home.”

The cab ride back to the dorm is silent and most of the time the both of you stare out of your respective windows, not knowing what to say. You’re not sure whether to ask him if he’s okay or if he’s stupid because even if Jimin was right, even if the man had roofied your drink, he had no need to lash out like that. On one hand, you’re grateful that he stepped in, of course you are but on the other you know now that if news of this fight reaches any of the staff in the athletic department, he would surely be put on probation and his athletic scholarship would be seconds away from being revoked.

A soft tap on your shoulder tells you that it’s time to get out of the cab and you nod, sliding out of the car as if you had no mind of your own because you’re still in shock, still in a daze.

“I, uhh, don’t have my keys,” You squeak as you enter the building and it’s with a sigh that he leads you up the stairs, all the way to his room.

Jimin has been uncharacteristically silent the entire time. You expect him to say something, anything but he’s only leaning against his desk, looking out of his window as you take a seat on his bed.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” You start, your voice small and quiet, barely above a whisper.

Jimin lets out a snort, followed by a scoff because of course that’s what you had to say about the whole ordeal.

“So I should’ve just watched you drink your obviously drugged drink?”

“No, I just mean… You shouldn’t have fought with him,” You mumble. “You could have, or still can lose your scholarship.”

He shakes his head at you, laughing because this is just classic you, thinking of others before yourself when clearly you were the one in danger tonight. How could you possibly be thinking about him and his scholarship when you had almost been drugged?

“Well, he was being a dick, talking all that shit and I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”

“He was just trying to rile you up, to make you hit him first.”

“I know,” He sighs. “He was just talking about you like… like… I don’t know I just couldn’t stand it,” He mumbles, ruffling his hair with his hands as he moves to take a seat next to you.

Absent-mindedly, your hand reaches up to examine the bruise on his face and he pushes it away, wincing in pain.

“You need to ice that,” You whine, trying to take a closer look.

He grumbles, reaching into his mini fridge for a bag of frozen nuggets because it’s the only thing he has. There’s an awkward silence that sits between the both of you and Jimin looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if he wants to say a million things to you.

“I just— I just don’t understand why you always give these dickbags attention,” He exhales, finally having the courage to say what he’s been thinking, out loud. “Why do you even bother with guys like them they—"

“I was just being nice,” You grumble, interrupting him. “He started a conversation with me… what was I supposed to do? Ignore him?”

“Well you have no problem doing that with me.”

“Jimin—” You look at him wide-eyed, his name almost sounding like a gasp as you process what he just said. “That’s not… I… uhh I-”

“What? Am I wrong? You do it all the time to me and I just wish you’d tell me why. What are they doing right that I’m not?”

“It’s not… It’s not like that,” You murmur, looking down at your feet in shame and he waits for you to go on, for you to explain yourself but you only shrink inwards, your fingers nervously tapping the edge of his bed.

“You know, I don’t know if you can tell, but you drive me crazy, really you do,” He sighs, rising to his feet, chucking the bag of frozen nuggets back into the freezer. “I don’t know… maybe it’s because I’ve never felt t-this way about someone before but when you ignore me but then go off and give these assholes a chance… I can’t help but think there’s something I did wrong,” He mumbles shyly, as if embarrassed. “Just tell me what I can do… to just… to just have a chance.”

“Jimin I-I,” You stutter, look up at him eyes wide in shock because you had never expected Jimin to say anything like that. “You— It’s not— you don’t really mean that.”

“Mean what? That I like you? I do, god you don’t understand how much I do,” He groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple because here he is spelling it out for you that he has feelings for you and here you are, telling him that he doesn’t.

“You’re so… frustrating, really like I just—,” He lets out a long exhale, gathering his thoughts before he begins again. “I know you think I’m just another fuckboy, that maybe I’m just like half the guys in that frat house and maybe I was but… you, you’re just…. You just—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, burying his head in his hands before he storms off to a corner of his room fiddling with an array of things hanging off the panel of wall hooks as he mumbles under his breath. You squint at him in confusion but before you can say anything, he’s padding over to stand right before you.

You gaze up at him, unsure as to what was happening, but he sends you a reassuring smile, removing his hands from behind his back to show you his most prized possession.

“This medal—” He smiles, letting the neck ribbon hang off his fingers, the opulent, circular, gold piece of metal spinning at the bottom of it, reflecting light as it twists around. “This is from the regatta I won freshman year and it’s probably the most important thing I own but I want you—,” He reaches over, slipping the lanyard over your head. “—to have it.”

“Jimin, what? No!” You paw at his hands, trying to push it away but he doesn’t relent until you feel the medal rest against your chest.

“I don’t know how else to prove to you that I want to try this out… that I’m serious about this and I want us to be something more than just whatever we are right now,” He mumbles bashfully, his cheeks now tinged with a light pink hue.

“You… you don’t really mean it,” You mumble, fingers toying with the medal, trying hard to come up with an excuse. “Y-you can’t even call me by my name! That’s like classic fuckboy because you don’t want to mess my name up with the other girls that you—"

“Is that what’s got you worried?” He laughs, shaking his head at you and you know you’re being an A class idiot right now but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and you feel like a fish out of water.

“Y/N L/N,” He begins, and you just stare back at him in shock because it’s the first time you’ve heard him say your name since that day you had first met him. “Yes, I actually do know your name, and just in case you’re wondering, you’re not just some hump and dump kinda girl for me and there are no other girls.”

You stare at him stupidly, as if you don’t believe any part of his previous sentence and he lets out a light laugh, enjoying the pure confusion on your face.

“You’re Y/N L/N,” He grins. “You love potatoes, in all shapes and forms which is why you love Tuesdays because that’s when they serve mashed potatoes at the dining hall. You would rather spend your Thursday nights watching Netflix than at a rager because that’s when a new episode of your favourite show is released. You’re absolutely not a morning person at all, and that’s why you always ask for five more minutes when I try to leave the bed. You murmur in your sleep and you always, always drool but that’s okay, I think it’s adorable. Anyway, should I go on?”

“H-How do you—Why do you know all of that?”

Because I fucking like you, you goon.

“I just do,” He shrugs.

“When did you— Why didn’t you say anything about this… earlier…”

“How can I when you’ve been avoiding me almost all semester?”

“I mean you never— I didn’t know that you—" Your mind is scrambling around, looking for words because he’s right and you know it, but you just don’t want to admit it.

“Well look, I’m only human,” He mumbles. “I fear rejection too. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times and I don’t know if you know this but sometimes you can be very intimidating.”

“I am far from intimidating,” You frown.

“Besides the point,” He waves away your comment dismissively . “Look, I’m not good at all of this… you know, just feelings and things. They’re new to me but you… I just— if we could try this out… maybe—" He sighs, hand playing with the medal around your neck, unable to complete his sentence because like always, he could never really find the right words to say around you.

Jimin looks so endearing, all desperate and confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he runs through the thoughts in his mind. In that brief moment of silence, your hand reaches up to cup his cheek and he gulps, looking at you, almost as if he was bracing himself for the worst but then you send him an impish smile before you close the distance, your lips pressed against his hesitantly, almost as if you’re scared. It doesn’t even take him a second to respond because soon he’s pulling you close, his hand wrapping around you to press you against him. The kiss is delicate, passionate yet soft and slow, as if he was trying to savour every single second. You pull away feeling breathless and the smile he flashes you has you melting in his arms.

“I guess we could… try this out,” You mumble, toying with the round collar of his shirt nervously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You grin and he smiles at you, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. He brings a hand up to your face, softly stroking the apple of your cheek, his eyes gazing at yours with complete adoration. You feel warmth spread across your chest, for he has always been able to do that to you, render you a complete mess just by looking at you. Jimin pulls you even closer, his nose bumping yours lightly and the both of you laugh quietly, smiling stupidly at each other. It feels like a dream, he thinks, having you so close to him, grinning at him like this and he makes it his mission to kiss you over and over again, to kiss you senseless. None of his kisses are hurried or hungry, they’re innocent and sweet, they’re languid and drawn out because this is all he’s been wishing for ever since he had kissed you in the middle of the cinema back in winter break.

A cold shiver runs up your spine and you laugh as Jimin pulls away from the kiss, looking rather worried.

“Are you cold? Let me turn the heat up,” He mumbles, rising to his feet. You quickly catch his wrist, shaking your head at him when he turns back to raise an eyebrow at you.

“It’s fine, I’m good,” You murmur, your hands leaving his wrist to climb under his sheets instead. Jimin laughs as he watches you settle under his blanket, patting the space next to you as you grin at him and beckon him over to join you. He moves to join you in an instant, his arm slipping under your waist before you can even count to three, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re not going to ghost me again after this, are you?” He asks the question as if it’s a joke as he pulls away from a kiss, but he’s really only asking because he doesn’t want to wake up tomorrow without you next to him.

“I won’t,” You mumble, as if embarrassed. Jimin scans your face to see if he could detect even a hint of uncertainty in your words because if you just asked him, he would erase any doubts you have. He notices you furrowing your eyebrows as if you’re pondering something and he knows there’s something on your mind, but you seem unwilling to say whatever it is.

“Let’s start fresh, let’s clear everything up, starting from winter break,” He murmurs because if you weren’t going to tell him what it is, He was going to make sure he had all his bases covered. “Firstly, don’t laugh but I didn’t know your cousin was your cousin and I had assumed he was your new fling so— hey, I told you not to laugh,” He frowns.

“I’m sorry,” You smile before you nod, asking him to continue as you try to keep a straight face.

“Okay so yeah... I was jealous or whatever so that’s why when Mina asked to go back to her place... I said yes,” He mumbles. “We didn’t do anything other than kiss though, I swear! She asked me to lie for her and—”

“I know, she told me you didn’t sleep with her.”

“Oh... okay next one then,” He smiles. “There are no other girls. Even when you were ignoring me I just... I don’t know it just didn’t feel right. I won’t lie... I kissed a few girls in between but it was to convince myself I was over you but I knew I wasn’t really.”

“Jimin,” You laugh. “You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t owe me anything like that... we weren’t even together then.”

“I know but I just want you to understand that I’m serious about us,” He mumbles.

“I know,” You smile, leaving a light peck on his cheek.

Jimin however is still wary because he knows something is bothering you. He doesn’t know how to explain it but it just feels like something off, like you aren’t being completely honest with him.

“If you know all of that then... then what’s wrong?”

You give him a confused look, not really sure what he’s asking you.

“Something's still bothering you,” He sighs, his thumb smoothing over the skin at your waist. You tell him there’s nothing but he knows you better than that, knows that you avoid talking about emotions like the plague. “I’m not going to let this go. You can keep lying to me or you can just tell me what it is.”

You let out a heavy sigh and Jimin smirks because he knows he’s won, that his persistence has paid off this time.

“It’s just... it’s...” You mumble before letting out another sigh.

You want Jimin to drop it and you flash him an earnest smile, hoping he’ll let you get away with it this time but the stern look he gives you tells you that there will be no escape this time.

“Dreamcrusher,” You sigh. “That’s what your friends call me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh because saying it out loud, it sounds so stupid.

“What?”

Jimin doesn’t know if you’re joking or where exactly this explanation is going.

“Your rowing... You’re not as good as you were freshman year and it’s my fault because you’re always staying up to be with me and—”

“Wait, wait... where are you getting all of this from?”

“Your friends they said I was the reason for your recent underperformance—”

“They said this to you? Who said this? Jungkook?” Jimin interrupts.

“Well not to me exactly... I kinda eavesdropped on their conversation but well they said that they wished you’d never met me because I’m the reason you were so out of it, the reason as to why your rowing hasn’t been going so well. Then they said you might lose your scholarship because your coaches called you in for a talk and it’s just... I knew it was all my fault so...”

“Y/N... god, is this why you’ve been ignoring me? Is this why you basically ran away after the race the other day?”

“Jimin... I... I don’t know... I-I like you but if this is going to cost you your rowing performance, your scholarship... it’s not worth it. I always use you like a crutch and I give you nothing in return,” You frown, unable to meet his eyes. “You always listen to me, rambling about my problems and I know it’s some heavy stuff and it’s a burden to carry around someone else’s feelings. It’s selfish of me to just make you do that and I... I don’t want to bring you down with me... You know? So when I distanced myself, I knew you were starting to do better at rowing and that’s all I want.”

“My recent underperformance in rowing has nothing to do with you, nothing at all,” He asserts, his thumb wiping away tears that you didn’t know were there. His voice almost has a tinge of shock to it because he can’t believe that you’ve been blaming yourself this whole time over something that had been entirely his fault. “I haven’t been performing well because I tore a muscle in my back over winter break. It’s not because of the late nights, it’s not because of you. If that were the case wouldn’t I have been performing badly last semester too? I mean my injury wasn’t too bad to begin with but I was stubborn and I made it worse by pushing myself too hard. I refused to tell anyone but coach figured it out anyway. I begged him not to tell anyone because I just... I was afraid my teammates would ask coach to remove me from the varsity team.”

“Wait, what your muscle? How bad is it? Are you okay?” You ask, barraging him with questions, your hand reaching to smooth over his back as if it would help.

“I’m fine. It’s all good now,” He smiles, his heart melting at your genuine concern. “Look, the reason I’m late to practice sometimes is because I have to be up an hour before for my physiotherapy session that’s at the campus’ rehab centre. And that scholarship talk they had with me? It was to tell me that I didn’t have to worry about it, that they wouldn’t revoke it just because I was injured,” He sighs, his hands cupping your face because your eyebrows are still furrowed together in worry. “There’s only one reason for my bad rowing and that’s myself. You got that?”

“I... I had no idea. See, this is what I mean,” You frown. “I always get so caught up in myself and my anxiety that I never stop to ask you how you’re doing. You always do so much for me while I... I do nothing in return. I didn’t even know you were going through all of this.”

It’s ridiculous, Jimin thinks. You always did this, blamed yourself for things that aren’t your fault and he just wanted to pick you up and shake you so that you can rid yourself of that mindset.

“That isn’t your fault. Nobody knew about my injury other than coach... Not even my parents. I don’t know... the injury made me feel horrible, weak because you know rowing and I, it’s like we're synonymous. Almost as if I’m nothing if I’m not a good rower if that makes sense so, I just didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“Still...” You mumble. “I could have done something... I was so caught up in myself that I didn’t even stop to think about you,” You sulk because it’s almost like reality check for you. In your mind, you would always ask why is it that nobody could tell, why nobody wanted to take the time to ask you how you were feeling but you were so focused on yourself that you couldn’t tell that Jimin was struggling. It’s the last thing you want, for someone you care about to be suffering in silence. Jimin laughs at the impossibly adorable frown you have on because you’re so oblivious to the fact that you’ve shown him a thousand times just how much you care.

“You did,” He smiles, his fingers intertwining themselves with yours. “I don’t know why you think that our relationship is a one-way thing. You comfort me just as much as I do you.”

“It’s not… it’s not the same. You do so much for me while I just— I do nothing. I never even took the time to ask you how you were doing, not even once.”

“You’re right, you’ve never asked me how I was doing, you never once uttered those words,” He admits and your frown only grows deeper. “But the thing is you always asked that same question but in your own quirky way without you even knowing it,” He laughs.

Jimin relays the time where you asked him about his school work, this incident being only one of the many times you’ve brought up his classes.

“How’s classes now that you don’t have me to copy quiz answers off of huh?”

“You know that I got through freshman year without you right?”

“Yeah, but I remember your mother saying that Physics was the first class you got an A since—"

Jimin silences you by jokingly smothering you with a pillow and he can hear your laughter as you try to fight him off.

“But seriously,” You ask, pushing away the pillow as your laughter dies off. “How are classes going for you?”

He knows you’re asking because you worry that with his responsibilities as an athlete, it’s difficult for him to cope up with all the school work on his own. He’s fine, honestly, he is. He’s been making it to his TA’s office hours and the time he spends with you, studying only helps him.

“Classes are going alright for me,” He smiles, placing the pillow back under his head. “Seriously!” He asserts when you give him a pointed look.

You break out into a smile upon hearing that and you silently move to place you head on his chest, your hand moving to rest on his waist.

Jimin lets out a soft sigh because he knows you would drop everything to help him if he had been struggling for that’s just the way you are. You would move heaven and earth for everyone but yourself. He wishes you would care about yourself the way you did for everyone else.

“I mean but that’s just… that’s different you know? It’s not the same like how you would—”

Jimin shakes his head at you, choosing to ignore you as he begins talking about the time when you asked him about his rowing. For the most part, his life as a rower and all of its struggles is uncharted territory for his friends, even his family. He doesn’t like speaking about it because he finds that he only has negative things to say. He knows his friends shy away from the topic because he always gets snappy but you, you are relentless and you always ask him regardless, albeit in a way that’s peculiar and just so… you.

“Jimin, how much can you bench?”

“Why do you want to know?” He laughs.

“Just wondering…” You hum. “Anyway, do you think you’ll be able to do a push-up if I’m sitting on your back?”

“If I say yes, you’re going to make me do it and right now, I’m dead tired. We’ve been having double training sessions and—”

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You tease, smiling. “What’s the point of all that training if you can’t even do a push-up with me on your back?”

“What’s the point of rowing training? I don’t know nerd, maybe it’s so that we can I don’t know… row better?” He answers and laughs as you chide him for his sarcasm.

“How is that going for you though?”

“How’s what going for me?”

“Rowing,” You smile.

Jimin could hear it in his head, the thoughts swirling around in his mind telling him that, it’s not going so good because his posture could be better, so could his timing. And his strokes? Oh don’t get him started on that. Even though coach tells him he’s been doing just fine, he knows coach is only trying to spare his feelings. He wants to tell you all of that, he really does but it’s like his tongue is laden with lead and he can’t bring himself to tell you anything but lies.

“It’s going alright,” He finally answers and you give him that same pointed look that you always do. It’s a second chance for him to come clean, he knows it is but it’s almost like it’s an automatic response and all he can say is, “I’m doing alright.”

He lies like the way you do to him and he knows just like how he can tell when you’re lying, you can do the same. You always compensate by making him feel like he’s a better rower than he actually is and you say it with so much conviction that sometimes he almost believes it. It’s endearing, touching almost that you would learn rowing terminology just to understand what he’s talking about. He’s never had anyone do that for him and maybe that’s because he has never let anyone in close enough to do that for him. He wonders how you had got here, got so far when he doesn’t even remember when exactly he had let you in on this side of him. You had seemingly carved your way in through with sheer stubbornness and it’s new, foreign even, having someone probe him about his rowing but it’s a good kind of new.

“I don’t talk about my rowing much and I know I’m not a great rower but—”

“Jimin, you made Varsity in freshman year. How many rowers on the team can say that they’ve done the same? You always give yourself less credit than—”

“—But,” Jimin continues, interrupting your spiel. “You always make me feel like I’m the best rower on the team.”

“You are!”

He laughs because this is exactly what he was talking about. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s your friend or you’re just being nice in general but you always made sure he knew just how much of a great rower you thought he was. You would throw out statistics he doesn’t even know himself about his own performance that would give him confidence, would make him believe he could be the rower all his teammates believe him to be, that you believe him to be. He still has trouble opening up about his rowing but he always felt like you would be ready to listen when he finally does.

“You are,” You mumble again when you note that Jimin has been silent aside from his laugh that seemed to tell you that he didn’t believe you. He flashes you a smile, one filled with adoration before he moves to kiss you. His plush lips presses against yours, each kiss telling you just how much he appreciates you. He gives you a grin, a genuine one this time and you take it as a silent confirmation, one that tells you he’s conceding and agreeing with you that he is a pretty decent rower.

“We really need to work on communication,” He laughs, stroking your cheek. “Half, if not all of this could’ve been avoided if you would have just listened to me when I talked, you know?”

“I know,” You frown. “I’m sorry,” You pout and Jimin wants to be angry, wants you to regret the fact that you had let the whole situation escalate into something so much more bigger than it really was but he’s a weak man and just one look at you has him forgiving you already.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nod. “Whatever you want me to do,” You smirk.

You had answered him with a sultry tone to your voice, hoping that the conversation would move to somewhere with a lot less talking and a lot more lip-locking because you know Jimin and if he had a weakness, it would be the fact that he couldn’t think straight whenever he lets you have your way with him.

“I just— I just want to take you on a date,” He mumbles, his hand that’s still holding yours beginning to fidget nervously. “I… I want to take you to a movie… just you and me. Just like that time during winter break,” He smiles shyly, his cheeks starting to heat up.

Your heart melts instantly at the poor boy looking at you, all anxious and worried, as if you would deny him that simple pleasure. He’s a big softie at heart, a total opposite to his reputation that exceeds him, one that claims that he’s heartless and inconsiderate.

“We can go for dinner after, somewhere nice with the fancy tablecloths and everything,” He adds. “I’m no Taehyung. I’m not good at grand gestures and I’m horrible at being romantic… but I’ll try my best for you.”

“Jimin,” You laugh, your free hand cupping his jaw. “If I wanted Taehyung, I wouldn’t be here. If I wanted him, I would’ve just chose him. I just want you to be you.”

He smiles at that, his head dipping down to kiss you and this time it’s passionate, rough, his lips moving against yours as if it was on a mission. It’s just that knowing you’re here, with him, and this time for real it’s almost like he wants to capture this moment forever, wants to savour it. His fingers slip away from yours so he could wrap his arms around you, hold you closer against him as he rolls onto his back, placing you on top of him. His hands roam your body as if he was committing every single dip and curve of it to his memory, as if he was mapping out every inch of you in his head. From feeling you smile into the kiss, to feeling your hands cup his face to pull him in closer, it makes a warmth blossom across his chest and all he wants is to kiss you until his lips are swollen and tired.

Your hands leave his face to venture lower, one of them sneaking under his shirt, snaking its way up from his abdomen to his chest while the other pulls the flimsy cotton shirt higher up, a silent signal for him to remove it. You deepen the kiss your lips moving fervently, your tongue brushing against his before you pull back, playing a game of give and take and you can hear Jimin let out a frustrated whine, his head lifting from the pillow as he chases the taste of you. It’s when he hears sounds that mimic his own, your hand tugging his shirt with some urgency that he finally breaks away from the kiss, his lust filled eyes staring at you with slight worry. He’s breathless, his mind almost reduced to mush as he glances at you, your lips pretty and swollen, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“We should slow down,” He mumbles. “We have plenty of time in the world for all of this.”

“Why?” You mumble before pressing your lips up the column of his neck before reaching the spot just behind his ear that makes him shiver.

“It’s just— It’s—” Jimin struggles to string a sentence together, your lips dancing across his skin, making him forget his original train of thought. Frustrated, he tears you away from him lifting you off of his body as he turns onto his side.

“Y/N,” He starts with your name and that’s how you know he isn’t in the mood for games. “If we're going to do this… you know be exclusive, be us, then I just want you to have some time to think about it. A lot has happened tonight and I just want you to be sure.”

“I am sure.”

“Tell me that tomorrow, when you’re a 100% sober and in your right mind, not clouded by lust or anything else,” He smiles.

“But my answer won’t be any differe—”

“Let’s just take it slow,” He interrupts you and it’s almost as if he’s begging you. He doesn’t want to rush things, doesn’t want to ruin it before it’s even begun.

“Okay,” You sigh, a little disappointed because it’s been weeks, months even since you’ve got to touch him like this, kiss him like this. You sit up slightly to remove the medal from your neck and Jimin stops you.

“Keep it on,” He mumbles because for some reason he’s worried that if you take it off, it voids everything that has happen tonight. It’s stupid he knows but what if you wake up tomorrow and you forget everything?

“What if it strangles me in my sleep?”

He doesn’t answer and you take his silence as compliance, slipping the medal off to hang it on his bedpost but even then you can hear the low whine that escapes him. The frown Jimin has on makes you feel like kissing him until it disappears. You run your hand through his hair lovingly, the frown on his lips slowly beginning to turn upward as you reach down to peck him.

“C’mere,” He beckons, patting his chest and you snort at that, placing your head on his chest with a light laugh. He guides your hand to his waist before his arm moves to rest at yours too. You can hear him let out a content sigh, as if he’s entirely pleased with himself even if you could feel his semi hard-on pressing against your thigh. He dots your forehead with delicate kisses as his free hand moves to play with your hair, his soft fingers gliding across your scalp. He knows that you’re annoyed, maybe even angry with him but you’re too precious to him and he’s not going to let you slip through his hands again for what might be just momentary bliss. Whatever doubts you had, he wanted to clear them and to him this is the best way to tell you that he’s serious, that he’s not into just boning you, that he wanted this to last. With a soft squeeze on your waist he places one last kiss atop your head, hoping that you understand what all of this means to him, just how much you mean to him because he’s not too good with words, never have been. In fact, he’s even worse at being able to put his thoughts into words when you’re involved so he can only tug you closer, with the hopes that whatever he had managed to get out tonight, and whatever he has shown you has been enough to tell you that he’s here to stay. It’s almost as If you understood him because you let out a low hum, angling your head upwards to leave a soft peck on his lips, pulling away to flash him an appreciative smile.

Jimin has been patient, kind and he’s given you more than you deserve, given you too many chances when he had every reason to cut you out of his life. He’s too weak, you reason, too soft on you but it’s his willingness to be persistent in a silent way that has lead you back to him. You had put your flaws on display, in hopes that he would turn away like many have but he still kept coming back, still kept waiting for you. He gives you space, gives you time to find him on your own, to pour your heart out on your own terms and for that you’ll always be grateful. He may not be into grand gestures and things like remembering birthdays may not come easy to him but he’s enough in his own special way. He may not remember 100 details about you but he remembers the important things, he may not give you grandeur presents but he gifts you things that money can’t buy like his empathy and his presence and honestly, that’s all you really need.

Like always, the steady thrum of his heartbeat and his soft touches lull you to sleep in an instant. Just his mere presence is like a lullaby to you and that night had been one of the first nights that you had managed to sleep for a full 8 hours. You don’t know how he does it, how he grants you peace just by being there. Truthfully, you’ve missed him so much, missed his touch, his kisses, his laugh and even now you’re still puzzled as to how a boy that you had hated within the first 5 minutes of meeting has suddenly morphed into someone you would want by your side for a long time to come. He’s not a cure all to your problems, you know that but at least he’s there to wipe your doubts away, there to listen to thoughts you think are stupid. You know you have a less than ideal way with dealing with stress and he’s there to keep you in check, make sure you weren’t destroying yourself from the inside out. Jimin isn’t just a warm body to keep you company, he isn’t there to whisper sweet nothings into your ears, he’s there to help you break down your toxic thoughts, there to build you up and assure you that you’re doing just fine. Just as he is your rock, you are his too and that’s what this is, it’s give and take in the best possible way. You understand that now.

For so long, you had been okay with being by yourself that whenever someone tried to be a part of your world, tried to help you, you pushed them away. Maybe it had taken you a little too long to figure out that it was okay to ask for help sometimes, that it was alright to admit that you were drowning, but at least you were here now. Jimin isn’t all too innocent in this and he too has problems that he still has to work through but you’re the first person that has gotten him to even let some light shine through the armour he had built around himself. He’s stubborn, he knows that and most people give up when he snaps at them but you, you didn’t. Maybe it’s because you saw some version of you in him and you refused to let him go down that same path. For the past few weeks he had spent time thinking that knocking on your door all those months ago had been a mistake, that meeting you had been a mistake, that letting you in had been the worst thing he had ever done but of course all of that was just an attempt to cover up how much he was hurting. Out of all the things he had thought about over the course of those few weeks, one had been right. That no matter how much he denied it, he knew more than anything that you have him wrapped around your finger. That very same thought had worried him all those months ago, the notion of having himself tied down to a person scared him but right now it’s his solace and if anything, waking up with your arm wrapped around his middle is where he finds tranquility, being with you is where he finds peace.

There’s nothing but comfortable silence that fills up the room and Jimin is enjoying this, enjoying your presence and warmth on a relatively cool night, his fingers softly stroking the skin of your waist when you suddenly speak up, making him jump a little.

“That cactus,” You point toward the edge of his window sill, your head perking up from his chest as you untangle yourself from him. “Wasn’t that for someone?”

“Yeah, about that… it was for you. Because you know, you remind me of a cactus,” He laughs and you scowl at him. “But I saw the bouquet you had in your hands that day and I panicked.”

You simply shake your head at him, murmuring the word stupid under your breath before you crawl towards the edge of the bed to pick up the small potted plant.

“It’s blooming,” You smile, pointing towards the tiny flower that had been hidden from view. Jimin can only grin at that because he doesn’t believe in divine signs and things of the like but how could he deny this? Spring has finally decided to grace the campus it’s presence and is starting to show in the green grass, the budding trees and of course the blooming cactus in your hand. Perhaps it was a sign of a new start, a good start, because the past seasons have been learning experiences, and much like spring, both fall and winter had a tale of it’s own.

Fall

Fall had been the season he first met you and back then, he had thought you’d be a challenge and that you were, in a way he hadn’t expected at all. You were a challenge in a way that his tricks didn’t really work on you. You weren’t easily smitten by words and simple actions. To get closer to you, you challenged him to look inwards and by doing so, he learnt more about himself in that time. He learnt that it was okay to be vulnerable sometimes, learnt that opening himself up to others meant that he could get hurt, yes, but it also meant that he could finally be understood and seen in a way that he wanted to be, to be loved for who he is and not his confident alter ego.

Winter

Winter on the other hand was pure confusion. Between struggling with getting things right with you and his injury that shattered his self-confidence, it seemed like everything was falling apart. He simply watched as you filled his heart and ripped it apart all in a matter of weeks. A feat he thought no one could achieve. As his rowing went from bad to worse, he realized then that things are easier said than done, that whenever he told you it was easy to speak about what plagued your mind, he was a hypocrite because he kept all the things that bothered him, close to his heart.

Spring

Spring however, is a time of change, a new beginning. Perhaps now the both of you will be able to be honest to each other, say what is on each other’s mind every time instead of hiding away feelings and secrets. Spring is about growing, and hopefully like the very potted plant within your palm, what the two of you have will blossom into something more than just this, more than just a mere affection for one another. Hopefully like the bright red flower that’s beginning to peek out, what you and Jimin have will blossom into love.

And, summer? Well... only time can tell what that season would bring.

Summer

“Jimin, let me borrow your phone real quick to google it,” You plead as he nonchalantly hands it to you, enjoying his drink on a sweltering summer day.

The two of you had just have a heated debate on whether the song that is playing on the retro jukebox is sung by Celine Dion or LeAnn Rimes, with Jimin swearing it’s the latter.

“I’m telling you, it’s LeAnn Rimes. You’re paying for my drink if I’m right,” He smirks and you roll your eyes before you begin to type in the title of the song. how to, you type and then shake your head, meaning to hit backspace to correct your mistake but your fingers stop there because you’re smiling so hard when you see the autocomplete options, with the recently searched icon next to the sentences, appearing below the search box.

how to become a good boyfriend

how to plan a date night

how to impress my girlfriend’s parents

how to dress when meeting her family

What a fucking dork, you snort. You decide to save him the embarrassment, continuing on with the search on who sang the song How Do I Live, your head hanging low when you find out that Jimin is right.

“Told you so,” He hums, smiling as he pockets his phone, watching you put a few bills on top of the receipt with an obvious frown on your face.

The two of you walk hand in hand towards the lake that sat at the edge of your campus and though it’s been almost 5 months now since he first started dating you, he think he’ll never get sick of getting to interlace his fingers with yours. The two of you sit side by side on the bench and Jimin mumbles softly about how the lake looks infinitely better from the middle of it as he glides through the waters on his rowing boat

“Oh by the way, my parents really liked you, you know?” You murmur softly, the comment taking Jimin by surprise. He had begged you not to say anything of last night because it had been a total mess.

Jimin had been so nervous and you saw it the moment you walked into the restaurant with your parents. The boy was sitting there, mumbling to himself, basically shaking as he nervously played with the edge of the tablecloth. Boy, he looked so pale, like he was going to faint at any given moment. You stepped closer to the table, calling out his name and when he spotted the three of you, he stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over, which he hastily picked up before rushing to greet your parents who were visiting for the weekend. You almost laughed when you saw him in a full suit, one so elegant you would think he’s attending a gala when he’s actually at the regular diner on campus.

The wikihow article he had read on how to impress your girlfriend’s parents told him that he needed to make a good first impression and have a firm handshake. Since he probably bombed the good first impression part by looking so frazzled, he hoped a good handshake would make up for it. He reaches forward, accepting your father’s hand and then your mother’s, all the while trying to keep a smile on his face no matter how nervous he was. The both of them smiled back politely, exchanging sweet pleasantries before he watched the two of them share a look as they wiped their hands on their pants.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry, Mr and Mrs. L/N,” He frowns, wiping his own sweaty hands on his pants. “I uhh, I t-tried, I mean I wiped my hands on the napkin beforehand and I—”

“Oh no sweetheart, it’s just we’re germophobes and we— yeah, umm germophobes... so don’t mind us,” Your mother lies, albeit very poorly and Jimin nods his head in understanding, uttering another sorry before he pulls out a chair for you.

He thought that the whole handshake fiasco would be the last of his mishaps but it was only the start. Later that night, he knocked over a glass of water that spills all over your mother which he apologized for profusely, reaching over to hand her napkins and subsequently knocking over your father’s glass of water too. As if that wasn’t enough, when he took a sip of his own water to calm himself down, he choked on it, the poor boy sputtering all over his meal. Not to mention that he tripped over his own two feet when he returned from a quick trip to the toilet to try and get himself together. All in all it was a 0/10, mission failed, night done, relationship over, kind of feeling that had blanketed over him when he bade you and your parents goodbye. He was absolutely positive that your parents had told you to end things with him the moment he was out of earshot.

“Your parents like me?” He asks, “You’re lying.”

“I’m serious. They thought you were cute. Clumsy, but cute.” You smile, shaking your head. “I mean really though, what happened to you last night?” You laugh, recounting all the things that went wrong.

“I was nervous, okay?” He defends. “I’ve never had to do the whole meet the parents thing before and I just—” He lets out a low whine before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, wishing to hide the blush that had crept up onto his cheeks.

“You were fine, charming really,” You laugh, snorting and though you can’t see his face, you know Jimin is scowling at you. “But, seriously, they thought you were really sweet because you get all googly eyed when you talk about us.”

“I do not,” He mumbles, his words muffled by your neck.

“You do,” You smile. “It’s cute.”

“Fine, I do,” He sighs. “But, listen I just want your parents to know I’m not usually like that. I really tried...” He huffs, finally pulling away from your neck. “I mean I had everything down, like what to do, what to wear, what to say and I just... wanted last night to be perfect. Everything went so differently when I planned it out in my head,” He sighs, dejected.

You place your hands on his cheek, laughing because god, he’s so adorable and sometimes you wonder what people would think if they saw the Jimin they know to be confident and charming in his true blue element, all nervous and nothing but an absolute mess.

“You did great,” You smile, leaning in to kiss him. “A+ for effort.”

He lets out a low whine, placing his forehead on yours and you can’t help but laugh again because he’s so impossibly cute sometimes.

“I just really wanted them to like me.”

“They do!” You tell him once more and he still doesn’t believe you. Nevertheless, he seeks your lip in an attempt to soothe the embarrassment he feels and you comply, letting his lips mold over yours before you pull away to leave a short peck on his nose. “You know, they’ll probably like you even more after I tell them you googled things like how to impress my girlfriend’s parents and how to be a good boyfriend.”

“How do you— Did you go through my search history?!” He grumbles as you laugh at the offended look he wears.

“No! It just appeared in the autocomplete section when I borrowed your phone just now,” You grin and Jimin looked so embarrassed that it seemed like he was seconds away from flinging his entire self into the lake.

“God, you’re so cute,” You sigh as he lets his head loll over the back of the bench, unable to possibly look at you knowing that you now know he’s so inexperienced at relationships that he had to turn to google for help.

“Let’s go home,” He sighs. “I need a nap. After what happened yesterday and today, I just really need a nap.”

The two of you retire to your dorm room where Jimin simply flops onto your bed, waiting for you to join him so you could make him feel better, if that was even possible. He thinks it would take at least 20 years before he stops replaying last night in his head and cringing at every second of it.

“Please don’t tell your parents I googled those things... or anyone, please,” He begs quietly when you place your head on his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, your secret’s safe with me,” You hum as your fingers curl around his waist, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You’re such a dork,” You snort, laughing because honestly who would’ve thought Park Jimin of all people would be so lame, but you know, the cute kind of lame.

“Shut up, nerd.”

“Can’t I get a cuter nickname? Like babe or something?”

“No.”

“I’m telling Taehyung and Hoseok about your google search history.”

“Fine,” He groans. “Babe,” He sighs before he mumbles nerd under his breath which earns him an elbow to his stomach. Even so, he laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead because last night might’ve been horrible but at least he still has you. His summer with you so far has been made up of moments like these, just you and him, enjoying a little afternoon nap in between the summer courses that the two of you had signed up for. These moments were simple, perhaps even insignificant to some but Jimin loved it, loved how being with you is easy, effortless even.

Perhaps he felt that way about his relationship with you because the two of you were still in the honeymoon stage but even then he thinks out of all the seasons with you, he likes summer the most. He won’t say it’s easy all the time, doing this whole relationship thing but he thinks it’s worth it, the two of you figuring out things together, growing together, learning to love together. It’s hard for him to explain but knowing that you’re by his side eases him, a fact that he never thought would be true because until you, he always thought it was better to be alone, to deal with things all by himself.

Summer has been about unlearning things, for both you and him, unlearning bad habits and learning newer, better ones. Summer was about letting people in, learning to let go and trusting that he would be there for you and you, for him. It’s a process, an arduous one but somehow the two of you make it easier for each other. Often times, you wonder if all this is actually lust but then you remember him laughing whenever he lets out a fart when he’s cuddling you, quickly pulling the blanket over the top of your head to suffocate you with the horrendous smell of it or you see him shake his head at you as he watches you lip sync your favourite songs to him with horrible dancing included and you sigh, knowing that being this comfortable with each other meant that lust was out of the picture.

Summer was about learning that somehow lust had turned to like and like had turned to what you think is love. The word scares you a little but more often than not the word pops into your head whenever you see your boyfriend. It almost slips out of your lips a few times and you worry that it’s far too soon to say the word.

I love you.

Even thinking about saying the sentence makes you nervous. Perhaps, that’s something for you and him to conquer in the next season, you smile.

A/N: sorry this took so long!!! i love you all for being so patient! I hope you liked it (: As always, thank you so much for reading and feedback is welcome!!!

if you’d like, read the Taehyung finale!

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bangtan bookclub #bangtanwriters-net #jimin fluff #jimin angst

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cynicallystiles · 6 years

Text

Beach Sunrises: Fallin’ All in You

Author: @cynicallystiles

Warning: Sooo this was supposed to be all fluff but I’m incapable of not including angst. Angst, FLUFF, fights, hurt feelings, slight smut but not really.

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Summary: While on tour one day, Shawn sees a woman watching the sunrise by herself. Thinking that he’ll never see her again, he tries to forget as he goes on with the rest of his day. But, serendipity seems to have other ideas…

Notes: So, I’m real emotional as I type this right now because this is the final chapter for this series. I’ve spent my entire summer mainly working on this one and it’s very close to my heart. I deeply appreciate everyone who took the time to read and support this fic. All I can say is thank you, and I hope you enjoy the finale of Beach Sunrises.

P.S. There is definitely a parallel to the finale of Smallville. I’m actually crying, don’t @ me. I had to pay homage to my childhood otp.

PLEASE REBLOG OR COMMENT if you like it! I always welcome messages and asks about my work! Enjoy!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 11

Words: 10,425

3 Years Later

I finally turn the key with one hand while the other holds bags of groceries and my phone is pressed between my ear and my shoulder. My hand can't get a grip on the key because of the gloves I'm wearing, so I'd been struggling for a few minutes.

Obviously, I'm not used to having to wear a lot of cold weather gear, having spent most of my life on one warm coast or the other. The crazy part is that it's October and it's way colder than it got even in the winter down there. I guess that's what I get for moving way up north.

"What? Yeah, no. I heard you...I'm just currently trying to multitask," I explain while I nudge open the door to the condo as I listen to the person ramble frantically on the other end of the line. Sighing heavily, I kick the door closed and set the bags on the kitchen island. "You did what?"

I begin to put perishables away as they continue apologizing for the mistake they made with the footage I needed. This is my typical work phone call now. I try to take a few extra vacation days off the entire year and things fall apart without me. A few off for any holidays. Another for a birthday. And two days in October. The day of my birthday and the day after. Since both of them are important dates.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take the call to my office so I can look at plans while I instruct them on how to fix what they messed up. Five years ago, I never would have thought that I'd be the most sought after documentary film director for the stars. Not to mention editor as well. After the success of Hailee's documentary, the offers came pouring in. I got a personal request from Niall wanting to snag me next...and of course, I directed Shawn's next big tour...then it was 5 Seconds of Summer...and so on until now.

After about thirty minutes of me explaining the same simple fix over and over, I finally hang up the phone. I head down the hall to the bedroom and change into what I'm wearing for my date for my birthday. A content smile creeps onto my lips as I look around the vast room. Film posters and white Christmas lights litter the walls as well as a few bookshelves with books and great movies. In between, are carefully displayed guitars in stands or on wall mounts. I never would have thought that I'd be here right now.

You see, after my 23rd birthday where Shawn revealed to the entire world that he's in love with me and the next morning on the beach where I revealed the same to him...we agreed to give us a shot. It's been three years and Shawn has put out two more albums and done as many tours. I've been around the world several times over directing documentaries for bands and artists. It sounds extremely busy for both of us, right?

Neither of us thought it would be so hard. In fact, within the first year and a half, we were arguing so much about not having enough time for each other that I thought maybe it was too difficult. I thought maybe our careers would really be too much for both of us to handle. But, like always, Shawn surprised me with his solution.

"I'm just saying that it's not my fault that I can't be there to answer every single phone call, Shawn! I'm really busy all the time!" I yell as I storm out of his bedroom and toward the front door.

He sighs heavily, his feet padding the floor as he follows me. "And I'm just saying that it's not that hard to shoot a text when you get a free minute or let me know you made it to the next city safe, y/n," he says delicately. His calm tone just infuriates me more. He never raises his voice to the same level I get to.

"Ugh!" I half-groan, half-screech as I put on my coat aggressively. "I'm sorry that I'm forgetful! Okay?! But...Jesus, Shawn! The whole world doesn't revolve around you! SOME OF US HAVE ACTUAL JOBS!" I regret it as soon as it leaves my lips. His face looks like I've struck him as his mouth parts and his eyes widen. I wish I could take it back but I can't. And I can't apologize because I'm too stubborn and proud and my body is running on the adrenaline of being constantly badgered about texting him every goddamn minute.

He closes his mouth and places his hands on his hips as he looks down. The blood rushing in my ears finally slows down and the fire flooding my skin dissipates enough for me to see reason. I've always had a cruel knack for hitting someone where it hurts. And in the moment, when I'm angry...I don't hold back. Whether or not what I say is how I actually feel.

"I..." I try to find the words to make up for it. "Sorry...god," I sigh as I lean my back against the door and rest my head on it. I close my eyes and bite my lip and try to keep my tears of frustration in check.

He clears his throat and I tilt my head back to normal to look at him. "My career is just as real as yours is," he says in a serious tone.

"I know," I mumble as I look at the ground and toe the carpet. The look on his face says he's not done speaking so I let him continue instead of making it worse.

I hear him scoff and I venture a glance back up at him. His eyes stare at me intensely. "I work just as hard as you do. Just because I didn't go to college doesn't mean-"

"I know!" I interrupt him and move forward, grabbing his hands in mine. He looks down at me, puppy-dog pout on his lips. "I shouldn't have said it. I-I didn't even mean it, babe. I swear," I squeeze his hands.

"Then, why did you?" He asks, his hands letting go of mine to rub up and down my arms soothingly.

I shrug. "I just...this is hard, okay? It's harder than I thought it was going to be to do. We're both busier than ever and we're hardly ever in the same town...and when we are it's, like, one day together. I don't even get to wake up next to you and-" My rambling stops at the sound of his chuckling. I look up at him squinting. "Well if this is just a big joke to you..." I say as I turn toward the door.

"No! Honey, I'm sorry. It's just," he licks his lips trying to contain his amused grin. "If you're upset about us not spending enough time together then...why don't you move in with me?"

My eyebrows furrow momentarily. "What?"

"Move in with me, y/n. Here," he continues and my features soften.

My mouth parts and I don't know what to say. "Shawn...how is that supposed to fix anything?"

"It won't. Not completely," he admits with a shrug. "But, it's the first step in easing this distance between us. I know this is new to you...and it is to me to...but I love you and we both have to work every day to make it easier."

I nod slowly as I look at the ground and then back into his warm brown eyes. "I love you too, and you're right...I've just been expecting it to come easily and forgot that for us to work we both have to put in the effort. I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, baby," he mumbles as his lips press to my forehead. "But, if you move in...I promise it'll help. Living in the same space will give us more chances to see each other. Plus, it'll give us even more incentive to make time to come home..." he promises.

I bite my lip to hide my smile. "Home," I giggle slightly. "I like the sound of that..." I look up at him through my long eyelashes and his grin grows wider.

"Yeah?" He asks excitedly. I nod. "Yes! Oh my god, I love you so much," he gushes as he sweeps me up in his arms. I laugh giddily as he sets me back down. "One thing though...were you really gonna leave and walk around Toronto in your pajamas? It's two a.m.," he chuckles.

I roll my eyes as I softly slap his bicep. "Oh, fuck off," I say sarcastically as he brings his lips to mine triumphantly.

So, I moved in. And he was right. We see more of each other than we ever have and we're happy. When both of us get a break, we come home and we spend time together. Like I said before, we also make sure to take off days throughout the year for important dates. We're compromising where we can and it's working.

I move about the kitchen happily to put away the rest of the groceries and dance to the music I've put on. Anticipation flutters in my stomach because Shawn is supposed to be home any minute now. And then we're doing the same traditions for my 26th birthday that we've been doing since my 23rd.

But, I'm so lost in the music I've put on that I can't really hear much else. Of course, when Shawn's not home I blast his music. I was a fan first, after all. My shoulders roll and my body sways as I drag my socks across the floor like I'm an actual dancer. I get out the mugs and the bowl for popcorn and do a little twirl.

As I'm turning, I see a figure leaning against the doorframe. I jump in place and clutch my heart, only letting out a tiny yelp of surprise. As my heart begins to return to normal, he chuckles and sets his bags down. A beaming grin takes over my face as I don't hesitate to run and jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist.

I pepper his face with kisses as his hands held me in place by my thighs. When I'm done with my barrage of affection I lean back and look deeply into his eyes. "You could've announced yourself, ya know," I scold him playfully.

"What fun would that be? I like when you dance like no one's watching," Shawn confesses lovingly. I shake my head with a reluctant smile and lean forward to capture his lips with mine. It's full of longing and all the weeks I've been waiting to touch him.

He carries me back to the bedroom effortlessly, neither of us caring about our previous plans. Because, in truth, this was the first step in our tradition for my birthday. I'd get home first, and go shopping. Then, he would get home and we'd make up for all the time we didn't have together wrapped up in the soft covers of our bed.

I hum as his soft lips make contact with the sensitive skin above my collarbone. "Mm...your perfume smells so good," he sighs as his mouth continues to leave marks.

"Thanks," I giggle at his goofiness because he says it every time. "It's yours actually." I bite my lip as he pops his head up to look at me astonished. "What?" I giggle more.

He shakes his head incredulously. "Have I mentioned I love you?" His eyes flick from my eyes to my lips repeatedly.

I shrug. "It sounds vaguely familiar..." I tease and we continue re-explore each other again.

Sometime later, I put my pajamas back on and head to the kitchen while he changes into his. Yes, our big birthday tradition is wearing pajamas and staying at home to watch as much Harry Potter as we can. So, I put the popcorn in the microwave and mosey into the living room while I wait.

I sit at the piano and let my fingers tap the keys. Shawn's kept his promise to teach me how to play and so I play the first thing I fully learned: the Harry Potter theme. I start out slowly and hesitant. He comes around the corner and stands behind me while resting his hands on my shoulders. I giggle as he tickles my neck and mess up a key, but I go faster nonetheless. By the end of it, it sounds like an upbeat song at a pub and I slam the final keys triumphantly as we fall into laughter.

The microwave beeps and we move to the kitchen to finish preparing snacks. I hand the popcorn bag to Shawn and he puts it in a bowl while I put in a different bag and hit the start button. While that pops, I get out the electric kettle and heat up the milk for the hot chocolate. It always tastes so much better when you use milk instead of water.

Soon, the popcorn and hot chocolate are done and we settle into the couch. My Newt Scamander mug sits on the coffee table in front of me as I take a few bites of my kettle corn. Shawn sits down with his arm gently around my shoulders and I lean into him as we start the movie. Since both of us have seen it a million times over, we mainly talk during the whole thing.

"Rent's due next week, by the way," he reminds me thoughtfully as he knows that I usually forget.

I take a sip of cocoa. "Yeah. I actually remembered this time," I chuckle. "Already transferred the money to the joint account...Our invitation finally came in."

"Yeah?" He asks as he eats a handful of some buttered popcorn from his bowl. I nod as we switch bowls to share the two different flavors. "So what date did they set?"

I squint one eye as I look at the ceiling. "March...sixteenth...I think? Next year? Don't quote me on that," I giggle as I crunch the savory snack. "It's on the fridge, you can look before bed."

He nods and I can feel his eyes linger on me as mine go back to the screen. After a few minutes of feeling his stare, I pause the movie and then turn to him. I raise my eyebrows to ask him what's on his mind.

He blushes and looks away briefly before swallowing. "So...I was thinking..." he begins nervously.

"Oh, no. That's never good," I tease and he cracks a smile before playfully shoving my shoulder. I laugh and grab another handful of popcorn.

He swallows again, and my smile fades a little bit as I see how nervous he is. "Anyway...we've been living together for, like a year and a half, and we share the rent and all that. We've been dating for longer..."

"Shawn, spit it out," I say as anxiety rises in my chest.

Taking a deep breath he finally says it. "I was wondering if you wanted to share a phone plan...ya know it'd be cheaper and what not."

"That's what you wanted to ask?" I question incredulously. The way he was acting made me think he was gonna propose or something. He nods. "That's sweet, but I'm fine with the one I have."

I try to turn the movie back on but he stops me. "You're fine with yours? That's it?"

I sigh as I look him intently in the eyes. "Yes."

"I don't believe you," he states.

Rolling my eyes, I reply with a scoff, slightly mimicking his voice, "I don't care." He bites the inside of his cheek as he tries to fight off his amusement.

"Are you ever gonna stop quoting what I say in interviews?" I shake my head with a wry smile. "Fine. But, I know there's more to it than that. It took literal months to convince you to get a joint account for the bills instead of you just writing me a check every month. I felt like your landlord or something..."

I try to hold in a snort but fail a little bit. "I mean..." I begin to tease before I see the look of exasperation on his face. I take a breath to compose myself. "Sorry. Um...why is this phone plan so important to you?"

"I dunno," he shrugs. "I guess I'm just trying to build a connected life with you."

"Through...joint bank accounts...and...phone plans..." I double-check.

He sighs. "I know it sounds stupid, but I feel like you want to have all your things separate to make it easier for you to leave..."

"Not easier for me to leave," I mumble. "Just a cleaner break when you decide you don't want this." My lips purse as I stare at my lap.

He groans from beside me. "Why in the hell would I ever do that? How many times do I have to convince you that I'm not going anywhere??"

"Because eventually you're gonna get tired of all my stupid and irrational behavior..." I sigh. "I'm selfish and jealous and needy and very impulsive and bipolar...and a whole lot of other things that just add stress. Your forever person is gonna be someone who lifts the weight off of your shoulders. Not adds to it."

I pick at my fingernails as I stare absentmindedly at the wall. "You're not selfish," he says after a beat. I look up at him bewilderedly.

"How is that?"

"You just told me, y/n. You kept yourself closed off from me because you wanted to protect me. How is that selfish? You say that you're needy and impulsive...but isn't everyone to a certain degree? I know I fucking am. You've already lost it several times because I text you every spare second I have on tour. You have a million voicemails on your phone because I wanted to hear your voice despite the time differences. Everyone wants to know that the person they love most loves them just as much," he rambles and I crack a small smile.

He continues on, "I know about impulsive too. This fucking eight on my finger is proof that I have zero impulse control. Everyone has highs and lows, y/n. Maybe not to the degree that you do, but that's not your fault. Since day one, you have been making decisions about us based on what you think is best for my career and my heart. That is so beyond selfless, I can't even explain it in words."

"I just don't want you to have to worry about taking care of me on top of everything else," I bite the inside of my lip.

"I'm not worried about that, honey," he promises as his hand reaches out to caress my cheek. "Because we take care of each other. That's how it's always been. And I promise you, it's how it's always gonna be."

I lean forward and kiss him deeply, slightly tipping over both of our bowls. A few kernels fall out and I giggle as I retract from him. "We can go look at plans tomorrow after the beach. Okay?" He agrees, and we fall back into our comforting tradition.

Early the next morning, I feel the bed dip as Shawn gets up to prepare for our day together. It’s always like this. He gets up earlier than me and gets things ready so I can have an extra hour of sleep. Mainly because I’m up later than him making sure that everything is cleaned up before bed. We share the chores and responsibilities and it makes me happy that we’re doing good together.

Eventually, he wakes me and I get ready. As soon as I’m dressed and ready to go, we head down to his Jeep. Shawn carries the picnic basket and I carry the blankets. It’s still a little dark out, so it’s pretty chilly. But, we’ll make it to the beach just in time to watch the sunrise.

We arrive and I lay out a few blankets, saving the others to wrap around us in case it gets too cold. It was always warm when we celebrated our anniversary at the other beaches. But here in Toronto, it gets cold in October so we weren’t sure if we’d stay as long as we usually do.

Shawn sits down and holds his hand out to help me sit with him. I tuck my legs underneath myself and watch as the light begins to grow and he unpacks our picnic. I pull out the thermos and pour some hot chocolate to warm the tip of my nose. We sit like that for a few hours while the beach is empty and the sun fully rises.

These are the simple moments that I make sure to burn into my memory for when we both go back to our careers. I think about how much I’ve already accomplished since I graduated, and then realize that Shawn has been in his dream job since the age of 14. The only way I can ever look at him is in awe because he’s truly astonishing.

After that, we came home for holidays and special events like the Grammys or the Oscars. Then in March, we had a whole week off for the both of us while we attended our friends’ wedding. A year or so after Shawn and I got back together, Niall and Hailee got together. He just proposed in March of this year and they apparently didn’t want to have a long engagement.

So, Hailee asked me to be her Maid of Honor. Which I almost cried because of. It meant the world to me that she loves our friendship as much as I do. Of course, Shawn is Niall’s Best Man. The week was spent helping them prepare for the wedding and making sure everything would go smoothly. Because of this, Shawn and I didn’t really see each other much. Which was alright because this week wasn’t about us.

Both of them insisted that they didn’t want a bachelor or bachelorette party. Honestly, I was relieved because I suck at planning parties. And maybe I was a tiny bit relieved because that meant Shawn wouldn’t be out drunk somewhere having a stripper giving him a lap dance or something. They say before the wedding came quickly and we were getting ready for the rehearsal dinner in our hotel room.

I stand facing the mirror trying to get my bracelet to clasp with no luck. I hear Shawn enter from the bathroom, shoes already on because they’re tapping on the floor. “Need help, baby?” He asks sweetly.

“Yes, please,” I giggle as I turn around and hand him the bracelet while holding out my wrist. He easily clips it and I do a test shake to make sure it stays. When I finally look at him, my heart flutters. “Wow,” I breathe out, taking in his handsome figure.

He chuckles and pulls me to him by my hips. “Wow yourself, honey,” he mumbles as his soft lips sink into my cheek. I hum in content and slip my heels on before taking his hand in mine.

The entire rehearsal I could feel his gaze on me. Every time I glanced at him, he was already looking. Heat crawled up my neck every time because the look in his eyes was anything but innocent. As I sat next to Hailee I found myself crossing and uncrossing my legs, unable to get comfortable with the warmth growing there.

Watching him lick his lips as if he didn’t know what watching that mouth does to me, sent shivers down my spine. Then he would smirk as he noticed me shift and I knew that he was playing a game. Well, I could do the same. I flipped my hair over one shoulder and delicately ran my index finger along my collarbone as if it were a mindless action. I gently pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I listened to the conversation around me.

Stealing a seductive glance at him, I see that he’s biting the inside of his cheek to prevent his smile while shaking his head incredulously. The sight brings a silent giggle to my lips as I wink at him. He breathes a huff of air out and rests his chin in his hand forlornly. The night wears on and I walk in front of him to unlock the door to our room, my hips swaying just a tad extra.

As soon as we’re inside, he grips my hips and spins me around. I giggle as my lips immediately go to his neck, sucking the sensitive skin there while his hands find the zipper of my dress. Soon, we’re both without clothes we love each other fervently into the night.

We woke early the next morning and kissed each other goodbye as we separated to help Hailee and Niall prepare for their big day. What surprised me most as we were getting her ready was how calm she seemed. There was no sign of pre-wedding jitters that most brides seemed to have. I sit to the side of her while her hair is being curled.

“Can I ask you something?”

She looks at me in the mirror. “Of course, y/n.”

“How are you so...sure? Like, you haven’t been together that long really...” I ask, not knowing if she understood what I was trying to say.

Her expression softens, she holds her hand up to stop the hair stylist and turns to me. “Are you asking how I know I'm sure that I love Niall enough to marry him...or are you asking how to know if you’re sure that you want to marry Shawn?”

“It just seems so...permanent and official. Won’t it be hard with your careers?” I question as I pick at my fingernails.

She takes my nervous hands in hers. “Life isn’t without hardships. But, I’m not doing it all alone, y/n. Niall and I are a team of two against the world...and so are you and Shawn.” She smiles at me and it eases the tension in my stomach. My lip curls upward and I pull her into a hug, careful not to mess up her makeup or hair.

In an hour or so after she’s ready, we all line up and get ready to walk. Shawn and I are assigned to each other since we’ll be walking out last before the flower girl and ring bearer and then Hailee. I stand on Shawn’s left, my burgundy dress just barely grazing the ground because of my heels. He holds out his arm to me with the sweetest smile and I take it while my left hand holds the small bouquet of white calla lilies.

I take deep breaths and I guess Shawn must’ve noticed. “Everything okay?” He whispers and I pull on a smile as I look at him and nod. Before he can reply, the doors open and we begin to walk slowly. We reach the front and stand on our respective sides.

Soon, Hailee has reaches the front and everyone in the room is smiling. We can all see how perfect they are for each other. She turns around and hands me her bouquet before the vows start. My heart is beating with excitement for her and my eyes water while I listen to their heartfelt promises.

I blink rapidly as not to ruin my makeup and I look at Shawn. For once, he’s not looking at me first. I can see the glisten in his eyes as Niall’s promises to Hailee touch him deeply. Then, he looks to me. Sentimental smiles spread across our lips and he mouths ‘I love you’. I mouth it back to him.

The reception is just as sweet and everyone’s toast is so special to the occasion. Pretty soon, the first dance starts and Shawn sits beside me as we watch them sway out on the floor. His arm drapes around me, fingers tracing patterns on my shoulder.

“So...” he begins cautiously. “Was there a reason you looked so nervous before the wedding or...”

I clear my throat and tear my eyes away from Niall and Hailee to look at him. My mouth softens into a happy smile and I lean forward and press my lips to the corner of his lips. “Not really. This wedding just has me thinking about a lot of things,” I admit casually.

“Oh...uh...” he begins nervously as a tiny look of fear passes over his eyes.

I chuckle. “Relax, I had just been asking Hailee how she was so sure that Niall was ‘the one’,” I say as my fingers make quotation marks.

“Y/n, I-“

“Honestly, everything is good. We’re good,” I assure him.

He sighs frustratedly. “I’m not good, y/n,” he says seriously.

“What? Why?” It’s my turn for fear and panic to run through me.

He looks deeply into my eyes, searching for something. “Because we’ve been together for three and a half years pretty much,” he starts.

“Gee. Sorry, you got such a lengthy prison sentence with me,” I tease with an incredulous grin because I don’t know where this is going.

He takes a deep breath, trying to remain on track. “Would you let me say what I’m trying to say?” I nod, shifting so I can see more of him. “I know that we’ve been together longer than they have and that’s probably making you wonder why I haven’t asked you yet...”

“I guess...” I answer

He nods, accepting my reply and continuing. “The truth is...I’ve been scared that proposing would make you run away. If you haven’t noticed, you used to be a huge flight risk...”

“Ah, but that was before you tied me down with a joint bank account and a shared phone plan,” I joke. He glares at me, wanting to laugh.

“Can you be serious for two seconds?” I shrug. He groans. “Y/n, I want to marry you. But, I don’t want you to feel trapped or whatever with me-“

I raise my hand. “Can I say something?” He looks at my hand and cracks a smile before nodding. I lower it and continue. “Shawn,” I sigh, “honestly, I’m not concerned about you proposing.” His face falls. “I mean, you kind of already did on my birthday...”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head and knits his eyebrows together in confusion.

I laugh. “It wasn’t a proposal proposal. But you promised that we’d take care of each other forever,” I remind him. “So...I’ve kinda been walking around with the notion in my head that eventually we’d just get married,” I say truthfully.

He looks at me bewilderedly. “Are you serious?”

“I mean...yeah?” I shrug. “We share a phone plan now. We’re committed for life,” I say seriously before cracking a tiny grin.

He playfully shakes me by the shoulders. “You are impossible! Ya know that?” He chuckles. I giggle in return.

“So...is this solved now? We’re engaged and we’ll just pick a date to go make it official?” I question innocently.

“What? No! Y/n, I haven’t proposed...you don’t even have a ring,” he says in his concerned tone.

I place my hand on his thigh gently as I lean forward. “Baby, I don’t need a ring. And I don’t need some big proposal. I just need you and me. So, I’m set already,” I assure him. He tries to argue but I just shut him up with my lips. I hear Hailee on the microphone asking me to come do a friends dance with her so I pull away slowly.

The rest of the night was wonderful, and Shawn seemed to have relaxed after our conversation. We both left our blissful vacation and went back to being far too busy to see each other longer than a couple of days. Even for his birthday, we only had one night because it was in the middle of another tour for the both of us.

Shawn called me late one night, early for him, saying that James had called him asking if we could do a segment together. I, of course, agreed. Only to have Shawn admit to me a few weeks later that it would be on our anniversary. Despite my disappointment in breaking our tradition, I traveled to LA on my 27th birthday and showed up the next morning to film the segment.

I arrived and things were a little different than the last time I had been here. But, then again, so was I. I went through hair and makeup, this time they even gave me a manicure with French tips on my natural nails. Then, I was ushered to wardrobe. I was surprised because I was content with what I had on. But, they insisted on putting me in an ivory sleeveless lace dress that went to my knees. They also put me in wedges of the same color.

I was beginning to grow suspicious because even though this wasn’t what I had planned to wear, I knew it to be from my closet. The shoes as well. It was the outfit I had put in the back of the closet for whenever Shawn and I made time to go to the courthouse and get married.

Shawn and I got to be in the same dressing room, so we ate the snacks and made ourselves comfortable while we waited. He looked angelic as always in the black slacks and matching ivory dress shirt he had on. A slight tint of pink covered his cheeks and I noticed how he kept shaking his leg repeatedly.

“What are you up to, Mendes?” I question while squinting my eyes at him suspiciously.

His eyes widen. “What? Me? I’m not doing anything,” he rushes out. I open my mouth to answer but we hear the knock on the door signaling our introduction. Shawn hops up quickly to get it and begins talking as I slowly make my way over.

I duck under the arm that holds open the door and smile at the camera. “Hey, James! So nice of you to allow Shawn and I the same dressing room!”

“Well, of course! Although, I’m afraid if we hadn’t you’d have been in there anyway. Amiright?” He jokes from his place onstage.

I shrug playfully and the crowd laughs. We both wave as he moves on from us. About 10 minutes later, we’re brought out to an empty stage for the game part of the show. The cameras roll and James begins his spiel.

“Alright, ladies and gents! We have a special treat for you today as Shawn has been able to convince y/n to overcome her fears in a game of...NUZZLE WHAAA?” The crowd roars and s grip Shawn’s hand.

I laugh nervously. “I was assured that I would not be sticking my face into anything that I’m scared of! You’ll both be in huge trouble if I do!”

They laugh along and Shawn lets go to face me. “Wait...you’re supposed to be on my team to protect me!”

“Honey, you’ll be fine,” he assures me confidently.

I breathe shakily as Hailee comes up behind me and Niall behind Shawn. “Well, at least I know Hailee won’t let me die,” I joke before putting on the blindfold. As soon as it’s over my eyes, I hear the crowd laugh and James must be waving his hand in front of my face as a test.

Reaching my hand out, Hailee grasps it and my elbow to give me balance. “Alright and...BEGIN!” James announces. I slowly inch forward, trying to feel anything with my face but I can’t seem to find anything.

“Is there anything even there??” I laugh after a minute. This feels so ridiculous. My balance is horrible without my eyes. Plus, I’m in heels. The crowd laughs with me.

James speaks again. “Why don’t you try nuzzling a little lower, y/n. It’s a little bit shorter than you right now,” he offers.

I crouch down lower, trying to nuzzle my face into whatever is there. Honestly, they’ve probably got a bowl full of crickets out for me. Suddenly, the crowd begins screaming excitedly and cheering and I don’t know what’s happening. “What was that? What happened?”

“Just keep going, y/n,” Hailee giggles. I roll my eyes even though no one can see. The crowd remains loud and it’s concerning me.

Finally, my face bumps into the edge something. I nuzzle my face forward in tiny motions, not wanting to scare it if it’s a snake. It feels like a soft material, but it’s definitely hard. The edges are confusing me, this is harder than it looks.

“Ugh! I have no idea what this is!” I complain.

James giggles. “Hailee, help her sit on her knees and use her hands.”

“Why isn’t Shawn saying anything?” I gasp. “You better be sticking your face in whatever this is too, Mendes!”

I hear him chuckle in front of me as my knees feel the ground. Hailee carefully places my hands in front of my face and I wave them around until I find the object. It’s small. So small that someone has to hold it in their hand.

My fingers traces along the smooth material of what feels like a rounded box. “Okay! Is it a box?” The cheers that had died down suddenly shot up again to an impossible level of loud. I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts.

Suddenly it moves and I yelp in surprise. “IT’S NOT A BOX!!! IT MOVED!!” I cry.

“It is a box...just keep guessing y/n,” James urges.

When I put my hands out again it feels different. Like a hard mouth, with something sticking up out of the middle. The top of it has ridges and the sides that disappear into something feel cold and smooth. Deciding I can’t tell what it is, I move my hands back to the box and the hand holding it.

I slide my hand over their fingers, taking note of what feels like a ring on their pinky. “Who is this?” The crowd chuckles and cheers. My hand follows the connection of the fingers to the hand and then to the wrist where I can feel a cold band hanging around it.

“Oh, my god...” I suddenly can’t breathe. My mouth parts and the beating of my heart is so hard that the mics are sure to pick it up. I carefully trace my hand back over the object, trying to confirm what I suspect. With shaking fingers, I reach up and slowly take off the mask.

Shawn comes into view on his knee in front of me. In his hand is an open velvet box that holds a ring. His adorable face shows me a loving and hopeful look, with just a hint of cheekiness because he actually surprised me.

Immediately I feel tears pool in my eyes, so I bury my face in my hands as I sit fully back on my knees. I hear the crowd simultaneously ‘aww’ at the gesture. Emotion overcomes me and I don’t want to look up for fear that it might disappear.

“Y/n y/l/n,” he begins ceremoniously. Slowly, I lower my hands and look between the ring and him.

I swallow the thick feeling in my throat and sniffle. “Shawn Mendes, I said I didn’t need a big proposal or a ring,” I scold him and my laugh is watery. He grins, and it reaches his eyes causing my heart to palpitate.

“But you secretly wanted one, didn’t you?” He whispers conspiratorially. I nod the tiniest bit and he licks his lips. “Good. I’ll save the big long speech for the vows, so...will you marry me?”

I press my interlocked hands to my nose as I breathe deeply. My head begins to nod up and down and the brightest grin splits my lips. “Yes. Yes! Oh my god, yes!” I squeal in excitement.

His face scrunches up in pure happiness when he smiles and my body is just rushing with everything that feels amazing. He takes the ring out and carefully places it on my ring finger. Before he even finishes, I throw my arms around his neck to kiss him passionately. My newly ringed hand tangles in his curls while my other keeps a firm hold on his cheek.

The crowd whistles and cheers as his fingers dig into my back. I’m assuming the show went on commercial because everyone starts bustling about moving decorations and an archway out onto the stage. I break away from Shawn momentarily.

“What’s everybody doing?” I ask quizzically. The smirk returns to his face and then I know. “We are not seriously getting married right here, right now!” I say incredulously.

He nods. “What better day than our anniversary?” He asks rhetorically. Before I can respond, Hailee drags me back to makeup to have my mascara and lipstick fixed.

“I can’t do this right now!” I exclaim in panic. “I don’t have Xander, or Benny, or even Anna!” I begin to spiral with how fast everything is happening.

Hailee chuckles. “We got it, y/n.”

I begin to ask what she means when Xander, Benny, and Anna walk through the door. “Oh my god!” I scream as I run over to them and sweep them up on a hug. I know what you’re thinking. What is Anna doing here? Well, I had to give her a second chance after I learned that she played a part in helping Shawn win me back.

“Commercial’s almost over,” Hailee warns. “You ready?” I look at her with wide eyes before I smile. I nod and I take my spot offstage as I wait for my cue.

On my side, stands Xander as my Man Of Honor, then Hailee and Anna and I see that Aaliyah has been flown in. It’s odd but those are my people. On Shawn’s side are Niall as his Best Man, then Taylor and a couple of his childhood friends. My smile falters as I realize that I don’t see Shawn.

Anxiety builds in my chest as the music starts and I’m about to walk out there by myself. One hand falls from the bouquet of my favorite flowers to my side as everyone looks at me expectantly. I freeze. My lungs inhale air shakily as I don’t know what to do. And then a warm and gentle hand slides into mine.

Looking down, I follow the hand up the arm and up to the man that owns it. I grin adoringly as I see Shawn standing there. He smiles softly at me before wrapping my hand in the crook of his elbow. My heart is beating giddily and I feel the warmth spread along my cheekbones as he begins to walk me down the aisle. He’s confident and poised and I’m not even looking ahead of me. I’m looking at him. I’ve never stopped admiring how gorgeous he is when he’s happy.

It’s weird having people cheer at my wedding and it’s only now occurring to me that several hundred strangers are watching us. And tonight, several million will be. We far each other and I give my bouquet to Xander to hold Shawn’s hands. James helps us proceed through vows easily, both of us crying much more than we intended to. Then, he pronounces us married and Shawn kisses me. The kiss was extremely delicate and I could tell that this was the single most scary but amazing moment of his life. I’m sure my lips conveyed that I felt the same way.

A Year and a Half Later

I sit alone in the early hours of the morning out on the porch swing facing the beach with a thick blanket wrapped around me. Cold wind nips at my exposed skin and I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here like this. All I know is that I can’t set foot in that house again.

At least not until I’m feeling less confined. Less hostile toward him. Things were going fine...until they weren’t. And I can’t put all the blame on Shawn because I guess it should’ve come up before now. We should’ve talked about how the both of us felt and where we wanted this to go.

But, we didn’t.

So, here we are in the most beautiful house on the edge of a beach. We both agreed that the condo was getting cramped for all of our things. All of his music memorabilia kept spilling into my workspace and getting in my way. The man has more jeans than he ever wears and probably even more guitars than he plays. Our solution was to find a bigger place.

I would’ve been content with just an apartment with more rooms. But, Shawn was insistent that if we were going to move that it should be into a real house. We’re adults and he wanted to start living like one was the excuse he gave me. We’ve been living here for six months and he finally told me the real reason last night.

We had a huge argument and that led him to slam the door to our room and me to storm out onto the porch in my pajamas. I shake my head, remembering how quickly it became a screaming match. The first time he had ever risen his voice to my level, even louder than. He had no reason to be that upset. After all, what he was expecting of me was ridiculous.

I made up my mind long ago about it and it wasn’t going to change just because he said pretty please. It shocked me at how strongly he felt about it. So, strongly he said something even more hurtful to me than I have ever said to him.

Music blasts throughout the house as I finally, finish unpacking the last of our boxes into the fifth room. Shawn will be home later tonight, but I wanted everything to finally be unpacked before he gets here. The first room was our bedroom, the second and third for our separate workspaces and the fourth was the guest bedroom for when his family wants to visit.

That just left the fifth extra room to put all of our oddball stuff, I guess. I stand up and look around the room triumphantly. Just as I begin breaking down the boxes to throw them away, I see lights flash through the window. Shawn is finally home. The reason I wanted everything done before he got here is that he said he had important and life-changing news. He’s always so dramatic.

He opens the front door and I’m right there to leap into his arms, causing him to drop his suitcases. He chuckles and buried his nose in my neck. “I missed you so much,” he mumbles.

“I missed you more,” I promise as I pull back and peck him on the lips. He gives me another kiss as he sets me down. “So, what’s this big news?” I ask curiously.

He holds up a finger and looks around his feet for a small gift bag. After retrieving it, he takes me by the hand and leads me to the fifth room. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking a lot since our wedd-“ he stops as he looks around the room.

“Tada!” I exclaim as I spread my arms out in the middle of the room. “I unpacked the last of the boxes!”

He tries to hide the slight downturn of his lips. “I thought we said these boxes were going on the shed,” he reminds me.

I sigh. “Yeah, we did,” I agree. “But I just figured...why leave them out there to get dusty and covered in bugs when they could be in here!”

“Because I had a surprise planned for this room,” he admits.

I chuckle slightly sarcastically. “What? Gonna turn it into a room for all your music awards?” I tease. When he doesn’t answer me, I keep going. “Put a special plaque on the outside and have a velvet rope so no one who visits can enter?” I giggle.

“Y/n, I’m serious. It would’ve made sense after my news,” he sighs and sinks into a comfy chair I bought for the room.

I cross my arms and look down at him. “Okay, well what’s your news?”

He silently holds up the gift bag and I cautiously take it from him. I pull out the gift paper and pull out a tiny onesie that says “Music is in my DNA” and there’s a fingerprint made out of musical notes.

I gasp dramatically, “Shawn...are you pregnant?” Giggles fall from my lips until they’re silenced when I see that he’s unamused.

“Jesus, y/n,” he rolls his eyes and stands up, taking the onesie and putting it back in the bag. “That was my unsubtle way of saying that I want to have a baby with you.”

My smile fully vanished and my blood runs cold. “You what?”

“C’mon, honey. We have the perfect house, with enough room to spare...or we will when we move all this stuff into the shed...” he begins rambling. “Let’s have a baby.” In his eyes, there’s a kind of delicate dream that crushing would devastate him.

But, I don’t share that dream. “Shawn...I-“ I scoff, almost disbelieving that this came out of nowhere. “I don’t want to a baby right now...”

“Why not?” He questions.

I lift my shoulders and let them fall helplessly. “Neither of us are in a position to raise a child, babe. You will never be home. What, are you expecting me to stay home and raise it by myself?” I answer, my voice rising just a bit.

“No!” He replies just as heatedly. “That’s why I just told Andrew today that I’m slowing down with all the tours and stuff. No more back to back traveling around the world,” he explains.

I stare at him intensely. “Okay, but you’ve always said that when your music slows down you’d pick up acting. Has that changed? Because you going off to do movies or whatever is still being gone.” I know that my tone is becoming more and more hostile but I don’t like where this is going.

“I don’t know. But I’ll be here a majority of the time, y/n,” his stern voice his telling me that this subject won’t be easily laid to rest.

“What if we’re both booked at the same time? I just started my career, Shawn! I’m not giving it up so you can have a kid!” At this point, I’m slightly yelling and I leave the room because it’s suffocating me.

I hear his footsteps close behind me. “Are you serious? WE! So, WE can have a kid. I don’t understand why you’re being like this!” He yells right back.

“Because maybe you’ve been going strong for thirteen years and you want a ‘break’ to have a kid, but I’ve barely been in my career for six. And I love it! I get that you’ve already lived the most exciting parts of your life, but I’m just getting started! How can you ask me to give up my career for this??”

He groans in frustration. “I’m not asking you to! You can still do your job without traveling the world constantly!”

My fingers grip the roots of my hair and I want to pull all the strands out. “OH! So you expect me to not only give up my body to another living thing for ten months, you ALSO expect me to be the one juggling working from home and being a stay-at-home mom?!”

“I WILL BE HERE WITH YOU!!” He yells back at me.

I inhale deeply. “YOU DON’T GET IT, SHAWN! I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE A KID EVER!!!”

“You...” he stutters. “You don’t want kids?” His voice sounds broken, and the dream is crushed. But, there’s no going back.

I clear my throat which is hoarse from screaming. “No,” I whisper. “I never have. I guess we should’ve talked about kids sooner.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Would’ve saved us a lot of time and trouble, huh?” He places his hands on his hips as he looks down.

The words pierce my heart like sharp jabs from a needle. “What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice almost cracks because I suddenly realize that this is the dealbreaker for him. Out of all the rest of our problems and my insecurities, this is what he won’t compromise on.

“It means...” he sighs aggressively as he looks at me with cold eyes. “I never would’ve married you.” With that, he storms back to our room and slams the door.

I choke on my breath and it feels as though a fist is twisting my insides. Grabbing the nearest blanket, I run out onto the porch and settle into the padded porch swing.

I lay down on the bench, my head comforted by a big decorative pillow. The warm tears contrast against my icy skin and I should probably go inside before I get sick. I shiver slightly as twilight begins to creep into the atmosphere and I realize I’ve been sitting out here all night. A yawn escapes my mouth and soon I’ve dozed off to sleep.

The sound of a bird chirping annoyingly nearby wakes me. I squint against the rays of light and it doesn’t look like it’s quite noon yet. Sitting up, I stretch and rub my neck where I’ll most definitely have a tiny crick for the rest of the day. For a second, I feel content being able to look at the beach from the comfort of my home. Home. My heart aches all over again as I remember last night.

I slowly and quietly re-enter the house, not wanting to wake Shawn if he’s not up. Creeping around the house, I crack open the door to the bedroom and see that he’s not there. I open it further and enter regularly. Nothing’s gone, or at least not that I can tell. I peep through the blinds and see that his Jeep is gone from the driveway.

Great. I grab the boxes from the spare room and begin dropping all of my things into them. All the important things first, things that I can’t live without and then so on. I’ve got almost all the boxes filled up and ready to go when I hear a door close in the driveway. My entire body tenses up, I’m not ready for a round two of that kind of fighting.

“Y/n?” His honey-smooth voice calls from the front door. I stand still, maybe he’ll leave and then I can leave while he’s gone. “Baby, your car is still in the driveway. I know you’re home.”

I sigh. “Goddamnit,” I whisper to myself before answering slightly louder. “I’m in the spare room!” My eyebrows furrow worriedly as I look around at all my full boxes, I try to start moving them into the closet when he comes through the doorway.

“What are you doing?” Despite knowing he was coming, I still jump in surprise as I back away from the boxes looking guilty. “Are you moving out? After one fight?”

I chew on the inside of my lip angrily. “Excuse me? You’re the one who said you wished you’d never married me so I’m just saving you the trouble,” I say every word dripping in my pain.

He closes his eyes momentarily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that-“

“But, you did. And you can’t take it back.” My voice wavers slightly.

He steps forward as if to caress my cheek, but I deflect his hand with mine. “I wish I could. I-I didn’t mean it, honey...I promise you that.”

“But, you did,” I mumble sadly. “Because you’re not gonna change your mind about being a dad.” I shrug. “And I’m not gonna change my mind about having kids. At least, not soon enough for you.” Silent tears drip over my eyelashes and run down to my lips. I roll them together as I shakily pull my rings from my finger.

His face crumbles watching me do this. I hold them out to him but he refuses to take them. “Stop it. I’m not leaving you because of this,” he declares. “You just said that you weren’t gonna change your mind soon enough for me. Does that mean you might eventually?”

“I-“ I look at the ceiling before back into his eyes. “God. I don’t know, Shawn. You shouldn’t have to wait for me to be ready when you’re ready now.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want kids with just anyone. So if I have to wait for you to be ready then I will,” he promises, his voice trembling.

“Shawn-“ I begin tiredly.

“No. No, I know where you’re coming from,” he starts and I stand still, listening. “I’m not gonna ask you to stop doing what you love. And if by the time you’re ready to fully settle down, it’s too late to have our own...we can always adopt.”

The statement surprises me and my mouth parts. He made us seem like the kids had to be biological. “You’d adopt?” He nods, stepping closer and I let him. “Shawn, this was never about me giving up my career or even changing how I do it. I don’t care about traveling the world. I’ve just never...wanted to have my own...”

“Why?” He questions simply.

I sit down on the floor and play with tufts of the carpet. He quickly sits down in front of me, knee to knee. “I’ve just always told myself that I’d rather adopt older kids. There are so many kids who need families and don’t get adopted because they’re not shiny and new. Maybe I’d want to have one of my own someday, but I mainly just want to give love to those who have never had it.”

“Honey,” I look up from the ground at the sound of the loving nickname he’s always called me. “I do not care whether we physically make the kid or not,” he chuckles as he reaches out and strokes my cheek. “I just want a family with you.”

“Really?” He nods.

“And I have the perfect place to start,” he says getting up quickly and moving toward the front of the house.

I stand up and follow suit, my mouth pursed in curiosity. “Shawn, what are you talking about? You didn’t go out and kidnap someone’s kid did you?” I ask, half-joking.

He laughs loudly from the porch and when he re-emerges, he has a little bundle of something curled up in his arms. I stop dead in my tracks. “Is that a-“

“Mhm,” he nods, a proud little smile on his face as he looks down at the puppy in his arms.

“Shawn Peter Raul Mendes! YOU ARE ALLERGIC TO DOGS!” I remind him incredulously.

He shrugs. “This one is supposed to be hypo-allergenic!” He scratches the puppy’s neck delicately and it turns its little muzzle from his chest to look at me.

“Oh my god, give it,” I demand as I reach my arms out and take it from him instantly. I nuzzle my nose against its nose and it licks me all over my face leaving me smelling like puppy breath. Shawn chuckles as I sink to the floor to play with it. “Question.”

He raises his eyebrows as he sits down next to me. “Yeah?”

“You went out and bought a dog as a solution to our fight?” I look at him skeptically. He blushes and seems like he doesn’t know what to say. “You are an excellent problem-solver.” I grin and he breathes a sigh of relief.

He clears his throat. “Adopted, though. She’s from the pound.”

“Aw,” I whimper as I give her lots of kisses. “I know exactly what to name her!” Shawn looks at me expectantly. “Erato, of course.”

“Another muse?” He asks. I nod giddily. “Which one?”

I scoot closer to him and he rests an arm behind my back. “The muse of love poetry. Duh,” I roll my eyes like it should be obvious.

“Duh,” he agrees contently as he presses his wonderful lips to my temple and then rests his head on mine. We both giggle as we watch Erato hop around the living room sniffing her new home.

“Love?” I ask and Shawn lifts his head so I can look at him properly. “After I’m done with the next tour...I wanna start a family with you.”

He beams down at me. “Yeah? Adopted or biological? Know what? Doesn’t even matter!” He stands up excitedly pulling me with him as he laughs loudly. “WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS!!!” He yells to the empty house causing Erato to bark excitedly.

“Yes, we are,” I say in a baby-talking voice to our puppy. She barks and hops around more. The house fills with tiny barks and loud laughter as Shawn puts on music to celebrate.

He twirls me around and then sways me back and forth with our hips pressed together as Erato pounces at our feet trying to dance with us. I grab Shawn by his jaw and pull him down to meet my lips. We kiss tenderly, deeply appreciating that we could’ve easily lost each other. The kiss was a reminder that we had to communicate and compromise where we could. Hailee was right. We were a team of two against the world.

Our kiss is broken apart by the sound of an adorable whine. We laugh and pick Erato up, her tail wagging ecstatically. Well, a group of three against the world.

For the time being.

Tag List: @imagine-that-100 @hufflepuffshawn @luke2k18 @thewhinersoldier

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royal-fangirl-in-training · 6 years

Text

Cold Contemplation

A/N: Wow! another Death Note fic? This time in an AU of sorts? Where Kira was a manifestation of the Death Note? And possessed Light? And then L helped him get rid of it? And now L and Light work together? WITH 100% MORE Lawlight?

Yep. XD Lawlight (L X LIght) (Please excuse any Typos or errors, I may have missed a few.)

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Cold Contemplation

Light looks at the area around him with a neutral expression, he acknowledges the cold with a serene indifference, taking in the night air.

He found himself sitting silently on a bench out in front of his old college. It was winter, early December, and it was the week after winter break would have started for the students. He remembers this vaguely, and finds himself unable to formulate an answer as to why he was there at this moment.

It had been years since he had last seen the campus... A part of him finds dark amusement at the thought; was he ever really here? Or was that Kira too?

He's found that question teasing at his mind more times than he'd like to count. The thought of him being an oblivious tool to what was essentially a manifestation of his own pride, morality and that book... It made him question who he was, who he could be, who he wanted to be. It made him yearn for his past narrow-mindedness in a sense. To have undying confidence that what he was doing was right, and that the end always justified the means. He often wished he could have that ignorance again, it was a freeing attitude. How could somebody become stressed if they could do no wrong? The idea seemed simple in concept; if he could do no wrong, then how could he possibly cause any trouble? Hurt anybody? Do anything wrong?

He couldn't.

Of course now, sitting on a grey winter night, watching the snow fall carelessly to the ground under the streetlamps- He could see how flawed that logic was. Just because he didn't see something as being wrong, didn't mean it wasn't. Ignorance was bliss, but bliss was far from innocence. The world was a mirage of colours and spectrums, and one person couldn't hope to see them all.

A lack of empathy would be the easiest way to explain his polarized perspective; but that didn't fit. He was empathetic at first, so empathetic he treated the world as if it was a child to coddled and protected.

No. His true explanation came from selfish arrogance. That same unwavering determination and sureness that had pushed him past others; was what ultimately pulled him down. In justice, there can be no black and white. One god cannot rule over the land of the righteous and Just- lest himself become unworthy of such titles in his own self-appointed justification.

The very idea seemed unbelievable now. Now that he understood what it was like to actually be in a position of power that hadn't been falsely assumed. One that had admittedly been thrust upon him with casual words and unpredicted actions. The thought makes the young man smile faintly. The reason he had been snapped from his gluttonous power trip, seemed almost ironic at this point.

The cold stinging at his bare face reminded him of his solitary position outside. The snow was coating the bench he sat on, and he was sure he himself would be covered in the fluffy substance by the time he got back to his family's house. The thought brought with it memories of wet socks and numb fingers; making him internally grimace. He wasn't the biggest fan of the side effects of the snowfalls he had loved so dearly as a child, but he found that others detested it far more. This allowed certain areas to be more empty than usual, and gave him more leeway to think.

Out in the freezing snow and brisk air, he didn't have to layer anything up besides his clothing. No false smiles with forced warmth, no obligatory charmed laugh, no unnaturally charismatic responses to weak attempts at conversation. Out here, he wasn't Light Yagami, brilliant student and young prodigy; something that was more comforting than most words or touches could ever be. The tension easing realization that for once he didn't have to act for the world was invigorating. He didn't have to pretend. He was allowed to be someone most people didn't know. He was allowed to be himself. He was allowed to be Light.

Brunette strands of hair slide gently into his eyes as he stands up from the bench, reminding him that he had forgotten a hat in his hurry to leave the house. Instead of letting the knowledge that his hair would need to be dried annoy him, he simply brushes the excess snow off of his jacket and moves his hands to his coat pockets.

He starts down the street silently, keeping his gaze lowered on the path ahead of him. He finds himself watching the snow under his boots, wondering absently why some of the snow made a soft crunch under his feet when the rest was silent. He was almost instantly brought to a scientific conclusion revolving around the thickness and water levels- but he pushed it aside. He didn't want the answer for once. He wanted to just observe what was happening and accept it as it was.

He walked with just his own speculations as company for what seemed an eternity. Internally he noted that the walk was probably only twenty minutes or so given the distance and his pace, but he allowed himself this false sense of time loss simply for the mere novelty of it. Something compelled him to pause as he rounded the corner to the block where his family's house was located. Light leaned against the closest fence, and dragged his gaze down the street.

He could see the house from where he was, the lights were on- reflecting softly against the snow outside. In comparison to the darkness outside, it seemed to exude warmth, welcoming anyone who needed a dry place to rest. He knew it wasn't just a facade either; his mother had always been hospitable to anyone who would accept it, and his father couldn't deny anyone in need of shelter.

His parents were good people. They both had a sense of morality and honour that was admirable. They had both done so much for the community, for their family. The brunette was positive that if it wasn't for their constant encouragement and pride, that he wouldn't be half of who he was today. He felt compelled to try and give back to them after all he had taken.

Raising him was a difficult task; they had both been working and they had both had to juggle their outside lives with their home lives more than ever. Eventually his mother had given up her career to take care of him; the workload of which only doubled when Sayu was born.

Light sighs to himself, running a hand through his wet, snow speckled hair. He doesn’t even jump when a voice speaks up from beside him, sounding partially inquisitive despite the flat tone.

"You know, standing out in the snow will not be good for your hair Light-Kun...."

Light glances over at the man standing next to him momentarily. He's met with two obsidian eyes watching him with evident curiosity, the proximity of which he hadn't detected until the man they belonged to, had made himself known.

"Standing out in the snow won't be good for your bare feet, either, L. " He replies, turning his head to look back at the house down the road. He knows L isn't wearing shoes or socks without having to look, even in the snow L is resistant to footwear.

It doesn’t even take L a second before he responds, skipping straight to the point and watching Light closely, his thumb resting just on his lower lip.

"What thoughts are you trying to conceal...?" He replies without missing a beat, making Light sigh again, rubbing his face with a hand.

"Just because I don't want to talk about them, doesn’t mean I'm concealing them." Light grumbles, turning to L once more. He realizes he shouldn't have even replied; when L tilts his head a little bit. The detective somehow makes it look smug, without so much as a word or an expression shift.

"Why wouldn't you wish to talk about them, unless you were trying to conceal them on some level...? I've come to expect trouble when you go quiet, Light-kun...and you are being very quiet...” The older male gets closer, leaning up a little bit from his slouch; an action that reminds Light that L is in fact taller than him- or would be if he ever stood up straight. The man pauses when his nose and Light's are inches from brushing.

Light frowns at him and leans back a little bit. He finds that he can't go much further, due to the fence behind him. He finds himself a little relieved when L doesn’t get any closer, however, his frown deepens when L simply studies him; onyx eyes meeting amber as the two stare at each other in silence; the chilling night air tousling their hair as it drifts by in the form of a small breeze.

The two continue to stare into each other’s eyes, neither wanting to break the contact, neither wanting to be the first one to give in. Their unspoken competition of will lasts for countless minutes; until finally, Light finds himself growing tired of the somewhat childish standoff. The younger glances away harshly, peripherally noticing how L doesn’t seem to outwardly react to his subtle act of frustration. This fact makes annoyance stir inside of him, but it's quickly quelled when he feels a slim hand slip into his own.

"...Light, I can tell when you're letting things fester..." L says, speaking lowly and calmly; making Light turn to him, his frown less harsh than before and his demeanor calmer than a moment ago. Light lets out a slow, drawn out breath, and looks at L tiredly.

"...I can't help it, L. After all I did to everyone- to the world- To YOU...I just feel like I'm exactly the type of scot-free criminal I fought so hard to prevent. If I can’t adhere to the same rules and ideals I so strongly push on others, then I'm worse than they are." He murmurs distraughtly, his tone filled to the brim with frustration and above all else: Shame.

L is silent as he listens to this. He had a suspicion that Light was stressed about something along those lines.

"You have not gotten off easy, Light...."

The detective puts his hands on Light's shoulders. He makes direct eye contact, and searches Light's gaze as he speaks again.

"...The difference between you and them, is that you are paying for your past-... Grievances...- everyday....I know it still bothers you- I've had to wake you up from nightmares many, many times...." He trails off, his voice turning to a mumble.

"Always about Kira..."

Light looks down at his feet, not responding. Nightmares hardly seem like enough punishment for what he did. For what Kira did. He would take any punishment that the world threw at him, but he had always felt as if the world was going easy on him. Why? He wished he knew. He didn't deserve a break. Quite the opposite actually.

He almost finds some dark amusement in the thought; yes, Kira would have judged him far more harshly than everyone else was. The irony of this wasn’t lost on Light at all. The punishment for doing exactly what Kira had done, would be swift and unquestionable in Kira’s eyes. He really was a hypocrite of another caliber.

The teen- almost young adult by now- was brought out of his dark lamenting, by a small sigh and a tap on his cheek. He glanced over in miniscule annoyance, and was greeted by the sight of L shaking his head at him. The younger male frowned, quirking a brow at the other.

“…What?” He didn’t quite mean for his query to sound so snappish, however it seems that way. L didn’t particularly care about his tone it would seem. He simply poked Light on the cheek again, this time a little harder: making Light frown more and move his face away from the detective’s offending finger. L simply speaks, as if he hadn’t just been poking Light without context.

“…I can tell you aren’t listening to me, Light-kun…” L explains, his tone low and distracted. He shakes his head again.

“I was listening to you L, I heard what you said-“ Light’s words are abruptly halted, and he freezes.

L has straightened up more than before- It was still a little shocking to see him straighten up almost completely. L had gently taken Lights chin in his pale, spindly fingers; and lifted the teens face up. He looks into Light’s eyes and speaks without breaking the contact.

“You heard me… but you’re not listening…” The man murmurs, his words ringing with a small background hum. The type of hum that just goes naturally with his deep voice and often monotone range. Light has noticed it before, but it’s never been quite as distracting as it was in that moment.

He makes sure he’s focused when L speaks to him again, searching onyx eyes for any extra explanation or shift. He’s fairly sure he won’t find anything. L is a hard person to read sometimes, especially when it comes to emotions. The man was like a blank slate when he wanted to be, not even a trained human phycologist could probably crack the man’s stoic mask.

“You, Light Yagami, are not Kira. You were never Kira to be exact... Kira was something else entirely, and you were simply another of his victims… A different victim than the others; but a victim nonetheless. You do not have to pay for his crimes, just as a dog does not pay for every other canine a flea has bitten before them. This is not a matter of the world going easy on you, or others not understanding- This is a matter of you being overly harsh on actions you believe you had a say in. I am here, right now, to tell you- as the lead investigator on the Kira Case- that you did not.”

There is nothing in his tone or his eyes that would make Light think he was lying. Despite the spark of doubt that has embedded itself into Light’s stomach, and the uncertainty he has lingering in the back of his mind- he feels himself believing L. the man certainly knows about the situation, he knows the ins and outs of the investigation- and he knows more about Light’s thought process than the teen had originally suspected was the case.

He pauses for a long time; allowing the silence to stretch on in the cold air that seemed so different compared to the warmth he felt settling in his chest. If at any time during their relationship, he had doubted L’s care for him- this moment quickly wiped it from his mind. Why would he be so invested in making sure Light didn’t ball up his guilt until it consumed him? Why would he have done any if the things he had done for Light; if he hadn’t cared about him? The though was absurd.

“… I believe you…”

The words are barely above a whisper, but the meaning behind them spoke volumes. L can tell Light means what he’s saying; he’s being genuine. Amber eyes show nothing but sincerity and understanding, mixed with something else. Something warm and comforting that L has only seen when they’ve been alone- or with Light’s family.

Light hesitates to move closer to L. the decision is made FOR him however, when he is pulled closer by the raven haired man in front of him. He can practically smell the sickening sweetness on L’s breath, see the way the closest street lamp’s rays create a sheen on the dark hair that sits like a messy mop on the insomniac’s head. He barely has a moment to register what’s happening, before he’s being pulled into a kiss.

Light’s soft lips meet with L’s slightly chapped ones, and he can taste the sweetness he had smelled a moment ago. L tastes like frosting and tea; despite the oddness of the combination, it works to create a flavour that’s distinctly… L.

The brunette can feel L’s lithe fingers slip themselves into his hair and he can’t help but return the favour. The older man’s hair has always been an object of Light’s curiosity. It was somehow the perfect balance between messy, unruly and greasy- while maintain a healthy colour, silky texture and attractively unkempt charm. He would never understand how L had managed to keep it as such.

The two of them keep the lip lock for a couple more minutes of silence. Eventually, L pulls back just enough to breathe. He can hear his and Light’s quickened breath coming out in short puffs of air, the warmth tickling his cheek.

The detective gently rests their foreheads together, not saying anything. He doesn’t feel he needs to, it’s all unspoken yet understood. He glances down to meet Light’s half-lidded gaze. He moves his hands out of the younger’s hair, and runs them down to rest on Light’s waist. His touch is soft and barley even noticeable, yet his fingers leave behind a trail of warmth in their wake.

The two stand there, watching each other and saying nothing; snow falling from the sky around them in white pristine flakes. The streetlamp next to them provides a calming blanket of yellows and soft oranges, illuminating the small bits of snow that have nestled their way into the pair’s uncovered hair.

The shorter of the two gives a small hum, and leans in again; giving L a slow, tender kiss. Just a delicate brushing of their lips. He gives a small, placid smile once he pulls back again. He carefully takes L’s hands in his own.

“…C’mon… Let’s head back…” He whispers, taking L’s hands and pulling him patiently along back towards the Yagami household. The other genius allows himself to be pulled along, and feels a subtle smile grace his features.

As they get closer, they can hear the soft sound of music coming from inside the house. Its notes flowing from an ajar window out into the skiff of snow, and reflecting back around the house like a wall of sound. Light could hear laughter and voices speaking happily amongst the music. He recognized them as his family, and felt a smile tugging at his lips.

The grip on the other male’s hand tightened affectionately as he felt a fluttering warmth in his stomach, spreading to his chest. He smiled more when he felt the raven haired man give a tiny squeeze back.

As he reached for the handle and opened the door into his family home; he felt an airy freedom that he hadn’t experienced since he had first gotten rid of Kira.

He had a bright future ahead, with the people that he loved. He had his whole life ahead of him, but for now he felt the need to embrace the moment. The world was better than he had once thought, the coldness and anger he had once felt inside was shifting into something else entirely.

Although it was dark outside, and the snow was damp and cold- his home was warm and welcoming. There would always be light to shine through; he just had to find it… He would find it, and he would make sure it never went out. The good would always shine through the bad, he was in control of his own life…

His own world…

Perhaps he was the god of his own new world after all…

Wasn��t everyone?

#Death note Fandom #Death Note #deathnote #light yagami #Light Yagami isn't Kira #kira #l lawliet #fluff #self contemplation #fanfiction #fanwork #lawlight #l x light #light x l #winter fic

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5hfanfiction · 7 years

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With Every Sip - Part 6

Camila Cabello was nineteen years old. She was nineteen years old and it seemed like her life was finally falling into place. She knew that aside from meeting Lauren, college was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her. Maybe it was the fresh start, or maybe it was the fact that she was hundreds of miles away from the looming shadow of her troubled childhood, but finally she felt free. She knew that this past year, she had really started to grow into herself, no longer the quiet subdued girl she was in high school, but more than often she was now the life of the party. Camila knew that when she was younger she’d vowed she would never drink, but it was safe to say college had changed that. Because along with Lauren, they had a great group of friends and for once Camila felt like she actually fit in somewhere. She was loud, and silly, and vibrant, and carefree, and for some reason Camila wasn’t quite sure of, everyone she met seemed drawn to her. But what she wants to be when she grew up? Camila still didn’t know, all she knew was that she’d decided not to let her past define her future, it was as simple as that. Wasn’t it?

Although two years had passed since the night Lauren had kissed Camila after their Winter dance, nothing had really happened since. Ok, maybe not ‘nothing’ exactly, it’s just that Camila felt like they had just been going in circles ever since that day. Never forwards, never backwards, just around and around and around. They don’t talk about it though, they don’t talk about any of it. Camila thinks that it’s almost as if Lauren believes that if she doesn’t say it out loud, then the things that have happened between them simply don’t exist. That way, she doesn’t have to deal with her feelings, whatever it is her feelings may be… Camila wouldn’t know because they don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about the way their college friends point out when they are being a little too flirty with each other. They don’t talk about the increasing number of times that Lauren has kissed Camila at parties since the first, because she swears she only does it because she’s drunk. They don’t talk about the fact Camila accidentally came across Lauren’s profile when she was swiping on tinder, even though she knew that meant Lauren had girls checked in her interests. They don’t talk about the way Lauren rarely dates a guy longer than a month before coming up with one hundred obscure reasons why they just weren’t compatible and then breaking it off.

They don’t talk about this, they don’t talk about that, they don’t talk about any of it, until eventually the list of things they don’t talk about is so long that Camila sometimes wonders how they have anything left to talk about at all. But they always do, they always had.

It’s the Spring of their Sophomore year and both girls are stumbling back to Lauren’s dorm at 4.30am on a Friday morning. Parties were rarely confined to weekends, but especially not now that the end of the school year was almost in sight. They walk in silence as Camila stares ahead, watching the sky brighten right before her eyes as the sun begins to rise. She usually loves anything to do with the sun. Sunrises, sunsets, sunny days, but right now she’s just desperately willing it back down into the horizon that it’s emerging from. She’s not ready for the night to be over, not yet, because usually with alcohol comes kisses, and Lauren hasn’t kissed her yet tonight. Camila knows from experience that with every inch the sun rises, the less likely it is that it’s going to happen. Lauren never kisses her when it’s daylight.

But, as confusing as it is for her sometimes, Camila is pretty sure that she would rather things kept happening between them that they just didn’t talk about, than have nothing happening between them at all.

“Well tonight was a fail.” Lauren groans out of nowhere, causing Camila’s gaze to suddenly snap in her direction. “I can’t believe neither of us went home with anyone.”

“Well I might have if you hadn’t of cockblocked me… or whatever the female version of that is.” She replies, rolling her eyes playfully.

“She wasn’t your type.” Lauren scoffs back. “I was saving you, I’ve never seen you look so bored Camz.”

“Who cares if she was my type… it’s been a while and tonight my standards were low, my type was literally just human with a pulse.”

Lauren rolls her eyes, before stopping abruptly, causing Camila to halt too as she looks around her in confusion. She swears they were all the way across campus just a few minutes ago, so she’s not exactly sure how they’re standing outside Lauren’s block already. So much for slowing down time.

Camila had her own room in a building not far from here, but it was really late, or really early depending on how you looked at it. Either way, she knew better than to stumble in drunk at this hour disturbing her roommate when she had class in the morning. Camila had learnt that the hard way during the first semester.

Lauren on the other hand didn’t have that problem, she had the luxury of a private dorm room that her parents had agreed to pay a bit extra for. A luxury that Camila occasionally also got to take advantage of on nights like this. Not that it really helped the situation right now, Lauren’s dorm seemed to be an unspoken and unofficial 'friend zone’ territory. Once they stepped over the threshold of that door, nothing ever happened.

“You were too drunk for me to let you go home with a stranger anyway.” Lauren continues with the conversation as they make their way across the hall to her ground floor room.

“Excuse meeee! But you’re jusss'as drunk as me, little miss perfect.” Camila replies in a slight slur as she leans back against the door that Lauren’s currently struggling to force an upside down key into.

“Am not.”

Camila raises her brow, a smirk on her face. “Lauren… you hugged at least three street lights on our walk home and gave them compliments.”

“I don’t recall.” Lauren shakes her head, just as she finally manages to push her door open, causing Camila to stumble backward through it.

Quickly, Camila grabs onto the door handle to stop herself from falling on her ass, not that it really matters because Lauren’s reflexes are faster and she’s already grabbed a handful of her shirt to keep her upright.

“Well I do recall.” Camila replies with a hint of smugness, ignoring the fact she had just narrowly missed plummeting to the floor. “You told one to shine bright like a diamond.”

“Nope, don’t recall that either.” Lauren smirks , before pushing passed Camila to walk through the door. “Anyway, if I was drunk could I do this?”

Camila didn’t have time to take in what was happening before Lauren suddenly dropped to the floor, doing a forwards roll into the middle of her bedroom. Then, as quick as she had dropped down, she jumped up again, spinning around to face Camila with arms wide open. She was grinning as though this was the 2020 Olympics and she’d had just done the most impressive trick of her life.

“Probably.” Camila shrugs, before following her friend into the room and closing the door behind her. She doesn’t miss the way Lauren’s face drops momentarily at her lack of enthusiasm, but it doesn’t last long.

“Ok, but could I do this?” The older girl tries again, immediately lifting one leg from the ground and slowly stretching it out straight behind her.

Camila watches on in bemusement as Lauren leans forward until her body is perfectly parallel to the floor, her arms stretched out to help her keep her balance. It wasn’t very impressive at all, but Camila couldn’t help the grin that immediately spreads across her face.

Lauren held the position for a few seconds, foot slightly wobbling below her, before looking up to meet Camila’s gaze, her ecstatic face filled with absolute pride at her accomplishment. However, the second their eyes met, Lauren’s concentration must have wavered, because suddenly she is stumbling forward and grabbing onto Camila in a bid to save herself as she pushes her back against the door with such force that the air is knocked from her lungs.

“You’re an idiot.” Camila gasps through a laugh the moment she manages to catch her breath.

The look of concern that had appeared on Lauren’s face quickly turns to one of amusement as she tilts her head to side, giving Camila her signature cheeky grin. “But that’s why you love me, right?”

In that moment it’s almost as if the air is knocked from Camila all over again, because little does Lauren know how close she is to the truth.

It was on nights like this, when they would walk home together as the sun came up. In moments like this, when Lauren would forget her cool facade that she often put on for other people and just act goofy. During moods like this, when she would do stupid things (like complimenting street lights and rolling into her dorm), just because she knew it would make Camila laugh.

“Yes, Lauren." Camila wants to say. "Nights like this are exactly why I love you.”

“Right.” She replies instead, rolling her brown eyes playfully as she tries her hardest not the blush.

Maybe she doesn’t hide it well enough, because a silence suddenly falls between them that lasts a little too long for it to be considered comfortable. Her immediate instinct is to put some distance between them, just enough so she can regain her composure, but she’s trapped against the door with Lauren’s arms by either side of her head, so there really is no escape.

The moments continue to pass slowly. Neither of them are talking, or moving and Camila can’t speak for Lauren but she knows that she certainly isn’t breathing. The one thing she can’t control however, is her heart, which is currently beating so violently in her chest that she’s certain Lauren must be able to feel the vibrations rippling through what little air there is between them.

Camila is so lost in the moment that she doesn’t even realise that fingers are now lightly grazing hers, until Lauren takes hold of her hand and then without any explanation lifts it up and holds it against her neck. Camila’s brow farrows in confusion, her head tilting to the side as she tries to work out what Lauren is doing. Because sometimes things between them got a little intense and weird, but this was felt like it was on a whole new level.

“If you want me to strangle your annoying ass then I will, don’t test me.” Camila eventually lets out in a nervous chuckle, but the expression on Lauren’s face remains still, unfaltering, her eyes boring into Camila’s almost questioningly as she continues to hold her hand in place.

“What are you doing?” Camila finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lauren simply stares back at her blankly for another moment before biting her lip and shrugging. “How’s my pulse?” She answers with yet another a question.

“Fine… why, do you feel ok?” Camila replies, still completely lost.

Lauren shrugs again, before letting another silence fall between them. Yet she still makes no move to let go of Camila’s hand or move out of her space.

“Lauren…” Camila finally speaks up, unable to take the awkwardness any longer, but she’s immediately cut off.

“All you wanted tonight was a human with a pulse, right? Because… like…. I mean….” Lauren takes a deep breath. “I think I kind of meet that criteria. Right?” She finally blurts out so quickly her words begin to run together.

It takes a moment for the meaning behind what Lauren just said to sink in, but the moment it does, it hits Camila like a truck, knocking the wind completely from her chest for the third time in the last five minutes. Lauren’s pulse below her hand is instantly magnified to a point where it feels like a beating drum sending shock waves through her, making the little hairs all over her body stand up on end. Its almost as if she can feel Lauren’s blood pumping through her veins with so much power and intensity, that her own heart has no choice but to follow the rhythm it sets.

Camila wants to laugh or crack a joke to break the tension, but with the way Lauren is looking at her right now, she can’t even bring herself to speak.

Lauren finally lets go of her hand and Camila instantly pulls it away as though her skin was was a hot iron. Either Lauren doesn’t notice this, or she pretends not to, because instantly she moves to cup Camila’s jaw instead, seeming completely undeterred. It’s not until Camila feels a soft thumb lightly stroke across her cheek, that she notices the slight shake in her friend’s hand. She finally looks up to meet Lauren’s gaze and sees that the familiar green eyes are filled with a not so familiar look of uncertainty and fear.

Camila watches as the green eyes girl’s throat rises and falls with a gulp, seemingly preparing herself for what is about to come next. Lauren ducks her head down, placing a slow and gentle kiss on the side of Camila’s neck. It doesn’t last long until she pulls back again, seemingly trying to judge her friend’s reaction, but there isn’t one. Camila can’t react right now, she’s paralyzed, because yeah, Lauren sometimes kisses her when they’re drunk, but she has never kissed her there, but she has never kissed her like that. Camila is paralyzed because she is terrified of letting Lauren continue, but at the same time, she’s just as scared that she might suddenly realise what she’s doing and stop.

Lauren must have taken Camila’s lack of protest as a green light to continue, because before the brown eyed girl can even catch her breath, Lauren’s leaning back in, connecting her lips to the the skin above her pulse point once again, kissing her a little more purposefully this time.

It’s in that moment that Camila lets herself fall. She shuts her eyes and just lets go, focusing on nothing but the tingling trail that Lauren’s mouth is leaving behind on her skin. In that moment she is certain nothing has ever felt this good, this perfect, this right.

It doesn’t take long before Lauren’s kisses turn from sweet and uncertain to needy and urgent, harsh enough that Camila is pretty sure that she’s probably leaving deep red marks across her neck. Although maybe its best if Lauren does leave marks, Camila thinks that’s probably the only way she will believe this was all real by tomorrow morning, because it definitely feels like a dream.

Camila’s hands must have had a mind of their own, because by the time her brain comes back to her body, one has already found its way up into Lauren’s hair, her fingers tangling themselves in the messy brown locks, as her other pushes its way under Lauren’s shirt to grip her waist and pull her closer against her body.

Then, as fast as it started, it stops.

Lauren’s lips pull away, but just enough so that Camila can feel her cool and ragged breath against the now very warm and tender skin of her neck.

Lauren slowly lifts her head from the crook of her neck until they are finally face to face, allowing Camila to take her all in. Her eyes scan over plump swollen lips, across flushed cheeks and up to lust filled, heavy green eyes. She feels Lauren’s fingertips gently graze her hips, sending a shiver down her spine, but she can’t look away from her eyes. They stare at each other in silence for another few moments, Lauren seemingly making no further move to do anything else. The ball was clearly in Camila’s court now. It was her move.

Not able to take the tension for a moment longer, she finally leans in to connect her lips with Lauren’s and it’s like every kiss she has had to hold back since their first at twelve years old suddenly comes out at once. Camila is kissing her with everything she has, whilst Lauren remains still, letting herself be kissed but not reacting to the movement of the lips on hers. Camila’s not sure if her friend is in shock or if she has suddenly developed stage fright, but it doesn’t take long for her to grow frustrated, she needs something back, anything. Camila bites down on Lauren’s bottom lip, tugging on it slightly and instantly it’s like it awakens something within the other girl, because Lauren is suddenly kissing her back with just as much enthusiasm.

It’s not a pretty kiss, it’s urgent and messy, yet in Camila’s mind, it’s still absolutely perfect. Lauren is finally kissing her in the daylight, and it lasts for more heartbeats than Camila can count.

She’s being harshly pushed up against the door now and like, it’s a lot and Camila can’t really help the small whimper that escapes from her lips as a thigh presses between her legs. It’s at that point when Camila fully realises what is happening and where this is inevitably going and it freezes her in her tracks.

“Laur, what, what are we doing.” She pants the moment she manages to separate their lips.

Camila watches as green eyes slowly open to stare back at her, scanning her face questioningly as if they hope to find the answer there.

“I don’t know.” Lauren finally replies. “But I really don’t want to stop.”

For a few more moments they just stare at each other. Camila’s mind is in overdrive, not able to fully comprehend how everything had escalated so quickly. She’d wanted this for years, but now that it was potentially happening, she was terrified.

The longer they stand in silence, the more frightened and nervous Lauren begins to look. It really was 'now or never’ and if it was going to be now, then Camila knew she had to reverse their usual roles and be the confident one. If Lauren was confused, it was up to her to help her be sure. If Lauren was scared, it was up to her to help her be brave. She had to take control.

With that, Camila places her hands on Lauren’s stomach and begins to push her backwards until the back of her thighs hit the mattress, forcing her to sit down on the bed. Lauren is staring up at her now in a way that can only be describe as awe, the look alone gives Camila the final boost of confidence she needs. She climbs onto Lauren, straddling her thighs.

And they’re kissing again. They’re kissing and it’s deep, and it’s slow, and it’s passionate, and it’s everything. Tongues roll and hands roam. Or at least Camila’s hands roam, Lauren’s don’t seem quite sure what they should do. Wasting no time, Camila takes them in her own and pushes them under her shirt, placing them on her sides. Lauren then quickly takes the initiative and slides her palms around to Camila’s lower back, pulling the smaller girl in against her as she deepens the kiss even further. It’s then that Camila knows, she knows that as nervous as Lauren may be, she clearly wants this just as much.

Their kisses quickly change from slow and soft, to fast and needy and before Camila even registers it happening, clothes are being pulled off and tossed haphazardly across the room, as they move each other up the bed.

With every new bit of skin exposed, Camila’s mouth explores further, her heart bests quicker, her chest heaves harder. Camila lets her herself become completely consumed in everything that is Lauren, until her mind is just a blur of nothing else but her. Lauren’s hands, Lauren’s lips, Lauren’s skin, Lauren.

They’re both all the way down to their underwear before they even take a second to breath. Camila pulls back a little to look at the girl below her.

“You ok?” She finds herself asking. It’s a little odd and out of place, but the cute chuckle Lauren gives her as she pulls her back in makes it not seem as horribly awkward as it could be.

However, as sure as Lauren eyes were, her touches still feel scared. She’s trying to unhook Camila’s bra now as they continue to kiss, but her hands are shaking again and they’re only getting worse the longer she struggles with it.

“I… I can’t.” Lauren pants, admitting defeat, as she brings her arms up to cover her face in embarrassment. Bra one, Lauren zero.

Using up the last bit of courage the alcohol has left in her system, Camila sits up again on Lauren’s hips, pulls her hands from her face and places them on her own thighs. With Lauren’s eyes now on her, she unhooks her bra, sliding it down her arms and throwing it onto the floor.

“Fuck.” An awestruck, wide eyed Lauren mumbles, but she has little time to recover because Camila immediately pulls her up to meet her lips again. They kiss softly as Camila slides her hands around Lauren’s back, unhooking her bra in one swift and subtle movement. And yeah, it’s pretty smooth, if she may say so herself.

Within seconds, Camila is pushing Lauren to lie back down again, as she begins to place a trail of wet kisses all the way to the bottom of Lauren’s stomach. She sits up again to slide the other girls underwear down her legs, before throwing the last piece of clothing away aimlessly. Lauren is now completely bare in front of her and Camila is trying not to stare too hard in case it makes her self conscious. She really does try, but holy fuck.

Taking her sweet time, Camila kisses her way back up Lauren’s body, making sure to spend a considerable amount of time at her chest once she discovers the beautiful noises it brings out of her. By the time she is all the way up to Lauren’s face again, the other girls breathing is sharp and uneven, her lips deliciously parted, her eyes deliriously hooded. Lauren is completely lost in desire and it’s probably the most attractive thing Camila has seen up until this point of her life.

It’s then, as she gazes down at Lauren, that she slides her hand in between her legs and finally touches her. She touches her the way she’s always kind of wanted to touch her since she was old enough to understand what touching someone like this actually meant.

She watches as Lauren’s mouth drops open silently and her eyes roll back, before tightly shutting. Camila feels like she’s so lost in the moment, that she’s not even her own body any more. She hears herself asking if she’s ok again. She doesn’t really get a response but she takes the blissful grown that sounds from Lauren’s throat as answer enough. After that everything becomes a bit of a blur of sweaty bodies, fumbling hands and moan swallowing kisses, as they both try and figure out each other’s bodies. And maybe it’s a little clumsy and messy, but it feels good and they’re both too lost in each other to care about the finer details.

Camila continues to work Lauren up until she’s got her right on the edge. She’s right where she wants her, head back, back arched, beads of sweat running down her body, her legs trembling every time Camila moves her fingers a certain way within her.

Within the next few minutes, Camila decides she has never really liked her name as much as she does when she witnesses Lauren finally falling apart with it repeatedly rolling off her tongue. She’s never felt as confident in her body as she does when Lauren flips them over and starts worshiping every inch of it with her mouth. She’s never felt as content as does whilst they lie there together once is over, wrapped up each other in the sweet afterglow. Really, Camila has never felt like this, ever, full stop.

Lauren Jauregui was nineteen years old. She was nineteen years old and she knew that she had probably just changed the dynamic of her relationship with Camila forever. She knew that this should have felt weird, because friends don’t do what they just did, but for some reason she didn’t feel weird at all. She knew that drunk hookups usually ended in regret, but as she lay there with Camila’s exhausted body draped over hers, the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach felt nothing like regret. Right now, Camila’s arms wrapped around her waist just felt like safety, her warm breath against her neck just felt like comfort, and really, she doesn’t regret a single moment of tonight at all. Lauren knew college was a time for figuring things out, although she wonders if maybe she was focusing too much on the wrong things, because what she wanted to be when she grew up, Lauren still didn’t know. All she knew was she didn’t want her need to figure certain things out, to destroy the most important relationship in her life.

The morning sun was beaming through Lauren’s dorm room window by the time they finally went to sleep. She doesn’t look at the clock, but she thinks it has to be around 8am already. They wake up again around noon, tired and groggy and spend the next few hours nursing their hangovers together in the same way they always had, with the perfect combination of food, Netflix and cuddles. The atmosphere between them surprisingly doesn’t feel awkward, but maybe that’s because they’re both acting like nothing had happened. The closest they come to acknowledging last night is when Lauren gets up to put a shirt and shorts on and subtly hands some pajamas to a still very naked Camila without saying a word. So really, it’s not acknowledged at all.

They’re not acting any differently, however for Lauren, nothing feels the same. She’s not sure how they’re supposed to go back to acting like normal friends now that she’s suddenly realising that they never really acted like 'normal friends’ to begin with.

Everything that once felt normal, now feels like it has a new meaning. Lauren can’t act like she’s just cuddling a friend now that she knows what it feels like to cuddle with Camila after sex. She can’t feel like she’s just lending a friend some clothes, when a few hours ago she was the one undressing her. When Camila sighs into her neck and says shes exhausted, Lauren can’t just put it down to their usual drunken antics like she usually would, because she knows exactly why her own body is tired and aching. She can’t ignore the way Camila keeps looking over and smiling at her, not because Camila is looking at her any differently, but because she knows Camila has always looked at her just like that. The only difference now is, Lauren’s finally seeing that smile for what it really is and what it truly means.

It’s like all the aspects of their relationship that Lauren chose to not acknowledge before have suddenly been put under a magnifying glass, making it impossible for her to overlook them now that they are glaring her in the face so obviously.

They’re watching Friends now, or to be more accurate, Camila is watching Friends, whilst Lauren is mostly just watching Camila. Her mind is running at one thousand miles an hour as she tries to figure out what do, what to say, what to feel. Because they can ignore what happened last night all they want, but it doesn’t change the fact that Lauren can’t figure out how to look at Camila now without her heart excitedly stumbling over several beats.

Still lost deep in her thoughts, Lauren absentmindedly strokes her fingers back though Camila’s hair, pushing it away from her face. Her heart skips another beat, but this time for a different reason. Maybe it’s because they have never lay in such close proximity, or maybe it just because Lauren hasn’t really looked properly, but for the first time she notices a faint scar right along Camila’s hairline that she’s never seen before. She lets her thumb slowly stroke over the mark, examining it a little closer, it’s got to be at least an inch and a half long.

“Camila, how did you get this?”

Seemingly caught off guard, Camila lets out a questioning hum as she diverts her eyes from the Friends on the screen, to the friend lying beside here, her face barely an inch away.

“This scar.” Lauren clarifies, running her thumb over it again. “I swear I’ve never noticed it before.”

“Oh, I guess its pretty faint now and my hair usually covers it well.” Camila shrugs casually.

Lauren supposes that explains why she hasn’t seen it recently, but it doesn’t explain how Camila could have injured herself badly enough to leave a mark like that, without her knowing about it.

“How’d you get it?” She probes further.

“Uh, that one…” Camila looks deep in thought for a moment. “I think I got that one when was around ten. My mom was dating this new guy and things had really started to go badly off the rails. They used to have people round for parties almost every night. Honestly at the start I quite liked it because I’d always be the only kid there, right in the middle of it all and it used to make me feel really grown up. But this one night, I got stuck in the middle of a drunken fight that broke out and I somehow got thrown into this old rusty grill in our back yard. I hit my head off it and split it open. I didn’t like the parties so much after that. ”

“Did it hurt?” Lauren frowned, rubbing her thumb over the scar a little more gently now, like she was worried she could somehow hurt Camila further.

“I guess it did. I don’t really remember any pain though, I just remember I reached up to touch it right after and it was so strange because I felt like there was this huge hole in my head and my hand was just sinking into it further and further. Obviously it wasn’t like that, it was just sliced, but that’s what I remember for some reason. That and the two random friends of my mom that took me to the hospital instead of her because the doctors would have seen how drunk she was and she would have gotten into trouble. I was crying so hard and her friends just kept shoving more and more cookies into my mouth to try and stop me, but I couldn’t swallow them, I just kept gagging.”

“It was horrible.” Camila shuddered, obviously reliving the memory.

Lauren nodded, unsure of what she was supposed to say. She’d been aware for years now that things like this happened during Camila’s childhood, but this was the first time her friend had gone into actual detail about any part of it with her. Why now, Lauren wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just because she had outright asked, but part of her also wonders, or maybe even hopes, that if after last night there was now a new level of trust between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Do you have any more, besides this one?” Lauren asks, unsure if she’s really ready for the answer.

Without speaking, Camila takes her hand and brings it around the back of her head and into her hair.

“Shit. That’s a bad one.” Lauren can’t help but slightly gasp as she feels a line that is obviously a raised scar running along the back of Camila’s head.

“Yeah, its probably my worst.”

Lauren bites her bottom lip. “What happened?”

Camila noticeably hesitates for a moment, as though she’s not sure if she wants to answer, but then she does.

“I fell backwards though a glass cabinet.” She admits, although she diverts her eyes away from Lauren as she does it.

Lost for words once again, all Lauren can do is nod. She knew from first hand experience that Camila was clumsy as hell, but she also knew by the tone of her voice that the word 'fell’ was probably not an accurate description of what really happened. Lauren doesn’t press it further though, she doesn’t think she wants to know. Knowing won’t help her change things or allow her to take away any pain that it caused. The only thing she can control is that Camila feels safe now.

With that in mind, without another word Lauren leans forward, briefly connecting her lips to the smaller scar along Camila’s hairline in a gentle kiss, before sinking her head into the crook of her friend’s neck and closing her eyes. She lets herself take a few slow deep breaths, instantly feeling a little more at ease as she inhales Camila in.

She feels a light stroking on the back of her neck as Camila begins to speak again. “You couldn’t have known if I didn’t tell you Lauren. It’s not you’re fault.” She sighs, proving that she can read exactly what Lauren is thinking without a single word needing to be uttered.

Lauren nods into her neck but doesn’t say a word. She can’t say anything, because truly she doesn’t believe it. Camila might not have said anything whilst it was happening, but there were signs, signs that Lauren felt like she should have been able to read, just like Camila could read her. Plus, at fourteen she’d literally witnessed if first hand, and even then, for two years she said nothing. How could she let herself pretend that anything that happened in those two years wasn’t partly her fault?

Now that she has this new information, Lauren can’t help but wonder how many other people had failed Camila too. How many teachers didn’t ask questions that they should have, how many doctors didn’t dig further like they are supposed to.

“What are you thinking about?” Camila whispers, her lips grazing Lauren’s forehead as she speaks.

“How I wish your childhood could have been better.” Lauren whispers back against Camila’s neck, just loud enough for her to hear. “I wish someone could have stopped it earlier.”

“It wasn’t all terrible though.” Camila replies, running her hand through Lauren’s hair, like she was the one that needed to be comforted and not her. “Parts were good, I mean, I had you didn’t I? I’m pretty sure every single good memory from my childhood has you in it.”

Lauren finally pulls her head up look Camila in the eye. She’s met with a smile that looks nothing but sincere and content. It’s beautiful and the only thing Lauren can think is that the only way she would be happy to let that smile leave Camila’s face, is if she kissed it off herself.

But the thought doesn’t get a chance to become anything more than just that. The next thing Lauren knows, Camila glances to the clock at the side of her bed and curses, jumping up as she mumbles something about her afternoon class starting in twenty minutes.

As her friend runs around the room, frantically borrowing stuff in a bid to make herself look presentable for the outside world, Lauren is more confused than ever. She knows last night wasn’t just any normal hook up, there was so much at stake, one wrong move could ruin everything. The safe option would to be to ignore everything that happened, slide back into their old ways and try and move past this now that it was finally out of both of their systems. Or, they acknowledge it, they roll with whatever it was that last night stemmed from and see what it could become.

The second option definitely sounded more appealing to Lauren right now, because all she really wants to do is tell Camila how amazing last night was and give her a kiss goodbye before she heads off to her class. But it’s not that simple, it’s not that easy. Lauren has to think of Camila right now, not herself. She needs to focus, not on what Camila wants, but on what Camila needs, because those are also possibly two very different things . If they start something, they could risk destroying their friendship forever if it doesn’t work out, and really that isn’t an option. Camila needed Lauren. She was the most stable and constant person in her life and that couldn’t change, Lauren wouldn’t let it . Plus, she needed Camila too, for completely different reasons, but she needed her just as much. Was it really worth risking everything, just so they could act on their sexual desires? Because that’s all it was, right? It was all just physical, right?

Up until that moment, Lauren was convinced that she didn’t regret anything about last night, but now she’s suddenly not so sure. She kind of feels sick, not about what they did, but about what is could cause. They were playing with fire, and Lauren wasn’t willing to let Camila get burned.

“Right, I’ve really got to go.” Camila announces, pulling Lauren from her thoughts.

Lauren watches as her friend walks across the room, she’s almost about to open the door, when she suddenly stops, turning around with an uncertain expression on her face.

“Should we talk about this?” Camila motions between them nervously as she speaks. “About last night.” She then clarifies, just in case it’s not obvious. “Not now, but tomorrow maybe?”

Instantly, Lauren feels panic searing though her. She’s not ready to talk about this and she doubts she’ll be ready to talk about it by tomorrow . Plus, what if they do talk about it and they’re on completely different pages , what happens then?

Lauren opens her mouth to respond then closes it again, she has never felt so confused or conflicted. Does she go with her head or her heart? Head or heart?

In the last split second before she opens her mouth again, Lauren makes a spur of the moment decision. Head.

“What’s there to talk about really? People get drunk and have sex all the time, it happens right?” Lauren tries to respond as casually as possible, as she anxiously rubs the back of her neck. She internally cringes as she says it, but it’s too late to take the words back.

And just like that, the fact they’d slept together is added to the list of things they don’t talk about.

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #trigger warning #camren #angst drama #submission #With Every Sip

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