#i read a really sad fic and its gotten me into a Mood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dienamights · 3 years

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Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s): Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.”

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to-

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?”

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now.

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her.

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week.

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No! He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.”

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario.

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,”

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-”

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.”

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight.

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it.

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?”

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high.

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly.

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you.

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed.

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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ceciliablossoms · 3 years

Note

I just read the whiskey angst and i cried a bit 😭 can i request Fruit Punch + Absinthe after that the reader feel stressed and go for a walk outside but are attacked by Abiss Mages and seriously injured and Diluc / Childe / Kaeya is surprised when the reader return with a pathetic form but the reader don't want them to touch them pls 😭😭😭 REVERSE UNO

I genuinely wasn't expecting people to like that one enough to request a sequel. I originally had no intention of making a sequel but with so many people asking how can I not?

Haha.. I couldn't sleep again...

The Whiskey fic

TW: Mentions of Injury, Swearing, Self Hatred

Absinthe: “Get out of my sight! I don’t fucking want you here!”

Fruit Punch: “Why are you bleeding!? What the hell happened?!”

-------

Diluc

It had been several days since he had last seen them and honestly speaking the man was a mess. What he said hadn't fully sunk in until he finished his work and upon realising that he had made a severe error, a pit formed in his stomach.

He was extremely disgusted with himself. Nobody should ever talk to their significant other in such a way under any circumstances. Not only that but he had also called them a hindrance when they had only been trying to help him. Pathetic.

He ended up seeking them out, arriving at their small house in Mondstadt. He had approached their door as they were exiting their home. They visibly bristled.

As the days passed they wallowed less, sadness and dejection becoming anger. How DARE he have the AUDACITY to talk to them like that? To treat them as though they were holding him back?

“Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here!”

He didn't even flinch out their outburst. He deserved it, "I have... come to apologise for my actions. I-"

"Didn't mean it? Save your words. I don't wish to hear it." They pushed past him. "I'm going for a walk. Don't follow me."

He watched as they exited the gates, steam practically pouring from their ears. As much as he wished to apologise, craved to say that he was sorry, he was sure that they wouldn't have it. But, he sat on the stairs to their house regardless and waited for their return. Whether they would accept it or not he was still going to try to make amends.

He didn't know how long he sat there waiting but they still had yet to return. The worry had long set in, hitting its peak when there was a small commotion at the gate. They pushed past Swan, who was following after them in a panic.

They walked with a limp, blood seeping through the hand that clenched their shoulder tightly. A cut adorned their face from temple to jaw. It too was bleeding heavily.

Diluc approached them with haste, alerted by their state, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened!?"

They pushed past him too as he reached out to them, "Don't.... touch me..."

Diluc glared at Swan as a way to tell him to go back to his post. He jumped but obliged nonetheless as Diluc began to follow after them. Grabbing their non-injured shoulder in his gloved hand, he tugged them gently to stop them from moving.

His tone was stern, "You do not have to speak with me nor do you have to accept my apology. But you will get those injuries tended to even if I have to drag you to the church myself."

They pulled themselves from his grip, out of breath and tired, "Why is it that you care? I'm but a hindrance remember. Even as we speak I am obstructing you."

"If those were my feelings I wouldn't be here. I don't expect forgiveness but I would still like to let you know that what I said doesn't define how I feel for you. That is of little importance right now. Your injuries need to be dealt with"

They said nothing, looking off to the side. Sluggishly they move towards their home again, quietly ushering for him to follow. "I have plenty of medical supplies of my own." They paused, "When my injuries heal, I expect an apology in full. And as for my trust... You'll have to work for it."

He was relieved. Their words suggested that there was a still a chance for him.

Tartaglia

It took him a while to calm down. After all, he did tend to brood on things until they festered. At first, he only got angrier. Angry that the cheater got away with it. Angry that they sided with the cheater. Angry that they helped the cheater.

He thought about it more though, and the more he rationalised the more he calmed down. They didn't really side with him, did they? They only helped him because he would have bled out had they not. As much as he wanted to beat the man's ass all over again, he let it slide. Killing him would be a waste anyway. Instead he would let the man's near death experience serve as a reminder.

When he was fully calm, he sought them out, their words echoing in the back of his head. 'Talk to me when you're fucking sane', they had said. Had his actions truly made them feel that way? Or was it in anger just as his words had been?

He checked Bubu Pharmacy first, seeing neither them nor the cheater. He assumed it was because the cheater was in the back getting treatment and that they had gone on their merry way. The search continued.

His hunt continued all across the harbour and he was unable to tell if they were going out of their way to avoid him or if he was looking in all the wrong places. Finally, he resorted to asking around, getting a couple tidbits of information from some Milileth.

He was told that they were seen exiting the harbour and that seemed extremely miffed. So retracing their steps, he left the harbour as well, following along the path that led toward Guili Plains.

He continued to follow the path until Wangshu Inn appeared in the distance and quietly pondered why they came out this far. Something seemed off though. Halting his movements, he scanned the area, sapphire eyes landing on a familiar silhouette sitting at the base of an apple tree.

He was unaware of how long they'd been sitting there when he approached, but there they were an apple in hand. They finished mid chewing and spoke after they swallowed the fruit in their mouth.

"Get out of my sight. I don't fucking want you here." Despite their icy tone, he knew that they weren't angry anymore. They did, however, want to be left alone though he did not oblige.

His eyes travelled to the blood that coloured the grass beneath them. There was a teasing edge to his voice as he tried to lighten the mood, "Why are you bleeding? What happened, hm? Get in a fight without me?"

Finding each other bloody was nothing new to either of them and playing it up was a game of sorts. An inside joke if you will. Most of the time he acted like a worried spouse for them and vice versa, but at this moment it was genuine worry. They scoffed.

"Yes, but unlike you, I don't try to kill men on the street."

He held up his hands in defeat before sitting down across from them, "Not gonna let me live it down, are you?"

They rolled their eyes, leaning their head against the tree trunk, "It happened a few hours ago. But you get a free pass because I don't have the energy to debate right now."

He moved to check their injury and they slapped his hands away with a quiet 'Don't touch me'. Yet he continued to eye it warily, staring at their face as if to ask permission. His gaze was gentle, genuine worry spread across his face. They caved after several minutes, looking away.

Pulling their shirt up to reveal the injury on their hip, it appeared as though they tried to cauterize it. With a sigh, he stood and held his hand out to help then up. After a moment of hesitation, they accepted his hand and immediately after they stood he crouched in front of them and signalled for them to get on his back. They obliged and he carried them back to the city.

"Don't think that this means I forgive you for what you said to me."

For once he didn't feel like teasing, knowing that it wouldn't help mend the situation, "I know. I do wish to apologise though. My words were... unnecessary. I took my anger out on you."

"Damn right." They patted his head, "Though if you're a good boy I might forgive you faster."

He sighed, fully aware that they were going to use him as an errand boy for the next few days.

Kaeya

He continued after their encounter as though nothing had happened at all. The silence that filled his office after they left was deafening but he took the time to finish his work. All of the paperwork that had piled up and all the tedious remedial tasks had been finished, the rest of his duties taken care of as well.

Days passed before he finally decided to confront them, and over that period his the guilt over his cruelty toward them festered. He was fully aware that they were trying to help, trying to make his workload lighter, yet he still snapped at them.

If he hadn't taken out his frustration on them then the two would be together right now. If he had just let them help will all of it then we would have gotten done much faster and gotten to relax much sooner. The stack they did do, however, was the biggest one from the piles which did shorten the time he was working. If only he hadn't scared them away.

He began his search for them at their home, finding it empty. Thinking for a moment, he began to check the usual places they went when they were upset. As he headed to Windrise it turned out that he didn't have to look far, for they were limping over the bridge that led into the city.

They were bleeding heavily from their chest, hand clutching the wound with unspoken panic. He rushed toward them, reaching out to support their body weight.

His voice was demanding, "Why are you bleeding?! What the hell happened?"

"It was just an Abyss Mage. Get out of my sight! I don't fucking want you here."

He knew he deserved their scalding words but that didn't stop him from trying. He held his tongue to stop a smart ass comment. Usually, he wouldn't hold back but he knew this wasn't the time.

"You may not want me here, but if you don't get some help you'll bleed out before you can make it to the cathedral." He spoke calmly despite his internal conflict, and they knew that he had a point.

Begrudgingly they leaned against him as he escorted them through town. Moving hurt as it aggravated their injury but it was necessary. As soon as they got inside the cathedral he called for Barbara who appeared around the corner. Her face contorted in horror as she escorted them to the infirmary.

Kaeya sat amongst the pews and waited, having an internal debate with himself. Would they forgive him? Would they even hear him out?

Hours passed before Barbara remerged with news of their condition. He could see them but they could not leave for a while. With caution, he entered, knocking on the door frame to get their attention.

They turned their head in his direction but scowled when they realised that it was him. "Do you need something?"

He hummed, "No but you do." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took their hands in his, "I wanted to apologise. Both for what I said to you and for taking your kindness for granted."

They stared him down but say nothing but sincerity in his eyes, "I'm listening."

He was slightly caught off guard by their response, nevertheless though it made him happy. They fact that they were willing to listen showed that there was a possibility for forgiveness.

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cocochannel00 · 3 years

Text

Only Wish (This Year)

All Y/n wants for Christmas this year was Harry to be home... so what happens when Harry can’t make it? (a part of the ‘Christmas song fic challenge’)

Word count: 3k Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

A/N: hello my loves! This is my submission for @goldenbluesuit’s christmas fic challenge, Christmas is literally my favorite holiday of the year and I’m so happy I got a chance to do my first fic writing challenge based on the absolute bop that is Britney Spear’s “Only Wish (This Year)”. If you want to read more great Christmas fics by some amazing writers checkout the Christmas Song Masterlist Here and if you want to read and more of my writing check out My Masterlist Here. I hope you enjoy!!

"Love I think the tree looks a little crooked"

"No, it's not! It looks fine," you grumbled as you tried to fluff one of the branches that was limping to the left a bit. You had just gone out with Anne yesterday to the Christmas tree farm to get it. The two of you spent nearly two hours walking around the field looking for the perfect tree to put in the living room and after your fingers and toes had officially gone completely numb the two of you gave up and settled for the lanky one in the corner of the field that no one wanted. The tree towered over you quite a bit and had a bit of a tilt, but it reminded you a bit of Harry and this Christmas that was what you wanted, him.

"The reindeer you just hung up is about to fall off, Love" he mumbled from the screen of your computer as he face-timed you from the studio in LA. Rushing over to the left side of the tree, you scooped up the ornament quickly just as it was beginning to slide off of the scrawny branch you had placed it on earlier. As you less than gracefully began to pick yourself off the ground, you heard a wolf whistle come from your husband.

"On second thought, if you keep bending down like that I think I might actually like this tree" Harry stated with a smirk as you gave him the middle finger. "Your mom and I picked it out yesterday cause we thought it looked like you. A little lanky, a little scrawny... looks like he just rolled out of bed" you replied with a laugh.

"I'm going to spare my ego and pretend you didn't just compare your beautiful, loving, and supportive husband to that sad drooping tree you have in the corner."

"(Y/n) is that Harry you're talking to in there? Tell him he better be making it home for Christmas Eve dinner or I'm going to be having a stern talking with Jeff" Anne shouted from the kitchen where she was finishing up some cookies for when Gemma and Michal' today.

You could see the color drain from Harry's face as he scratched the back of his neck. You and Harry have been married now for a little over a year but had been dating for well over three, so you know his every tick and giveaway and when Harry begins to scratch and rub at the back of his neck you know it's bad news.

"I've got this really good chorus started with Mitch, but were still trying to figure out whether-"

"Harry"

"We spent all of yesterday working through the tracklist and I think I've narrowed it down to-"

"Harry"

"I think I'm going to end the album with the song I wrote on our honeymoon. I tweaked the melody but it's still-"

"Harry" you whispered for the last time before he finally stopped his rambling. You could see him by the way he was avoiding your stare that he didn't want to say the words you both were dreading. He isn't coming home for Christmas. You both knew it was a possibility when he flew out to LA nearly five weeks ago to finish the album before the new year. Despite Harry's offer of having you come to LA with him, your job didn't allow you the luxury of taking off that much time especially during one of your busiest times of the year. You had held out hope that Kid Harpoon and Harry could tie up all of the loose ends ahead of time, but clearly, that wasn't going to happen.

"I tried baby, I really did. There are just too many little things that need to get done here. I promise I'll try and make it back next week, we can have our own little Christmas together in London" he stated trying the lighten his crushing words. This was supposed to be your first Christmas as a married couple together so to say you were disappointed would be an understatement, but you knew that if you let Harry know he would be on the first flight out to London.

"It's ok, we both knew this could happen. I'm sure Anne and I will spend way too much time fussing over Adelaide to even notice you're not here" you replied back trying to lighten the mood a bit more by mentioning Gemma's adorable two-year-old daughter.

"Stop rubbing it in" he joked as Jeff called his name in the background. "I need to get back in before they all have my head for keeping them here past midnight again. I'll try and sneak another call later tonight if you're still up"

"So good, H. I love you"

"I love you too, (Y/n). See you soon" Harry replied back as he hung up. You closed your laptop and continued your quest to finish decorating your slightly distorted Christmas tree. Securing the lights onto the tree had somehow become the hardest part of decorating the tree, so while you were wrapped in a mess of bulbs and strings you didn't even notice Anne come in with two cups of hot chocolate.

"Oh dear let me give you a hand" Anne muttered as she placed the mugs on the coffee table before rushing to your side, delicately untangling you from the lights while placing each string perfectly in its place. You gave her a quick thanks before you walked over to the couch to admire your work.

"He texted me to check up on you, that crazy son of mine. Swear I love him, but sometimes he's got just no sense of priorities. Leaving his wife all alone for the holidays, just not right" Anne said as she passed you a mug and sat down next to you.

"I appreciate you belittling your son on my behave, but reset assured that I am ok. I'm sad we won't be able to spend our first Christmas together as a married couple, but I'm sure we'll have our own little Christmas once he gets back. Besides, I still get the full week off of work and I get to spend time with you and baby Adelaide for the next couple of days and it will be great!"

"Well if you ever need me to put him in his place you let me know, ok sweetheart? Can't have my favorite daughter-in-law feeling upset" she said as she wrapped her arms around you.

"Thanks, Anne" you replied as you gave her a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Anytime dear. Now quick, turn on channel Hollywood Gossip before Gemma shows up, she never lets me watch this show. I heard Lily James was spotted with an ex-boyfriend again"

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on some gossip and making lists of everything that still needed to be done before Christmas in two days. If there was one thing you were certain about, it was that you were going to make the most of your situation and try and have the best Christmas possible

**********

It was Christmas eve and you had spent the entire morning cooking and prepping for the large family meal you and Anne were hosting for Gemma and Michal and a couple of close friends. The two of you had been absolutely buzzing and Christmas tunes had been playing throughout the house since you both woke up bright and earlier at 7 am. You had scoured your suitcase for the perfect Christmas outfit but after spending 20 minutes trying on outfits in the and had settled for one of Harry's red cardigans and some dark washed jeans. The smell of the vanilla candle that smelt just like Harry that Anne had left in your room last night made you miss him even more as you finished getting yourself ready just in time to hear the doorbell ring downstairs.

You peeked out the window and saw Gemma and Michal standing at the door with little Adelaide at their feet and quickly ran to the door to greet them. Once you opened the front door a pair of small arms wrapped themselves around your legs as Adalaide screamed your name.

"Well hello, my sweet girl. I missed you so much! Did you miss me?" you asked as she nodded quickly. You picked her up carefully and smothered her face in kisses just as Anne came over to greet everyone. The five of you made your way out of the foyer and into the kitchen as Gemma wrapped her arms tightly around you and dragged you to the far end of the kitchen.

"Good afternoon my favorite sister. How is the married life treating you? Any surprises I should be worried about this Christmas?" she asked as she stole a Christmas cookie off of one of Anne's various dessert displays.

"It's been very nice, thank you. I don't think you'll be having any surprises from me this Christmas"

"Pitty I was hoping they be able to be in the same class as their cousin could go to school together," she said nonchalantly smirking at you as you stood there confused.

'What do you mean cousins? Adelaide already in day-care and I don't-- Oh my gosh Gemma are you -"

"Shh don't say it out loud, but yes. About eight weeks along, but we haven't told anyone yet. I'm telling you because last time I told you everything went well, so I think you're my good luck charm... and I need you to drink all of the shots Chloe tries to feed me tonight" She mumbled as you laugh and give her a big hug.

"Well congratulations Gem, I wish you both the best. Hey Adelaide, did you know what special person is going to be joining you really soon?" you asked the little girl in your arms as she played with the butterfly necklace Harry had gotten you for your second anniversary together.

"Santa"

"You're right baby Santa is coming tonight. Why don't you help me and Nana Anne finish decorating these last cookies before everyone gets here"

**********

The night was fantastic. After all of the guests had arrived, you all sat down to eat the wonderful roast Anne had been making all day. The room was filled with laughter and smiles as people recounted their most embarrassing Christmas stories. Your favorite was Michal's who as a child got so excited about seeing Santa at the mall that he actually peed on Santa's lap while telling him what he wanted for Christmas. Gemma discreetly slid her shot glass to you numerous times throughout the night and despite the questioning looks coming from Chloe, no one questioned Gemma's excuse of being the designated driver this year. Overall it was by far one of your favorite holiday meals to be a part of, you only wish Harry could have been there to share it with you.

"Me pants are about to explode, but does anyone fancy a little Christmas Eve stroll outside?" Michal asked as he cuddled a sleeping Adelaide to his chest.

There was a chorus of agreements and your large group slowly began to clean up their placemats and prepare themselves for the trek out in the snow. You helped Gemma load the dishwasher as Anne distributed Tupperware for everyone to take leftovers home with them before running upstairs to grab your winter jacket and boots. After everyone was all bundled up, you all headed outside into the snow, Gemma, and Michal leading the way as walked along the sidewalk. You watched the way Gemma placed a snowflake on Adelaide's nose and waited for the little girl to giggle before quickly wiping it off just to do it all over again. You continued to watch the interaction with a yearning in your heart at the thought of having your own kids with Harry and being able to take them on walks and show them ordinary things like snowflakes. Just as you had begun to drift off into your subconscious world Anne came up next to you and wrapped her arms with yours.

"That will be you someday, I can just feel it" Anne stated as she squeezed your hand tight. You gave her a small smile and nodded your head.

"I hope so. Just have to get your son to stay in one spot long enough" you joked as you rubbed your hands together for warmth.

"That man worships the grown you walk on, Love. If you tell him you want kids right now he'll drop everything"

"Hopefully when I get him back next week we can talk about it all a bit more" you replied as Anne nodded her head.

Your walk lasted about a half-hour until Adelaide began to cry saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You all preceded to head back into Anne's home for a bit to warm up before everyone would drive back to their respective homes to continue to celebrate their Christmases. Being the busy body that you were, you began to make tea for everyone in the hope of avoiding the dreaded interrogation about Harry and your's relationship that always came towards the end of these gatherings, but it never came. You think Anne must have warned them that you were feeling somewhat sad about Harry not being there because they managed to avoid the topic throughout the rest of the night. Just as the clock struck midnight everyone slowly began to say their goodbyes and exchanging any last-minute gifts that needed to be given. You helped Anne gather everyone's things and waved your last goodbyes before heading into the living room to relax a bit.

"I'm a bit wiped out dear so I think I'm going to head to bed early. Will you be ok here by yourself?" Anne asked cautiously as you scrolled through some pictures Harry had sent you the other day of him at the studio.

"Yes, I think I'll be ok. Have a good night Anne and thank you for a wonderful Christmas"

"No thanks needed dear, you're family now and always will be. I'll see you in the morning".

You waved a quick goodbye as Anne left upstairs to her room. The silence downstairs was only making your feelings of missing Harry worse so you decided to put on the TV and watch a Christmas movie to lift your spirits a bit as you cuddled Harry's picture to your chest. You know he was having Christmas Eve dinner with Jeff's family now and you didn't want to bother him so you decided that you would suck it up and wait until tomorrow to call him and tell him how much you really miss him. All you wanted this Christmas was to have him sitting next to you, sipping on a couple of hot chocolate and making fun of your weirdly patterned socks.

You hoped that flipping through the tv channels would help distract you but the minute you started channel surfing and Love Actually popped up on the screen in front of you, the waterworks began. You cried because you missed Harry. You cried because you didn't get to share all of your happy memories of today with him. You cried because you could cuddle him to sleep and wake up to his delicious scent. There you sat in his childhood home wrapped in a fuzzy blanket crying. You sobbed into the blanket as quietly as you could in the hopes of not waking up Anne and after what felt like an eternity, you finally fell asleep on the couch

*********

You were peacefully asleep on the couch until the sound of music blasting from the kitchen speaker startled you awake.

“I signed my letter that I sealed with a kiss I sent it off, and just said this...”

"Oh, fucking shit. Stupid fucking Tom calling me at..." you heard as a crash came from the kitchen.

You jumped from your curled up position on the couch and turned around to see where the noise was coming from. As you sank deeper into the couch hoping not to be seen, you saw a silhouette moving around the kitchen searching the drawers. Your pulse began to race as you start to run all of the potential ways in which this intruder could kill you right now. Just as you were about to reach for your phone to call 999, the intruder turned on the light and you saw a familiar head of curly hair.

"Jesus fucking christ Harry nearly gave me a heart attack" you stated as Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

The two of you stared at each other for a while before you finally processed what was going on. Harry was here. Harry had made it. He was here for Christmas. He came. You all but sprinted off of the couch and launched yourself at him, hearing release gasp as you latched on to his body like a koala.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack there, love" he stated as he wrapped his arms around you and ran his hands through your hair.

"I could say the same thing. Who comes home after midnight and doesn't say anything, especially when said person said many times that they weren't going to be to make it home"

"Wasn't supposed to be home but then mom said you looked upset after our call yesterday so I told Jeff I would finish the rest in the London studio and zoom call any last-minute details. Excited to have me home?" he asked with a smirk.

"No" you stated trying to hide your excitement.

"Come on Love, don't lie to me. I'm excited to be home. Get to spend Christmas with my beautiful, smart, kind, amazing wife. Get to shower her with gifts. Best Christmas ever"

"Definitely best Christmas ever" you mumbled back as you leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips after so long.

"I have one more surprise for you that I think you'll like" he stated as he broke away from the kiss.

"What" you whined as he laughed at you.

"Told Columbia that I'd make the record, but that I'm not releasing it till the end of next year. Want to settle down a bit more, gain more stability in case..." he trailed off as he cheeks turned pink.

"In case what?" you asked innocently even though you knew exactly what he was insinuating.

"In case you want to try for a baby like we talked about on our honeymoon. Said you wanted more stability from me before we started trying so this me giving you that. Don't want to pressure you or anything and this is your choice and I don't- "

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yes?" he questioned before you nodded your head and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Tears appeared in his eyes as he spun you around the kitchen. You laughed as he chanted "baby baby baby" quietly as to not wake Anne but the joy in his expression spoke volumes. You were both ready for this next chapter in your life and whatever happens next, as long as you were together, you knew everything would be ok.

“Hey babe” you whispered as Harry continued to cheer quielty.

“Yes, Love?”

“Is Britney Spears your ringtone?”

“Maybe... It’s festive!” he defended as you laughed

“Ok love, whatever you say”

Hope you all enjoyed and happy early Christmas to all who celebrate and a Happy Holidays everyone!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #Christmas #harry styles x fluff

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wincore · 3 years

Text

act iii, incomplete | ten

pairing: ten x reader

summary: it’s the same vivid dream every time — you, a feline constellation that keeps smiling at you and a boy who won’t ever forgive you. autumn, spring and everything in between come to save part of that but the truth is this: no amount of time spent at your small town theatre with your once best friend is going to speak the words for you.

alternatively,

best friends aren’t meant to be lovers and ten, despite the millions of roles he’s played, keeps trying for the one role he won’t ever get.

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, slight theatre au, reincarnation themes, fluff, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries, mentions of death

words: 23.9k

a/n: hello i’m so glad i actually completed this !!!!! i’ve never written something like this before !!! also longest fic let’s gooo ahaha special thank you to miss cat for reading this and making it at least infinity times better i am in indebted to u <3. playlist here.

part of the almost collab by @hyucksie !! (thank you for hosting this, it was lovely to be a part!!)

ACT I: HOMESICK

act i scene i.

For the first time in years, you hold your breath at the local theatre, the walls more and more debilitated each year. It’s the only place, perhaps, that is so vibrant in its dull shades. The key is memories. Memories keep you alive in a way death and life and sickness cannot interfere.

A single drum beat resounds through the theatre. A second one follows before a tune from a flute sets the mood. A voice speaks out, that of a woman, and it strikes you as somewhat sad. In that moment, you believe Ten would have pointed out to you that she is meant to do that, she is meant to play the part of someone sad. The curtains stare at you as undulating as a calm sea of red and you hold your breath.

This is a modern play and you’ve only kept up with them for the sake of watching Ten play a part in them. As for other plays, high school Shakespeare was the most formidable text you’ve ever read and you’d rather not fight for your life again.

“Has the world ever seen a woman’s love unrivalled?”

A projector displays a flower, peonies, on the curtains.

“She once fell sick, dreaming of a lover; and once sick, she grew worse. Love is not love at its fullest if one is not willing to die for it.”

You don’t think that’s quite right. The curtains are drawn right then, their velvet sheen accentuated under the bright theatre lights and two characters appear on stage.

Your first thought is that he’s grown far too much. The second is that he hasn’t changed much. Ten stands in the character of a play you haven’t finished reading yet, in clothes that accentuate his dancer’s figure and with the look of someone that isn’t him. You had tried to read the play earlier but you might have gotten a little too excited to complete it.

You bounce your legs in anticipation, the music and his voice fading out—it’s not like you can focus much with the high school kids giggling and making out in the seats right behind yours. You could always make a scene but it’s not like you to steal the spotlight away from your dearest friend. Besides, you need to reiterate through the list of things you have to help him catch up on since he’s been gone. Ten wouldn’t want to miss out on some spicy gossip. You chuckle to yourself, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool yourself.

Ten likes overwhelming responses. You like to be overwhelming. You’re the perfect pair.

The play ends in a way you can’t tell if it was a tragedy or a comedy. You could have if you paid more attention but this isn’t literature class. You can do whatever you want now and you’re a little preoccupied with your own thoughts. Ten. Your best friend is back from Broadway after a year of barely talking. You can’t wait to hear the stories.

You get up as soon as the lights are on but when no one else does, you sit back down. The curtains part now and the cast comes on for their final bow. You shift around to see if Ten is looking at you, the older people beside you grunting in annoyance and muttering something about the youth. He’s not but Sicheng is and when you send a wink his way, he shakes his head.

You pout at the lack of attention but it’s time to make your way backstage now. The crowd is exiting and you need to get there before Ten leaves.

Once outside, you make a beeline to the back of the theatre building and mess up Sicheng’s hair as he leaves for home.

“He’s inside,” he informs curtly and makes as much distance possible between the two of you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Sicheng,” you coo to annoy him. “You performed so well. Not as good as Ten though.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Were you even paying attention?”

You cross your arms and push him onto his track. He shrugs and you watch his figure disappear behind the corner before taking a deep breath. With anticipation, comes a little unrestrained droplet of anxiety. You shouldn’t be worried, you tell yourself. This is Ten, after all.

The crows sing a song to themselves under the purple evening sun and you feel annoyed at the sound. It’s a song for ghosts. You hate the sound of it.

You rub your temples, trying to hush away the headache. You can’t wait to see Ten.

You swing the door open in an attempt to sneak up on him. However, you take a few moments to see him barefaced, the stage makeup washed off and a red undertone running through his nose and cheeks. That dark mop of hair sticks out every which way, and no attempt has been made to rectify it. It was once your job, actually. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as he stuff his belongings into a worn-out satchel bag. You gave it to him when you skipped prom night. You smile.

“Ten!” you yell at the top of your lungs. You’ve missed him so much—an old greeting should warm him up. This town started feeling more like home once you heard the news Ten’s back.

He looks at you so cold that you stop dead in your tracks. You freeze up, the words suddenly collapsing into themselves like wilting flowers. You don’t recognize Ten all of a sudden. He wears a deep frown and empty eyes, something you cannot understand no matter what angle you look from. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? You truly understand what that means when you meet his eyes.

“Ten,” you repeat at a more respectable volume. “Hey. I… I missed—”

“Hey,” he responds a little too quickly. Eyes less sharp than usual, he averts his gaze. “I- I need to get home early.”

Ten grabs his bag and leaves the room, his shoulder brushing against yours. You stand there for a few extra moments, breaths shallow and quiet. When you regain the sound of your heartbeat, you leave the practice room, throat dry and a frustrated sigh on your lips. Consequences, every time it’s the consequences biting back.

The crows’ song goes unheard.

act i scene ii.

“So… you want me to get Ten to talk to you?”

Sicheng looks at you in disbelief, the ice cream in his hand starting to melt. You’ve never met anyone who enjoys ice cream in mid-autumn as much as he does. Sore throats are foreign to him.

You nod, crossing your arms. “I don’t know why he’s avoiding me.”

Sicheng scoffs, choking on the ice cream and taking a few moments to regain his composure.

“Thanks,” he says when you rub his back in pity. “But… you really don’t know why he’s avoiding you?”

You shake your head. It’s a lie. But the only thing you can think of is the summer he left, when he confessed his feelings and you rejected him after a few seconds of contemplation. You had good reason. You just can’t tell him that. You’re still young and there’s so much to look forward to.

"You obviously have feelings for him!"

"Yeah, anger! Why would he just ignore me like that? We've been friends for, uh…"

"Stop counting, you suck at math."

You punch his shoulder and his ice cream almost falls off. He looks at you with a glare so strong, you have to take a step back.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I thought we were like any other pair of best friends.”

Sicheng snorts. “Yeah, best friends in love with each other. Didn't you suggest getting married once?”

“As a joke,” you interject, feeling heat on your cheeks. “Actually, do you know how useful a marriage of convenience is? It's got convenience in the name. Think of all the tax benefits.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “The way you looked at each other wasn’t a joke—you know what? I’m not going to be the supporting act to your whole romance charade. You figure this out.”

You pout. “So you’re saying you won’t help?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. You won’t know if I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, groaning in exasperation. This was supposed to be a happy reunion and yet, you’re here moping to a theatre kid, hoping he helps you. You expected Ten to not take it well but right now, you wish you weren’t so blunt. You could have said it nicer.

You’re joking, right? Haha, nice one. Best friends don't fall in love.

Oh, this is all your fault. You knew him better than anyone else. You should’ve known the consequences too—you could scream right now. In your defense, you thought college made him lose a few brain cells. You still have to make it right.

“Fine. Whatever you might do, better do it soon.”

Sicheng shrugs, turning back to his ice cream and browsing lazily through one of the magazines. He’s supposed to be watching the store—he gets paid for it but he couldn’t care less about this place. Sicheng is something of a theatrical actor too, traveling around and performing with his theatre group. He never cared for Broadway as much as Ten did.

However, you’re all here now. This autumn is going to be spent with your best friends no matter the cost. You smile as you think of the time you and Ten surprised Sicheng with a whole bag of ice cream and he cried although most of it ended up melting. Sicheng raises an eyebrow at your expression but doesn't question.

“There’s a reunion party by the woods,” he announces. “Next week. Saturday. You have to make up before that. You know they’re going to be brutal.”

You shudder. Your classmates certainly won’t let go of the idea of your relationship with Ten. Teasing aside, they’re going to be making either one of you uncomfortable. All your excitement drains itself. Your shoulders slump and you think that perhaps, asking for forgiveness would be a better out. You recover quickly though. This has to work out, Ten has to be your best friend again—what choice do you have? You missed him and you’re going to let him know.

The first attempt begins right in the evening. Sicheng texts Ten after his shift, asking him to get some snacks. Lucky for you, you work at the local snack store, also called the convenience store. There’s nowhere better to get snacks. There’s also nowhere else to get snacks.

You stand behind the counter, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie while your eyes trail to the hands of the clock on the wall. Sicheng texted him half an hour ago. Ten might not be the most punctual but you know he listens to Sicheng, even if it’s reluctantly.

Your impatience gets the better of you and you leave the counter to peer out the glass door. Unfortunately, someone pushes open the door right then and you clutch your nose, eyes watering at the painful impact.

Ten looks petrified for a moment before turning around and leaving. You furrow your eyebrows, tears brimming from the pain in your nose and mixing into the exasperation from getting so bluntly ignored. Come on, Ten. You curse on your way back to the lonely counter. There goes the only thing you were looking forward to this evening. Sicheng walks in a while later, a sour look on his face.

“He actually gave me a mouthful,” he mutters angrily. “Can you believe that? Me. Who’s listened to all his lovesick ramblings about y—theatre.”

You slump onto the counter further, the bright orange background of the store more headache-inducing than optimistic.

“God, this is so much more difficult than I expected.”

“What happened between the two of you anyway? I thought you promised to call him every day.”

“I tried, okay? He wouldn’t pick up.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “Woah. Haven’t heard about that one.”

He places the single pack of Lays onto the counter. You get up to pull the chocolate ice cream from the cooler.

“Don’t bother. It’s so depressing getting shut out like this.”

Sicheng mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. It’s his complaining voice though, so you don’t question him.

“He’s going to be at the Bridge tomorrow,” Sicheng notifies. “Something about getting fresh early morning air. Now, there’s no way you can run into him and call it coincidence. So don’t do that.”

You cross your arms. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“I mean, if you’re accompanying Mr. Yang to the dahlia fields for flower shop business… that’s a different story.”

Your eyes brighten and you sit up. “You’re a genius!”

“I’ve been telling you guys since—”

You hug him and he chokes, almost dropping the Lays pack. The door opens and you hurriedly wave at Yangyang, who’s here for the next shift before running out the door in a hurricane of bad decisions and good intentions.

“I hate being the middleman,” Sicheng mutters to Yangyang who offers him a pitiful look. The evening returns to its pink skies and you race your feelings to your destination.

“Mr. Yang,” you whine. “You don’t need a single dahlia? I’m offering to help.”

The older man scratches his spotless white beard and looks at you in confusion. “I gathered a whole cartload just three days ago. There’s no way I need more. You know this place—no one buys flowers anymore.”

“I’ll buy them! A whole cartload.”

“And where will you get the money, child?”

“Uh.”

Mr. Yang shakes his head at your immaturity. “If you’re so eager, get me some chrysanthemums from Mrs. Leong’s sh—”

“No. It has to be from the other side of the Bridge,” you interject.

Mr. Yang is further perplexed but you’re glad he doesn’t ask further. Having to explain your love and friendship troubles to a senior citizen has never been an ideal situation. You make a face at the thought.

“Alright,” he says and takes a few moments to ponder. “You want an errand to run, right? Could you get me some sunflower seeds from Goodwin Park?”

“That far?”

He sighs. “Do you want to go or not?”

You nod reluctantly, checking your phone to see the time. It’s early as fuck and the only person you’d wake up this early for doesn’t even know you’re doing all this.

“It’s to feed the birds, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow.

Mr Yang nods.

“You know, you don’t have to do all that to get Mrs. Leong to notice you.” You offer him a cheeky grin.

“I’m assuming it’s also a person you’re doing all of this for,” he hums in reply.

You drop your grin and take the errand money, heat rising in your cheeks. Exiting quickly, you check the time again. Ten better not have left early.

Shortcuts are better when there’s someone with you, you decide. You have gained around five long scratches at five different places on your body trying to best the hill beside Maple Street in order to get to the Bridge faster. If Ten were here, he'd laugh at you for being so graceless.

The Bridge is empty when you arrive and you sigh deeply. You’re not sure if you’re early or he’s late or you’re astronomically late. The grass is still a golden green in colour, for autumn never truly comes in when you’re expecting it. The little stream below the Bridge is almost dried up but the wooden structure stays. You remember Sicheng broke his leg once, trying to catch Ten’s family cat pawing at fish in the stream when it used to be fuller.

You greet Mr. Santello at his garden and buy the sunflower seeds. Your errand is complete but the rising agitation in your chest makes you kick a rock on the way back to the Bridge. This side of the town is bleak except for the garden and the only fun you’ve had here is when a beehive dropped on Yukhei’s head (he poked at it himself with no provocation from your side whatsoever). The scenery is much prettier with someone to appreciate it. You, on the other hand, cannot wait to leave this town. You walk back with certain memories playing in your head, the smell of nostalgia rising with the sun. You’ve always hated early mornings; but you did have fun in them when you had to wake up for school trips. You hold your breath, stopping right before the beginning of the Bridge.

Ten leans against the wooden rails of the Bridge, Starmill Bridge, with eyes gently closed and white earphones plugged in. You smile to yourself. When the sunlight draws across his cheeks, he seems brighter than golden skies and softer than late afternoon clouds. You see the boy from your childhood, messy unbrushed hair and his favourite grey sweater. He’s so full of colour. You wouldn’t mind staring at him for as long as you can.

You take a step and your hoodie catches onto a stray nail, making you stumble onto the wooden floor of the Bridge. You look at your scattered boxes of sunflower seeds with horror but not before finding Ten plucking out his earphone to look at you. He’s so pretty even in a daze.

“Hi?” you offer. “I was on an errand, promise. Not stalking you and trying to get you to talk to me or anything. Hah.”

Ten shakes his head at you and quietly stares for a few more moments.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he answers finally. “Stop trying.”

You look at him with a flickering guilt though you’re not sure why. He sighs and walks toward you, frowning. He takes out the cloth of your hoodie stuck in the nail with tentative care. Gathering the boxes of sunflower seeds scattered on the floor, he glances at you once before getting up.

You grab his hand before he can walk away again.

“Ten,” you say, your voice coming off more pitiful than you would like.

He turns back at you with lips pursed and a sorrowful look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I need to work some things out.”

Ten leaves you hanging for a third time in your life and you pull yourself together enough to stand up. You can’t imagine—you don’t want to imagine how much longer this’ll go on. Ten used to be an amenable boy; it shouldn’t be taking this long.

Somewhere the wind comes tumbling in, whispering the words that everything has changed and everything is still changing.

The third and last attempt is outside his house. Ten’s mother is bound to notice you at some point, right? Considering you’re camping out like a homeless man from the nearby gas station, that is. You hope she’s out for grocery shopping and you can just pretend you were on your way home and ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. Being the kind soul she is, she’s going to invite you to dinner since it’s late already. And where else can you spend your time while she cooks but in Ten’s room? It’s perfect and there’s no way he can avoid this.

“(name)!” Ten’s sister yells in glee.

“Tern!” You smile at her.

“Mom’s sending me for grocery shopping. Do you wanna come help?”

You want to go inside the house but patience is quite possibly a virtue. You haven’t tried it out yet.

“Sure.” You grin. “I’ve got time to kill.”

So, you are aware that Ten’s sister tends to shoot off at the mouth with the right person but you somehow cannot get her to talk about Ten. Apart from his life in New York, that is, which you had hoped to hear from him.

“So… how come you’re not in our house already? No offense, it’s just you and Ten… you know.” She looks at you with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow.

Ten must be a really good actor. Not like you ever doubted him but for his sister to be so blissfully unaware, he must have put on quite the show. Either that, or he really has forgotten you. You try not to feed fire to that thought.

“Uh, you know, been busy with the snack shack. We’re redecorating. Mr. Kim is going to boil me alive if I slack off.”

She giggles at your expression. “I heard it from Yangyang. He said the redecorations are ugly though.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ten let you talk to Yangyang? A boy?”

She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh. “He can’t tell me how to live. Besides, he doesn’t care.”

You laugh. “Right. You have no idea how overprotective he can actually be. Older brother instincts or whatever.”

She suppresses a laugh. “And you must be facing the boyfriend instincts.”

You stammer out a response but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s alright to get laughed at, you suppose, if Tern is in fits beside you.

The rest of the conversation is about things less important. It would be rude to not engage though so you talk with enthusiasm all the way back. Part of you sees Ten in his sister. How terrible of you to see someone else in a person right beside you.

“(name)!”

Ten’s mother looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good evening, ma’am!” You curtsy in an exaggerated manner, and she laughs, patting your arm.

“How come it took you so long to visit? You hardly ever came over these few years, and I’m a little upset about that by the way, but I thought for sure, you’d be in the house the day Ten came back.”

You scratch the back of your head sheepishly. “You know. Work and stuff. Mr Kim is redecorating the store.”

She exhales in annoyance. “Is that man exploiting you children again?”

“I’m—uh… I’m an adult—”

“Hush,” she instructs, voice strict and you zip your mouth immediately. Never question a mother’s statement.

“Ten’s in his room, by the way. Should I call him?” she asks, after a minute of complaining about Mr. Kim, which you would have loved to join but there are other matters at hand. She has all the gossip in town and yet, she’s somehow blissfully unaware of the silence between her son and his best friend. Are you not as important? It makes you pout but you quickly neutralize your expression.

“Ten!” she shouts when you don’t respond, a little lost in your own thoughts.

“Uh—oh no, you don’t have to do that!” you say quickly. “I’ll just go to his room.”

You hurry up the stairs, just in time for Ten to open his bedroom door and jump back in fright.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, like the soul has been kicked straight out of his body. In any other situation, you would’ve loved to give him a scare.

You walk into the bedroom and lock the door behind you.

“Ten. We need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. You notice the change in his features—his hair has grown out, his face is more chiseled and he has an angry quirk to his brows. “I told you I need some space. You never know how to listen, fuck.”

His voice is a low whisper, in the short space between you. You don’t move from your spot, with your back against the wall and feet nervous. You shift from foot to foot and look him in the eye before looking away. You’ve never felt this way around him. You’ve never actually pissed him off this bad. You don’t know what to do.

“Just leave. God. I can’t believe you think you can just walk in!”

You frown at his words. “Ten. I just wanted to talk to you again. We’re friends—”

“How does it matter if we are? Everything’s changed. This whole place has changed. I’ve changed.”

“But… that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we’re strangers—”

“Leave. Please.”

His voice is so low and odd that you don’t recognize it anymore. You sigh. You can’t convince him when he’s so defensive. You open the door to his bedroom to find Ten’s mom and sister in the hallway trying very hard to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. You offer them a sad smile and thank his mother for the dinner before taking your leave. You feel too ridiculous to cry.

How do people put in all that effort in romantic comedies? You don't even know where to start. Maybe you should follow the King's advice from Alice in Wonderland.

Begin at the beginning and go on until you come to the end; then stop.

No. No, you can't be thinking of ending scenes right now. There's a much bigger problem at hand. Saturday. You better brace yourself for the unpredictability of former prom queens and class presidents, and the predictability of this small town that never changes.

act i scene iii.

High school reunion parties here aren’t exactly mawkish affairs. There’s alcohol, people who are meant to be adults but haven’t quite grown into it yet, the looming woods, and more alcohol. There's no room for sentimentalism when your former classmates, seniors and juniors—those who could be here, at least—are back together and it feels like nothing has changed at all. However, college-age boys always pose problems.

“Look, if Johnny can do it, so can I,” Yukhei tells you.

Johnny smacks his shoulder encouragingly, and a few of your friends giggle at the two lanky men, looking like they’ve discovered something priceless beside the campfire light.

“This beer tastes like crap,” you mutter before returning to a regular volume. “But go ahead and try chugging two bottles in under a minute if you want.”

Your backhanded statement backfires almost immediately because he does exactly as you said. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try not to peek at Ten, sitting beside Johnny and looking rather sleepy. It’s the bedhead, you think to yourself. It’s cute.

“Alright, who’s next?” Yukhei asks, voice booming enthusiastically.

Yeri sighs beside you, tired from the late night and not so much from the alcohol. Speaking of which, the alcohol table is somehow still stocked and Sicheng stands beside it, looking sour from being forced into guard duty.

“Tell him to pipe down,” Yeri mutters, pressing her forehead against your shoulder and you look at her apologetically.

“(name) hasn’t answered anything yet!” Sooyoung pipes up and you shoot her a look she ignores. “Neither has Ten, by the way.”

A bunch of “ooh”s pass through the crowd of roughly twenty people, and you would bury your face in your hands were it not for that stubborn pride of yours.

Truth or dare is quite possibly the worst game in the history of mankind. Ten looks somewhat flustered under the attention but he just sighs.

“Get it over with.” He looks at Yukhei expectantly.

“Kiss (name)!”

Your heart drops and you glare at Yukhei. You should have expected it. There is no one more unimaginative than drunk boys. His cheeks are flushed when he grins at you, encouraging you with a thumbs up gesture.

“He doesn’t have to do that.” You cross your arms. “Consent is important even in fun and games.”

The sentence is so didactic of you but you hope the seriousness in your voice makes him back off.

“But you guys are, like, in love with each other,” Yangyang blurts before covering mouth as if he said something scandalous.

A bunch of chuckles follow, though Johnny shows some concern towards Ten. You remember why you hate high school reunions now. Apart from the fact that almost everyone gets to tell their stories of big cities and big dreams they get to live in, everyone turns into a child again when at a reunion. Perhaps it’s the burst of memories or the vivid glow of old connections returning but you can’t stand childishness. Even if you’re the one to act like a child sometimes.

“I’m gonna go drink,” you say. “That’s the punishment, right? I’m not playing anymore.”

Yukhei groans. “Come on, (name). You wouldn’t be such a bore.”

“I would,” you snap and get up from your seat, Yeri muttering in annoyance before leaning onto Sooyoung’s shoulder.

Ten is glowing in the cheeks, you find when you look at him. He meets your eyes once and looks away, playing with his fingers.

You pour yourself some beer into a cup and lift it up to show to Yukhei before striding off to a place farther than the warmth of people and the campfire. The giant log is a nice enough seat by the edge of the woods. It is cold and mossy though, and you hug yourself, sticking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan.

The sound of footsteps over dried leaves catch your attention and you look up. Ten takes a seat beside you in silence. You move the cup of beer so that it doesn’t spill from any sudden movement. It’s quiet for even longer, your pulse the only rhythm to follow.

"Ten." You smile, looking away from him and into the ceaseless stretch of woods. He hums in response, as though a habit yet to get rid of. It makes you bite down your lip to prevent the smile from turning into something sadder.

You miss him. You miss the years you spent with him. You're drawn into him, into something old, familiar and safe.

No one can save you when you’re homesick.

However, you do not give up easily. What is broken can be mended with enough love and care.

Ten sighs, taking the cup from you right before it touches your lips. "Don't drink that. You hate the taste and it makes you go crazy."

You pout, but can't really find something snarky enough to say. Not when he looks like that—with dry, still-red lips and tired, apologetic eyes.

“Your forehead is so oily,” you mutter.

Ten looks at you, furrowing his eyebrows. He proceeds to hesitantly wipe at his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before shaking himself out of it. Instead he just glares at you.

“It’s not oilier than your nose,” he shoots, annoyed.

“At least my nose isn’t titan-sized.”

“My nose is perfect. Do you- do you know how many people fall in love with my perfect nose every day?”

You laugh, covering your face. His features soften and he returns his gaze to the comfort of the endless forest. It does have an end, at the fences by the railway tracks but in believing that something can be infinite, you find comfort.

"New York treated you well. Too well. But then again, you were always a narcissist."

You smile smugly at him and he gives you an unamused look.

"I'm… I'm glad we're talking," you offer after a few moments of unacknowledged silence.

He tenses ever so slightly, running a hand through his already messy hair and looks at you. He looks away again as if in an internal debate.

“You rejected me, (name),” he says, exasperated. “How do I recover from that? Don’t answer. It was so embarrassing.”

You close your mouth. If only you could tell him the truth. You had to reject him or your sentimental boy would never leave for acting opportunities. He doesn’t have to know that. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly.

But the truth is, it’s too scary to think about. You’ve been refusing to look at your feelings for a long time now. It’s only a cliche; it doesn't happen in real life. You’re too good of friends to be in love. Isn’t that right? It certainly couldn't have been you to fall in love with Ten. There were a million other people to do that in your stead. You feel shy all of a sudden.

“That was pretty embarrassing,” you mumble, pressing down your smile and he rolls his eyes.

After a few moments in silence, a sigh escapes his lips. “I’ve had enough time for closure though. I can’t believe I actually said that. Oh, the over-sentimentalism. Yikes.”

He makes a disgusted face.

You giggle. “I can’t believe it either. You do look cute blushing, by the way. You find any lover in the big, scary city? Any rebound?”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Too busy. And are you going to tease me forever about this thing?”

You laugh. “That’s the Ten I know. You’re always working. Sometimes you should have fun.”

“I have plenty of fun. You’re the one that used to cry at birthday parties.”

“I was six years old and it was one time, holy shit.”

The two of you break into laughter. The cold makes you draw nearer to him.

“Hey, wanna go to the mall this weekend?” you suggest.

“Wait, it’s still there? Wasn’t it supposed to get knocked down?”

“Yeah but the townsfolk didn’t want that so they delayed it. There’s, like, barely any employees though. It’s like a ghost mansion at night.”

Ten makes a face. “The afternoons there were so bright, like, there was so much sunlight, remember? I remember you always drinking my banana milk at the food plaza.”

You laugh. “I miss skipping class to go there. Now there aren’t any classes to skip.”

“Oh my god, remember when Mr. Wilson actually caught us?”

You laugh louder. “We had to pretend we weren’t his students. Which was futile acting because he knows every student.”

Ten sighs.

“I missed you. God, I’m so fucking sorry—I was in over my head. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Hey.” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too. Besides, it’s not you if you’re not being a bit of a drama queen.”

Ten elbows you in the side at the comment and you yelp, moving away and glaring at him in response.

“Just because I’m in theatre doesn’t mean I’m a drama queen.” He mocks the tone of your voice and you giggle.

“So any special Broadway stories you have in mind? I wanna hear something funny.” You rest your head on his shoulder comfortably.

"Well, one time this actress' dress caught on fire—"

"That's not funny, that's horrifying."

Ten purses his lips. “Okay. Uh… I got told to fuck off by an eighty year old man in drag after I threw raw steak at his window?”

You snort, eyes widening and Ten throws up his hands in exasperation. "How is that remotely funny?"

"I'm pretty sure that's as funny as it gets with you."

"I can't believe you're pretending I didn't carry our sense of humour on my back for all of middle school and high school."

“I missed you," you say quietly, and he flusters, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

You sigh, inching closer. "Yes. I did miss you, you know? I called."

"And I didn't pick up. I know. I'm sorry."

"I think you've apologized to me more times now than you have in our first twenty years of friendship."

Ten rolls his eyes. "And I mean it. It's not the 'sorry I ate your cookies' apology."

"I fucking knew you were the one eating stuff from my bag back in high school."

Ten presses his lips, making a zipping motion and you push him in exasperation. The two of you laugh, loud and clear, before Johnny's voice comes in, telling the two of you to "stop fooling around near the woods" and that it's "unhygienic".

Seasons change but people don't. You walk home with Ten for the first time in a year and suddenly, you’re in love with the idea that things can just lie in complete peace once they fall back into what was always meant to be. Perhaps it’s the writer’s utopia, but you think it’s much more meaningful this way. Ten's hoodie smells just like home.

prologue.

It was a sunlit morning when you first met Ten, but it was only a sunlit morning. There were no birds chirping or faceless adults on that sidewalk or even your friends because you don’t recall them. You recall a child with two very important teeth missing and your sudden urge to run to his side. You’d pulled his cheek with a huge grin on your face because, and you still stand by this, they were too cute and plump and red to resist.

You were three and a half years old when you met Ten and you parted when you were twenty. One year later, you're back to linking arms, joking about each other and talking about life as though it's a passing stream.

You were six years old when you cried at Ten's birthday party because no one was talking to him. It gave you an evening's worth of attention and a huge smile on Ten's face. You still think kids are mean as hell but they care for things like they have never cared before.

You were eleven years old when you started to lose a little bit of touch with yourself. You talked less, you looked at people more. Ten's face was still the most comforting out of all. He said he liked to listen no matter how annoying you sound. Somehow, by the time sixth grade was over, when you were almost twelve—you talked at least twice as much.

You were fourteen years old when you dated a boy out of curiosity and left on an awkward note when he moved away. You weren't sad for some reason. The idea of life passing meaninglessly by was engraved into you, like the waves that carve the beach. Ten was distant the whole time, with a scowl and more sarcastic remarks than usual, only warming up when you showed up at his door with a homemade cake. It tasted horrible and had the texture of a mossy pebble but you laughed over it anyway. Suddenly, life wasn't meandering but a river full of vigor in spring, beside a garden of fresh crested irises.

You were sixteen when you were pushed to audition in a play by your best friend. The play was about life and death and love, and it didn’t make sense to you the way it did to him. You had good fun backstage with the costumes and the makeup, and it was all that mattered to you. However, some part of you didn't like it, hated it even when he kissed the female lead of the play with eyes full of adoration. You looked on as Villager B and you hated every part of it.

When you were eighteen turning nineteen, you decided to save up for college. It would take time—years perhaps but you would get there. You would get an apartment with Ten in New York City or any city full of bustling, busy life and you would tend to your rooftop garden. Small town dreams, however, die and they die and they’re buried in unloved, unplanted soil.

You finally understood what your tenth grade English teacher meant when she said everything is theatre.

The night he left, you had a nightmare. It was a play and you were the protagonist. You couldn’t make it in time for the night of the performance, anxious and afraid as you arrived. You’d been replaced. You hated to see him on stage with someone else. You hated it. You hated it. You hated it so much.

Of course, you knew it would be a showstopper the moment that fight broke out between you and your replacement. You were cruel in that dream—almost as if you were someone else. But you felt comfortable in that skin, like you were meant to play that part after all. As if you were the villain all along and not the sweetheart of the show. You felt comfortable and it scared you so much that you woke in cold sweat and cried for an hour straight.

It hurt how lonely you felt. It hurt without Ten and you hate that you let him go. Something took shape inside the cavity of your chest, the shape of a weed sprouting in the pulsing garden of life—you won’t make the same mistake again. You’re going to hold on with all your might, till your hands ache and till your heart has had enough.

ACT II: YOUTH

act ii scene i.

“Have you ever actually shoplifted in your life?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ten tries to suppress his smile and fails, moving so that his back covers you from view instead. A conversation about New York subways led to a conversation about anarchy which led to… this. You’ve been trying to swipe the butterfly pin from the display for the past half an hour. You weren’t actually going to steal it—you just need to prove you can.

The mall is always eerily empty. It shouldn’t be this big of a hassle. Ah yes, apart from the fact that the souvenir shop has stationed the most number of employees for some goddamn reason. You’re not even sure why it’s there; a souvenir shop for your town might as well be a forgotten relic.

“What? No,” he says quickly. “I’m not doing that. Causing trouble is your thing.”

You snort. “Right. Because everything we got into trouble for was done completely by me.”

“That’s actually true.”

You elbow him, giving him your most offended look.

“You can’t be serious about never causing trouble. You broke Mrs. Leung’s famous ruler, remember? And you always stole your mom’s Halloween cupcakes. Those were for all of the theatre crew, by the way.”

“That doesn’t sound right, darling.”

When you look up at him with eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, you find him smiling in somewhat tranquil thought. It has been rather long.

“Yeah, I helped you way too much,” you respond, distastefully.

The two of you straighten at the cashier’s call. Responding that everything’s fine, Ten turns to you with a pointed look.

“If you’re going to do it, better do it before she gets suspicious.”

The hint in his eyes reminds you that he is indeed the devil you know, and you quickly pocket the little butterfly hairpin. This is not ethical in any way and even so, you feel the childish exhilaration. This is to prove a point to your dear friend.

“See?” you whisper to him, exiting the shop. “I could totally pull this off.”

“Not if I start screaming ‘thief!’”

“Did you ever get to play a villain at Broadway? It’s closest to your personality,” you jab.

He sends you a sardonic smile before sticking his tongue out. You should always beware a childish man and his childish smile. You never know if he’ll take you seriously. Ten is the absolute worst and you love him all the more for it.

“Are you actually not gonna pay for it?” he asks, tilting his head.

“And let all those proceeds go to our corrupt overlord mayor? Nuh-uh.”

Ten laughs. “We should go vandalize his campaign posters again.”

The mayor has had, you don’t know how many, little scandals accusing him of embezzlement and every time, he’s escaped easy as pie. All the things you can do with money and you decide to hoard more money; you will never understand people like him. Besides, you won’t have to worry about that any time soon.

“See? You’re the troublemaker. I can’t even vandalize good enough.”

“It’s not my fault you have zero artistic talent.”

You place your hands on your hips. “I’m sorry? I’m pretty sure I taught you how to paint.”

Ten rolls his eyes, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Yeah. You taught the whole class how to paint when you smacked Mr. Cheng with that paintbrush.”

You can’t help the laugh that comes to you, despite trying your best to hold a serious expression.

“You’re a disaster,” he adds, staring incredulously at your fit of laughter.

You look at him and start laughing again.

“Oh my god, what’s so funny? I wasn’t even trying to be funny.”

“Okay, emo boy,” you say, finally straightening and messing his hair.

“I was going to get a haircut.”

“Don’t. You look pretty.”

Ten hums, raising an eyebrow. “But I wanna look hot.”

“That’s going to take a lot of effort.”

Ten grabs you in a chokehold, messing your hair with his hands in the most obnoxious way possible. Finally able to loosen his grip on you, you look at him with your most fearsome glare. He has to stop treating you so gracelessly.

It’s not unusual for him to behave this way; in fact, you welcome it when he’s warm and much lovelier than the usual. But something feels amiss, something dangerous like the passage of time.

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d be talking much more about New York instead of our boring old town.”

He hums, eyes scanning the vicinity of the mall’s first floor. There’s an ice cream shop opposite to the souvenir shop, unvisited due its lack of variety in flavours, and a spacious marble floor with most of the shops closed for renovation. The other two floors are closed off completely but you’re sure that with enough effort, you could sneak in. The glass ceiling at the centre allows for sunlight to wash in as gentle waves, settling on your heads like golden crowns. There are little potted plants lining the walls to make the mall space look less dilapidated but it gives off the same effect as that of something abandoned, left alone and waiting.

“You want me to brag about it?” He addresses you with a slightly cocky grin.

You roll your eyes. “Never mind.”

The mayor wanted to turn this place into some sort of religious campus but you detest the idea of that man getting his way. He’s the very same man to reprimand little girls for their outfits and to say “dancing is not manly” so you do owe his nauseating sexism for your distaste for him. That, and he has absolutely no sense of aesthetics. You would die before you let him remove the gardens or the livelier buildings blessed with the only colours you can bear to look at.

“Hey, (name)?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Angry Cashier is making her way towards you.”

You snap your head to the souvenir shop and the cashier is indeed eyeing you suspiciously. You reach to pat your pocket but you’re stopped by Ten.

“You are, by far, the stupidest thief I’ve ever known.”

You puff your cheeks in annoyance, crossing your arms instead. Just when you think the cashier is going to call you out, the two of you sprint over to the mall exit with a plausible enough speed.

“We didn’t have to run, you know?” Ten complains as soon as you’re out and a street or two away.

“What’s the fun in committing a crime if we don’t get to run?”

“I don’t know, it could be a brain exercise—oh wait. You don’t have one.”

You stick your tongue out at him, walking faster to get away from him.

“Hey!”

He jogs up to you, eyebrows furrowed and ready to spit some sass at you, no doubt.

“I thought you’d be more athletic. Dancing and all.”

“Yeah, no.”

You fix the hair in front of his eyes as he leans over on his knees, a look in his eyes as though caught off guard. They’re a lovely shade of honey, his eyes. They look at you with emotions you can't quite fathom and with the innocence of a love borne between friends who have been forced to endure the mediocrity of this town together. It’s a good reason, you believe, to be friends. Friends are meant to help each other, to save each other and to be there at the lowest. You can check all the boxes. It might have been a while but you’re friends and friends that grow up together stay together. The idea is naive but you cannot possibly look into a future without Ten. There must be a reason behind everything that is given to you. Even right now, as the silence starts to nip at you, you believe you were meant to make full circle. Fate is a funny thing and you wouldn’t believe in it ever, even for a surprise twenty dollar bill vending machine miracle, but it’s comforting enough to let settle on the two of you.

The lead actors go hand in hand.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? I know I’m tragically beautiful—”

“No, you’re beautifully tragic. Your face, that is.”

“I stopped listening after beautiful, so I believe you agreed with me there.”

You roll your eyes.

“You and your unyielding confidence can go fuck itself. I’ve seen you cry over a cat movie.”

Ten sputters out a response. “But- but Garfield saved that dog despite every fiber of his being telling him not to. He could’ve lived a happy, peaceful life but he saved him. How is that not incredibly touching?”

“You’re weird. Garfield’s cute though.”

“Like me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What are we, twelve?”

“I was having my rebellious punk phase then, so no. I would never have said that when I was twelve.”

You laugh. “God, you looked so funny back then.”

“I thought we agreed to not bring up stuff from our teenage years.”

You press your lips together in an attempt to stop the laugh but a tiny giggle comes out anyway. The sun is going to set in an hour. You better make use of your time.

“Ready to go vandalize some posters?” you ask, grinning.

“You know what? I have a better idea. We should go pick some flowers.”

You blink at him. “That’s not remotely punk or rebellious.”

“Shh. You like picking flowers. Remember how we used to joke you should be hired at weddings instead of the flower girls?”

You make a face. “Why on earth would I fling flowers in the air at weddings? That’s not even a respectable job.”

“It suits you.”

“We should be kinder to our arboreal friends.” You cross your arms. “I’d rather tend to a garden than pick flowers for stupid occasions.”

“Tree-hugger.”

You pull up your middle finger and he laughs, fixing his hair right back into the messy waves.

“Why do you hate weddings?” he asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, you know. Icky stuff.”

“No one’s having sex at the wedding.”

“That’s not what I meant by icky stuff. It’s that gross feeling in the air. What’s it called?”

“Love?”

“Please, there’s hardly any love at weddings. It’s all pretend.”

Ten rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think all the brides and bridegrooms in the world are pretending at their own weddings?”

“If you say it like that…” You grumble. “I don’t believe you need to celebrate love, that’s all. It’s always there, you know?”

You look up to see Ten pressing his fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing and scoff in disbelief.

“What’s so funny? Seriously, stop laughing—oh for fuck’s sake.”

Soon enough, Ten is crouching by the sidewalk in a fit of laughter which causes a hot flush rising over your neck. You weren’t trying to be cheesy. Now, your best friend is hellbent on making you feel embarrassed.

“It wasn’t that cringe. Come on. Get up, asshole.”

“You were- you were just so—” He takes a moment to catch his breath, a few short laughs erupting from him nonetheless. “You looked so serious when you said that.”

Your face is hot enough for you to look away now. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“It was cute. You looked really cute,” he continues, somewhat sobered up. “And brave. You always say things with so much confidence that it’s brave. I’m glad you are the way you are.”

You look at him, slightly dazed before your cheeks puff up to prevent yourself from laughing.

“I regret saying that. You are the big, hideous regret of my life.”

“I thought I was cute?” Your snickers turn into laughter again.

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks, Ten. You’re really good to me.”

Ten shakes his head before walking away, leaving you to call after him in phrases of ‘wait up!’ and ‘when did you get so fast?’ as you try to catch up. You sometimes wonder if he likes being chased. You reach the busiest crossing in this town, with about four cars waiting at the stop sign. You’re not sure why anyone follows the traffic rules if there isn’t even any traffic.

Looking up, you gasp at the moon peeking over a still young sky. You're suddenly reminded of those afternoon naps you had in Ten’s room, the both of you fascinated by the idea of waking up and seeing the sky a whole different colour. The idea that time changes everything was still fresh in your minds then, the impact gentle if not loving. It’s quite late you found that time can steal just as much as it gives.

“Remember when we dyed your hair red?”

“I will, and I shit you not, physically assault you for saying anything about that.”

You laugh at the memory of his awkward hairdo. “No, the other time. When we were seventeen.”

“Oh yeah, I received like eight love letters for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He did look pretty, and just in time for Valentine’s day’s theme of red roses and nauseating pink hearts.

“I have proof.” Ten leans his elbow against the street lamp, missing it completely and stumbling backwards till he regains his balance. He gives you an impish smile, running a hand through his hair and breathing out.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words. “I think we never took pictures of that.”

“So… what are you suggesting?”

“One good picture,” you answer, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of him off guard. Looking at it, you pout. It’s so unfair that he gets to look nice even in a hazy evening picture.

Ten rolls his eyes, snatching your phone. “Let me show you how to take good pictures. Not whatever crap you have going on.”

You cross your arms, huffing but agree nonetheless when he forces you to pose by the street light. He blabbers on something about composition and colours that goes straight over your head but you can’t deny that the picture came out ridiculously well. You might have to change all your socials with a new profile picture.

“See? You can thank me with a kiss,” he says, a cheeky smile across his face.

You press your lips to his cheek in a swift motion, a smack sound resounding from it. It was uncalled for, you think, because Ten freezes for a few seconds in an uncharacteristic manner. He shakes his head, a scream dying in his throat before turning to you with the most scandalized look.

“Oh my god, what did you do that for?” he says, rubbing at his cheek in a teasing manner.

You wrap your arms around him, furthering his protests although he ends up smiling wide. “You asked for it, honey.”

“Nicknames are my thing. Stop trying to copy me, it’s embarrassing.”

"Okay, now let's take a picture together," you suggest pulling him closer.

He clicks his tongue and takes the phone from you, and when his hand rests upon the small of your back, you try to freeze up. His face is near yours, not unlike the usual but you feel your heartbeat hike up. It's a strange feeling.

"Now, can we go home?" Ten asks, handing you your phone. "I can't believe your background is rilakkuma."

"I'll change it," you respond, voice strangely quiet. You're only half smiling but Ten's smile is full and bright, eyes honey-pure. "To us."

Ten hums in satisfaction and offers his hand like a gentleman from another century, something you tend to exaggerate and you take it with a laugh. The two of you walk with entangled arms and playful skips over the pavement, getting the same old looks from passersby as you did as children and teenagers. The traffic lights glow a gentle hue below the mature blue evening sky, fading easily. You realize as gently as waves lapping at the shore that you missed Ten so bad it still hurts in the hole he left.

act ii scene ii.

Any weekend in a boring little town of flowers starts with the news of parties. It used to be Johnny sending invites but now it’s mostly just Yukhei calling people for impromptu college parties. Now, you are aware that college parties are horrendous in every shape and form; you are also aware that the two hour car ride to the city college isn’t safe. But it’s easy to ignore hackneyed advice to stay away from parties and alcohol and weed when you’re young and have a ridiculously large group of friends.

The drive isn’t the worst part. At least the drive to the party isn’t; the drive back is usually too hazed to be memorable. Sicheng’s driving this time and with a lot of grumbling but he gets enough pitiful pats to the back and cheek to stop it. Ten has his feet up on the dashboard, having called shotgun before you by one fucking second. You’re stuck with Sooyoung and Johnny in the backseat, sandwiched uncomfortably at that, but you lean forward enough to nag Ten the whole time.

“(name),” Sooyoung calls in a sing-song voice. “Your overly affectionate looks for Ten are showing and it’s not even eleven yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows, stammering out a response and regretting it immediately. “You’re- You’ve been teasing me about this forever.”

“No, she’s right,” Johnny joins in. “Come on, there isn’t even alcohol involved. Yet.”

You roll your eyes, shrinking into yourself as the two of them laugh on either side of you. Sicheng says something along the lines of ‘nauseating’ and ‘idiotic’ but he gets an elbow jab from Ten.

“I’m driving,” he hisses.

“Into every sidewalk we come across?” Ten shoots back.

Another bout of laughter rings through, and this time you can smile too. It’s not that you’re particularly bothered by the teasing; it’s just uncharted territories you have no desire to chart. You always thought you’d meet Prince Charming on a balcony in a summer evening, and this is optional, but it should happen with ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift playing in the background. It’s quite inane to assume it would be your best friend, whom you have spent countless summer evenings listening to old Taylor Swift songs with.

Before you were aware of college house parties, you thought things like these would be more of a less-people-more-booze sort of situation. Turns out, the alcohol to people ratio is nearly the same. Stumbling out of the entrance to the frat house, Yukhei greets the lot of you with a dazed smile before promptly throwing up into the bushes. Rolling your eyes, you pat his back while Sooyoung gets some water from her purse.

“How many drinks was it this time, Yukhei?” Ten teases. “Half? Three-quarters? No wait, that’s a stretch.”

“Very funny,” Yukhei mutters, somehow still upbeat despite his continuous retching. “I bet you’d be drunk after a shot of whatever the hell I had too.”

Adjusting his jacket, Ten narrows his eyes at Yukhei with an incredulous look. “Okay, you’re on. Let’s go.”

Sicheng raises his hands alarmed, but Ten has disappeared into the swarms of people before any sound can leave him.

“He was supposed to drive on the way back,” Sicheng complains. He opens his mouth in sudden realization and then turns to you. You look from him to Johnny and Sooyoung who share a look and walk briskly into the party with a thumbs-up gesture.

“Oh. Oh no,” you say.

“No, yes,” Sicheng responds.

You shake your head and laugh before sprinting inside, Sicheng’s yells of protest fading out.

Yukhei wasn’t kidding when he said his frat hosts the craziest parties. There’s far too many people here, at least far too many for Ten to have fun. You like the energy of the crowd though, all in their own zones and dancing to old party pop songs. The smell of alcohol hits you so strong at first that you have to take a breather in the little garden space they have. It’s more of an overgrown shrubbery instead of a garden but any green will do. Walking back in, you feel much more comfortable when you take a shot of vodka from a girl passed out on the couch. Laughing, you look around for familiar faces. Parties, however, are not the place to look for faces at all. You think you just spotted a fur neck warmer tied around a dude’s waist while he performs some Neanderthal variant of belly dancing.

You bump into a guy of fairly tall stature, a polite apology tumbling from his lips.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle in amusement. “You’re not a party kind of guy, are you?”

He stares at you with a placid expression, intrigued. “And how would you know?”

“First, you’re not drunk. Two, you look grossed out by those dudes on the bar table. Three, you’re making conversation with me instead of dancing.”

“So you’re saying I can’t make conversation and dance at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Mister, but you look like you’d rather not dance at all.”

He laughs. “That’s your way of saying I have a stick up my ass, isn’t it?”

You shrug, giving him your friendliest smile. “I prefer talking to drinking too. What’s your name? I need to know the name of the only sober guy in here.”

“Doyoung,” he answers. “Something tells me you’re not going to give me the same pleasure of knowing your name.”

You smile, pressing your index finger to your lips. “Names at parties are better left unknown.”

Something about him is inherently attractive, and you find yourself drawing nearer. Perhaps you could have a more fun night this way. “It’s much more fun to guess. Now, I’m guessing your party-loving best friend dragged you in here so you could get laid.”

He sighs, smiling at you. “I’m actually part of the frat.”

You gasp, hand covering your mouth. “No way.”

“Someone sober has to oversee whatever the hell’s going on here.” He shrugs. “Now, and this isn’t a guess, but you’re not from our college.”

“Nope. I’m from that little flower town nearby.”

“Ah, I heard there’s a lovely dahlia field there.”

You nod. “And me. Just as lovely.”

You bite your tongue. That was certainly not sexy enough flirting. Ten has been rubbing off on you with his lame comebacks. Doyoung, however, laughs really loud at that. He must have a worse sense of humour than you thought.

You turn sharply at the sound of your name. Ten seems to be waving at you from a table of beer pong, looking rather distressed. You wave back with a bothered look on your face, aggressively signaling for him to handle his shit alone. He pouts and signals more desperately for you to come. Sighing, you turn to Doyoung.

“Sorry,” you say. “My friend seems to be in a pinch. Either that or he’s attention starved again in a record time of eight minutes.”

Doyoung laughs. “I liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you too, plot twist.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Doyoung smiles at you. "Ah, I tend to forget but someone always comes along and shows me how friendships are made."

With one last smile, you leave him and walk halfway through to Ten before realizing you forgot to ask for Doyoung’s number. It’s too late to turn back now for the crowd blocks your version and you begrudgingly make your way to Ten. So much for your fun night.

“What was so important that you had to pull me away from the only attractive dude in this party?” you say, crossing your arms.

“Who, Doyoung?” he asks. “I’m at least six times hotter. And anyway, help me win this.”

You roll your eyes. If Ten knows Doyoung, you can somehow finagle your way into getting his number.

“I suck at this game,” Ten mutters. “How the hell is it supposed to hit its mark when the cup is so far away?”

“You have shitty aim,” you say, taking the ping pong ball and throwing it right into the cup. Smirking at the dude who’s already wasted on the other side, you turn back to Ten.

“That’s how you play.”

“Maybe you just have magic hands. Kiss my balls for good luck—wait, fuck, I didn’t mean that.”

You throw your head back and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. Sometimes Ten forgets to think before he opens his mouth and it might be surprising, but he does think before most things he says. He’s always been careful in the subtlest ways.

“I hate this game,” Ten says after missing the cup again.

“Let me teach you,” you say, moving behind him and taking his hand holding the ball. He stiffens before letting you guide the angle of projection as you throw. It lands right in despite the wobbly beginning and you grin at him.

“I’m so done with this party,” he whispers, hands on his hips and stretching much like a cat after a nap.

You giggle. “I didn’t drink enough to forget everything that’s ever hurt me though.”

“You’re hurt?” he asks, before clearing his throat. “If you wanna stay, I’ll stay too.”

“I’m not a child, you know?” you say, smiling incredulously. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I don’t need you talking to any more Doyoungs. You know his body count?”

“That guy?” you ask, jaw dropping.

“It’s not that much actually,” Ten continues, smiling deviously. “More than what you expect from a guy in law though. You can shut your jaw.”

You huff. “How do you know though? Did you sleep with him?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “I would rather eat your baking than sleep with him.”

“Hey.”

Right then, the two of you are approached by a now-sober Yukhei. He must have vomited enough alcohol out of his system by now. Johnny stays beside him with mild worry across his features. Sicheng on the other hand looks like his social battery has drained out already.

“It’s time for a drinking game!” Yukhei tells the two of you. “With the… uh… not so drunk people.”

“So just the five of us? Where’s Sooyoung?”

“Doting over Yeri,” Johnny answers.

“Ah.”

“Let’s play something if you guys actually want me to stay and not die of boredom,” Sicheng mumbles in annoyance.

"Truth or drink?" Yukhei suggests.

"Hell no," you mutter. "I've had enough of that."

"What, no dare this time," he insists with a wide smile and arms outstretched.

You hum. "What are you curious about anyway? I know you wanna know something."

Yukhei scratches the back of his head before glancing at Ten. "Well… have you two ever… I don't know, experimented with each other? Like you're best friends, right, so no hard feelings."

Ten furrows his brows, a gaze that's somewhere between a glare and a confused look.

"Experiment…?" He asks, almost afraid to.

"In bed," says Yukhei bluntly.

Ten turns a few shades darker in the face, noticeable even under the multi-colored party lights. You, on the other hand, pray your stunned expression isn't mistaken for the embarrassment you feel. You're not sure why the feeling arises.

"(Name) wishes," Ten jokes, playing it off.

You roll your eyes. "You wish, asshole."

Yukhei pulls a face and raises a hand to interrupt. "Please don't start another lover's quarrel."

Sicheng snickers at the side, although you thought he wasn't listening. How on earth does this joke not get old to them?

"Anyway, my question is answered," Yukhei says. "Best friends who are in love with each other cannot sleep together but friends who are not… they can right?"

Sicheng hums in response, a teasing smile already on his lips. Ten groans and places his hand to the back of Sicheng's neck, almost threatening.

"What would you know about sex, Sicheng?" He bickers. "You're like virgin supreme."

You narrow your eyes. "And what would you know?"

Ten opens his mouth then closes it promptly. Sicheng and Yukhei on the other hand break into laughter, mentioning something about digging graves before taking their leave from the two of you. You really don't think either of them should be drinking—considering Yukhei's a lightweight and Sicheng is supposed to drive.

Ten smacks the back of your head and you yelp, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"I was trying to help us there," he complains. "You're so unfun."

You mimic his statement and he tries to pinch you in the cheeks, which you expertly avoid.

"So tell me," you say. "Have you or have you not had sex?"

Ten sighs. "Okay, yeah fine. Guilty. Whatever."

"What happened to no flings in New York?"

"Didn't feel like telling you."

"Oh, I'm so hurt."

The two of you look at each other and burst into laughter, easy to forget the scores of people around you in the moment.

“So you definitely had a few flings in New York,” you say, crossing your arms with a smug smile.

“Like three, yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “What does it matter?”

Some part of you is satisfied with the way he doesn’t look too interested. It’s the ridiculous part of you. The clementine light over his features make them seem even gentler than usual and you smile, pressing the back of your hand to his cheek.

“Wha—”

“Mhm. Your cheeks are so warm.”

“Oh, so now I’m your personal heater.”

Ten places his hand over yours and your heartbeat hikes, and so easily too when he looks at you with his honey eyes.

“You know what, you’re right. This party’s getting boring.” You look around, as though pretending will help you any better. But then again if Shakespeare was onto something and all the world's a stage, then you never stop pretending, right?

Ten looks at you for a suggestion and the moment pauses, contemplation on both of your faces.

“Let’s just get Sicheng to drive us back,” you say finally. It’s not like you can stray too far for fear of Sicheng leaving behind the two of you (he’s done that before).

Sicheng jumps at the idea of going back and all of you have to participate in dragging drunk Sooyoung into the car and away from a slightly worn out Yeri. Thanking you and fixing her disheveled hair, she walks back into her own corner to what seems to be aggressively coding on her laptop and flipping the finger to any dude who approaches her. When work calls, you simply cannot hang up.

You and Ten are forced to sit together in the backseat now for Johnny sits shotgun, massaging his forehead from whatever hellsent concoction he made for himself and his friends. The drive is mostly quiet and you lay your head on Ten’s shoulder while Sooyoung snores beside you. It’s quiet like the laps of water between ripples. It feels so secure to stay like this, like the world cannot interrupt. You’ve missed your best friend. You’ve missed him so much.

You and Ten part ways with the others at the crossing and you don’t skip over the path as you used to, with the jovial youth you contained then. No, your steps are slower and perhaps more mature but still in pace with Ten’s just as ever. A cat waits by the entrance to your door, the same calico that has won over your mother’s heart and now waits patiently for treats. In a way, you kept feeding it because you thought of Ten whenever you did.

It seems these days, the only way to get kisses from Ten is to be a cat. He pets the cat with tender strokes and presses his face to its forehead with no fear of cat-borne diseases.

“Hey, Ten. What about me?” You pucker your lips at him and he presses his palm to your lips instead, snickering.

In these short moments, moments that barely last, do you feel the three years he’s been gone. It’s funny how people change and never realize they do. It’s funny how you’re in awe of every person he becomes.

“I missed your rooftop the most in New York,” Ten says.

You chuckle. “You hid there when your mom was mad at you.”

“Do you know how many slippers your rooftop has saved me from? I think your rooftop is more of a best friend to me than you are.”

You place your hand over your heart in mock hurt and he shakes his head, grinning.

“Well, let’s prove I’m more worthy of the best friend title then,” you say, grabbing his hand, the skin so soft to you, and dragging him into your house in quiet tiptoes. You remember coming up here back when you pretended to be pirates, when you acted out Shakespeare and when you wanted to forget the world, the terrible, cruel world you found yourself hating often. This is your hiding spot, a safe place. Ten makes it more so.

Lying down against the rooftop, you trace the sky from star to star. The good thing about small, dimly lit towns is the clear view of the stars. So far from troubles, it must be easy to play the audience.

“That looks a little like Felis,” Ten says, taking your hand and tracing a particular arrangement of the stars.

“Is that a… cat?”

“Yeah. It’s not a constellation anymore,” he tells you. “But I like to think it is.”

“I wish things never end too,” you mumble. “Like Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Or that new Taylor Swift song. I wish some things went on forever.”

Ten laughs airily. “I wish too.”

You turn to look at him. The curve of his nose is pretty as ever, eyelashes hanging close to the skin of his cheeks as he breathes with eyes closed. There’s a significant number of words you haven’t exchanged yet. There’s so many words you’re holding back.

“You seem tired,” you note.

He hums in response.

“Was New York that hard?”

He opens his eyes to look at you. “A little… tiring, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you can rest now.” You smile and he returns it.

“I’ve been running for so long and telling myself I’m still dancing,” he says, a sigh escaping afterwards. “I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“You’re with me,” you respond. “Right here. On my rooftop.”

“Watching the stars again,” he completes, laughing aloud. “God, I wish we were kids again. All I cared about were the flavour of my cereal and how many constellations I could memorize.”

“The stars don’t give a shit about you, Ten,” you tease, repeating the line you used to tell him.

“The stars might not give a shit about us,” he agrees, “But that’s why I’d like to watch them a little longer.”

“Me too,” you say softly.

You take a deep breath and let it out. These are the moments between the bloom of a flower and when it is picked. These moments are serene and warm and gentle, however ephemeral they may be. These are the moments between the flapping of a butterfly's wings—times when you and Ten fell asleep in detention in fifth grade for something that was very much your fault, or when he pets your head with the biggest grin after pissing you off on purpose or the proximity of the baby blue sky after your latest shopping mall mischief. But the flower will be picked someday. To live is to live in fear, and no matter how you try to buzz out the idea of it, it will come and it will prove itself.

“Sometimes I wish I were an angrier person,” you say quietly.

“What for?”

“They just seem so much more driven.”

“You’re driven enough. I think you do everything right already.”

“Working at plant nurseries, maybe. I’m not even a good enough cashier.”

“Flowers suit you.”

“You know, I could spend my life picking flowers and arranging them if I could,” you say, sitting up. “Everything moves so fast that the garden’s gone by the time I get to smell the flowers. You get me?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I wish time could stop. Sometimes it does. When I’m on stage.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s very beautiful,” he whispers, eyes fixed on you.

It's quiet, the sounds of the night filling the space between you and him.

"You know, in dance," he starts, "the most powerful thing you can be is still. It's also the most difficult."

You hum in response. "I find it easy to be still with you though. It's like I don't have to perform anymore, you know?"

Ten laughs. "I know. I wish I could say that about my ambitions."

You place your palms against his cheeks, holding his face gently. You're not sure if it's because you're a little tipsy or Ten's lips that are driving you crazy, but you smile wide.

"You are like a flower," you begin rather wisely. "And spring hasn't arrived yet."

Ten blinks before snorting and then laughing like you just said the stupidest thing ever.

The downside to getting along like a house on fire is that the house is still on fire and you don’t know what to do about it. Your heart is burning and you want to tell him the words you’re holding back. But if they escape your mouth, the wind might carry it away and leave you with a heavy response. You can’t say anything yet. Not until you’ve mustered enough courage to leave this town behind with him. Not until you have enough financial confidence to fall in love.

“Hey, Ten.”

“Hm? Don’t ask me something stupid and ruin the night.”

You giggle. “Will you stay with me wherever I am?”

“A little overdue but yes, until death do us part.”

The two of you laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes brimming with an unsaid emotion. This is how you fall in love. You fall in love like flowers blossoming and withering, like you have only each other to withstand the test of time.

“Should we dance?” Ten offers. “This time, maybe you’ll finally learn to not step on my feet.”

“That just makes me want to step on your feet more.”

It's so easy to fall in love that you fall asleep to the feeling—like the nights after you watched cartoons well past bedtime and thought that Ten was the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, after reading illicit internet horror stories in seventh grade that only made you huddle closer, after creating a pillow fort in the name of memories the night of your graduation when you couldn't say out loud that Ten really is the prettiest boy you know. The feeling slips in like you slip on your night clothes and you forget they were ever off at all. Comfort is a fleeting thing but in that moment, it felt forever.

act ii scene iii.

Halloween is undoubtedly the greatest time to spend with friends. There’s spooky stories shared, an abundance of favourite candies and if you happen to be friends with theatre kids, there’s most certainly a fun play going on. The crisp autumn air is vaguely nostalgic, brimming with memories in this town.

Evening creeps in and once you’re done with the day’s chores, you get dressed with such speed that your mother has to convince you to slow down. It’s like you’re a kid again, and you'd like to enjoy this morsel of your childhood before you're forced to grow up.

Greeting Ten’s mother as you rush into the house, you run up the stairs and into Ten’s room, opening the door with a loud bang. Somehow, Ten’s scream is louder than that. He’s wearing a towel around his waist (only a towel), hands covering his chest with a horrified look on his face.

"Stop screaming," you say, hands on your hips. "We've seen each other naked, what's the big deal? Actually, do that pitch again, you sound like Meryl Streep from Mamma Mia."

Ten chokes, covering his mouth with his knuckles while he coughs.

"We were like four and a half! How does that count?"

You giggle, turning around. "Change. Quick."

"I mean, you can see if you like, darling," he calls, liltingly. "I know you can't resist me. Ugh. Can't stand all this pining from a friend."

You make a gagging sound and he laughs. It seems like he’s gotten over the initial shock of you barging in. The sound of the wardrobe opening and Ten shuffling through clothes follows. You are glad, however, that he can't see the look on your face. You must be looking ridiculous. You wonder if he can see how tense your shoulders and torso are. This is not the way you wanted to start the evening. Can he tell apart the distinct nervousness in your voice? It's suddenly difficult to play it cool. And isn't playing it cool something you do in front of a crush?

You catch a glimpse of his naked back and it makes you shake your head violently to get rid of the thought. How ridiculous. You can’t be lovers yet.

“Alright, you can turn around. What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

"Say hello to the wicked witch of the West!" You exclaim, grinning ear to ear when you jump around.

"Oh, you don't have to dress up for that."

Your smile turns into a pout and you pull hard at his still-soft cheeks. He lets out a pained whine, grabbing your wrists and gently tugging them off. His skin turns red easily, however, and you're left with an image of rosy-cheeked Ten just like when you first met.

“You’re a demon spawn,” he hisses, rubbing his sore cheek.

“No, that’s definitely your thing. Can’t borrow that,” you say, crossing your arms and smiling smugly. “Why aren’t you dressed as one? Actually, why aren’t you dressed as anything?”

Ten shrugs. “I have to wear some ridiculous ghost outfit for the play so I decided I’d rather play the part of a sexy pirate ghost.”

You snort, looking at the half-buttoned white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. “You? A ghost? A poltergeist is the word you’re looking for.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “If I were a ghost, I’d definitely haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, ghost boy, let’s get going.” You loop your arms through his and pull him out, leaving in just as much a whirlwind as you walked in. You do walk back in though—to stuff a few of the cookies Ten’s mom baked in your mouth and walk right out with a muffled ‘thank you’ and your hand still around Ten’s wrist.

Arriving at the theatre, Ten catches his breath though he tries to not look worn out before squinting and making a show of searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“The train you thought we were going to miss.”

You stick your tongue out and finally let go of his hand. He pulls it to himself, rubbing at his wrist with an exaggerated look of pain.

“Oh, it’s still intact. Thought I’d have to bid farewell to my dreams of being a professional calligrapher.”

“Eat ink, Ten.”

“Ooh, it’s the rare PG-13 (name). Nice.”

A loud bang emanates from the back entrance, Sicheng looking like a rather mortified Count Dracula (which is strange because Dracula is immortal, right?) with fake blood splattered across his jaw and two little fangs poking out. Ten no wastes no time in complimenting them, making Sicheng rather flustered.

“It was bad enough having to listen to your flirting through the door,” Sicheng mutters. “Get in. Quick. Sooyoung pulled out and we need someone to fill in.”

Your eyes light up and Sicheng is about to deny your wishes when Ten intervenes.

“(name). You get to play a slightly deranged witch with a most definitely existing bloodlust. You in?”

“You bet I am! I was born ready. Except in sixth grade when I had that meh phase and I wasn’t born ready. Then I was born ready again!”

Sicheng makes a face. “Yeah sure, just get in.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m dressed for the occasion?”

“Not really, no.”

Ten whistles when he walks in. “How much fake blood did you guys get?”

“Enough to re-enact Red Wedding from Game of Thrones,” Johnny answers from a corner, in a costume which you can’t tell if it’s a werewolf or just a fursuit. You can never seem to guess when it comes to Johnny.

Ten laughs before turning to you, the sound tuning out. “I have never watched Game of Thrones.”

You pat his shoulder, laughing. In the next moment, Sicheng pushes a script towards you, expecting you to actually read.

“Sicheng, you know I’m going to improvise.”

Sicheng groans. “Shakespeare was right. Hell is empty and all the demons are here.”

Throwing a pointed glare at you when he says the word ‘demons’, he crosses his arms. It’s easy to convince him though—he’s quite amenable when he’s stressed out about details and both you and Ten know he just needs some reassurance and good, gentle shove.

You and Ten sit on either side of him on a really, really worn out couch that you’re not sure can hold the weight of the three of you.

Sicheng holds up his hands in both of your faces before you can open your mouth.

“I feel like the child of a really immature couple who is forced to grow up at a tender age because his parents are so immature.”

“Uh,” Ten starts. “That’s very specific.”

“The character I’m playing has daddy issues,” Sicheng responds casually, and a little out of it. “Actually he’s got mommy issues too. Why am I playing an eight year old?”

“Because children are crap at acting,” Ten answers and you reach your arm to smack the back of his head.

“What? Ow, that hurt.”

“Sicheng, it’s our stupid Halloween play. We do it to have fun,” you say, placing your hand

“You going all motherly is freaking me out,” Sicheng says, wide eyes staring at you.

“You’re right,” you say, dramatically sighing. “Motherhood changed me. I can’t do evil black magic anymore. Aha! That’s a good dialogue, isn’t it?”

“Harrowing, actually, but I guess that’s what you’re going for.”

You and Ten share a fond smile, laughing to yourselves till Joohyun calls you and gives you basic stage direction. She’s almost never home except for Halloween and it makes the holiday even more exceptional.

“Ready, Wicked Witch of the West?” Ten nudges you before he has to go on stage.

“Wait, is that actually my character?”

“No. No, it isn’t. For the love of cats—the animal, not the musical—please just keep speaking and make it worse on stage. I need a recording to laugh at.”

You roll your eyes and push him on. He looks so at peace there, the conversation from that night coursing in remembrance. It’s like everything is still, the lack of motion driving him to move.

You never understand it yourself, however, when you’re on stage. You blabber like an idiot, as Ten says, and the audience laughs and that is it. You don’t experience what he does and it sometimes drives you a little crazy. Of course, you adding a pregnancy narrative to your witch does throw the rest of the cast for a loop but they handle it well. You just have to make sure you run as fast as you can from Joohyun after the play is done.

“Good job there,” Ten snickers after you duck behind a curtain as Joohyun passes by with furrowed brows and a frown.

“I know right? I’m literally Oscar-worthy,” you whisper-yell and Ten shakes his head.

“Come on.” This time his hand grips your wrist. “I know the best way to sneak out of this theatre.”

Taking a flight of stairs that you were previously unaware of, you plunge into the darkness of what seems to be an attic. Ten turns on the flashlight of his phone and you yelp, the lighting not helping his already spooky makeup. He laughs before navigating through a bunch of boxes.

“I heard they used to use this room as an execution chamber,” Ten whispers.

“They did not. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay fine. I did cry here though after reading an internet article about ill-fated lovers in ancient Asia.”

“Ugh. Truly horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Emotions terrify you.”

“They do not.”

Ten stops walking.

“Oh yeah? Got any proof?”

You stop yourself before you can do something embarrassing. The first thought that came to you was to kiss the smug look off his face and it does terrify you. The bastard is right.

“I… cried at your birthday party.”

“You were six. Everyone cries when they’re six.”

“Alright, fine. I cried after you left.”

The silence makes you look up and for once, you don’t really want Ten to be so speechless. You punch his shoulder lightly.

“I missed you a lot,” you say quietly. “Is that so surprising?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

“Hello? Anyone inside?” You knock at his forehead before holding his face between your face. “You’re shivering. It’s pretty cold here.”

“I’m not cold,” he says quickly, the red rising in his face.

“Of course, you’re cold. Your cheeks are aflame, that’s how cold it is.”

Ten shuts off the flashlight and you scream at the abrupt darkness.

“It’s not from the cold,” he mumbles.

Now left with only Ten’s warm hand around your wrist, you let him guide through wherever the hell it is you are before emerging onto the second floor of 1075 Building.

“What the hell?” You gasp. “Why wasn’t I aware there was a secret passage here? Is this what archaeologists feel like? ”

Ten smiles, in some sort of victory. “You don’t know a lot of things.”

You walk into the empty room, or rather wiggle in through the window—this building used to be some sort of housing apartment before being torn down halfway for renovation. Some ghost stories spooked the workers too much to continue. However, having been here long enough, you know that the only thing haunting this place is the abundance of cats. In fact, you can see a few eyeing the two of you from the other windowsills. The room is fairly well-lit and maintained so you guess the renovation will start again soon.

“You got us pizza?” you exclaim at the pizza boxes and cans of cola resting over a little picnic blanket.

“Yes, I did. Wait, crap, I forgot the candy.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” You show him the Reese’s peanut butter cups and Snickers you had pocketed from some unsuspecting children. They get way too many anyway. This is completely morally justified—you’re doing this to save them from cavities and poor health.

“I can’t believe you’d ever want to escape a theatre,” you say before humming at how good the pizza tastes. Pizza is always better when you’re having it someplace you’re not supposed to be in.

“Sometimes, it’s suffocating.” He finally bites into his pizza, an unreadable look over him. You don’t like it. Shifting closer so that your knees touch, you lean in a little.

“Oh, really? After all that talk about how beautiful it is.”

“It is. It just wears me out sometimes. Like you.”

Ten flushes red immediately. “I didn’t mean it—I, I… uh.”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful.”

“Gah, I knew you’d say that.”

There’s a pause.

“I got kicked out, actually,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I had some disagreements with the writers and… and here I am.”

You look at him in stunned silence. “They did fucking what? I’m going to kill them.”

“No, (name). I was at fault. I overstepped. I guess city air made me a little greedy.”

“You were always greedy though.”

“If that’s your example of sympathy, you are horrible at it. Never try again.”

“Well.” You smile reassuringly. “You’re quite beautiful on stage. Too. Like me, as you said.”

“I’m a performer,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he leans in. “You can’t beat me at that.”

“Then put on a show for me, darling.” You raise an eyebrow, a cocky smile over your lips.

Ten’s cheeks colour. It’s silent for a few moments and you take notice of the lack of distance between your noses, your lips. He seems to lose touch with reality when he gently cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. A soft gasp escapes you, not quite ready for the contact.

Ten pulls apart immediately, a look of horror in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry… I got caught in the—I’m sorry.”

He gets up abruptly and you still sit there in shock. When your senses are back, the room is empty and you hug yourself, feeling colder. God, you’re an idiot. For the first time in your life, you’ve come to your senses and you decide to let the only person you’ve loved walk out the door.

Your texts to him that night aren’t even left on read but you know he’s read the notifications. He always does when he’s avoiding someone. You feel the weight slithering in, pinning you down and making it hard to sleep that night. You have so many things you want to say to him and this time, you’re ready. Even if fate doesn’t let you, you will speak the lines you should have chosen much earlier.

act ii scene iv.

You don’t have anyone to show it to but the news broke you.

The idea of him keeping it all to himself, bearing burdens that are better shared makes your heart collapse its walls into itself. You’re supposed to be there. You were supposed to be there from every pitfall to the top of the world. You were supposed to be at every stage, at every afterparty and for every bout of performance high. You didn’t mean to leave the seat empty.

You were supposed to be there at every rejection and every failure, making fun of all the troubles.

You get a text from Ten two mornings later to meet up at the new cafe everyone’s been talking about. It takes you the rest of the morning to practise what you’ll say, what you won’t and how you’ll say it. You’ve never done this much for actual plays. But you’re not acting—you just need the words to come out right.

The wall of the cafe is covered in ivy, but you cannot waste time admiring it. Your nerves have the best of you. You stop at the entrance, backtracking to say your entire speech in your head once again. The most important friendship of your life depends on this stupid monologue you came up with a night before in front of the mirror.

“(name).”

You jump, finding Ten behind you. His nose is a little red from the cold but he looks fine apart from that. You can’t believe you’re early. This might be the first time in your life and you breathe out, slightly more confident.

“Can you… uh, not block the door?”

“Right. Sorry.”

The two of you walk in, a nervous tremble over your fingers but you clasp your hands together tight. He still remembers your favourite drink and you take a moment to try and understand why it’s surprising at all. You wish he never left.

“Ten,” you begin. “If you want to talk about that kiss—”

“Stop. I’m sorry. That was so out of line.” He lets out a distressed sigh, leaning back in the chair.

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” you say quickly. That was not in the speech.

He sits up. “I… Am I taking things too seriously? You’ve been my longest friend, (name). You should tell me.”

You frown. “I didn’t mean it in a harsh way. You just think it’s bad because you kissed your best friend and—”

“No. What do you think?”

You gulp.

“See, (name)? I lied because it fucking hurts right now. I don’t want to play this part.”

“No, Ten. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many things but there’s the city, your job—oh. I- I don’t mean to bring it up if the wound is still fresh. Ten—”

“You don’t understand,” he cuts. “You’ve always been happy here. You’re happy wherever. I’m not… like… that.”

There’s a pause. You pull your jacket closer, the temperature dropping despite the smell of warm baked goods and hit coffee.

“I thought you knew me,” you whisper coldly.

Ten looks away. “I don’t. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about anything.”

You breathe sharply. “Ten, I know the city was tough but it’s all you ever wanted.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he whispers. “I don’t know where I belong and- and it just keeps getting harder.”

Your eyes soften. “At least, you were there at Broadway. You took the first step and maybe… maybe you can make a priority list, you know? Work things out.”

“(name), stop. You keep trying to cheer me up in the wrong way.” He dips his face into his palms, rubbing at it and sighing.

You purse your lips. This conversation is going nowhere and you’re holding onto the last shred of your empathy. You just want him back with you.

“You got to go out there, Ten. You went to college, you went to New York. You got to go out there and live your dreams, for whatever it was worth, while I’m stuck in this nothing town. Forever.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” he says, voice breaking. “You were saving up for college. We would live in the same city, in the same apartment with the cats and the hot pink curtains and a coffee maker—oh god, I’ve ruined it.”

It’s painful. You don’t know what to say. If this were a movie, the beautiful, romantic kind, you’d be confessing your long-kept feelings. But you don’t know. You don’t know anything about anything. It’s been a year and he’s changed in a way you don’t know and you can’t throw it onto him like this. This isn’t a movie, and you don’t have a script. Your practised words are forgotten as soon as they reach the tip of your tongue.

People change, and you’re holding onto someone he’s already buried. He’s not in love with you; teenage love is shaky, wobbly at the foundation. He misses the years, not you. You’ve known him your whole life and yet a year’s difference makes you see things differently. You were lonely without him. You were lonely when you had to keep yourself from calling him, when you finally decided to stop sending daily texts, when you couldn’t find the same comfort in any of your other friends. You hurt him and now, you have to face it.

You pick wilting flowers at an overgrown garden.

No, even if it isn’t you, you want him. You want him and him only, the years be damned. The past pales in comparison to what is now.

“I’m in love with you,” you blurt. “I was just shocked last night because I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

“You’re not in love with me,” he counters. “You’ve been in love with so many people but none of them were me.”

“You. It’s you—oh my god, it was always you.”

Ten glances at his untouched cup, yet undecided on what to do with his fingers when they stop tapping against the bright red plastic table abruptly.

“So what? So what if it was me? I don’t know what it’s like to play that part.”

You breathe out. There’s a silence between the two of you, one which you remember hanging stars upon. Now it's quiet in a way that has nothing to do with astronomy, or art, or music or anything, really. It’s empty. Like every other silence.

“I loved you,” you whisper in an attempt that is more delirious than for closure. “Do you really not know what that’s like?”

Ten shakes his head. “I… I don’t.”

The memories of him smiling under the sun, only memories keep your tears from brimming up. There was meant to be closure. There was meant to be an explanation. You were supposed to be closing that door you opened into each other. Ten looks at your shaking hands and for a moment, you think he might even reach out and warm them up with his sunlit ones. You press them to your face and breathe into them.

“You brought me all the way here to lie to me?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m not lying—I can’t care about you. You know that, right? I’ll ruin your life. Like I’ve ruined mine.”

You laugh, partly in exasperation and partly as an attempt to alleviate the pain in your chest.

“You’re my boy. I know you better than anything else I know.”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Don’t make me want something more.”

"Why would you kiss me?" You bite down your lip to stop yourself from crying.

Ten seems at a loss for words, looking at you with parted lips and guilty eyes.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

With your eyes downcast, you take a shaky breath. It's now or never. Never, never, never. The word chimes like wedding bells and you think for a moment, to lie. If you pretend, if you act, you'll live it out. He cannot stay and you cannot leave. What a ridiculous pair you are.

You squeeze your eyes shut, get up and lean over the table to place a kiss against Ten's mouth. You pull away with reluctance, looking at the quiet surprise in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I got… I got caught in the moment."

Ten stares at you soundlessly, mouth moving and yet no words come out. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair before placing his hand on your cheek and leans in again. There's a red flush over his cheeks and it makes you feel at ease.

"I didn't want to hold you back," you say after parting. "Or at least, that's what I told myself. But this year without you has been so painful."

Ten doesn't say anything.

"I… I didn't know what I felt and- and I was so scared… I didn't mean to hurt you. I hate that I did."

“I was afraid,” he says, breathing out like he was holding it in. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t care if I came back.”

Time treats everything poorly. This time, you’ll try your best to win against it. Ten breaks into a wide, relieved smile and you laugh, rubbing at the tears that collected. God, you were so afraid you wouldn't ever be able to talk to each other anymore. Every room you’ve been in without Ten has been so empty that you had stopped opening doors at all. The coffee is hot and tastes better than ever.

You dream of something as ridiculous as the love you feel for Ten.

There's a cat in the sky, made of stars and with a booming, deep voice—and you, you are little and insignificant on a forgotten rooftop. It is serene, in quiet contemplation, and you are looking at it like a neglected child at its mother. You ask something without words and it responds without words.

All of sudden, the image disappears and you find yourself in a garden, picking flowers. The clothes you wear are not yours, the face you wear is not yours. But Ten, you'd recognise him anywhere, any time, in another lifetime.

You could see the clear distinction between the two of you however. You wore robes of royalty, the auspicious gold embroidery glistening, and he, that of a performing artist in quiet sage green. The blue irises that grew around you paid no heed to your colours and you had the thought that you should be like them. Vivid, smiling and never alone.

Ten greets you with a smile first and then stretches out his arms. You run to him, with enough force to knock the two of you onto the soft, grassy ground. No one will find the two of you here, in this flower bed. You remember thinking that royalty puts on just as much a show as theatre actors.

You didn't have to remember all of it to know that the story was a tragedy, carefully crafted by divine writers and painters. It was cruel, as is every writer's hand. You see him last under a beautiful sunset before an execution, the words ‘please’ on his lips and no hint of resentment in his smile. It was unlike him. It was so unlike him.

You hug yourself. He shouldn’t have forgiven you so easily. It takes you a few moments to come back to your senses; this is not you. That person in your dreams wasn’t you—why did you have to feel all that pain? That person in your dream watched their lover die—no, let their lover die as though discarding a messed up sketch. Cruel. It was so cruel.

The burning idea sprouts in your mind that it was the original script. That perhaps you were cruel and he was not and it’s been that way since forever. That if you don’t do something about it, you’ll be the villain once more. It's as scary to be young as it is lively—and not for once, did you ever think that villains were children too.

ACT III: HAPPINESS

act iii scene i.

If the world were to end tomorrow, Ten would spend tonight dancing with you. He says it so easily that you forget to tease him about it.

“Not like that,” he instructs, eyebrows furrowed. “Do this.”

“I am doing this.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“No, you’re not—holy shit, your arms are made of lead.”

You punch him in the shoulder and he stumbles, losing his balance. He sits down on his bed, leaning back on his arms and laughs. You join him and sit down on the fuzzy rug. He gets off immediately to sit beside you.

“I mean, you’re not that bad,” he says with a shrug.

You mimic his statement, rolling your eyes and he attacks your side with an unannounced bout of tickling. The last time you did this, you were a foot shorter and no high school dating rumours were flying around. The last time you did this, you didn’t end up kissing, limbs entangled with each other. December feels like June.

Ten pulls away from you, hovering over to kiss you once again before kissing turns into giggling which turns into laughter.

“I like this," you say quietly.

"Kissing me?" He asks with a sly grin.

"It's actually a little disappointing. Thought you'd be a ten at kissing."

"Atrocious. Disgusting. Vile. Never say that to me again."

You stick your tongue out at him and he does the same, the afternoon torpor settling in heavy as you cuddle into each other. It’s nostalgic almost but at the same time, so very new. You want to talk to him for hours and hours but when the hours end, it never feels enough. An ending is what you despise. Your thoughts meander.

“I had a nightmare,” you confess suddenly.

There’s a very brief pause. Before Ten even says anything, his arms reach out, pulling you into him. It’s warm and you smile.

“Was it your own face you saw?”

“Fuck you. You ruined the moment.”

“We were having a moment?”

You elbow him in the gut and he lets out a grunt of pain, the two of you moving away from each other just to glare. Ten caves first, sliding closer to you and placing his palm against your cheek.

“Can we resume our moment?” he asks, eyes crinkling when he smiles.

You press your forehead to his, your breathing in perfect coordination. This feels easy. This feels right. You pull away and look at him, the silence encasing your moment with him.

“I saw you in it. I… I lost you in it.” You bite your lower lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey. It was just a bad dream. I’m right here.” Ten draws closer, his breath mingling with yours and the warmth seeps into you just enough to forget the cold night.

“You know what would cheer me up from a nightmare?” You nudge him.

“If you say visiting the graveyard—god, fuck, you’re gonna say visiting the graveyard. My suggestion is that you see a therapist.”

“I would if I had the money,” you retort.

Ten shrugs before furrowing his eyebrows. “Are we actually going to the graveyard? You know there are like graves there.”

“That’s… why it’s called a graveyard.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you failed seventh grade English.”

“You failed sixth grade math, Ten. Sixth grade. They teach you like fractions and shit then.”

“Do I look like I need to add three-fourths and one-eighths ever in my life?”

You shake your head before getting up with a burst of energy, and pick up your jacket from his bed.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” You start to chant at Ten until he reluctantly gets up. The sun is quite far from setting down yet and everyone knows the perfect time to visit a grave is twilight. Maybe the stone will give your life enough perspective to ease your anxious thoughts.

The town cemetery is located by the bed of dahlias which have withered in the seasonal cycle of life and death. There’s a light breeze and your jacket is just enough to withstand it. The sky is orange and pink and the graveyard doesn’t seem as looming as it does in the dead of night (which you know because you’ve visited at two in the morning on a stupid bet with Johnny and somehow Ten was the one scared shitless). You’ve heard stories of the soldiers who were buried here, the women who led the first revolution and everyone else who never got to grace history books. You’ve never enjoyed history much but you can’t gainsay that it puts everything into perspective.

Nothing else matters at the wedding altar and at the grave.

Ten makes a face at the iron gates of the cemetery. “Okay. We’ve had our adventure. Can we please go get our evening snacks?”

“I love it when you’re antsy, Ten.”

He gives you a sardonic smile. “And I like it better when we’re in my bedroom.”

You gasp dramatically, placing your hand in front of your mouth lightly. “That’s quite scandalous of you, good sir.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I consider myself something of a modern man, you see?”

You skip over the steps to the gates and do a curtsy before gesturing to the entrance. He complies with a sigh of reluctance and lets you take his hand as you pull him in.

A loud voice startles the two of you and Ten smacks his mouth before he can scream and embarrass himself.

“What business do you have here, trespassers?” The voice echoes through the graveyard.

You look around at the trees and squint at what seems to be some children wearing masks and giggling to themselves. You roll your eyes. Johnny told you some of the town kids were mucking about near the graveyard to spook passersby.

“You really should get back home for dinner, kids,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Silence, trespasser! You will answer our questions to pass.”

Ten bites back a laugh. “Alright, kids. Shoot.”

“Are the two of you criminals married?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “Do we look that old?”

“Okay! Next question. Did the two of you ever… do it?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

Ten groans. “You can say sex, you know? Don’t be pussies.”

You elbow him in the side and he yelps.

“Those are kids,” you whisper.

“I think they’re old enough if they’re asking,” he whispers back.

“No,” you answer the same time he answers “Yes”.

“What?” You look at him in surprise.

He shrugs, somewhat guilty. “New York,” he responds in a meek voice. “You know?”

You snicker before it turns to laughter. “Why do you look like that? It’s not a crime to have sex—how the fuck did you even get some though?”

“It’s called having sex appeal. Ever heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to say something when one of the kids clears his throat.

“Okay! You may pass.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You really just the wanted to ask us about sex, didn’t you?”

“Let’s go, boys!” The kid declares before stopping abruptly. “And girl.”

A group of kids emerges from behind the trees and flock to a hole in the stone wall, laughing amongst themselves as they run out.

“Wow. Kids these days, huh?” Ten says.

“When we were their age, we convinced Yukhei to poke a beehive.”

“Okay, we were asshole kids but no one ever really told us bees were deadly.”

You walk further into the graveyard, beelining towards the same graves you visit often. They’re unnamed but they died sometime in the nineteenth century. Time passes in a way that is hard to comprehend—all these people and stories are never remembered and time is the only witness. Perspective is a luxury to those who have the time to look.

“Why do you like coming here?” Ten asks quietly, eyeing the gravestones with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“For perspective,” you answer truthfully.

He hums, a somewhat understanding note in his voice.

“They only lived for twenty-four years,” you note.

“The world ends too soon sometimes.”

“Kind of sucks.”

“Really sucks.”

The wind is cold when it passes the two of you by. Ten shivers and zips his jacket before checking up on you, fixing your jacket to cover you better.

“When I leave this place, I hope I have a nice farewell,” you whisper.

Ten raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you want it to be an awful, everyone’s-crying sort of affair?”

“No,” you respond, giving him a confused look.

“I want at least one person to be crying,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“That’s kind of—wait a minute.” You glare at him. “You don’t have to use that against me. I wasn’t crying crying.”

“I’m not! I mean it. Like, I want to mean something to someone.”

You draw near enough to link your arms, sighing at the warmth emanating.

“And you’re lying. I know you sobbed right into the pillow like a dramatic ass Disney princess.”

“You’re the one with a flair for drama.” You chuckle.

Ten makes a reluctant sound of agreement, crossing his arms. As he looks at the graves, there’s an expression on his face you can’t quite fathom. It could be mourning—but the graves are nameless, or it could be pity—but he believes that pity is not a positive emotion to feel. You want to ask but something keeps you from it. Something tells you that the answer won’t be pleasant for either of you.

“I hope I cry too,” he whispers. “When I leave and the curtain falls and the world ends.”

You look at him, pondering.

“When I leave,” he begins again, “I want it to hurt. When everything changes, I want it to hurt bad. Then I know it meant something.”

You slip your hand into his and squeeze. “If it means anything, you know I’ll cry if you leave.”

Ten laughs. “Yeah. So when you cried, was it the ugly snot cry or the silently sobbing kind of cry?”

“Fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to retort but gets a full kiss on the mouth instead, good enough to make him forget it. It’s a nice thing to get used to. If time permits, you could do everything together forever.

You return at twilight, grabbing some snacks and arguing whose Netflix account to use and the sun sets before you come to an agreement but it’s not winter anymore inside his room. In fact, it doesn’t feel like winter at all till you look outside and see the naked trees and darker skies, and you remember when you decided last year that you don’t like winter.

Before you can have a change of heart, you turn to him with sparkling eyes.

He smiles before you even say anything, reading your face as easily as the back of his hand. “You have good news? Or, like, a gift?” Chuckling in breaks, he runs his fingers through your hair.

“I just wanted to talk about our future.”

“Hm?” He seems a little surprised.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out for the both of us. I have faith in you. And in us.”

Ten’s smile falters but he doesn’t let it fall. “I’m glad you do.”

His ringtone startles the two of you just as you lean in, Ten muttering curses at the device. Pausing for a bit when he takes out his phone, he signals you that he needs a minute and leaves you alone in his room.

Nothing much has changed. There's his cluttered ash wood desk with sketchbooks of varying sizes and colours, shelves with small plushies and, you notice carefully, the butterfly pin you stole. Beside it is the panda soft toy you had found at the side of the road walking back from school and felt so bad, you had "adopted" it. You let out a chuckle.

“Ten?” you call, holding the little panda soft toy.

Ten paces outside his room, speaking in a hush. His features are tense, shoulders stiff and eyes focused when he talks to the caller. Noticing you, his eyes soften for a bit and he makes his way towards you.

“I’ll- I’ll talk to you later,” he speaks sharply into the phone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, walking up to him.

“Sicheng,” he replies briskly.

“Oh.” You remember the doll in your hand and pick it up to show him. “Remember how we got this?”

He smiles but something is amiss in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

Whatever it is, it must not be important. After all, he’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything. Morning will come and everything will be alright.

The night is cold and the moon is missing. The clothes you wear are not your own once again. This dream begins when the sun has just set and you can taste bitter defeat, but of what battle you don’t know yet.

All you know is that there is a war and you are caught in the crossfire. It hurts; you can’t feel your limbs anymore and another injury won’t matter anymore. Maybe this is the only life you won in.

No one dies in a way that matters. No one dies for anything at all. It just happens and that is a truth lying within the reach of the universe. Yet then again, when you find your last breath escaping you as you hold hands with the love of your life, you think there must be some meaning to it. You’re only twenty-four and you will be buried in a nameless grave for a war that was the fault of neither of you.

It dawns on you the moment you wake up, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. The universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, until there is nothing left to be remembered.

All you can think then is that you will miss Ten in the next life, and in the next and the next.

act iii scene ii.

Ten has to tell you. He knows. He knows how the story ends.

But he’s afraid. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking facing forward till he’d turned around just to find you gone. New York was fun and he made new friends but it’s difficult to be anywhere without you. You’ve been attached at the hip for so long, it’s become strange to be apart.

Ten thinks about the call. The director was very particular about his role and chances come by as rare as diamonds. Ten breathes out heavy in annoyance, covering his eyes with his forearm. He loves sunny winter mornings and this is the worst one he’s ever experienced. He can hear his mom cooking downstairs, the sound soothing and he groans, running his fingers through his hair.

He should tell you. He knows he should tell you. But fear never walks in on stage with full gusto, it creeps in, slithers in till he feels a shadow behind him on stage and suddenly, he can’t see the lights anymore. Ten is afraid. He is afraid of losing his sense of self to the millions of people he’s played, and to your vibrant world of flowers and colours. You are always front stage centre. You are at the bottom of everything and he can’t let himself fall deep enough. He’s not enough.

Ten turns to face the collection of DVDs on his shelf, untouched since he'd left. What did he start performing for again? Was it the time you and him pretended to be pirates in his room, his bed your gallant ship, or the time he watched his first movie on a sweltering hot summer day, or the time he sang to you the first time (it was a birthday song remix, made by Ten himself). Surely, it was for something beautiful and not for something like greed. At that time, he thought that maybe if he stole enough lives and stuffed it into the gaping hole, it would sate his envy of the people around him. The bright vibrant colours, he made his own and yet still, he feels like a thief with his nimble feet and a stash of paint bottles in his arms. He's not satisfied at all.

It was a sunlit morning and Ten thought to himself, wouldn’t it be nice if he could paint with all the colours of the rainbow? You, who are so full of vibrance, couldn’t understand this epiphany of his.

"You keep getting on my nerves," he mutters in this empty room of his. "Everything you do gets on my nerves."

Ten decides that he’ll tell you this evening. After all, best friends tell each other everything. The theatre means the world to him but the whole world is out there, ready to be his stage. Eventually, this loneliness will turn into a performance and he’ll be grasping at identities trying to find familiarity. He will take his masks off over and over again, and he knows he’ll still be wearing one. He wants to greet you with his real face.

The world spins at the rate of a thousand miles an hour. It never stops, and that must mean everyone on it can’t stop either.

The crows are singing a song, or talking amongst themselves. You can never know. The song is dyed red as the evening, and with a splash of purple. It’s the season to miss flowers and warm hands and the sweet taste of ice cream. You don't know why but the "let's go to the gardens" text from Ten gave you the most awful feeling, much like the morning after your nightmares.

“I have to go back to New York.”

You look up at Ten from the park bench beside the dahlia fields. The flowers are asleep, not in bloom until next autumn.

“What?”

“I got a call… from someone I know.”

Your first reaction is to smile wide and jump up. “That’s great! You’re not jobless anymore.” You laugh.

But then the corner of your lips twitch and your smile drops. The word ‘goodbye’ hangs at the tip of your tongue and you look at him, slightly perplexed. Ten, who looks at you with so much kindness, will never understand this envy of yours.

“When… when do you come back?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. It depends on how well I do.”

You laugh despite the heavy feeling settling in your chest. “That- Let’s hope your acting is shitty then, hm?”

Ten frowns. “This isn't a joke. For once in your life, can you look at me with sincerity?”

You grit your teeth at his words.

“I’m trying to lighten the mood, god dammit,” you murmur bitterly.

“And I’m saying you don’t have to.”

There’s something looming over the top of your heads, something eerie like a clock that never stops ticking or a clock that never ticks.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, surrender in your voice already.

If you kiss him where you hurt him, will everything be alright? Can you grow the flowers he likes over his scars? Flowers… flowers—which were his favourite again? Irises or daisies? It must have been the prior; you’ve glanced over a hundred times at the endless fields of sleeping blue irises in his sketchbook. And yet, you doubt. Were those flowers chrysanthemums? You’re grasping onto memories and your knuckles are starting to hurt.

Ten looks at you with a gaze that is of the past. He looks at you like he’s mourning, like he’s keeping something grave from you. So you lean in, your lips brushing against his before you can kiss him fully. You want to feel him and for him to feel you, the idea of a relationship foreign and close to you as ever. Even so, you feel like a ghost as you run your fingertips over his skin and through his hair. He knows how to kiss you, how to hold you—and he’s known you for years.

Ten pulls apart for a few moments, breaths weaving into each other. It’s only five centimeters between your lips but it’s still five centimetres. You don’t know if you were meant to be apart or if you were not. The show must go on.

You brush the hair from his face, a lingering smile on your face from the kiss and the way his features align so perfectly. It’s easier to avoid his gaze that way.

“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired. I feel like my skin is losing its grip on my bones. Everything’s falling apart.”

You hum, choking up at the sound of his voice. Soft and yet, so heavy.

He takes a sharp, shaky breath. “I don’t want to go.”

Forever is the sweetest lie you’ve told each other.

“You’re going to go,” you pronounce the words into realization. “You’re going to go away again. And I’m going to be right here.”

Your broken heart is making it much more difficult than it should be.

“Don’t go,” you whisper hoarsely. Maybe if this time you didn’t lie. Maybe you’ll be his number one, his lead finally.

His breathing gets erratic, and he takes a step back to cover his face with his flushed hands. It’s painful to watch him this way and you want to take your words back. But you knew. You knew what the words would result in, what the words would grow into. You feel cruel.

“I… I can’t give up,” he says finally, “I can’t- I can’t. I’m sorry, oh god. Why can’t you come with me? Why do I have to go back alone?”

You swallow, your eyes downcast.

“I’m not going to wait,” you say finally. “We should… we should stop now. It’s been long enough for us to go our own ways.”

Ten doesn’t move, at a loss for words.

“You… I'm sorry,” he says, choking on his own words.

Your lips tremble and you wipe at your eyes. He cups your face, thumbs swiping away the tears before you can muster enough strength to push him away. You’re a complete mess, in a way you haven’t been before. Even now, he’s the only one you can face.

“We’re not,” you say, regaining some control over your tongue, “We’re not supposed to be like this. Do you think we would even be friends if we didn’t grow up here together?”

“What- What does that matter?” He furrows his eyebrows, drawing nearer.

“I’m saying that everything could just be a coincidence and maybe… maybe things should just end sometimes.”

You just want to kiss him, in the way a romantic story ends in a sweet kiss and it’s a happy ending.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “But if you want distance, I’m giving you thousands of miles of it.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t blame me for pushing you away.”

Ten throws up his arms in exasperation. “I’m not blaming—why are you so defensive all of a sudden?”

“You made me that way,” you answer, pitch low. Your throat hurts.

Ten looks at you with disappointment in his eyes, baby pink lips in a frown you hate. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."

You nod and let the words 'see you tomorrow' slip the same time 'goodbye' slips his. He turns his back and walks forwards as he always has, and you look in from the same place as you always have.

Eventually, you get the energy to go home. You greet your colourful room with the same look you always have before something catches your eye. The colour of your room mostly comes from the polaroids stuck to your wall—you and Ten at your high school graduation dancing to Nicki Minaj, Yukhei and you looking done holding the caricatures Ten painted of you, Sicheng and Ten and you after your first theatre performance together. There are so many smiles that you end laughing, a little crazy with the sound. Perhaps spring isn't as far as you think it is. Perhaps you will be okay.

Everything has an end. You know that. It hurts so fucking bad.

Ten was right. Because it hurts this bad, you know it meant something now. It meant the whole world to you. Winter tumbles upon you at full force even as you hold autumn dearly in your arms.

This time, you close your eyes to find yourself in a field of dahlias. The dream is meandering with colours and sounds so quiet that you feel like you’re stuck in time. Then a loud vibration resounds throughout the field; it is not a field at all.

You are sitting atop a bed of stars, in the belly of something much larger than you are. There is a place in the universe for everyone but you cannot find yourself in it.

So you sit at the places you’ve always known, at gardens and children’s parks, waiting till your hair turns grey and your skin starts to wrinkle. Time flows around you, faster with each second but you sit so still that you're not breathing anymore. You're so jealous of those who move, dance and play. Does it have to be this painful? You don't want to be all these people in your dreams. You want to paint your own mask.

The world is so busy and you are completely still. You think of sunshine in New York and how he must be loving it and for a moment, your plastered lips quirk upward.

When you wake up, Ten is on a flight to New York with a text that reads: "I'll come back. I promise." The sunset after a farewell—even you understand the beauty of it and so, you watch him chase his dreams into the sunset.

act iii scene iii.

You know an ending scene when you see one. It’s the only scene you didn’t end up sleeping through. But this doesn’t feel like one, no matter how deep the despair runs through you. This third act love was never supposed to work out and yet, something is amiss.

Ten doesn’t come back even when the billboards proudly show his face and he’s the star of the show. In your opinion, he always has been. But people get comfortable in the present, sink their feet into it, and when they do, they forget the past.

The world spins at a thousand miles per hour but nothing seems to move for you. Everything stops and life goes on.

epilogue.

Your youth starts to run out.

Sorrow grows into anger, then into resentment. You’re not sure what you hate so desperately but you hate it nonetheless. You’re pissed and you don’t know what to do with yourself except wake up shaking and wanting to shout and cry at the world. You were supposed to have Ten by your side even then. Even when you’re against the world, he was supposed to be there. Now you’re all alone in a world that’s crashing and burning, in a world of your own making and in a world that is no longer in the palm of your hand.

You wish you were an angrier person, you wish you could curse and scream and fight as easily as they do in movies. At least he didn't make a villain out of you when he left first.

You don’t really have nightmares anymore though. When you have nothing to lose, you start to fear less. You tend to a little garden of your own making after Mr. Yang passes away. There’s a quiet funeral and a will written with your name on it. You did spend most of your time there after Ten left. It’s your flower shop now and you can tend to whichever flowers you want to keep alive.

Sometime in your late twenties, you get a call from an old friend. You meet Doyoung at a coffee shop near the college he went to, and he tells you he got your number from Yukhei that night you met. He says he’s glad your number hasn’t changed in all these years—he found it going through his contacts. You find it cute the way he becomes flustered when trying to explain himself. He’s a lawyer now, finished all those tough years to complete his dreams.

It makes you smile. You think that dreams shouldn’t be kept in a bottle but your shelves are full.

You go on dates at the cutest new cafes and the most ambient restaurants, sometimes to amusement parks so you can laugh at his fear of scary rides. It feels like having a friend once again and you cheer up for the better.

But Doyoung doesn’t understand history the way you do. He doesn’t understand a lot of things—but it’s not something you expect anyway. He’s rich and he doesn’t know what small towns are like. You think you can be in love again. He proposes to you on a yacht and you nod, paralyzed from your fear of the ocean. Your parents are so happy for you that for a brief time, you feel happy too in the shadow of their joy.

You don’t visit your hometown anymore after the wedding. You don’t visit theatres at all.

Sometimes you remember the night at the rooftop after the party with Ten and smile. But it was one night, one thing you did in a lifetime of nights and things you did. It dawns on you just then that loneliness makes you fragile, fragile enough to push people away instead.

Every time you close your eyes, you’re still dancing with him on the rooftop below the stars that are yet to fade from your memory. You now pick wilting flowers at a wilted garden.

“A play?” you ask, confounded. Doyoung has never been one for theatre.

"Your mom said you liked theatre," Doyoung answers, eyes inquisitive.

"Did she now?"

He smiles. "If you've grown out of it—"

"No. No, I've always wanted to watch a show on Broadway."

"That's settled then."

You start to understand the meaning of this place to Ten. You haven't called him in years and you didn't keep in touch after the first year. Life was as busy for him as it was still for you and you understand some of it now. After all, who would ever want to leave this place?

Being a part of the audience runs a chill up your back, with certain memories drawing to the surface of your thoughts as you sink into the seat. It's a popular musical but you can't say you've ever heard of it. Time runs differently in your little bubble.

It hurts just about as much as you expect it to. Watching Ten on stage hurts so bad you almost look away. The nostalgia scratches at your throat, filling your head with memories you shouldn't be entertaining anymore. You should've kept in touch. You should've done something. You were friends before everything else.

All you want from him now is forgiveness. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with—

You start to cry before you can do anything about it. Doyoung doesn’t notice beside you, dozed off already to the soft orchestral music.

You must seem delirious, mourning as though you’ve buried a loved one. With a shaky breath, you force yourself to look. It is the tombstone of your childhood love that stands on stage. You were rash. You were so, so young and rash. Your lips tremble again and you cry, chest rising and falling as you remember something so forgotten that it seems a dream, something so warm that’s now six feet under in the cold ground. You mourn.

But he seems happy—and that's all you ever really cared about. That's all you should have cared about.

The play ends on a wonderful musical note and you find yourself in better composure. Shaking Doyoung awake by the shoulder, you look at him expectantly. He seems partly embarrassed to have dozed off and partly apologetic.

"You want to meet Ten?" Doyoung asks quietly.

You blink in surprise.

"You grew up in the same town, right?"

"Yeah… Yeah, we did."

Doyoung smiles. "We went to college at the same place."

"Oh, I know. Most everyone from my town goes to college there actually."

Doyoung hums.

"He invited me, actually," he says after a while.

"Oh."

It hurts only a little that he didn't invite you first. Did all those years mean nothing beyond a little romance? If you were years younger, you could be chiding him for it. If he were years younger, he would greet you with a Cheshire cat smile.

Backstage smells of sweat. A little perfume and powder but mostly sweat. You know that already. It's just that even the backstage here is grand.

Ten looks as pretty as ever, even with half the makeup off his face. He looks as pretty as billboard posters, where he was meant to be, and in smiling Instagram posts and articles about how perfect his smile is. He's pretty but in a different sort of way.

Ten doesn't seem surprised. In fact, he greets the two of you with a poster smile.

"Doyoung," he says first. "(Name). I hope, no wait. You guys better have liked that."

Doyoung laughs. "You'll bully me into liking it even if I didn't."

Ten rolls his eyes. "Law makes you so boring. Or maybe you were always boring."

Doyoung sighs, shaking his head. "Not everyone wants to be the life of the party. There's quite a bunch of wild stories about you on the internet."

Ten snorts. "I don't know why but you saying 'the internet' makes you sound thirty years older."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Learnt from the best."

You clear your throat. "If the two of you are done with your homoerotic banter…"

Doyoung chokes the same time Ten makes a gagging sound. What the two of them have in common is that they easily become flustered around you.

"I'm going to go wash my face." Doyoung excuses himself, exiting the backstage.

In any other time or place, it would be fine being just the two of you.

"Ten," you acknowledge. "You look good."

"I always do."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to mask everything with humour."

"Like you did?"

You fall silent.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“It does,” he whispers before raising his voice something more audible. “When I look at your—our old pictures, it does.”

"You've kept them?"

"Of course."

You look at your feet. The reality settles. You’re not going back to the way things were. You’re married to another man. Ten’s not in love with you anymore. If you had taken the step forward back then, if you had kissed him before he took that step back—would things have turned out differently?

The stars will now gaze at lonely rooftops and empty flower gardens—an audience you never wished to entertain. But now, you're glad to have been part of his play, part of the play you made together.

“Are you happy these days?” he asks. There is no malice, no resentment in his voice.

“Almost,” you answer. “There’s just one thing missing.”

To ask for forgiveness does not mean erasure. You can't move on by letting it go and pretending it was never in the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t me,” you say quietly, rubbing your forearm.

Ten smiles. “We were a little confused, I think. We wanted to be loved, appreciated and found the easiest way.”

You smile back. “Yeah. It was always easiest with you.”

Ten pauses, looking around with a familiar feline look in his eyes before whispering, “So, Doyoung? Really?”

You straighten, crossing your arms. “He’s really nice. And he’s always asking me how I am, what I ate, and he buys me all the soft toys I want. And he’s a better kisser, by the way.”

Ten places a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

You roll your eyes before a short giggle turns into chuckling into laughter, and the two of you find yourself with smiling eyes, the look of childhood on your faces and memories unkempt.

It is better to grieve than to never have loved anyone enough to.

It doesn’t hurt anymore but maybe it stopped hurting a long time ago. But it meant something to you, meant so much to you and that's all that makes sense now.

notes.

the words to the play at the beginning of act i scene i is taken from tang xianzu’s preface to his own play, the peony pavilion, however they are not exact quotations. the graveyard scene and the “when everything is gone, i want it to hurt” dialogue are inspired by indie game night in the woods by infinite fall studio and i love that game pls check it out if you have the time and money!!

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persephone-plasmids · 3 years

Text

The Storm

Danse and Nora fic

[Read on AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

The abandoned house at Coastal Cottage wasn’t much to look at. The second floor was almost completely destroyed and a large Mirelurk nest had been hiding under the floorboards before Nora and Danse made quick work of them. Danse had to admit though, as far as prospective settlements went, this one actually had potential.

The two companions had spent the day clearing out debris to make the rebuild easier for the Minutemen who would eventually move in, but as the sun began its descent in the sky, Danse looked out over the water in the distance.

“It’s pretty, isn't it?” Nora asked, suddenly beside Danse with a handful of branches she’d cleared from the second story.

“It is,” Danse agreed, still feeling uneasy around the vault dweller.

Since their kiss, he didn’t know how to act around her. He felt equal parts guilt, humiliation, and desire, and none of those emotions put him at ease.

“I wish you could have seen it before the bombs,” Nora went on, dropping her pile of brush on the ground just outside of the house.

“You’d been here before?” Danse asked, confused.

“Not here specifically,” Nora answered, her voice distant. “I just wish you could have seen all of it. It was so… green.”

Danse looked over at Nora for a moment, studying the way her eyes softened at the corners as she spoke of her former life. She pursed her lips, still looking out over the water.

“I miss the trees. And the seasons. I know it’s such a small thing when you think of everything else I should miss… but you never realize what a big difference a full green tree makes,” she said, now looking up at Danse with a sad smile. “I loved sitting out in the backyard under our tree in the spring and reading a book.”

The mental image this conjured up in Danse’s mind brought a soft smile to his own lips. “I would have liked that.”

“I know you would have,” Nora said, her features holding less sadness now. “You would have liked a lot about the old world.”

As she spoke, a crack sounded above the pair, causing Nora to jump.

“Seriously?” she asked in exasperation. “Is that another rad storm?”

“Looks like it,” Danse said, frowning at the clouds that were slowly taking on a green glow. “We won’t make it back to Sanctuary in time”

Nora’s brow furrowed as she looked around the ruined home they stood in. Nora hated the rad storms. Of course, Danse didn’t think anyone but a Ghoul could really love them, but there was something more to it for her. Danse suspected that the thunder reminded her of the bombs dropping.

“This house won’t help us much, but that red barn over there should provide adequate shelter,” Danse said, taking Nora’s hand and leading her over to the structure.

He told himself that he had to take her hand to shake her from her quickly growing anxiety. He’d never been a very good liar. Not even to himself.

Closing the doors to the barn, Nora ignited the green light on her PipBoy, taking the device off and propping it up against the wall to provide the pair with at least some illumination.

“I have some RadX if you need it,” Nora said, popping her own pill before handing one to Danse.

He gratefully accepted it before stepping out of his power armor. They were going to be there for a while and his power armor wasn’t exactly comfortable.

Nora sat on the ground with her back up against the wall but Danse continued to stand awkwardly beside his now-empty power armor, unsure of what he should do.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see the signs that a rad storm was coming,” Nora said, closing her eyes as another round of thunder made the walls rumble. “That was stupid. I should have been paying better attention.”

She was trying to sound logical about the whole thing, but Danse could hear the fear in her voice. It was that same anxiety that always plagued her when she heard some deep booming sound. He’d first seen it during a fire fight where one of the raiders had gotten their hands on a Broadsider and loaded it with cannonballs. Then again during their first rad storm together. And yet again when the Institute had finally gone up in smoke.

Nora always tried to hide her PTSD from the day the bombs fell, but Danse could easily see through it.

“We’re going to be okay in here,” Danse said, his voice softening now as he took a seat beside her.

He wanted to comfort her without letting her know that he could see how distressed she was. Nora didn’t like to be perceived as weak in any aspect of her life.

“What else would I have liked about the old world?” Danse asked, desperately looking for something to distract her.

Though her breathing was shallow, Danse could see the way Nora’s lips curled as she thought.

“Museums,” Nora said, now looking over at Danse in the soft green glow of the PipBoy. “You would have loved seeing all of the displays laid out so neatly without a single smashed relic in sight.”

Now it was Danse’s turn to smile. He tried to push away an image of Nora and himself walking hand in hand through a pristine museum. He needed to let go of those feelings for her. His little fantasies would only make that harder.

“Oh and you would have loved the whole ‘American Dream’ thing,” Nora said, her grin now wide and unbothered by the thunder outside.

“What do you mean?” Danse asked, his brown eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled at her.

“Having a wife and kids,” she began. “White picket fence. Baseball with your son while you grilled. Your wife making an apple pie. The whole thing. You would have loved it. You were made for that life.”

Nora’s words once again conjured up an image in Danse’s mind. An image so different from the barren wasteland they were currently in that it actually made him homesick for something he’d never even experienced.

Nothing about the Commonwealth looked like this fantasy. There was no time for leisure or pleasure when you were just trying to survive.

“That sounds amazing,” Danse said, and he was surprised by just how sad his voice sounded. “I’m sorry all of that was ripped away from you.”

Nora nodded as she watched him closely. “I’m sorry you never even got to see it. It was really something.”

“Waking up to all of this death and destruction must have been like a living nightmare,” Danse said.

Nora nodded slowly, looking thoughtful before she spoke. “You would think so… but the one thing I didn’t really account for, is the fact that you can find good people anywhere. Even in the worst situations. I’ve met so many good people since I came out of the vault.”

“And a lot of bad ones,” Danse said.

“Dealing with the bad ones is still worth it to get to know the good ones,” Nora said, the smile back in place.

“I love that about you,” Danse said, before catching just how familiar he was being and shutting his mouth.

This made Nora grin. “Love what?”

Danse wanted to clear his throat and change the subject, but he didn’t. Instead, he opted for uncharacteristic honesty. “Your optimism. The fact that you can see good in everything. I love that about you… there’s… there’s a lot to love about you.”

He couldn’t be sure in the low light of the PipBoy, but it almost looked like Nora blushed at his words.

“There’s a lot to love about you too, Danse,” Nora replied, instantly making the Paladin tense up with that familiar pull he felt towards Nora. The pull he had to try to ignore.

“I’m good in a fight,” he said with an uncomfortable laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Nora nodded in agreement. “But you’re also kinder than you give yourself credit for. I know it hasn’t been easy for you to change your mind about Synths and Ghouls, but you’ve already made a lot of progress. And the fact that you’re willing to try says a lot about you.”

Danse looked down at the ground, unsure of what to do with Nora’s praise. He loved it, even though he wished he didn’t. “I’ve still got a long way to go… but thank you.”

Nora leaned her shoulder against his as she went on, her voice closer than he had anticipated. “There’s a lot more to love too.”

Danse looked over at Nora. Her eyes held something he couldn’t quite place, but it made that pull towards her even harder to resist. Like a string attached to his chest that she just kept tugging on.

“You make me feel safe,” she began, leaning closer to him. Her eyes darted to his lips for a brief second. “And you make me feel… something I didn’t think I’d feel again after I lost Nate.”

Danse swallowed hard, unable to keep his eyes away from her lips now. He wasn’t good with reading people’s emotions, but he wasn’t sure how he could possibly be misreading this situation.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

“Want,” she said simply, before leaning closer and pressing her lips against his.

This wasn’t like the previous night. Nora wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t emotionally distraught. She was kissing him without any reason that he could see.

His mind raced to analyze what was happening, but his logic couldn’t compete with the overwhelming desire he felt to pull her closer to him.

Her lips started out hesitant and soft, but as soon as Danse kissed her back, it was like a switch flipped. Nora’s kisses became hungry. Persistent. She moved her lips against his in a desperate way that he eagerly matched.

Everything about Nora was soft. Her lips, her skin, her hair, but when she began kissing him, she wasn’t soft. She pushed her lips against his forcefully before repositioning her legs on either side of him, straddling him as he sat against the wall.

Nora moaned into Danse’s mouth when he pulled her against him, his hands finding her hips and holding them tightly.

To say he was inexperienced would be an understatement, but somehow Danse’s instincts easily kicked in as he parted Nora’s lips with his tongue.

She breathed him in as they kissed, their bodies moving together naturally. Danse felt like every inch of him that she touched was ignited by an unseen fire and all he knew was that he wanted more and more of her.

Her hands roamed across his chest before circling around to the back of his neck where she grabbed his hair to pull his lips even harder against hers. Pushing her hips against him, he could hear her breath hitch.

He wanted to taste every moment of this kiss. The way her tongue moved over his. The way her body moved against him so deliciously.

Danse’s chest felt like it might explode from the incredible feeling of kissing Nora and he slowly moved his hands from her hips up her back, reveling in the feeling of her. But as their lips moved together, the barn was suddenly illuminated by the green rad storm outside.

Danse and Nora broke away from the kiss to see that the barn door had blown open in the storm. The event wasn’t exactly life-threatening, but it seemed to be enough to break the moment between them.

Nora didn’t pull away from Danse right away like he thought she might. Her anxiety over the storm didn’t seem nearly as powerful as it had been only a moment before.

Instead, she kept her fingers tangled in his hair as she looked back at him.

The pair were breathless and looking at each other with wide eyes.

Had this really just happened? And what did it mean? Danse’s instincts had taken over when he’d first started kissing Nora, but his mind was quickly working to overanalyze the situation now.

Should he move her off of him? Should he apologize?

She must have seen his brain working overtime, because Nora smiled at him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, Danse,” Nora said quietly, her voice still breathless. “You have no idea”

“You have?” he asked, unable to comprehend her words. “I… I assumed that because of… what I am…” His words trailed off. He wasn’t sure he wanted to come right out and remind Nora of what he was. Especially because he was half convinced that she only kissed him because she’d temporarily forgotten.

Nora leaned forward and gave Danse a long, slow kiss; taking her time as she moved her lips softly over his.

The Paladin was embarrassed by the goosebumps that sprang up all over his body at this gesture.

“You’re a good man,” she said softly after she pulled away from him. He could feel her breath brush across his lips as she spoke. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Danse furrowed his brow, his brown eyes staring at her in earnest. He wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“I don’t understand how you could feel that way about me.”

Nora smiled now. “I know you don’t. And that’s part of the reason I do.”

She lightly brushed her hand against his stubbly cheek, cupping his face as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He didn’t realize just how starved he’d been for physical contact until this very moment. Kissing Nora had been incredible and intense, but this soft touch filled something inside of him that he didn’t know was missing.

“Danse, I want to be with you,” she said quietly, still cupping his face as he brought his hand up to cover hers.

“I want that too,” he finally said, after a moment of quieting the voice inside of his head that told him he wasn’t good enough for her. That he was an abomination. That he was unworthy of her affection. “You just might have to be patient with me as I try to understand why on earth you'd want that.”

Nora placed another soft kiss against his lips; this one brief. “I can be patient.”

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #paladin danse #paladin danse fic #fanfiction #fallout fanfic #fallout fanfiction #sole x danse #danse x sole #danse x nora #danse x sole survivor #danse #fallout danse #ao3

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youranxiousnerd · 3 years

Text

The Transformation Thoughts

bc hsmtmts said gay rights

spoilers below

yesss seb doing the recap

wait did seb just say he was crying?!?! give him a hug

cow baby!!!

wow miss jenn and seb having a civil conversation

Natalie is back!!

ej and ricky with the mask

kourtney’s outfit!!!

ashlyn’s outfit...

ahh so the awards and the show are separate, good, that’s how it works

RICKY’S SHIRT!?!?!?!

i love it

ricky is lgbt do not try to convince me otherwise

ASHLYN IS SINGING IT IS BEAUTIFUL

like pop off

ricky and the mask

that mask is the true villain in season 2

“Belle, I-” flops

Ashlyn is carrying the scene, she is such a good Belle

how is ricky allowed on stage oh my god

the cap

that damn mask

“It’s okay, it was just my face”

Miss Jenn is hanging on by a thread

finally some ashlyn and ricky content

“Which they will” buddy have you faced the music? Have you seen Ricky?

“I think I might have been playing Troy at one point”

Miss Jenn needs help from someone who isn’t a teenager

“Mother is freaking out” High school theater at it’s finest

“There is math involved”

“OH”

sassy seb

i can’t with east high’s tech crew, what are you doing?!?!

and why are the actors figuring out the tech stuff?!? i’m sure kourt, big red, ashlyn (she knows all), and seb (he lives on a farm) know what to do.

the crew cannot be that bad

btw here are my thoughts on this scene

guys it is ashlyn’s house not yours

portwell shoulder bump

ASHLYN I LOVE YOU

OH SO NOW YOU HAVE DRILLS

WHERE WERE THEY WHEN THE TECHIES STARTED USING GLUE ON PLYWOOD!?!?!?!

I WANT ANSWERS

i. cannot. with. this. show.

lily wtf

“is this too weird” yes

like why?

lily like actually shut up

big red’s “wtf”

let her be evil damnit

“i’m just not well liked here” i wonder why

that was really weird, anyways

“he gets weird around tools”

me too

no give big red the drill he knows how to use it

someone write a fic about the girls and seb’s chaotic target run

why don’t you have a blackout and dramatic music and lights for the transformation, i know it isn’t award level but if done right it can be pretty dope

“I don’t know if my parents will be okay with me being at a co-ed sleepover”

“Chip, this is your mother speaking, go call your mother”

HE DID THE FINGER GUNS

GAY TABLE SIT AND FINGER GUNS THEY DID THEIR RESEARCH

ashlyn’s bucket

CARLOS GAY TABLE SIT

OH MY GOD

they’re so gay soulmates

let big red have his skateboards

“i need to talk to seb at some point but it can wait” honey no it can’t wait seb is on the verge of a breakdown

wait they havent talked in a week

Im a hypocrite ive been dancing around someone for three years

“You’re still at school”

“I’m worried about my children” “She means us”

such a high school theater thing (like i got married during high school theater, we had a family tree)

“ah, Sebby”

“Now I’m pretty sad” give him a hug

the girls ship seblos

“But, I guess he has to be, out of default, right... there’s not a lot of choices for a boy like Carlos, here, at East.”

alright here come the tears

why...why couldn’t he say “gay” or “queer” or “lgbt”?!?!

“Not so good at saying the feelings part out loud”

shiz that hit close to home.

Seb is just making me cry today, isn’t he?

wait so we’re just going to change the subject? coming from a queer person, opening up about your problems about your sexuality is hard. like, there are things that happened years ago im just telling people.

“You’re my sister, he’s my cousin”

it seems everyone except nina knows about the chocolates. imagine gossip time when gina told people write a fic

Nini just stop talking. It wasn’t a big deal, simple mistake. Not everything has to be big and dramatic

and wasn’t she just asking about Gina and Ej?

Nini for the love of god it is not something to read into.

“The farmer type”

Ash and Red exchanging gossip

wait... why are they texting about this?

“Why wouldn’t he say something to me?” It’s a hard conversation to have. “hey are we together just because i’m your only option?”

“Okay, pretty boy” HE CALLED HIM PRETTY BOY

RICKY!!!!!!!!!!

!!!

carlos and gina chaotic siblings

give ej a hug

“Sweet boy”

im so glad the guys are talking about their feelings.

Why a sleepover? It’s more of a hangout.

“Verging on failure”

jennzara therapy

slowwww burn

you go from hand holding to fist bump

disney please release an acoustic version of “let you go”

so it’s just carlos and ricky chillin’ at big red’s house?

do not play let you go for nini

do. not.

“You guys are a hallmark movie”

for once ricky is being smart

“the look on your face when you were talking about Seb tonight” smiles

he is so whipped

“I think you and Seb have something worth fighting for...bro”

that was so sweet and then there is bro

i love this show

“Sorry, I’m adjusting to being called bro”

him and seb being awkward about feelings... that is a high school relationship

i love ricky in this scene

“Yeah, let’s just write”

ASHLYN CALLED BIG RED BABE AWWWWW

nina shut the actual hell up

“It’s in the costume shop, somewhere” mood

“Thank you, 15″ THEY SAID THE THING

GAHHHH

I LOVE IT

howie and kourtney oh my god what is happening

“and begging”

“hi” he’s so nervous oh my lord.

he is so awkward around seb

it’s like a switch

“Do you want to get risotto with me sometime” OH MY GOD THATS ADORABLE

GINA BABY HE LIKES YOU

GINA HONEY!!!

AWWW THAT WAS ADORABLE

PORTWELL YESSSS

gina’s little run

“Am I in trouble?”

they’re so nervous

oh my god its time

“You keep it all bottled up” GUYS I CANT ARGGGG

can ricky just like, go behind a curtain?

“lookin’ for our kind of love” carlos basically just said “i love you”

seb is so whipped like look at him?

they’re so in love

seb’s little eye role at “in a heartbeat, i choose you”

the hands omfg

oh my god they’re going to dance

SHIZ THE HOMECOMING SUITS

I WAS RIGHT

OH MY GOD

SHIT GUYS IM DYING

gah the hands i cant

carlos is leading i love it

the tie

a tie just killed me

im combusting

You’re honor, they’re in love

i really thought carlos was going in for a kiss he is probably getting one later

i like how the dance isn’t big, it’s small and a little awkward bc right then it’s just them.

THEYRE SO IN LOVE HOLY SHIT

damnit big red

big red is legally required to interrupt almost kiss moments especially if it’s an lgbt kiss bc we cant have two in one season

in a heartbeat is so cute. Frankie showed UP this season with the vocals. there is no way that was all acting bc they looked so in love.

I...I love it

the lyrics are perfect

In a Heartbeat and Let You Go are probably the best OG songs of the season

“Siri, add In a Heartbeat to my gay sob playlist”

these boys are just serenading each other left and right

“Yeah”

so it’s just “yeah”!?!? That’s it!?!?! Seb could have least kissed him on the cheek or did they use all their kisses?

I love the song and love the scene, but there is so much more to discuss. Are we going to brush over the fact that Seb literally had an allergic reaction and didn’t get help because he didn’t want to disappoint Carlos!?!? Are we going to brush over “no, seb” and seb feeling like he has to get carlos big things!?! One “yeah” doesn’t erase all that. I’m hoping we get closure, proper closure, not a joke.

In conclusion, only one thing was settled (Carlos loves Seb for Seb, not because he is the only out guy in school).

“Seb and Carlos suffer their first fight” effing liars

BTW it looks like they filmed the dance scene with the homecoming suits and normal outfits so disney release the footage

Ricky is the biggest Seblos shipper

“Bro”

you morons. are you using rigging without an adult there?!?!

im pretty sure that isn’t allowed. only trained people were allowed to use the rigging. it should be Natalie since she did it in HSM

you should have gotten mats are something or stand in a circle

gahhh

RICKY

OH MY FRICKING GOD

NO ONE RAN THEY JUST WATCHED WTF

WTF WAS THAT ENDING

UMMMMM NO

i legit have no words oh my god

they just killed the lead

you guys saw the rope you should have ran

you should have gotten mats or blankets or something just in case

rigging is difficult, set rigging and people rigging

EAST HIGH WTF

Looks like the sleepover is going to be in the ER

My gay heart is full but my theater heart is screaming. The episode went by really fast. I liked it, like a lot.

To answer the question, no, I am not okay @organic-guacamole and we will have a theater kid sleepover

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gotfuckingseven · 3 years

Text

drunk in love - kth

summary ⇢ in which taehyung drunkenly calls his forever-love.

pairing ⇢ taehyung x reader

genre ⇢ angst!!

warnings ⇢ intoxication and just really sad

note ⇢ hope you’ll enjoy this lil fic i wrote. tell me what you think!!

The city was still alive at this hour. The bars that were placed neatly beside each other on the crowded street, were booming with people, having the time of their lives with not a care in the world. Old friends sharing a beer or perhaps three. Lovers giggling in the company of each other, and probably drunk girls befriending each other in the bathroom stalls that usually reeked of vomit and cheap perfume.

Taehyung let a sigh escape him, and watched a misty cloud form in the cool January air. He had his hands tight in the pockets of his big coat, that did a great job at shielding him from the low degrees of the night.

He felt his steps quicken in pace, as he rounded the corner. The flat he shared with his girlfriend of 5 years appeared. There was no light on. He didn’t think much of it, she’s probably fallen asleep, he thought. He fished his phone out of his pocket. 01:37 am it read. It was late, and Taehyung had completely lost track of time.

He opened his phone and saw that you still hadn’t replied to any of the various texts he had sent that night. Yeah, you were sleeping, he convinced himself.

He felt his mood go giddy as he entered the staircase that would lead him to you. He almost couldn’t wait to see your sweet face, and smell his favourite perfume, that you were hopefully wearing.

He felt his fingertips vibrate as he pushed the key into the keyhole, and opened the door quietly. He didn’t want to wake you.

He shut the door after him, and neatly placed his shoes in the hallway. The apartment was pitch black, and he almost stumbled into the pile of clothes on the floor, right by the kitchen door.

He stuck his head into the living room. No light illuminated the room, besides the moonlight that shone through the windows of the 5th floor, that he and you resided in. He walked into the room, and was immediately met by the mess on the coffee table. Old boxes of chinese food were scattered on the otherwise nice coffee table. You had gotten it for the two of you a few years back.

Silly her, he thought, always forgetting to clean up after herself, he chuckled for himself, and sat down in the worn sofa. His black hair fell against his forehead. He shrugged off his coat, and placed it beside him on the arm of the couch.

He didn’t feel tired. Sure his eyes were droopy, and the bags under his eyes would easily tell someone otherwise, but he didn’t feel an inch of sleep ready to engulf his body. His head was still buzzing from the alcohol in his veins, and he was sure he was reeking of cheap beer.

He had spent the night with some of his friends, who wanted to see him. They hadn’t seen each other in quite a while.

They told him that they were worried about him, that he spent too much in that raggedy apartment. He would just brush them off, and tell them that you and him were still in the so-called honeymoon phase. They would always just change the subject afterwards.

His mind wandered back to you. You were probably cuddled up in the bedroom, wearing one of his shirts. He would always love the sight of you in his bed. The mere thought put a loving smile on his tired face.

He breathed a shaky breath and started looking for the remote. He was in the mood to watch a sappy romantic film, that reminded him of you and his relationship.

As he was looking for the remote, he was interrupted by the vibrating of his phone.

He quickly straightened out in sofa, and pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat.

“Hullo?” He grunted, not even bothering to check the caller ID before he answered.

“Tae?” Your sweet voice rang in the other end, and he swore he felt his knees turn to jelly.

“H-hi baby” He croaked, and you could basically hear his smile in his voice.

“Are you drunk?” You sighed.

Taehyung felt a nag in his throat at your tone, and leaned forward to rest his head in his free hand.

“Yeah, a little bit *hiccup* I think yeah” He chuckled. He could feel his heart rate increasing, and bit his bottom lip.

You sighed once again, and he could hear a door closing in your end.

“Tae, you have to stop calling me” You finally said after a short period of silence.

Taehyung furrowed his brows, and cleared his throat.

“What do you mean?” He asked sincerely, and kept his gaze on the floor beneath him.

He knew what you meant, but maybe his drunken state of mind just didn’t want to really understand what you said.

“It’s been a year” You told him, as well as yourself.

Taehyung felt his hands go clammy, and he cleared his throat once again.

“I saw th-that picture you posted yesterday” he smiled once again, and straightened his back, “You look so pretty, my love” he admitted.

He couldn’t hear anything on the line, and had to check if you had hung up.

“Taehyung, please, you can’t call me anymore” You told him. You sounded so defeated, and to be honest, you felt like it too.

“I even saved the picture! And-and the new necklace you’re wearing these days, its so pretty on y-“

He cut himself off, when he heard a loud slamming of the door on your end. He could hear you shifting in your seat, and then silence.

“Is this Taehyung?” He heard an unfamiliar voice ask.

“Who is this?” Taehyung felt a pit grow in his stomach, and a feeling that he knew exactly who the other man were.

“This is her boyfriend, stop calling her you fucking freak” He proclaimed before the line cut off.

Taehyung felt his throat close up, as he slowly removed the phone from his ear.

He felt his hand tighten around the phone, and forcefully slammed it on the coffee table in front of him. He could hear a cracking sound, but he didn’t care.

He was so upset, he could almost feel his blood burn in his veins.

“Fuck!” He shouted as he got up, tearing at his hair by his roots.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t fucking believe it. He felt so many emotions at once, he couldn’t even point one out and explain it, even if he was paid for it.

He stomped out of the living room, his vision unclear by the tears welling in his eyes. Him being intoxicated didn’t do him justice in finding his bedroom, and he felt his world spin when he landed on the bed. Sure enough, it was empty, not even a bedsheet was in sight.

He felt so fucking horrible, his whole body screamed at him. He could hear his heart beating in his ears.

He flung at his pillow that left feathers in its wake, delicately falling on his mattress. He fell head first into the pillow, while his whole body laid limp on the bed.

He screamed so aggressively, he was sure he would get complaints from his neighbours, if he hadn’t used the pillow to muffle his pained screams.

The tears that fell from his eyes soaked the pillow, and he almost couldn’t breathe. And he didn’t want to, either. It hurt so bad to know that you were moved on, that you didn’t need him like he needed you. He couldn’t stop hearing your new man’s disgusting voice, spitting at him like he was an animal. He wanted to bury himself, quite literally, and wake up again in another life where you weren’t with another man, and where Taehyung didn’t depend on a bottomless bottle, to be alive in a world where you weren’t his anymore.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop angst #kpop admin #kpop BTS #bts series #bts taehyung #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts smut #taeyang #kim taehyung #BTS suga #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Origins

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader feels homesick after a particularly gruesome case. Spencer can’t buy a plane ticket, but he can try to help recreate part of home with them.

A/N: hey heyyyy- this is my eighth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- I’m very nervous for this one to be honest- idk if it’s going to be a lot of peoples cup of tea- this one had me researching a lot lol since I have no clue about boats at all lol- I hope I did the request at least a bit of justice (sorry in advance if I fuck up any terms or anything) but I think I did pretty well with my research (I think). I originally got the request from @imagining-in-the-margins when she handed it over to me also thanks for some help on the folklore parts too! Here it is-

I always want to hear from you guys so feel free to drop me an ask here- and hopefully y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: ~disclaimer lol I know nothing about boating~ Anyway into the other warnings- Takes place directly after season 3 episode 8 (Lucky with Floyd Feylinn) Spencer gets really fucking sea sick- poor baby, Reader is from overseas (originally Cornwall in the request but I made it a bit more vague) and Reader’s father is a fisherman

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.8k

The air that floated around whenever I was out on the water, salty sea water or fresh salt water always seemed to breath life back into my lungs. The river that we were boating on was quite salty near its widest point, tides brought the saltwater in to mix with the fresh making the water quite brackish.

I was lucky to still live somewhat near water after I had moved over to America. I hadn’t had the luxury of picking exactly where I was going to live and work when I transferred to the FBI, I just happened to draw all the right cards. With my schedule I didn’t go out on the water as much as I used to, definitely not as often as I had as a child. I yearned often to feel the specific type of air people only felt when on the water, especially when my job got particularly gruesome.

Gruesome was a way to define the last case my team and I had been brought in to investigate. My stomach churned at the thought of our last unsub, his name couldn’t leave my mind and the images of his heinous acts certainly didn’t leave either. Floyd Feylinn Ferell had been his name, though I wished I could forever scrub it from my memory. His crimes were too vile that everything seemed to trigger a memory, specifically of the frozen corpses.

The team had even noticed how affected I was by the case, often sending me worrying looks whenever it looked like blood drained from my face over sheer shock- just like the corpses. Cases had been gruesome before, sure, but there was something about this one made me feel frozen by fear.

I needed air, and not just any old air.

Homesickness was another factor that was making me feel so ill. I hadn’t been back to my home in so long, the only time I spoke with my father was over the phone, no video chats at all. He was just as technophobic as Spencer, maybe even more so to be honest. My father’s life as a fisherman hadn’t made him exceptionally tech savvy. He did know how to work a phone now thanks to you, which was another similarity to him and Spencer. I had helped Spencer learn how to work his new smartphone just last week.

Spencer, my lovely boyfriend of a few months, wanted to help quell my dark thoughts as best as he could with all of his knowledge. His first solution was to always revert to books, which I didn’t mind, it only made him more special to me. He tried to find books that would remind me of home- and get my mind off of gruesome cases that were closed and shut cases.

Hotch had then suggested the team take a day off, just one. After weeks of back to back cases with little to no reprieve we’d finally get some time alone, even if it was only for a day. All I needed was one day to get on the water and cleanse myself of the negative thoughts I had been feeling lately.

It was actually Spencer that had first suggested this excursion. He had come to one of our dates with his arms full of pamphlets all about renting a boat for the day. He also had definitely read up about boats, I’d expect nothing less of Spencer. I had learned it was his way of subtly showing affection, researching anything that I even was passively interested in.

Spencer packed even more than I did when we set off on the day long date, packing to the brim at least one too many bags- to be honest he packed two too many bags.

Once we had gotten the boat out into the water, the relief was almost instant. It was like my body knew I was home. I wasn’t actually at home of course, but it somehow knew I was near the water again. Honestly, Spencer hadn’t been far off when he called me a mermaid on one of our first dates, I had gone on a ramble about my love for it.

The water wasn’t nearly as clear as where I had grown up, much more dull in my opinion. But, the breeze that danced across my skin as well as the water made me feel more at home then I had been in a long time. After letting the mist spray onto my cheeks for a while I looked over to check on Spencer, who was not doing well by the looks of it.

Spencer’s face was twisted up in a grimace, not used to being in a boat. Until I had asked him a few weeks ago, to make sure it would be safe to go out on the water with him, I hadn’t even been sure he could swim. I also wasn’t that surprised that he had this reaction, it would have been less of a problem if it was a boat that I had picked out and bought. But, I’d take what I’d get if only to be by the water.

He pretended to hide his urge to dry heave over the side of the small boat that I had rented for the weekend. He looked almost green at this point, I knew he was only staying for my benefit at this point making me a tad bit sad. Water definitely seemed to have the opposite effect on Spencer compared to me, being on the water always felt like instant relaxation to me.

I still, however, didn’t want him to feel any major discomfort like he was obviously feeling so I decided to pipe up since he wouldn’t tell me himself, “Are you sure you’re ok enough to stay, Spencer?”

He pulled his life vest around himself as tight as he could while crossing his arms around his stomach. It took him a second to answer and in that time I almost started to turn the boat around back to the bay.

“I’m fine!” He squeaked out and I could see a shiver run through him. If I had offered to turn the boat around he’d most definitely have given me a glare, not wanting me to turn it around for his own sake. I squinted my eyes in suspicion, he was not completely fine obviously, but if he was insistent on staying maybe I could find something to distract him from it.

“Do you want to hear a sea shanty or do you want me to tell a regular story?” I asked out into the wind, thinking that might distract him from his nausea.

“A story, but you can’t call them regular stories.” He teased back as well as he could with the urge to dry heave, as if he didn’t know what I had meant. I scooted a little closer to him before I prepared myself to tell my story.

Selkies were always the ones I started out with whenever I told the stories I had grown up with. Despite its dark undertones I had latched onto the story as a child, finding it similar to the mainstream perception of what mermaids were. Though I’m reality seals that could transform into humans were a far cry from mainstream ideas of mermaids, a Merrow would have been a better comparison.

I always gave Spencer the origins of the story, he liked to know exactly where they had come from and how I had heard about the story in the first place, “As you know by now the folklore about Selkie’s originates from Scotland. Well- let me think about what I haven’t told you about Selkies before…” I pondered for a moment before remembering an aspect of the Selkies powers I hadn’t educated Spencer on yet. There was no doubt in my mind that he probably had all this information stored away in his brain somewhere, it was nice to know that someone genuinely cared about the stories I liked to tell. “Selkies are immortal, but they can be killed by other creatures. And I know I’ve told you that part, but I haven’t told you that they are generally killed by sharks when they are in seal form.”

I then went into the whole lore surrounding Selkie’s immortality. My hands were waving around animatedly as I talked, just like how the small waves were rocking our boat. They had definitely calmed down by now, hopefully Spencer would feel better soon.

Once I finished my tale I beamed over at him, my mood had brightened significantly over this trip, even though I could sense that Spencer’s had not. Though the story might have helped, he seemed a little less sickly now. He then managed to ask again without puking, “Could you tell another story? Maybe about the Kelpies? Or the Pixies of Cornwall? You can pick anything though really, I love listening to your stories.”

My heart swelled enough from his words that I thought it might burst. I wouldn’t have expected anything less of Spencer, he always hunted for more knowledge about things he was maybe more ignorant about compared to other topics.

I opted to then tell him about the Kelpies, who were also water dwelling creatures, before moving onto the pixies. He even seemed to be getting attached to the same stories that you favored as a child, and even as an adult.

I looked over at him as I finished my last little bit of information that I felt I could muster up today. A smile filled with fondness crept onto my face, his fluffy hair strewn about. It was cute despite his lingering sea sickness.

His face was remarkably less green now, my stories must have soothed him which made me feel heat run to my cheeks. Each time Spencer took interest in my origins I felt deeper feelings bubbling up, that were more than what we had expressed yet. Instead of voicing my full feelings just yet, I leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss on the forehead. He may have not looked green anymore, but I’d wait to give him a kiss on the lips until after we got back to shore, just in case something was to happen.

“Can you sing now?” I knew that he was not requesting me to sing any silly old song. He wanted me to sing the sea shantys that my father had taught me as a child. Not that I minded his request, I’d do anything to make him happier and I loved singing them anyway.

I smiled brightly as I guided the boat back to shore while I sang, already feeling lighter. It had not just been the water this time that made me feel better, it was also because of Spencer. He had taken so much care to help me feel more connected with home, loving to learn about your origins.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith I’m sorry 😭

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #30 fics in 30 days

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mrwinterr · 3 years

Text

Who Do You Love?

Pairing: David Budd x Female Reader

Summary: After some months that David’s been working for the Home Secretary, you notice he’s been acting differently. Not wanting to overanalyze the situation, the signs are just too hard to ignore, so when it’s time to confront him there’s only one real question to ask.

Warnings: Bodyguard (2018) TV series spoilers! Adult themes. Explicit language. Light smut. Infidelity/cheating. Mentions of war, PTSD, political assassination, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, paranoia, and attempted suicide. Sad vibes, probably. We’re not gonna have a good time.

Disclaimer: This piece goes hand-in-hand with All For You. It’s not required to read beforehand, but it would be nice. As far as the TV series, yeah, don’t even read these if you’re still planning to watch the show. If you don’t care, you may proceed.

Title Inspiration: “Who Do You Love?” by The Chainsmokers ft. 5 Seconds of Summer

A/N: I want a happy David, I really do, but I’m a heartless writer. I took a break from the smut, so it’s not a huge bulk of the fic this time. I hope y’all still like it! Happy New Year!

Another night alone was not unusual for you as of late, having grown accustomed to it ever since David had taken up the job of protecting Home Secretary, Julia Montague. Neither you nor David could’ve foreseen his courageous efforts in neutralizing the terrorist attack on the train back home would thrust him into his new position, furthermore the extent of its outcome in his personal life.

It wasn’t a hidden secret that David resented most politicians, and you knew of Julia from the news and her political ambitions in pushing a bill to increase security surveillance. David’s job put a big emphasis on confidentiality, so for his superiors to throw him into a public political warzone was a bit suspicious to you. There was something that didn’t add up, and you couldn’t just outright ask David whose side he was on in all this.

After neglecting the mountain of dirty laundry, tonight was dedicated to the domestic chore. It was nothing out of the ordinary mixing your batch with David’s, but he had a habit of leaving things in his clothes pockets, so it was routine for you to check everyone. You’d moved onto one of the costly tailored button-ups he wore to work and feel something protruding from the shirt pocket. You dig your hand in and fish out a tube of lipstick. Strange. You didn’t use this brand of cosmetics, and even more so the garment smelt different.

Under normal circumstances, this type of discovery would raise a red flag, but you recall one of David’s first days on the job as her bodyguard, the intern had clumsily spilt Julia’s coffee all over her outfit just before she was about to do a live interview, and David had offered her the shirt off his back, essentially saving the day. The man was just too dedicated to his job sometimes, so you shrug it off, but this wouldn’t be the first time you would notice something out of place.

It really started after the first assassination attempt that was made on Julia’s life. With the rate she was going at, her political status had made her a prime target to those opposed to RIPA-18. It was very frightening, you figured that much for her, David had seen worse in war. You just about had a heart attack when you reunited with him that night, the blood still stained on his clothes and missed splotches on his skin.

The both of you clung onto each other all night, lost within the throes of passion. It might as well have been one of the most intense nights yet, even then you could tell something changed by his movements. You didn’t think much about it at first because there’s already so much wrong with him, you’ve yet to learn all his mood swings.

Then one day you’d gotten sick, and discovered it was because you were pregnant with David’s child. One of the few things that made you forget about all the aches and pains that David unintentionally caused, was remembering the beautiful smile on his face when you revealed the news to him. You knew how much happiness Ella and Charlie brought him, you could only imagine what that would feel like, your own family with David.

He was so overjoyed in the beginning. He had quickly phoned his mother, who’d visited and even stayed a few days with you when David’s new position became more demanding of him, claiming she was worried about you being alone. You didn’t deserve to experience this alone, but it was sure heading that way.

Lately, you’ve found yourself occupying the Budd household quite more than often when David’s mom went back home. With David being on duty almost 24/7, you were completely alone, so the little family welcomed you.

Legally, on paper, David was still married to Vicky. It was something you weren't going to verbally admit bothered you, but oddly enough it did. What with the mood you’ve been in as of late, it ate at a part of you. They were separated and the divorce papers were well on track until David’s “promotion” paused the process.

There’s still not a hostile fiber in you towards Vicky. She’d moved on well, been on several dates with someone else, and things were looking great for her. It was lowkey, not even David knew about it, not that he even stuck around or bothered to care. It had to come out eventually because it would affect Ella and Charlie’s lives.

You watch as Vicky rounds the table after placing a cup of tea in front of you then sitting in the seat across and asking how you’re holding up.

You contemplate for a split second if you should be honest or not, but who else could you confine to at the moment? No one else could possibly understand. Vicky herself may not even, but she knew David more than most people did, so surely, she could see where you’re coming from to some degree, right?

Letting out a big sigh, you answer her truthfully, “I’m...not well, Vicky,” your eyes drop down to the cup in front of you, finger tracing the rim, the hot cloud of smoke of the concoction almost burns your skin.

“Oh, poor thing,” she says, extending her hand over to place it on top of your other one on the table, “it’s the pregnancy. It has to be. It’s taking a toll on you. I can tell.” You look up at her and almost want to cry. No one noticed it was more than symptoms of pregnancy. You were bottling up so much.

“Let me tell you, while I love Ella and Charlie, pregnancy was not a breeze…” she started to ramble, but you quickly cut her off, exhausted of people telling you the same thing over and over, unintentionally, blaming the innocent baby.

“No. I don’t think it’s that. I don’t want to blame anything on the pregnancy,” you say straight up. You got yourself into this mess, you went headfirst knowing the baggage David came with and you knew full well that protection wasn’t at the forefront in the affairs. Ready or not, you both went in this together and brought a baby into the picture.

Vicky stares, confused, but still genuinely concerned, “then what else could be wrong?” When you didn't immediately respond, she knew it had to be one other thing, or person, and you just didn’t want to admit, well out loud, “David?”

You only nod; you knew you were going to have to face the music sooner or later. So, you start listing things you’ve observed that have caused you to grow suspicious over the course of the last few months. You just hoped you didn’t sound like a mad woman in front of her.

The one time your phone had died, and he let you use his to place a food delivery. You couldn’t unlock his phone, trying every possible combined set of numbers close to David, only to come to a conclusion that the access code had changed. Visibly distressed, he realizes you were attempting to unlock his work phone. You knew that was his though. What work phone?

You didn’t even know he had one of those, let alone why did it have the same crack on the screen in the exact same spot as his personal one? You feigned stupidity and blamed it on exhaustion. Deep down David knew you were suspecting something was up, and he ended up placing the order for dinner that night himself.

The other time you confronted David about coming home smelling heavily of another woman. Whatever, whoever, her perfume was strong, and it made you nauseous. The pregnancy didn’t even do you any favors on this one with your senses heightened and overly sensitive.

Of course, he smelled of another woman, the person he was assigned to protect. You could see all the holes in his alibi. He was lying, and it hurt most when he indirectly admitted your mood swings were irritating him and then flipped it all on you, saying you were overthinking the situation and getting all paranoid for no reason. Accused you of not trusting him, when truth was you had the utmost faith in him, but not when the evidence was piling up.

There’s a solemn look that washed over Vicky’s face. She had expected more tales of David’s PTSD, but none of what you spilled alluded to it. This time David couldn’t blame the effects of war on your suspicions. However, Vicky knew that this was you and David, and if there was a pair that could survive love’s tumultuous doings then it was you two.

“There’s a lot of coincidences, yes, but this is you and David,” she says, grasping your hand for support because she could see the moisture in your eyes building up, “is it silly of me to admit I was always jealous of you,” she confesses, trying to steer the conversation a different route.

She didn’t want you to think she was brushing off your worries, but to remind you that everything you and David had been through to get to this point to be together, whatever you both were dealing now wasn’t anything you two couldn’t overcome. There were high hopes for you and David in Vicky’s mind.

A small smile cracks your face, and you bring your vacant hand up to dab at the inner corner of your eyes, just before the tears start to race down, “jealous? Of what?” It was almost shocking to think you had something she was jealous of.

“Every time you visited us,” she starts, “I could tell David held so much admiration for you,” and you know she’s not trying to hurt your feelings, but it’s taking a bit to figure out where she’s going with this.

“That’s silly,” you scoff lightly, “you both got married and had two kids, surely there was no doubt,” then bring the cup up to your lips for a small sip.

“But there was and look where we ended up?” she says. Your lips cave in to form a tight line in response, and carefully place the cup back down on the dish, before she follows up, “you two are finally together.”

“Vicky,” you pipe up, not knowing where to begin. It was never your intention to steal David’s heart away from another.

“I’m not saying any of this because I’m mad at you. No. I’ve never truly hated you. You’re a good person and you’re finally getting your happily ever after. Don’t ever stop fighting for it,” she comes out wholeheartedly, and this time you make no attempt to keep the tears at bay. It stung to hold them back anyways.

Vicky gets up from her seat, walking the short steps to yours, to wrap her arounds around you. You immediately cling onto her arms and just cry, finally letting everything out.

“Seriously, don’t think of the worst,” she starts advising, while rubbing your back, “David will always come back to you,” she pulls you away from her before reminding you, “you knew going into this wasn’t going to be easy.”

You feel so pathetic. What she said was completely true, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. There’s no doubt you love David and want to be with him through the good, the bad, and the ugly, so you nod and try to keep your chin up. It wasn’t to appease her, you were going to get back up, because if not for David, then for the baby.

Suddenly, the front door busts open and Ella and Charlie are bustling into the kitchen, where you and Vicky were. Quickly wiping away the tears, you both noted that school had just let out.

They were ecstatic to see you, especially Charlie as he had currently been experiencing issues of his own adjusting to school. They lifted your spirits greatly; they were more fascinated by the baby growing in you and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. You absolutely adored them. They looked like David and the whole time they were talking your ear off; you wonder to yourself if your own kid will look more like you or David.

David’s thrusts were deep and good; you made no attempt to hold it in, letting him know exactly how he was making you feel. Nails digging into his firm buttocks, pulling him closer to you, wanting him to just keep going and going; the chase proving to be almost just as good as the climax. You feel one of his hands run up your side and his large hand starts groping your breast, adding onto the pleasure he was plaguing your body with, while the other held onto the small of you back, bringing your hips up to his.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin and hear his murmured swears and praises. The air in the room was thick, and for the majority of the intimate activity, the only sounds that travelled around the apartment consisted of heavy breathing, moans, gasps, whines and skin slapping, until the annoying distinct ringtone started screeching from a few feet away.

You’d learned to distinguish his work alarm since the supposed mix-up, and it pinged constantly, agitating you. David’s pace notably falters, and the rhythm you’d both built started dwindling, the needy side of you started to panic because he was going to stop and you desperately wanted to come, even more so come with him, but it looked like neither of you would be as you feel one of David’s hands leave your body and make an attempt to reach out to the device.

You grab a hold of his wandering hand and lace your fingers together, hoping to keep him close and forget about the alert. You buck your hips forward, urging him to continue. His grip tightens and cock twitches inside of you in response. Your strategy almost deems successful when he picks up momentum, each swivel of his cock gradually bringing out the starved woman in you. Not to mention, your sex drive had heightened too, you’d longed and craved any affection he could give you.

“David, baby…” you whine, holding a hand to his face, forcing him to keep his gaze on you and only you, the ringtone almost drowning out, “...don’t. Don’t. Fucking. Stop...please,” you resort to begging and hook a leg over his body, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper.

And just when you’re about to tip over the edge, the incessant ringing persists, and David’s halt unintentionally pulls you back down. He unwinds your sweaty clasped hands, no doubt in search of the phone once more, however, you had more leverage than he did, and your hand beats his hand to it. He wasn’t that far behind as his hand covers yours, and he tries to grab the phone to answer the call, but instead you swat it off the nightstand.

“What the fuck?” David says aggravatedly, while attempting to reach his phone on the ground, all while he’s still inside of you, pressing your body deeper into the mattress, but careful to not crush you.

“No, fuck you, David,” you spit back, and shove his body off of yours. You scoot over to one side of the bed and try to level your breathing. You were both so close!

“What is wrong with you?” He asks, forgetting the phone on the ground.

“Do you really have to answer that?” You ask, attitude on full display.

“It could be an emergency at work,” he tries reasoning.

“You’re not on the clock, David!” You dispute, sitting up, clutching the sheets to your body to conceal yourself.

“That’s not the point! It could’ve been serious. Julia could be hurt,” he says, the words just coming out of his mouth, giving each excuse little thought. His mind was in a frenzy and you didn’t miss a single syllable.

“You called her Julia,” you say just above a whisper, and suddenly you have an urge to vomit, but you do your best to control it.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what that meant at all to you.

It hurt more that he didn’t realize there was anything wrong and if he did, he was doing a good job at hiding something and making you look like the bad guy. You lightly shake your head, feeling defeated, and lie back down, settling on your side facing the opposite direction of him.

What was going on in David’s head? You tried so hard to understand him. It was like walking on eggshells, and even you had a breaking point. It was just sometimes too much because it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort to keep this relationship afloat.

The bed shifts significantly, letting you know that he’s gotten out of it. What felt like an hour, but were only a few seconds, the room was silent, tension still heavy in the room, and neither of you were willing to be the first to crack. You lie still, unmoving and making no attempt to stop him. It’s only when you hear the swing of the bedroom door creak, you allow yourself to blink the tears in your eyes away.

He didn’t leave the apartment that much you could rest assured of. Rest? That was what you were having trouble with. Things weren’t getting any easier with David and you even though you vowed to yourself that you’d go through Hell for him, the pressure was getting too heavy on your heart and in return, you knew the distress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Maybe it was all just paranoia, the stress of pregnancy, and you were taking things too personal. You could be understanding about a lot of things in David’s life, his terms and PTSD, his kids, and his job, but was it too much to ask of him to be understanding of you? You suppose you were being selfish, and you were really tired. The only way to help you sleep was to swallow your pride and admit you were wrong.

The rush of the cold air instantly surrounds your bare legs the second you throw the covers off your body to get out of the bed. You throw on the discarded oversized shirt to be decent. Your steps are light, and you’re kind of nervous and, dare you admit, ashamed of how you overreacted that it drove David to the point of sleeping on the couch. After all, you made him feel unwanted in his own bed, and he certainly had enough respect to not steal yours.

Just when you’re ready to apologize and ask him to go back to bed with you, he’s already sound asleep, his legs sticking out from the mere blanket covering his upper body. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up for that. Sleep didn’t find him easy and he seemed just as stressed as you were, so you don’t disturb him. It can wait, right? You turn around and head to your room, shut the door and pray sleep finds you soon.

It didn’t and neither did the conversation.

News of the blast at St. Matthews College, where Julia was presenting a speech, rocked not only the political world, but it was the forefront of every news channel and medium. Tons left injured or dead, and as if that wasn’t bad, David was being told Julia had not survived the bombing.

He’s clearly distraught, believing he’s failed her, and on top of that, the weight of his lies started to suffocate him. He was going to have to come clean to you about everything he’s done behind closed doors with Julia. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of that, and if by some chance you did, it would take a hell of a long time for him to regain your trust.

How many more lives does he have to ruin or lose under his watch? It was becoming too much, and it was sad, as he stared at the gun in his hands, that he’d contemplated his next actions more than once, but he really didn’t know what he had left to do anymore. There was a lot actually, he had his kids, a baby on the way, and a new life to build with you, but he was far too gone at that moment.

It’s Vicky that finds him back at the apartment, cleaning the brass fragments from the wound on the side of his head. She quickly puts the pieces together, the notes on the table addressed separately to her, the children and you, and the admission from David that these were brass fragments of a bullet casing.

“Dave, what the fuck? What about Ella and Charlie? What about-” she starts going on but stops when he visibly cracks because he knows your name is next to come out of her mouth, “I’m taking you to the hospital,” she decides and is quick to put away her tools.

“No. No one can know about this,” David says adamantly. They start to argue about his injuries and how David hadn’t been aware that he fired a blank round before he asks her to go back home to the kids.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” she says grabbing a jacket and tries to reason that he shouldn’t be alone right now and maybe being around the kids and seeing you will open his eyes and realize what he was leaving behind had he successfully ended his life.

He couldn’t pretend living like he was okay. What had happened to Julia was not his fault. All David ever did was do his best to protect, protect his country, his family and her.

“You need to tell her,” Vicky says while she hands David a cap for him to cover the wound on his head.

“I don’t even know where she’s been the last few days,” he admits pathetically. His own girlfriend, the mother of his unborn child, he can’t even keep tabs on where she’s been this whole time. It made him feel even terrible that he’d neglected you.

“She’s been staying with the kids and I,” she reveals.

“What? Why is she there?” He asks, and quickly puts the cap on and gets up from his seat.

She didn’t tell David of your whereabouts earlier because you’d asked her not to and she politely respected that, but she knew now was not the time to take sides anymore. You two had to deal with your issues now.

“She shouldn’t be alone, Dave. She’s pregnant with your child and yet she’s going through it all by herself,” Vicky tells him.

“I never meant to bring her into any of this mess,” he says heavily, full of grief. He brought you into the madness that was his world and now you’re trapped in it, bringing a new life along for the ride.

“She loves you, David, don’t sell yourself short. She just feels like she’s been left in the dark. You need to talk to her,” Vicky advises him, “it may not be pretty, but you have to hear her out.”

She knew you couldn’t stand being alone in the apartment without being reminded of David constantly. You weren’t in a good place either and she wanted to help you both before it was too late.

You’d been left behind at the house with Ella and Charlie in the other room watching TV, while Vicky was out looking for David. He wasn’t answering any of the phone calls she’s made, even ones made on your cell phone, there was no form of contact or communication from him. You knew he was there at the college; he was Julia’s bodyguard after all.

When you heard more than two voices return, you knew she’d brought David back and had told him you’d be here. You weren’t mad at her for ratting you out, it was going to come out eventually. Nothing ever stays hidden.

“You don’t normally wear a hat indoors,” Ella points out the cap on David’s head that stuck out like a sore thumb.

“You said it’s silly,” Charlie reminds his father.

“Then I’m being silly,” David responds as he watches his children chomp away at the slices of pizza in their hands.

While Vicky was on the phone cancelling her date tonight, you faintly hear the end of the conversation he was having with Ella and Charlie over their dinner. He still hadn’t even seen you. Then you hear his quiet, controlled sobs, but he couldn’t detain them enough and be strong around his kids.

“I just did something silly today,” he tells them.

“Wearing a hat?” Charlie asks innocently.

“That, too,” he replies as he clings onto them both in a group hug.

Vicky had just revealed to you of David’s suicide attempt moments ago. You’re numb. Clearly, Julia’s death had affected him rather deeply, so much that he thought killing himself was a solution.

He didn’t care about you or the baby. You both weren’t enough to save him or have anything to look forward to. You can’t even cry anymore. You wanted to lash out and get mad. She advises you to keep calm and think rationally, but you’re tired of thinking about all of this.

Without warning, David enters the room you’d been staying in. You’re like stone on the couch, arms crossed and starting straight ahead of you, mindlessly at whatever TV program the kids left it on before retreating to the dining area. Your eyes cast themselves on David’s demure stance. He cautiously steps forward and hesitantly takes a seat next to you.

“Is it true?” You ask, breaking the silence and finally turn to look at him. He only nods in response, his head hangs low, ashamed. You felt like your heart didn’t have any parts to break anymore. The confirmation alone just felt like him stomping on it for added measure.

“Ok,” is all you say, biting down on your lip to prevent you from saying anything else. It was petty, but you’d refused to show him any remorse or sorrow of any kind.

“Is this where you’ve been the past few nights?” He questions, rather awkwardly too.

“Oh, so you’ve noticed I haven’t been home?” You ask bitterly.

He was really going to push your buttons. You’re not sure if Vicky was right about you and David having to talk. This wasn’t going to go well at all. You were not in an ideal mental and physical state to be talking about your problems with him, but if not now then when?

“Of course, I have. Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, almost appalled by the accusation, and watching as you get up from the couch to stand in front of him.

“I hardly see you and when I do I find out that you just tried to kill yourself, so forgive me for not assuming I even ran as a mere thought in your messed-up head,” it was harsh, poking at his mental state, but you were so fed up, your mind was just as clouded, “...you didn’t think about me when you held the gun to your head,” you said ripping off his hat.

Your heart tightens in your chest as you stare at the wound and tears threaten to fall, but you don’t let them, “...and you certainly didn’t think about our baby when you pulled the trigger,” then chuck the cap at him, he makes no attempt to catch it as it lightly bounces off his chest and fall onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely and making no attempt to hide his tears as they raced down, “I’m so fucking stupid,” and he gets up on his feet, ”...I need help.”

He’s not even going to use the excuse of work and you’re not expecting him to rat himself out and come clean about Julia just yet. David didn’t work like that and you were absolutely done with it. No, everything had to come out now.

“I know,” is all you say at first. He thinks it’s some form of forgiveness, him acknowledging his problem, until you follow up, “just admit it,” your voice changes in tone from anger and hurt to an icy one, “who do you love now, David?”

All while asking him that question, you’re trying to get his eyes to focus on you, but you simply cannot. He’s looking everywhere but, and it hurts.

“It’s Julia, isn’t it? Tell me!” You shout at his face. When he doesn’t answer immediately, your lips press down together and you don’t hold back the tears any longer, “I can’t believe you,” you say in disbelief, almost struggle to breathe right, “this shit has been keeping me up at night!”

You back away from him and cover your mouth, just to conceal your sobs so the rest of the family doesn’t hear you cry. They most definitely heard you yell, but you didn’t want to further trouble them anymore or cause a big enough scene for them to burst right through.

There hadn’t been a doubt in your mind that David loved you before, but just seeing how he couldn’t open up enough to tell you there was someone else during, filled you with more heartache. Maybe it would hurt less, you wouldn’t know unless it came straight from his mouth.

David starts crying as well and you honestly want to slap him, but instead you start saying nasty things, cutting him way worse than anything you could ever do physically, and you certainly don’t hold back. Claiming you two were never meant to be together, and the baby doesn’t mean anything especially in uniting you both.

“I’ll be surprised if this baby even survives,” you scoff thinking about a past experience, and how cruel life was gifting you this baby.

“What are you talking about? You’re not thinking about-“ David starts getting all frantic suddenly, and not thinking, he grabs both your arms in his hands, holding you in place.

“God no! I would never!” You say in disgust and pull away from him, “I can’t believe you’d think I would…”

“Then what did you mean?” He asks curiously.

“I never told you why I broke up with him,” you don’t really mention your ex’s name these days. While you’d both moved on as civil as the both of you could, it still pangs you to reminisce about the relationship and how it ended.

“He couldn’t handle the long distance,” he said thinking he knew.

“He only couldn’t after...” you pause, trying to decide if now was the time to reveal this secret. David had the right to know, after all, an incident like such could happen again.

“After what? He was seeing someone else?” He grew increasingly anxious and almost ill towards the thought of another being unfaithful to you.

“No! It was my fault,” you don’t want to slander your ex at all. He couldn’t have prevented what happened to you across the other side of the world even if he tried. “I miscarried. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I woke up one day in my blood and the sharpest pain I’ve ever felt.”

You started reliving that day, how you were alone and the way your neighbors had to come to your aid. Your poor ex felt so helpless, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything for you, but the wave of depression afterwards had strained the relationship. It formally ended when you’d returned from studying abroad.

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant,” David says in shock. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and if it was stupid to think all this time you could’ve easily had a life without him long before you two finally became a thing.

“It didn’t matter, David,” your voice finally regained strength, and wiped at the tears on your face of the memory, ”you and Vicky were so in love. There’s nothing you could’ve done for me.”

“That’s not true,” David persists.

“I would’ve turned you away, just like him,” you say so sure. David was your friend then, yes, but you didn’t need or owed him this before now.

“You’re not going to lose this baby,” he promises.

“You don’t know that,” and you’re not trying to be a pessimist about this, you wanted this baby, but you were more than aware of the possibility it could happen again. Bad things just always seemed to be happening lately anyways.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’d protect you both with my last breath,” he vows, grabbing your hands, desperate to feel any part of you.

“I don’t need your protection, David,” your words continue to crush him, that was your subtle way of leaving him and he knew it, “I love you, David. I love you so much!” you say with plenty of emotion, and lightly squeeze his hands in yours, “...but you can’t even tell me who you love right now,” you point out, reluctantly removing your hands from his.

“You need to get help, David. If not for your family, me or the baby, please do it for yourself,” you say last, before placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to get help...for you,” you hear David say determinedly just before you walk out of the room. It wasn’t all you wanted to hear, you wanted him to tell you he loved you back, but you wanted him to live easy once again even if that meant him not loving you.

You could manage on your own, and work something out when the baby arrives, but for now it was time for you to go home.

A/N: Nope. Sorry! Whenever Season 2 decides to come out, maybe we’ll get a happier David, so for now I don’t think I can let these two ride off into the sunset…but I can if you send 2020 off with giving this a like, reblog, comment or all of the above!

#mrwinterr writes #david budd imagine #david budd x reader #david budd smut #david budd x y/n #david budd x female reader #richard madden imagine #richard madden smut #bodyguard imagine

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