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#to love anyway and memory and being desperate to forget and simultaneously desperate to remember

doctorwhoisadhd · 3 months

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dark water (2014) / end of days (2007) / jack's captain's log for torchwood 2.06 reset / dialogue - heaven sent / a day in the death (2008) / heaven sent (2015) / dialogue - dead man walking / dialogue - hell bent / dialogue - dead man walking / a day in the death (2008) / hell bent (2015) / dialogue - the waters of mars / dialogue - hell bent / children of earth: day five (2009) / dialogue - dead man walking / dialogue - heaven sent

webweaving: something about the way jack and 12 love

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celestialpotat0 · 1 year

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ballet saves the day

Things I miss about high school: -friends would write angsty xanga posts and i wouldn't feel so alone in my feelings -AIM. a set period of time (usually while doing homework/studying) when i'd log on and chat with my friends about nothing of substance and then i'd log off and could choose when nobody would be able to contact me

Happiness is something I make and choose. It's not something I can find or something that just happens. I need to keep reminding myself that.

I just wanted to take a moment to say that ballet tonight was what I needed. If you couldn't already tell, i write in here and memorialize the fulfilled moments, almost in desperation to cling onto that feeling of fulfillment that frankly feels so damn fleeting these days. i cant help but feel again, like i did back in that spring of 2018, that there's something missing.

that feeling had very distinctly gone away by the spring of 2019. i remember walking along the river in texas with my friend and somehow i got to talking about how truly happy i was, and i realized at that moment through the act of verbalizing it, that i was truly happy because i had learned in that year between 2018 to march 2019 (which was a volatile year that helped me grow immensely), that i could make my own happiness and not rely on anybody else for my happiness. i felt it to my core and i was so sure of it.

im scared now that im finding, 5 years later since 2018, that similar feeling creeping back that something's missing which is causing this underlying tinge of unhappiness. could it mean that what i thought was me making my own happiness independently of anybody else was actually NOT that? because life continued to be all rainbows and sunshine from march 2019 through 2021 so maybe i was never truly tested.

anyway, i felt happy today having the day off and spending it in this apartment that i love. there's so much pressure at work that having a day off with no pressure is in itself very happiness-inducing. i feel happy when i work out. and today in ballet it was therapeutic to move in a beautiful way. no matter what is going on outside of the studio, i put on my restrictive leotard and sweep my hair into a tight bun and im only thinking about how to create beauty with my body during those two hours. i feel like nothing can bring me down because no matter what shit is happening outside of the studio, in the studio i am in control of my lines and expression, and i can at least make those beautiful. it gives me hope that i can still rise above those bad things that happen to me because they are not going to stop me from dancing and celebrating and doing what i love.

on the flip side, i simultaneously get somewhat annoyed and frustrated at myself for not being able to move exactly how i want to move. why did my balance in passe with my right standing leg and left pirouette from fifth suck? why did i forget the barre choreo? why wasn't my turn clean and controlled? etc. but maybe i need to focus on being kinder to myself. i rehearsed the choreo throughout the week in my gym so i was prepared today. i didn't actively get worse at most of the stuff at the barre. ive been going consistently. hell, even just getting out my apartment and making it to class is something i should pat myself on the back for.

at the end of the day, i have been making progress compared to a year ago and i need to be patient with my progress as something that happens slowly and steadily over the very long term. and most importantly, i do it because it simply feels so great to move to music and transcend beyond a pedestrian state into the realm of artistic expression.

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safertokiss · 3 years

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Through a Different Lens

A/N: Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here. New content wowza. I’d say I’m surprised it’s been a while, but I simply am not. Luckily another fic swap has arrived to get my creative juices flowing once again. The gods have gifted me with another perfect opportunity to write sub spence because I was given @writing-in-april as my person yet again. Hooray! Anyways I hope you enjoy and thanks all you cool cats and kittens for the support (we almost to 1000 yeet skrrt). Also, it just happens to be my birthday today so as a gift to myself I thought about subby Spencer for a while.

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT and can’t forget that fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

ENJOY:)

~~~

It all started completely by accident.

There was no possible way that she would’ve been able to predict just how much they would affect the poor kid.

She could remember, clear as day, the first time she was forced to wear her glasses to the bureau due to her ongoing frustrations with the torture devices that were also referred to as contacts. There were only so many headaches and eye-waterings that she could take before the insecurity of wearing her frames to work shriveled below the point of caring anymore.

But none of those previous insecurities held a flame to the amount of confusion she felt when she entered the bullpen and waltzed over to Spencer’s desk to say good morning with a shy smile adorning her face. Y/n hadn’t even been able to get a complete sentence out before the young doctor had turned to her and froze, his mouth hanging open like a fish, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, the harsh red blush she had seen before, just maybe not to this extent, engulfing his boyish features.

Before she could even attempt to ask him what she had done to warrant such a response, he was spouting out a meager, “H-hey Y/n” whilst simultaneously scurrying off in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

Completely and utterly perplexed over what had happened, she had shrugged it off and made her way back to her desk, silently mulling over the interaction periodically throughout the rest of the day.

It was a couple of the same type of interactions later that Y/n began to take notice of what was actually happening with the boy genius. The stiff and unnatural posture. The stuttering, granted that wasn’t something new, just much more frequent and severe. The audible heartbeat always accompanied by rosy cheeks and goosebumps.

Spencer Reid was fucking turned on by the glasses.

And he didn’t even try to hide it. Or maybe he did and was just really, really bad at doing so.

Either way, Y/n quickly discovered just how much fun it was getting these reactions to pour out of the kid...so of course she kept wearing the glasses even after she was able to wear contacts again. He didn’t need to know that.

It was so fucking easy too.

She would just be sitting at her desk, occupied by some particularly troubling pages of a case file that makes her have to readjust her frames out of stress, when she’d hear a high pitched squeak across the bullpen, followed by the pattering of frantic footsteps she had familiarized herself with in former few weeks.

While she felt some kind of guilt for putting him through this, it was nowhere near enough to overtake the genuine excitement and gratification that came with knowing she could have such an effect on the adorable doctor.

Of course she found him attractive...how could she not with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and nerdy slicked back hair. Ultimately Y/n could understand his apparent infatuation with her wearing glasses as she had caught herself, on more than a couple occasions, openly ogling his own specs.

Maybe they were both weirdos...the whole situation was almost as strange as the Converse kink that she secretly harbored for years. Although her intuition was quick to suggest that, just maybe, both of her unique infatuations stemmed from the same noodle-shaped source.

Perhaps her favorite reaction of his, though, came about during the little office birthday party that the entire team had thrown for him.

He looked so adorable in the gigantic birthday cake hat they had bestowed upon him, Y/n could hardly contain her giggles at the giddy smile adorning his face. She watched on in amusement as Spencer tried desperately to get the candles on his cake to extinguish, to no avail, at least until someone felt bad watching his struggles and decided to give him a hand.

“They’re trick candles Spence, they’re gonna come back on every time.”, JJ chuckled, subtly smirking at Morgan who was also enjoying Spencer’s ongoing struggles.

A couple “happy birthdays” later and the rest of the team slowly began to disperse, leaving just Y/n and him alone in their own little space. He must’ve noticed this too because the blush that had already been present throughout the celebration beforehand seemed to deepen even further as he visibly swallowed down his nerves.

Slowly stalking towards the rouge kissed boy, she dragged a couple of her fingers across the surface of the desk, noting the way his eyes briefly flicked down to follow the movement before hesitantly returning his gaze to match her own.

She also noted the way his knuckles were basically turning white from the amount of pressure he was using to grab the sides of the chair.

“You have a good birthday, Spence?”, Y/n drawled with a teasing smile, now standing directly before the trembling young man.

Seeming to snap out of whatever sort of trance he had been in, he hastily cleared out his throat before responding with a bit of trepidation. “Hmm...yeah-yes uh yes it was v-very good, than-thank you.”

She couldn’t even attempt to conceal the smirk that had made its way to her lips listening to the genius stutter through his words. Such a nervous, nervous boy. So adorable. So fucking hot.

“Well that makes me happy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself pretty boy.”, she paused her thoughts soaking in the little hitches in his breath surely from how close she was standing near him and the added nickname. Deciding to play a little bit dirty, she leaned over directly into his line of sight to reach for the cake set before him.

“Now how about I take this away and cut it up for all of us to eat? Hmmm?”

His eyes darted immediately to the cleavage that was so graciously presented to him as she bent over to pick up the dessert, a sharp little gasp escaping his pretty, pink lips as his pupils dilated carelessly.

Y/n inwardly smirked at his reaction and began walking towards the kitchenette, but only made it about three or four steps before being interrupted.

“Did you know that in some instances birthday candles are safe for wax play?”, he exclaimed before seemingly realizing what had just escaped his lips, his hands flying up to cover his traitorous mouth.

Bewildered, in the best of ways, by what had just been said, she slowly swiveled back around, facing him once again, before placing the cake on the desk beside her.

“What was that Spencer?”, she grinned at the petrified man who hadn’t made a single noise since his unexpected declaration. The poor thing looked like a caged in animal with nowhere to escape. Perfect.

“N-nothing! I m-mean obviously it was um s-something, but j-just uh just forget what I s-said.”, he quickly explained while frantically shaking his hands as if he was hoping he could simply wipe your memory of the last minute or two away permanently.

“No, no please go on.”, she teased. “Now I’m intrigued. What did you mean by ‘in some instances’ Spence?”

She wasn’t expecting the look of confusion, however brief it was, that peeked its way through the overwhelming embarrassment that had been showcased on his face, as if he truly couldn’t fathom that someone was actually asking him to go into more detail about a topic.

Still didn’t change the fact that he was completely mortified.

Clearing his throat, he hesitantly lifted his gaze back to Y/n’s, seemingly debating with himself over whether he could articulate the words to come out or not.

“Um...well..usually many p-people who choose to e-engage in such act-activities will use specific types of c-candles that are uh more designed especially for pl-play.”, he paused and she drank up the way his Adam's apple bobbed along his throat. “Uh… basically depending on the t-type of candle that one u-uses, the amount of pain or um d-discomfort differs. B-birthday candles tend to b-be on the more painful side so only the couples who are in-into that kind of thing would ever really utilize t-them.”, he finished abruptly, his leg bouncing rapidly in her line of vision.

She still couldn’t really believe she had actually gotten him to say anything at all, nevermind an in depth analysis on wax play. In a weird way she was proud of him. Really proud. Sometime amidst her thoughts, she’d found herself standing directly behind his sitting figure, her hands resting on either side of him against the table, the goosebumps visible on his skin from the implications of the position they were currently in.

“That’s really intriguing Spencer. I’d love to find out someday just why it is you know so much about the subject, but I don’t want to make you go into cardiac rest anytime soon.”, she remarked, giggling at the shy smile that made its way to his mouth.

She didn’t even register reaching out to lightly touch his lips until she heard his sharp intake of breath. Until he turned his head so they were mere centimeters apart. Until she watched his puppy eyes dart between her lips and your frame covered gaze. Until the space between them seemed to be lessening with every sec-

“Hey pretty boy! Where’s my cake?”

Y/n grudgingly pulled back at the interruption, watching in amusement as Spencer’s body instinctively leaned forward as if his lips hadn’t gotten the memo and were still searching for hers. “It’s coming right up you lazy ass!” she yelled back with a grin on her face.

She looked back to the boy sitting before her and was almost mesmerized by the dazed look present on his face, the blush slowly retreating as he came back to his surroundings. She could tell there were words that he wanted to say, but they just didn’t seem to be forming fast enough to actually come out. Deciding to put their little moment on hold before he passed out, she walked back over to the neglected dessert and started heading towards the break room again.

“I’ll make sure to save you the biggest piece, Spence.”,she threw over her shoulder, chuckling at the bewildered look still that was still present on his face.

~~~

The day was a big success in her opinion.

Spencer looked even more like a child than usual with the big shit eating grin that remained throughout the celebration and the bulky hat that he refused to take off. She could never understand how someone could have such an affinity for sugar as she watched him devour the huge slice of cake she had carved up for him.

But hours later, it was just her and Spencer left in the building.

And she was not about to let that go to waste.

Y/n could see him from where she stood at the entrance to the kitchenette. She could see the way he slouched over his desk with his legs curled underneath him, criss cross applesauce, as he scribbled down whatever case file he was working on. She admired his determined work ethic, that’s for sure.

But now was simply not the time to work.

Spencer immediately froze as soon as her body situated itself to be leaning against his desk, painfully aware of her gaze on his tense form.

“H-hey Y/n.”, he nervously murmured, the stutter once again making her giddy.

“Hey yourself doc. Wanna tell me why it is you’re still here working at such a late hour? Doesn’t the elusive Spencer Reid have better things to be entertaining himself with?”, she drawled, her piercing gaze making the poor kid squirm before her eyes.

“Oh um no...n-not really. I actually don’t mind working late. It’s k-kind of therapeutic in a way. But um...I’m happy t-that you’re here w-with me.”, he whispered the last part as if he was scared you wouldn’t appreciate his gratitude.

But she appreciated it more than he knew.

Noticing the little pencil holder situated amongst the file stacks on his desk, an idea popped into her mind that she just couldn’t shake, prompting her to pick it up and begin fiddling with it.

“Oh is that so pretty boy? Does my presence satisfy you?” Before he could even attempt an answer she “accidently” dropped the holder on the ground, the array of pens and pencils dispersing among the floor. “Oops my bad.”

Spencer immediately scrambled out of his seat and onto the floor to start collecting the colorful writing utensils, the perfect distraction needed for Y/n to situate herself on his desk with her legs spread open directly in front of his face.

“D-don’t worry abou-”, his sentence cut off as he looked up and was met with the tantalizing sight of her white lace panties already damp with her excitement. She swore he could die happy with the way his eyes widened and cheeks flushed. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“See something you like baby?” Unable to even form words, the young doctor slowly nodded his head, eyes still locked on the obvious wet spot between her open legs.

“C-can I..can I um…”

“Use your words baby boy. Can you what?”, she spoke clearly, grasping his chin so he’d look her in the eyes.

“C-can I taste you?” She couldn't get over the desperate way he spoke as if he’d die of thirst if he didn’t get a drink from her.

“Of course you can sweet b-” Not even letting the words leave her mouth, his hands were eagerly pulling her panties down and off her legs, his lips instantly connecting with the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. She swore his tongue and lips were enchanted with the way he was able to effortlessly maneuver his way around, easily picking up on what she loved.

“Oh Spencer you’re such a good boy.” she couldn’t resist threading her fingers through his silky hair and tugging slightly, an action she assumed he enjoyed based on the muffled whine she heard from between her thighs.

It hadn’t even been more than a few minutes before she found herself already on the verge of letting go. No guy had ever been able to make her feel this good and just electric until now. He was quickly ruining her for anyone else in the future. She did not mind in the slightest.

“Baby I really wanna feel you inside me. Is that something you want sweetheart?”

He reluctantly pulled back after a few more kitten licks to her clit, wide eyes finding hers and whimpering out a broken “yes”. More than happy with his response she gently pulled him up by his hair and started undoing his belt, his oversized pants easily falling down without the extra support. Just another thing about him that she had come to adore. She was very pleased by the obvious bulge that protruded through his baby blue checkered boxers.

Before she pulled those down too, though, she very gently reached up and cupped his cheeks, guiding his plump lips to her own, basking in the delighted whimpers that escaped his mouth at the soft but passionate contact. She released his lips with a slight nip and proceeded with his clothing removal, coaxing him to sit down in the swirly chair he had been previously residing in, before straddling his lap.

“You ready sweet boy?”, she asked leaning forward to kiss his rouge forehead and cheeks.

“Mhmm I’m r-ready.”

Taking that as the go ahead, she cautiously positioned herself over his throbbing erection before slowly lowering herself inch by inch until he was completely enveloped by her tight, warm walls.

“Oh-ohh my.”, he whimpered at the overwhelming feeling of being connected so intimately. Gently, she started to move a bit more, hesitantly lifting up before lowering herself back down, flush against his lap, one of her soft hands anchoring herself to his shoulder while the other caressed his flushed cheeks.

“I know baby, I know. You feel so good baby boy I don’t think I’m going to be able to last much longer.”

“M-me neither.”, he stuttered as the pace she had previously set seemed to increase in speed, the excitement and ecstasy getting to the both of them and subconsciously pushing the two of them closer to their shared release.

The fire was quickly building within her body and she knew she was truly crumbling at the seams, but with the way his body was trembling and his dick was subtly twitching inside of her she knew he was right there too.

“It’s ok baby boy, it’s ok. Cum for me sweet boy. I want you to cum inside and fill up my pussy Spence.”, she muttered feeling the beginning of her end crash unexpectedly throughout her entire being, grasping onto the boy underneath her to tie herself to the earth.

Overwhelmed by the utter euphoria of Y/n cumming around him, Spencer let himself get thrown off the edge, his hands tightening on her waist hard enough she was sure little bruises would form come tomorrow, not that she minded at all.

“Oh Y/n!” She watched on, obsessed with the way that his mouth fell open in a little o-shape as his eyes squeezed shut, the tell tale signs of pleasure coursing through his veins, the warm feeling that he left deep inside of her as she gently lifted herself from his shaking legs, reaching for her panties before the warmth was able to escape down her damp thighs.

Looking back at the trembling boy after cleaning herself and him up, she couldn’t help but melt at the lovesick, puppy dog eyes he was giving her, prompting her to lean forward and leave more little kisses on the top of his damp hair.

“That was incredible Spence. Really incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before baby.”

She melted even further at the way he shyly dropped his head to somewhat hide the wide grin that had spread like wildfire across his face. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before his head lifted with a questioning glance.

“How’d you-I mean uh how did you know that I liked you?” There was no way she could control the giggles that left her lips at his silly question.

“You weren’t exactly subtle with the whole glasses thing Spence.”

And then the only sound heard throughout the building was her full blown laughter at the mortification that speedily adorned his cherry cheeks.

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nicknellie · 3 years

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@fireflyingaway requested: willex + waffle house pretty plz

So I did have to do “extensive research” on Waffle House because I don’t have one near me and have never been to one, and that led me to find an incredibly good dessert place literally a ten minute drive from me so thank you for that lmfao. But anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this, I went with getting together (kind of) fluff because that’s my jam, so I really hope you enjoy it!

Smooth Like Syrup

Somewhere along the way, Waffle House had become Alex’s favourite restaurant. He wondered if it was the childhood memories it brought back, weekend brunches spent there with his grandparents who cared for him and loved him far more than his parents ever had. It could have just been the fact that he loved waffles, and with a name like ‘Waffle House’ they couldn’t really put a foot wrong when it came to serving him. Maybe it was just the familiarity of it all – Alex had always found comfort in routine, after all. Whatever the reason he loved it there so much, Alex went to Waffle House at least once a week, more if he had the time. And it was absolutely nothing to do with the adorable new waiter who had started working there for the summer.

If anything, he was ruining it all.

Because he’d been going to the same Waffle House every week for as long as he could remember, Alex was pretty friendly with most of the staff. A few of them had been working there as long as he’d been a customer, so they were on first-name terms and always took a moment or two to catch up with each other once Alex had ordered his food (which never took long because he always ordered the same thing and they all knew that by now). Seeing the same people working there and having the same generic chitchat with them each week worked perfectly for Alex. It was normal, routine, familiar, a social situation he knew how to navigate.

Then they’d gone and hired Willie. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but it was. A problem for Alex at the very least. Not only did it disrupt his routine and catch him unawares the first time he’d walked into the restaurant to see a new waiter, but the waiter had to look like that. Willie was all dazzling smiles and sharp cheekbones and luscious long hair and it was, quite simply, unfair. Alex came to Waffle House to eat, not get flustered over some ridiculously good-looking boy.

For a few weeks, Alex had taken the admittedly immature approach to just avoid Waffle House altogether. Out of sight, out of mind. The only reason it hadn’t lasted long was because he missed the waffles, and he couldn’t find anything to fill that extra hour and a half of his Saturday. So after not visiting for two weeks, Alex returned to Waffle House and resumed his routine, still flustered by stupidly attractive Willie, but most definitely working on a way to stop it being a problem.

His next plan of action had been simply trying to avoid Willie which was foiled the moment he sat down in his usual booth one Saturday afternoon. He had been hoping that his usual server would spot him and come over for a chat, but as luck would have it, Willie got to his table first.

“Welcome to Waffle House,” he had said, beaming down at Alex, who tried to act as if the sudden appearance hadn’t scared the life out of him. He wasn’t sure how well he pulled it off, but Willie had made no comment. “My name is Willie, I’ll be your server today. What can I get you started with?”

Two things had thrown Alex then. Firstly, it had been the first time he’d heard Willie’s name. It was strange to be able to put a name to the face of an angel and he was certain he would never have guessed ‘Willie’ if he’d been given a million tries. Secondly, the fact that Willie didn’t automatically know his order bewildered him. He was so used to the waiters coming over, confirming he wanted the usual, and slipping into easy conversation. This was new and unexpected, and if there was anything Alex hated it was new and unexpected things.

As such, his mind went blank and he completely forgot what he usually ordered. A plain waffle and a diet coke shouldn’t have been easy to forget, it wasn’t anything fancy, and yet Alex made it work.

“Um,” he’d said dumbly, looking up at Willie’s expectant face with his mouth bobbing open and closed like a mildly distressed fish. He could feel his cheeks heating in a blush and looked away as Willie raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Do you need a minute to decide?” Willie had asked sceptically.

Alex had shaken his head vigorously, aware that probably made him look as frantically flustered as he felt and was trying to hide, which only made him more flustered. He took several shallow but slow breaths before forcing words out of his mouth because that was how conversations worked and he refused to lose the ability to speak over this boy.

“No, no, I know what I want,” he had said eventually. “Just a plain waffle and a diet coke, thank you.”

“Is that everything?” Willie had asked, jotting the order down on his notepad.

Not trusting himself to speak any more than that, Alex just nodded. Willie had shot him a bright smile and disappeared off to get his order prepared. The moment he was certain Willie couldn’t see him anymore, Alex’s head flopped onto the table and he let out a long, exhausted, frustrated groan. He felt like an utter mess.

For the rest of that visit, he’d kept it together by simply not talking to Willie unless it was absolutely necessary. Had he been a more confident person he might have found a better way to handle it, but Alex had been cursed with social awkwardness from the moment he’d been old enough to socialise and it wasn’t suddenly going to fix itself just do he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of Willie.

As time went on, things got simultaneously worse and better between Alex and Willie, enough that Alex both dreaded and looked forward to his weekly Waffle House trips. For one thing, he and Willie had got to know each other a bit better – Willie could anticipate Alex’s order now, Alex could just about talk without tripping over his words or saying something slightly embarrassing (which always felt to Alex like something utterly mortifying and worth overthinking because his brain hated him), and if both of them were in the right state of mind they could manage a very brief chat.

But on the flip side, Alex hated Waffle House now and it was Willie who had ruined it for him. Not for any sane reason like being a bad waiter (because he was actually a very good waiter, which Alex thought had something to do with the fact that he always wore Heelys so he could glide across the restaurant which was much faster than walking). No, Willie had ruined Waffle House for Alex because now he couldn’t go in there and see Willie without getting butterflies in his stomach and a giddy grin on his face.

Now that he knew Willie better, it wasn’t just his beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous smile that Alex liked about him. He was talkative, he was funny, he was sweet. He was extremely considerate – when Alex came in one day, Willie met him at the door, walked him to his usual table, told him they’d run out of diet coke and that he had just popped to the store and bought some just for Alex, knowing he would order it. And he laughed at Alex’s terrible attempts at humour, he drizzled the syrup onto Alex’s waffles in the shape of smiley faces, he made sure Alex’s usual booth was always free of people for when he came in. Everything about Willie made Alex’s heart beat too fast and his breath catch and it was starting to make going to Waffle House a very stressful experience.

So Willie was the reason that Alex loved going there and was also desperate to find somewhere else.

But Alex, despite his many worries about life, wasn’t the kind of person to give up on something just because someone else made it difficult. Sure, that rule had usually applied to very different situations, and he actually liked Willie so it wasn’t as if seeing him was a bad thing, but it helped Alex to remember that he’d always powered through things like this and that was what kept him going to the restaurant.

One day, he arrived to Waffle House later than normal. He had come straight from band practise which had gone on longer than normal because they’d spent the first forty-five minutes arguing about the dangers of fiddling with electrical equipment in the rain and decided to make up that time at the end. As such, Alex arrived almost twenty minutes after he normally would have left.

He didn’t spot Willie immediately as he came in and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Nowadays, Willie nearly always greeted him at the door, knowing exactly what time he arrived. He supposed Willie had long ago given up waiting for him to get there – he had a job to get on with, after all. Alex tried not to feel too sad about it as he made his way over to his usual booth; Willie was a waiter, not a friend, not anything else, and Alex shouldn’t have expected him to wait forever or be there whenever he wanted.

But when Alex came to his usual seat, he was surprised to see someone already sat there. Even more so when he noticed that person was Willie.

Willie looked up as he approached, expression changing from bored to delighted in a second flat. The grin on his face was more than enough to snap Alex out of his sudden bad mood, lifting his spirits and bringing a smile to his face in an instant.

“Alex!” Willie greeted. “You’re here! I thought something had happened to you, man, you had me worried.”

Alex laughed and sat down opposite him, trying to keep his eyes wandering so he didn’t end up just staring at Willie. “Nah, I’m alright. Band practice ran over, is all.”

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” Willie said with a small smile. “But if it happens again can you text me to let me know you’ll be late? Just so I know I don’t need to worry about you and I can still keep your table free.”

“Sure, but I don’t have your number,” Alex said, ignoring the persistent fluttering of his heart and the alarms blaring in his head. It seemed as if his mind had pressed its panic button at something Willie had said but Alex was too distracted to figure out what.

“That’s easily fixed,” Willie replied. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and slid it across the table to Alex. “If you put your number in there I’ll text you so you can save mine.”

Heart hammering, cheeks hot, and smile so wide it hurt, Alex nodded and entered his contact information into Willie’s phone. He tried to act nonchalant as he slid it back across the table afterwards, but in his flustered state his aim was off – he pushed too hard and it fell over the edge of the table, right into Willie’s lap. That was one of those slightly embarrassing moments that Alex’s subconscious would likely rub mockingly in his face for days to come and he couldn’t help but wince at the thought.

“Thanks, man,” Willie said, beaming. “It’s just for peace of mind, you know. I really like you and when you didn’t show up earlier I just… well, I wondered where you were.”

Willie wasn’t meeting his eye all of a sudden. In fact, he apparently found the table top very interesting because he was staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. Alex knew the signs well enough to guess how Willie was feeling then – nervous. But what did Willie ever have to be nervous about?

“Hey,” Alex said gently, lowering his voice in an attempt to calm Willie’s nerves. He leant over the table a little though so that he could still be heard. “I’m here, aren’t I? Nothing bad actually happened. You don’t need to worry about me, Willie. I promise.”

A small, bittersweet smile fluttered across Willie’s face. “Yeah. You’re here.”

The short silence then felt charged, electric, fierce. Why, Alex had no idea.

But Willie broke it, his usual bright smile back on his face as he said, “I hope you don’t mind me eating with you, by the way. I’m on my lunch break and I’d kept this table empty for you anyway so I thought I might as well sit here.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine by me,” Alex insisted. It was a half-truth. Was he happy to have longer to chat with Willie than normal, eat together as if they were friends rather than just a waiter and a customer? Yes. But did this feel too much like a date for Alex’s anxiety to handle, even though it was very clearly not a date? Also yes. He half wanted to ask Willie to sit somewhere else, but that would have been unthinkably rude, so he settled for trying not to be awkward.

Not long later, another server came and brought their food out. For a moment Alex thought it was weird because nobody had even come to take his order, then he remembered that everyone who worked at Waffle House knew what he got so it would have just wasted time if they’d asked. The two of them ate in silence for a while, Willie enjoying his break and Alex enjoying the first food he’d eaten all day.

Their conversation started up again when they were about halfway into their meals. Willie asked about Alex’s band practise, how things were going, what they had lined up. Alex was more than happy to talk about Julie and the Phantoms for hours on end and the way Willie engaged with his waffling on so enthusiastically only fuelled that fire. But in return, Alex made sure to ask how Willie was, how he was getting on preparing to start college, whether he’d had enough free time to skate lately.

It was weird, he thought, that this was their first proper conversation and yet they already knew so much about each other’s lives that it flowed as easily as it would have if Alex had been talking to one of his closest friends. Perhaps he and Willie were closer than he had realised.

He only stayed until Willie’s break ended, which was painfully short. They said their goodbyes, Alex jokingly promised he’d be on time next time, Willie laughed that beautiful laugh of his as he took their plates away, and Alex left the restaurant. He couldn’t shake the odd feeling in his mind, still wondering what had panicked him at the start of their conversation.

It hit him as he was crossing a road, stopping him dead in his tracks and causing an irritated driver to beep his horn at him: Willie had been worried about him.

It felt so much more personal than it should have. If Willie worried, it meant he cared, and if Willie cared then it could have meant any number of things. It could have meant that when he looked at Alex he felt the same featherlight giddiness that Alex did when he saw Willie. It could have meant that Willie spent his days wishing Alex was more than just a regular customer. It could have meant that when Willie asked for his phone number he was actually asking for more than that.

Alex had no idea what inspired him to do it, what unusual burst of courage gave him the ability to go through with it, but a moment later he had whipped his phone out and opened Willie’s contact. There was only one message between them, the one Willie had sent so Alex could save his information, but Alex quickly typed out another and hit send before he had time to regret it.

I know you said I only needed to text you if I was going to be late, but I figured I could text you about other stuff too. Like the fact I’m free next Friday if you want to hang out.

Something like that ordinarily would have stressed him out but he didn’t have the time for that because Willie’s response was almost immediate.

Sure! I hear Waffle House is pretty great, how about we go there?

Alex laughed at how dorky and cute Willie was even over text and replied quickly with: It’s a date.

Willie replied with three emojis – a smiley face, a heart, and a waffle. Even just from that, Alex knew Willie had understood him and that next Friday they would be going on an actual date together. He didn’t care whether it was actually at Waffle House or they tried somewhere completely new; as long as he was with Willie, nothing else mattered.

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Note

*cough cough* 40. for the uh the LT route? :)

i am so so so sorry this took so long but inspiration suddenly hit around 10pm and finished it 3 hours later. i hope whichever anon you are gets to see this, since it's been months 🥺.

author’s note: this one hurt and takes place long after the events of the current books (and long after my canon relationship storyline). i hope the switching of tenses isn't too jarring, but it's sort of needed here given the POVs. enjoy! copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (lyra kingston) x nate sewell (LT route) rating/warnings: 14+; angst based on/prompt: OTP angst prompts // 40. “I’m still not over you.” (in bold) word count: ~1k summary: after months spent trying to bury her feelings for nate and adam, lyra gives in before giving up.

time

nate glanced up from his tome at the large grandfather clock, the antique façade indicating that it wasn’t quite late enough for bed. he held back a sigh – time seemed to move slower these days.

he used to count down the days, when the only way to tell time was to follow the watch schedule and listen for the bells. sometimes it made the endless days at sea a little more tolerable.

other times, it was complete torture.

to know that life was passing by and yet being unable to move forward with it. he had never hoped to experience anything like that again.

and now time is one of the few things he no longer has to worry about.

time in essence, is the quintessential part of human existence that he has no right to claim.

instead, it speeds past him.

pushing the world around him toward newer heights and frightening changes, the awe-inspiring advancements never failing to strike him with renewed hope and fear.

it’s not that time is accelerating the world around him, but that he is no longer able – or perhaps willing – to go with it.

but today – and yesterday, and the day before, and so on, and he’s sure it will be the same tomorrow – he wishes he could fast forward by a decade or a century. maybe more since he’s not sure how much time it will take for the deep-rooted ache in his soul to heal.

maybe it will take nine hundred years.

his longest and dearest friend comes to mind. adam is staring out into the darkness, unmoving in body and in spirit. for a split second, nate wonders if that’s what he needs – the ability to lock away the hurt and let the centuries grow protective ivy over it.

he chases the notion away with a shake of his head, knowing that the hurt was just collateral damage for opening himself up to the possibility of a truly special kind of love with lyra.

adam tenses and nate dutifully returns his gaze to the words in his lap. a brief apology and easy forgiveness said to each other in passing months ago should’ve been enough to mend the rift between them.

but nate knows too well that time doesn’t heal all wounds. he knows the origin of the saying is locked away somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, but he’d rather not think about how much he’s lost because of time.

it doesn’t heal, but it does provide distance.

a human-sized distance he desperately wishes didn’t exist.

* * * * * lyra’s done nothing but put unit bravo out of mind for the past few months, working diligently with agency researchers and hoping that space and time would force her feelings to pass.

for the most part, she thought she succeeded. it was easy enough to bury her head with work. in the windowless rooms she practically lived in, it was even easier to lose track of the days that turned into months.

but time still has a way of simultaneously moving too slow and speeding up when she least expects it.

and for brief moments, she thinks she understands her mother a bit better.

shut out an old life and it distracts from the pain.

she supposes there’s no need for the agency facility to track time in human hours, considering most supernaturals don’t need to sleep and everyone generally works around the clock.

truthfully, she enjoys the hourless days, her watches and old personal phone buried in a duffel bag somewhere.

except in those moments where time decides to remind her of its hold over human life and pull her down the road to memories shoved behind a door with loose hinges, creaking in the wind.

time, the friend who never calls except when they need something that takes too much, shoves memory after memory in her face and reminds her of all that she turned her back on – without a word of explanation.

just her leaving behind a couple of two-word sentences hastily scrawled with nate’s favorite pen and all of her things put into storage.

it’s a not-so-gentle reminder that time won’t let her forget and that the memory of a person is not beholden to their material possessions.

she knows this to be true when seeing a thick tome makes her long for those nights spent curled up in the library and walking by the training rooms takes her back to those combat lessons.

lyra presses her eyelids down to ease the stinging in the corners. the tears were supposed to stay behind with her things, that was the deal.

she wipes furiously at her cheeks while walking briskly towards the exit. she lets pure instinct take her down the familiar winding and hidden road through the woods, stepping out of her car just before the turn that would bring the warehouse into her sight.

she can feel their presence as she steps closer to the outside entrance, its dilapidated façade still the same and yet it now mirrors the ache in her chest.

the ache carries her forward until she’s speeding through to the inner doors, desperately seeking an answer to questions she’s still too afraid to ask.

but it isn’t fear that has her throwing the door open and panting to catch her breath, oblivious to the conflicted emotions swirling in front of her.

“i’m still not over you.”

the words ring loud and true in the otherwise quiet living room, both vampires attuned to her rapid heartbeat and pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes with practiced ease.

adam makes to leave, fists clenched tightly at his side and the movement helps nate find his voice.

“who were you speaking to, lyra?”

her name tumbles with hesitation from his lips, the tender familiarity of the sound is one he hopes to remember in its purest form, when he used to punctuate it with darling.

acknowledging the distance between them might begin to taint it but he says it anyway, his heart leaping slightly at the glimmer of hope in her eyes before dread quickly draws it back into place.

nate’s warmth and adam’s steadiness immediately draw her in and lyra grips the doorframe a little tighter in futile resistance. she knows now without a doubt that no amount of distance will lessen the pull.

but maybe time will.

after all, time is a human construct. creating the space to heal, to grow, to learn, and to love.

and vampires have all the time in the world.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @anotherbeingsworld; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @writer-ish; @alyssalauren; @takemyopenheart; @pearlsandsteel; @babycracker; @mevnraels; n sewell: @missameliep;

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hollyxqx · 4 years

Text

BAD FRIENDS ; MIN YOONGI ; ONE

↪ PAIRING: reader x yoongi / reader x seokjin ↪ GENRE: friends to lovers to enemies to lovers, 90s!au, college!au, angst, smut, hurt, comfort, FLUFF ↪ SUMMARY: hooking up with your childhood best friend was never your plan, but neither was falling in love with him either. he’s troubled but his heart is gold. when you move away for college, things start to take a turn.

↪ WARNINGS: TW! mentions of alcohol&physical abuse, yoongi’s dad is a terrible human, minor descriptions of violence, smut, explicit sex, recreational drug use, but despite that there is a lot of love and fluff, so much pining between these two idiots in luv

↪ WORD COUNT: 20k (it’s a big one!!!)

series masterlist

It Began As A Mistake

The shared wall between your houses is far too thin, you often think. You hear a lot of what you’re not supposed to. The mask the Min family next door displays to the world is shattered for you every night when the raised voices and banging starts.

You expect Yoongi will be requesting your company soon, if the shouting and screaming through the wall tonight is any indication to go by. It’s a pattern that has become more frequent, especially as of late, but has been going on for as long as you could remember.. It’s routine now.

Not that you mind. Yoongi is your closest friend. The longest relationship you’ve had with any other human being (aside from your parents) is the one you share with Yoongi. You met him the day you moved in next door at the tender age of eight. He had been playing in his front yard, throwing and catching a basketball against a hoop attached to the brick wall of his house. You don’t remember much about the first meeting other than laughing at his enormous oversized shirt that reached his knees.

According to your mother, it was a fast friendship. By the end of that first day you had proudly declared to her that Yoongi was your bestsest frien. She always recalls the story with a fond smile on her face, given how much she adores him. As an only child, Yoongi was like the brother you never had. And that’s how the relationship continued. Innocent and almost sibling-like.

Until it wasn’t.

The memory of the first time you slept together is hazy. You don’t know exactly who initiated the first move but in the moment it made sense, as if it was the right thing to do. Yoongi had snuck out, climbed in your bedroom window as he usually did when he wanted to escape his turbulent home life and made himself at home in your room.

He had never been particularly vocal when it came to expressing his emotions. That was just Yoongi; silent, stoic, strong. It was only with you that he would allow himself to even be marginally vulnerable. Occasionally the veil would slip ever so slightly and you’d get a peek of the turmoil underneath and every time you did, you wanted to take that pain away from him any way you could.

So when you held him in your arms and he murmured into the skin of your neck how much you meant to him, you knew you would do anything for him. Which is why when his lips found yours you kissed him back. When he slowly removed every item of clothing you wore, you let him. When he fucked you on your childhood bed, slowly and purposefully, you granted him access to your body. Whatever Yoongi wanted, you allowed him to take from you.

If it meant bringing some happiness and light into his life, it was worth it. You loved him, after all.

As if on cue, you hear a quiet tap on your window. You look up from the book that you were unsuccessfully trying to distract yourself with to see Yoongi, peering at you underneath a mop of shaggy black hair. When you notice him he gives you the briefest of smiles, but you can see in his eyes he’s anything but happy.

“Figured you’d be over soon.” You say quietly as you push the window open to let him in. “He’s bad tonight, huh?”

You were referring to Yoongi’s father. The center of the hurricane of chaos that is the Min family. Mr Min had a serious drinking problem, and whenever he had one too many it was like he transformed into someone else entirely. Mrs Min and Yoongi took the brunt of his wrath. Although Yoongi never outright said it, you had long since deduced the violence his father inflected. Mrs Min had ‘walked into a door’ too many times for you to count.

“He’s an asshole.” Yoongi mutters, kicking off his sneakers. “I waited until he passed out, there’s no way I would leave that monster alone with Mom.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask, scooching over to make space for him on the bed beside you. He shakes his head ‘no’ as he flops face down on the mattress. Rarely does he want to open up. He lays on his front, head resting on the back of his palms. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” You rub his back affectionately.

“You should be, I cut my hand climbing up the trellis.” His muffled voice replies. “Maybe invest in a rope ladder for me.”

“Noted. Now let me see your hand.”

Yoongi allows you to look at the small cut on his hand. It’s nothing serious but you go and fetch a plaster from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom anyway. On your way back to your room you pause outside your parents bedroom and listen. Their television is off, which means they must be asleep. As much as they love Yoongi, catching him in your room after hours would probably not go down well.

“Thanks.” Yoongi mumbles once the band aid is secured. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He asks quietly.

“You don’t need to ask” You tell him this every time, but he never listens. Instead he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’re the only thing tethering him to reality. He may not pour his heart out to you but his need for affection, for love, is clear when he holds you like this.

“I had such a shitty night.” He says into your skin, face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath tickles. “Just wanna forget it.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Wanna forget everything that’s not you right now.”

Your stomach involuntarily somersaults at his words. He’s not romantically interested in you.. You know this.. He’s your best friend. In the two years you’ve been sleeping together you’ve worked hard to keep any feelings at bay, but when he says things like that, your heart races. Your phisiolocical reaction betrays your head.

It’s not the same for Yoongi and you know that. He doesn’t get butterflies. He’s just blowing off steam. It is why you constantly remind yourself about the reality of the situation. It’s just sex. If you even allow yourself to think otherwise for a moment you’ll get carried away and that can only mean one thing; the end of your friendship.

He leads you back to the bed, laying you down on the mattress before his lips are on yours. Yoongi is a phenomenal kisser, a fact you're reminded of when he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue in your mouth. It’s slow and passionate, something you’ve grown to love about his kissing style. He knows just how much to give and take.

You’re hot all over from his touch. His roaming hands caress your body, his touch gradually growing more desperate. It’s heavy breathing and grinding and intense. Like he can’t get close enough to you. “Yoongi,” You pant as he pulls your shirt up and over your head.

“Hmm sweetheart?” He asks distractedly, eyes on your now naked breasts. The pet names only ever come out during sex. Leaning forward he cups them in his hand, kissing all over your chest. He takes one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, sending electricity straight down your spine. His mouth is sinful.

“I-I don’t have a - “ You moan a little when you feel his clothed hardness press between your legs as he moves to your other breast. Your hands fly to his hair, anchoring him to your chest.“Yoongi, I don’t have any condoms.” You manage to get out.

He carries on what he’s doing but hums against your flesh, “Did we finish that pack already?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter as he kisses his way down your navel. Yoongi hooks his thumbs in your shorts and drags them, along with your panties, down your legs. He kneels between your thighs and grips an ankle in each hand, bending your legs up and outwards and open. “I meant to pick some up.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi replies, once again distracted as he settles down on his chest between your spread thighs. Most of your hook ups begin this way. He reads your body so well now, after two years of doing this together he has every tip and trick down to a science. Spit sloppy kisses land on the soft meat of your inner thigh before his tongue makes it way in between your lower lips making your breath hitch.

He loves having his hair tugged and pulled whenever he’s eating you out, so your hands wind themselves through his dark locks. He grunts at the contact but still takes his time even as you tug on his hair, encouraging him. “God, Yoongi.” You whine quietly and breathlessly. “Feels amazing.”

His hands hook underneath your thighs, legs resting over his shoulder,, pulling your mound closer to him as his tongue begins to flick faster against your clit. It’s so hard to be quiet when he plays your body like this. You clutch at the sheets beneath you and a pillow simultaneously in a hopeless attempt at remaining silent.

“Look at you,” Yoongi breaks away, peering up at you through his bangs. There’s a dark desire in his eyes and your arousal on his lips. You can’t help but wonder if he loves the control aspect of making you feel good. “I can tell you’re barely holding it together. Fuckin’ needy for me. Do you want to cum like this? Or with my fingers too?”

“No.” You whisper and he quirks a skeptical brow. “I want to cum with you inside me Yoongi.”

“We don’t have condoms.” He reminds you, languidly licking a stripe up your pussy, eliciting a shudder out of you. He slips one arm back underneath your leg so fingers can toy with the outline of your entrance. “As much as I’d love to feel you...I’ll get some tomorrow for us.”

You let a muffled cry as he slips a finger inside of your wet heat, curling it expertly. “A-ah, Yoon -” You gasp as he pumps it slowly. “I’m on birth control.”

His motions come to a frustrating hault. “Since when?”

You had been on it for a while, not because you were having a lot of casual sex but just for your the sake of your period (something you didn’t feel like would particularly interest your best friend). Yoongi and you had long since established practicing safe sex so you carried on using condoms. “A few months.”

“Are you...are you with other people?” He asks and you can’t believe he’s asking this with his fingers literally inside you.

“Yoongi I’ve never been with anyone other than you.” You inform him quietly. He’d never known that he was the one who took your virginity. At the time you were so embarrassed to be the only one of your friend group still carrying their v-card, though looking back that was such a ridiculous thing to worry about.

“Really? Not even Jimi - “

“Don’t even say his name to me.” You cut him off abruptly. Jimin had been your boyfriend when you were a teenager, who ended up cheating on you. “No. Are we going to do this because I’m slowly starting to get turned off here.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gives you that same lopsided smile that makes your heart thud. Slowly he leans down to reattach his mouth to your still hyper sensitive clit before resuming fucking you with his fingers. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been with too.” He mumbles so quietly you almost miss it if it wasn’t the tickle of his hot breath against your sensitive flesh.

For some reason that turns you on more, knowing that this moment, this feeling, you’d only ever shared with each other.

Your tightening around him, walls clenching as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath enough to whine, “Yoongi I’m close, please stop, please, please let me cum on your cock.”

He pulls away with a smirk. “How could I say no when you beg so prettily?”

Yoongi reluctantly tears away from you and stands briefly to shed his clothing. They’re tossed uncaringly to the floor before he crawls over you, wedging himself in between your legs. When his bare cock brushes against your hot cunt you shiver. It’s electric, raw and thrilling at the same time. You can practically feel yourself dripping on to the sheets below.

Your lips brush together, before he whispers a warning with a laugh, “I’m probably going to cum really quick.”

“You better not.” You tease, closing the distance between your mouths with a searing kiss. Yoongi continues lapping at your mouth as one hand nudges your thighs apart a little wider. He grips the base of his cock, lining it up at your entrance before dipping the head of it in painstakingly slowly.

“Ok?” He breathes against your cheek as he inches the rest of himself in slowly. You nod eagerly. When he’s sheathed all the way inside of you he groans, a little too loudly for your liking.

“Yoongi!” You whisper shout, clamping a hand against your mouth. “Be quiet!”

He licks the inside of your palm and you squeal at the ticklish sensation, yanking your hand away which was his goal. “Now who's the loud one?” He tries to joke but his voice is deeper, hoarser, husky, like he’s trying to hold back from just pounding you into the mattress.

“Move, Yoongi.” You nudge your hips upward slightly, desperate to feel him,, causing him to bite down on his lip in pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good.” He whispers in your ear as he slowly begins to rock his hips against you. “So fuking wet, so fucking warm.” He keeps his face next to the shell of your ear. “So tight for me sweetheart.”

He rests on his forearms as he begins to pick up speed. Together, after all the practice you’ve engaged in, you’ve both long since learned how to fuck quietly in your bedroom. Tonight however Yoongi seems to be losing himself more than usual. Both of you stop instantly the second your headboard hits the wall with a thud, staring at each other in fear.

After a few tense moments of waiting to ensure no one in your household has woken, Yoongi mutters a low apology before carrying on thrusting.

“I’m close, Yoongi.” You whisper, pushing his chest up slightly so you’re able to reach down to your neglected clit. The other hand finds purchase on his shoulder. “Ohhhh,” You moan squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel Yoongi’s dark gaze on your face. Knowing he’s watching is undeniably hot.

“Baby cum for me,” He pants. “Please, I’m so close. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up. I’m gonna cum in you, claim you, make you all mine.”

You’re not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying but it does the trick and you feel that tightly wound coil deep within you let go, and you’re coming hard around his cock. He’s gasping and swearing when he follows seconds later, slowly grinding against you to a stop.

He all but collapses against you. His skin is hot and sweaty and sticks against yours. In other scenarios it would be disgusting but you relish in it, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He tastes salty and sweet.

“Shit, that felt too good.” He chuckles breathlessly after a few moments. “I’m sorry it was so quick.”

“I loved it.”

He’s still panting when he pulls out,, rolling onto his back next to you. “What?” He asks when you start to giggle.

“Your cum is leaking out of me and it tickles.” You grab his hand and put it between your thighs. “Feel.”

“You’re gross.” He laughs but you know he doesn’t mean it when he pecks you on the cheek shortly after.

“I’m going to go clean up.” You inform him, as you awkwardly dress and make your way to the bathroom.

When you return once again Yoongi’s semi dressed and partially under the duvet cover, patting the mattress signaling for you to join him. You clamber into bed beside him and he instantly wraps his arms around you with a yawn. “I set your alarm.” He tells you.

This is standard routine for you two so he’s able to sneak back out again undetected in the morning. You nod against his chest. As he stretches across you and flicks the bedside lamp off.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm?” You can tell he’s close to sleep already.

“Will you tell me if you sleep with anyone else? I don’t want to go back to condoms but I don’t want an STD.” You shyly share. It would be a shame not to be able to have him again, raw and unrestricted.

“Of course. I’d never put you at risk like that.” He replies sleepily. “You’re my best friend, dummy.”

“You’re the dummy, idiot.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He says. You can tell from his voice he’s smiling.

It’s your last day of high school but unfortunately not the last one of your part time job as a barista at the coffee shop you work at. It’s a nice place, but it’s boring. There’s still three months left until you hopefully are leaving town for the college of your choice (in the city, you hope with all of your fingers and toes crossed for luck). Nothing terrifies you more than being stuck in your hometown. Life is for the living.

After school you head straight for your shift. Normally your shifts pass by pretty quickly but today this one drags in. You know you have a few letters watermarked with the symbols of colleges you applied to waiting at home, courtesy of an excited call from your mom to the shop.

You have little idea what to expect, resulting in an anxiety ridden few hours of work. Driving home it takes everything in you not to speed.

“Here, here, here!” Your excited mother is thrusting a stack of different sized envelopes into your arms. You hadn’t even put your keys down or removed your jacket yet.

“Give me a second, jeez.”

The nerves you feel bubble ominously deep in your gut. You try not to let it read on your face as you shrug your jacket off and toss your keys in the bowl. If anything your mother may be more excited than you.

“Well, open them darling.” She’s practically vibrating with excitement, a wide lipsticked smile stretched across her face.

Taking a deep breath you walk to the living room. You may have to sit down for this.

The first letter is small. The smallest one. The return label indicates that it was from a music school in Incheon. One of the choices higher up on your list. A quick scan reveals - “I got in!!!!” You shout as you stand up. Mom’s cries of joy and affirmation fall on deaf ears as your heart thunders.

By the time you’ve confirmed your acceptance to Yonsei and Seoul National your mother is crying. Last, but certainly not least is the letter to Hangyang Uniersity. Out of all your applications, Hangyang was the only place Yoongi had applied to also. The prospect of potentially going to school with him excited you.

As soon as the black and white printed ink confirms it - we would like to offer you a place on our applied psychology course - you audibly gasp. You can’t wait to tell Yoongi.

Neither Mr or Mrs Min usually arrive home before 8pm. Mr Min is a math teacher, who often works long hours before heading to a bar, whilst Mrs Min is a nurse; so when you bounce out the front door and to the house next door you know Yoongi will be home alone.

“Yoongi!” You singsong before you’ve even reached the door, knowing there’s a chance he may be able to hear you. “Yoongi-yaaa!” You knock obnoxiously on the oak, almost as if you’re tapping out a tune. “I know you’re home, your bike is in the drive!”

The door creaks as it opens, a disheveled Yoongi appearing on the other side. “I was napping.” He grumbles, tousling at his fluffy hair. You can’t help but think he looks adorable.

“Do that later.” You tell him, with a playful eye roll. “I got into Hangyang!”

He barely has time to blink before you’re launching yourself at him, slinging both arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to react before a reluctant arm returns your enthusiastic hug. “That’s great, y/n.” He says into your hair before you seperate.

Yoongi shuts the door behind you both. “And?” You can’t help but ask.

“And what?” He mutters walking past you and to the kitchen. You trail behind like an excited puppy.

“Don’t you ‘and what’ me. What about you? Please tell me you got in too.”

He freezes as he’s reaching for a glass. “I don’t know.”

His words do little to kill your buzz. “What?” You laugh, assuming he’s joking. “Today is the deadline. How can you not know?”

“I just don’t, ok.” He flips on the tap and fills his glass up with water, the entire time keeping his back to you. Something is up, you’ve known Yoongi nearly your entire life. He’s withholding something. He was always the type to act defensively when he was mad, hurt, lying or all of the above.

“Yoongi, we can call the university and find out. Maybe your mail is just late.”

“I don’t want to, y/n.” He says curtly.

“Why?”

“I just don’t!”

“You’re being so weird right now,” You frown. “Don’t you want to find out if we’re going to be going together? We’ve talked about this for years.”

“I’m not being weird. I just don’t know yet.”

“You are.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He groans, slamming his glass on to the counter with enough force that the water sloshes up over the edge.

“Don’t talk to me like that! I have done nothing wrong!”

Finally he spins to face you, a neutral almost bored expression on his face. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I - “ You cut yourself short, feeling a little foolish that he doesn’t seem to be as thrilled at the prospect of going to college with you. He hadn’t brought it up in a while. “I thought - thought you’d be excited. Nevermind.”

At your tone his expression softens. “Y/n, the idea of getting out of here with you sounded amazing.”

“Sounded?”

He lets out a drawn out sigh and stares at the ground. “I can’t go.”

It’s almost as if the air has been sucked rapidly out of the room. “Can’t?” You parrot back. This was the first you’d ever heard of this.

“You know what my situation at home is like. You know better than anyone. I can’t just up and leave.” He’s always hesitant, ashamed when speaking openly about what goes on behind closed doors. Even to you.

“You can, Yoongi.” You go to touch his arm for reassurance but he shrugs you off.

“I can’t.” He grits. “I can’t leave her with him.”

“Yoonseok did.” You counter. It’s a low blow bringing up his older brother but it’s the truth. Yoonseok hightailed it out of there the second he turned sixteen, leaving eleven year old Yoongi to manage his dad alone. Yoongi’s childhood had done a number on him, burdening him in a way no child should ever be.

“Yoonseok was a selfish dick.” He responds darkly, voice dripping with hate. “Without me, or anyone, to intervene my dad will fucking end up killing my mom. We both know it y/n.” Silent and unsure how to respond to such an uncomfortable truth you can only stare sadly at Yoongi. It’s painful to see him sacrifice so much for a family that didn’t deserve it. “I can’t leave her. It’s not safe,”

“I understand Yoongi, I do. But you can’t put your life on hold forever for your parents. At some point you need to get out, not just for your own safety but your sanity.”

“Yeah then come home to a dead mom. Great idea y/n.” He spits. “Don’t be fucking stupid. This is the reality of my situation.”

“I just want what's best for you, stop being an asshole!” You yell.

“You’re being controlling and quite frankly, kind of a cunt.”

You scoff humorlessly in disbelief. “Really Yoongi?! Fuck you. And fuck this.”

Spinning on your heel you march towards the front door. This argument was going nowhere and you would only grow angrier if you remained in the tiny kitchen with him. One glance over your shoulder and you’re met with his glassy eyes watching you leave, the last thing you see before you slam the front door.

Three days later you and Yoongi are still not speaking, equally as stubborn as one another. You know he’s been avoiding you because you haven’t even seen him in passing, a rare thing when your houses share a wall. So you avoid him too. Fuck him for making you feel bad when all you do is adore him, support him, care about him.

He hasn’t even attempted to apologise. If you really try you might be able to hold on to this anger for a week.

That’s the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking. And it was for something so juvenile you can’t even recall it to this day. Also, you were both twelve and kind of dumb. So you figure a week is your limit. That’s the longest you’ll go without talking to Yoongi.

Tonight makes it particularly difficult when you hear a deafening crash and a thud. You pause, mid page turn of a book you were devouring and listen. The silence that follows is deafening.

But then you hear it. The extremely distinct raised voice of Mr Min. It’s unclear exactly what he’s shouting but the tone is enough to send a shiver of fear through your entire body. There’s another raised voice that’s unmistakingly Yoongi. Your heart clenches at the sound of him.

They continue like this for an uncomfortable length of time. You wonder what your parents think about this. Although it’s not a secret in your household you never exactly sit down and chat about what you hear through the walls with them.

When it goes silent you don’t relax. You gaze at the shared wall you know is Yoongi’s bedroom, almost as if your hard stare can penetrate the bricks and mortar. A selfish part of you hopes he comes over tonight, as per routine. You don’t indulge in each other’s bodies every time but you know even just your company is likely the only form of affection Yoongi gets and you want to take care of him any way you can.

This thought takes you to the window, where you unlock the latch, expecting him hopefully soon.

He doesn’t come.

Yoongi lays on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s not the water stain or the old outline of a where playboy poster used to be (he had snuck it out of Yoonseok’s collection and stuck there when he was a kid) that is captivating his attention. It’s the sound of his mom crying in the bathroom next door that’s keeping him awake.

His father had passed out a little while ago, thankfully. But not before smashing a glass dangerously close to his mom’s head and then pushing her so hard against the wall a hole appeared in the drywall. Yoongi had helped his mom clean up a few of the cuts and scrapes before she sent him out of the bathroom, claiming she wanted to wash up before bed. Her crying is breaking his heart.

Selfishly he wishes you could hear this.If you heard this you would understand in a heartbeat why he can’t leave. His mom is vulnerable. He knows you hear some of what occurs through the wall but it’s nothing as devastating as the muffled sobs his mom chokes back. The sound of a broken woman.

It makes him wonder how on Earth Yoonseok could just walk away from this and feel nothing. He hasn’t spoken to his brother since as a result. Through his Grandma he has a vague idea where Yoonseok is (doing odd jobs here and there in the city) but he doesn’t wish to know more than that. Hate is a word he reserves only for his father, but what he feels for Yoonseok is close.

He sighs, emotionally and physically exhausted, as he rolls onto his side. It’s been almost two weeks since he last saw or spoke with you and right now all he wants is to crawl into your bed and hide in you. Bury himself inside you while you clutch at him desperately. A world away from the pain and loveless home he’s trapped in right now.

He wants you so badly to be the bigger person, to be better than him like you always are. To come and find him, to sense that he needs you. He wants it so badly he aches.

Before his key is even in the door, Yoongi knows to anticipate a Bad Night. Not that the typical bad nights are easier but Bad Nights with a capital B and M are worse. He can hear his father before he even sees him and knowing that today was a weekend, and therefore a day off from work for his old man it means he’s been drinking since sun up.

He hesitates, key hovering over the lock. He could just turn away right now and pretend he had to work late. Dealing with his father’s abuse is literally draining the life out of him. For a moment he considers it, really considers it. Then he hears his mom cry out with agony. Yoongi unlocks the door.

“Mom?” He calls out as he crosses the threshold inside.

There’s a wail, followed by a whimper coming from the living room. He follows the sound.

He’s greeted with his dad hovering over his mom who is cowering against the wall, looking smaller and frailer than ever. Something inside Yoongi snaps. With as much force as he can he shoves his father away from her. Drunk and already weary on his feet, the older man stumbles backwards a few steps before falling.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi extends his hand to her. Shakily she places her palm in his and he helps her stand. This does not please his father who is yelling obscenities as he struggles to get to his feet. Yoongi glances at him over his shoulder and he can sense the shift in the room. “Mom, go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom. I’m going to talk to Dad.” He says sternly.

“Yoongi,” She cries softly but one look at his expression and she knows how serious he is. Fearfully her eyes flicker to where her husband is, as if he somehow has the final say. It angers Yoongi like nothing else.

By now Mr Min is standing, albeit swaying and his expression is murderous. “You shouldn’t have done that. This has got nothing to do with you stupid boy.”

“Fuck you, old man.”

He isn’t thinking, rage is pulsing through his veins and all he can see is red when he swings a right hook at his father, fist making direct contact with the older man's jaw. Fight or flight instinct kicking in with brute force. He’s never thrown a punch before in his life.

It takes a few dazed seconds for his opponent to recollect himself. His father looks at him with such disgust, almost as if he can’t recognise the boy standing in front of him is his own flesh and blood. Someone he was supposed to raise, protect and guide.

Normally, he knows better than to talk back. Normally, he knows better than to get physical with his dad unless it's in defense of his mother. Normally he knows better. And now, the look in Mr Min’s eyes tell Yoongi one thing; he’s going to severely regret it.

This is your first taste of what feels like a life without Yoongi and it’s bitter.

Fifteen days come and go with no sign from your best friend. The world feels a little emptier without him and it’s a sobering thought, that one day he might not be in your life. This realisation lights a fire under you and you decide to swallow your pride and take the first step towards reconciliation. It’s ridiculous. You and Yoongi don’t fight. It’s both of you against the world, the way it has been since you were kids.

Knowing he’s home alone again (both parents' cars are gone) you slip out of your house and make your way to his. This is probably the first time in your entire life you've ever felt nervous to see Min Yoongi. And not in a good way.

Knock knock.

You’re holding your breath as you wait and listen for signs of life from within the bricks. Silence. You knock again.

Have five minutes passed or fifty? It’s an eternity waiting out here for Yoongi. When you’re about to turn to leave, the front door slowly creaks open. “Y/n?”

When your eyes meet you inhale a sharp breath of air in, shocked. He has an angry black eye, swollen and purple. There’s a cut on his lip and the flesh around it is an inflamed shade of red. You don’t have to ask. You know where this came from.

“Yoongi.” Is all you say before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. It’s a depressing parallel to the last encounter you had with each other. He’s silent but he returns your hold, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as if it’s comforting somehow. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He replies hoarsely.

“I understand why you do what you do for your mom.” You mumble into the soft cotton of his hoodie. “I just want you to be happy is all.”

“I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He squeezes you a little tighter, planting a kiss on your head.

“Please don’t ever go that long without talking to me again.” You say separating enough so you can see his face but still very much holding him in your arms. “Especially when things are this bad.” He smiles weakly and holds up a pinky, chipped with black nail polish. You link yours with his.

“Promise.” He assures.

As usual you ask - “Do you want to talk about it?”

He says nothing as he pulls you inside, lacing your hand with his. You think you know where this is going. Yoongi wants to feel loved.

He leads you up the staircase, it groans under the weight of the two of you but otherwise the house is silent. Yoongi’s room is the first one on the upper landing, the mirror of your own bedroom in your house. The door still has a few posters of bands he had once loved and a worn logo sticker of his favorite basketball team.

There’s a small twin bed almost identical to yours, except his is donned with a navy blue bedspread and doesn’t include the small mountain of assorted pillows that yours does. He always teases you about them, often joking he’s going to steal one and that you’d never notice.

It’s quiet still as he leads you to the bed, sitting down first and scooting upwards until his back is flush with the headboard. “We don’t have to do anything.” He says softly as you mimic his actions. “I just missed you.”

Sometimes a person just needs someone to hold them, and you have no problem being that someone for Yoongi. Gently you pull his head to your chest and idly play with his hair, just how he likes. A content sigh parts his lips. “I missed you too.” You tell him. “Do you know how much I wanted to run over here and tell you that Jimin came to my work, ordered a coffee, then tripped and spilled it all over himself?”

Yoongi huffs a little laugh and you’re glad to make him smile. “Wish I’d seen that.”

“Next time don’t be a dick and maybe you could have.” You tease, knowing Yoongi has a penchant for frequenting your work for free coffee and sticking around, especially on slower days. He pinches your side playfully, although still hard enough to make you yelp.

“I’m not a dick.” Although you can’t see his face you can hear the pout in his voice. “You live my life and then let’s see how stressed out you are.”

You were only teasing but his comment causes your heart to sink all the way to your toes. “I know you’re not.” You sigh, running your hands through his hair. “You can lean on me as much as you need. I’m basically your family at this point, Yoon.”

“Family.” He scoffs as if the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “What’s that?”

“People around you who love you.” You tell him firmly. You want to add on ‘i love you’ but the boundaries between you and Yoongi are so blurry now even you don’t know in exactly what context that would mean.

A comfortable silence settles after that. You almost wonder if he has fallen asleep, given the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You don’t know what comes over you but you pick his hand up, lacing your fingers together. He often paints his nails (you have always taunted he’s too goth to be a basketball player) and you’re examining the polish. The black paint is chipped and you stroke his index finger with yours softly.

“What are you doing weirdo?” Yoongi’s voice startles you and you freeze.

“Your nails are totally chipped.”

“Duh. Haven’t had time to fix them.”

“Can I paint them for you?”

He cranes his neck and gives you a confused look. “...Why?”

You’re not entirely sure yourself and you shrug. Maybe you just feel guilty and want to do something nice for him. “Okay.” He agrees slowly, still entirely not convinced but still leans forward so you can stand up and grab the bottle of polish, remover and cotton pads from his dresser. Everytime you come in his room you marvel at what a neat freak he is, everything is always so organised.

“Black?” You confirm the color. He nods.

You set your items out on the bed, this time opting to sit opposite Yoongi, facing him. To get close enough so that he doesn’t have to stretch his arms out uncomfortably you’re basically sitting in his lap, legs entwined. Gently you talk his palm in yours and begin to wipe away the remnants of the old paint.

“No one has ever painted my nails before.” He chuckles. Your eyes meet and you can't help but smile.

“That’s another first time milestone of yours I’ve taken.” Your expression turns into a wide grin. Yoongi rolls his eyes.

He’s not delicate by any means (despite the bruises) and you don’t know why you’re treating him as such but delicate is what you are when you clean all ten of his nails. You can feel his burning gaze on you as you work; it spurs you on to do a good job.

The room smells toxic, the fumes of the remover and the nail polish nearly make your eyes water. “Can I open the window?” You ask after the smell gets a little too much. Yoongi nods and you quickly hop off the bed and pop the frame open. The instant wave of fresh air clears your head.

He’s watching you with a peculiar look on his face that you can’t help question but he brushes it off. You return to your earlier position and continue your handiwork. You can’t help but smile and admire the first nail, disproportionately proud of your newfound skill. Yoongi laughing ruins your moment.

“What exactly is so funny?” You question, quirking a brow.

Still laughing he shakes his head. “You’re cute.”

The blush that creeps up from your chest to your cheeks is hot and there’s no way Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s never really complimented you like that. In fact, he rarely says anything about your appearance, negative or positive. Occasionally when he’s mid way through fucking you something will slip out but it’s meaningless when he’s seconds away from an orgasm and not thinking clearly.

“Oh.” You mutter dumbly, trying to ignore why that makes you feel tingly inside. You carry on with your task at hand. When you’ve finished the second coat, you take him by the wrist and blow on his fingers, as if that’s going to do a whole lot to speed the drying process.

“Uh..” Yoongi makes a noise that sounds almost sexual in nature and you peer up at him with a perplexed look as you continue blowing. “This is such a douchey guy thing to say but when your mouth makes that shape....and it kinda gives me goosebumps when you do that...it reminds me of every time you’ve ever sucked my dick.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh, throwing your head back. “Seriously?!”

He nods, looking half amused, half ashamed. “They’re pretty memorable, you know.”

“Good to know.”

After his nails are dry and you’ve tidied up the mess you join him back on the bed. “Thank you.” He says, pulling you on his lap before you even have a moment to process what just happened. You straddle him, hands on his shoulders, staring intently at the injuries on his face. You brush a thumb along his bottom lip.

“I like doing things for you.”

Yoongi holds your arm firmly in place, pressing a kiss to your thumb then bringing your hand to cup his face and planting a kiss against your wrist. His larger hand rests atop your hand, keeping it there and he nuzzles into you. There’s a palpable tension and the air suddenly feels too thick. It’s almost hard to breathe. As you get lost in his eyes it feels as if the world around you has vanished, leaving only you and Yoogi, in your own private universe.

You lean in closer. His breath ghosts your lips. You’ve missed kissing him so much.

Then, the front door slams.

“Shit.” Yoongi flies up so quickly it’s a wonder you’re not thrown to the floor. “They’re home.” His parents are earlier than expected.

“I’ll sneak out if you distract them?” It’s not that Yoongi’s parents don’t like you, they just a: wouldn’t approve of you being over unsupervised and without permission and b: the less fuel you can add to the fire the better. Mr Min will look for anything to be upset with when it comes to his son.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Just go.” You push him towards the door. Before he leaves he turns to you and asks -

“ - See you tonight?”

Yoongi’s in - dare he say it - a good mood when he sneaks out later that same day. His dad passed out early (a rare but welcome occasion) leaving the Min household in a relatively peaceful state for once. Slipping out the front door, armed with a box of his mom’s homemade cookies that you love, he makes the short trip to your bedroom.

A knuckle taps quietly against the window and he can’t help but grin when he sees the excitement in your eyes. After all you had unfinished business from earlier. You bounce over to the window wearing that cute lilac pyjama short set (the one that makes it hard for him to concentrate) and let him inside.

“They’re still awake.” You whisper, holding a finger to his lips when he goes to speak. He nods in understanding, aware you mean your parents.

“For you.” He matches your hushed tone as he passes you the box of cookies. Your eyes light up with delight and a tiny gasp leaves your lips.

“My favorite! Your mom must have been in a good mood today to be baking.”

“Dad went to bed early, so..” He shrugs.

“Thank you.” You put the box on your desk and engulf Yoongi in a hug of gratitude.

His hands are cold when he slides them beneath your flimsy camisole, wanting nothing more than to feel your naked skin. He kneads the flesh of your bare hips under his hands before dragging his nose along the juncture of where your collarbone meets your neck and inhaling. The scent of you, your skin and your body wash was comforting and arousing.

He wonders sometimes if you truly knew the effect you had on him as his lips ghost over your skin with the briefest of touches. He wants to drown in you. This is the only place he’s ever felt safe.

You exhale a shaky breath that sounds a lot like his name. He pushes your hair over your shoulder allowing his lips to roam your decliotage freely. There’s not a part of your body he hasn’t kissed, he thinks. He laves his way up your throat and meets your awaiting mouth. He can taste your strawberry lip balm, a taste he will forever associate with you.

You whisper between kisses that he has to be quiet (as always) but intrigue him when you push him towards the white wooden chair that matches the desk. He sits down and you swing a leg over his lap so you’re straddling him, a more intimate version of how you were on his bed earlier.

“This is new.” He hums, hands stroking up and down your sides.

“Can’t have the headboard crashing into the wall again now can we?” You giggle, pushing some of his hair off his face.

Yoongi agrees with a smirk, gaze roving over your willing body. He strips you of your camisole, before devouring your breasts, taking one in each hand and grazing a thumb over your quickly hardening nipples. His lips find purchase on your neck once more. It’s almost sinful how you’re already grinding shamelessly against him.

“Stand up and take these off.” He commands, snapping the waistband of your little shorts to punctuate his point. Quickly you shed the clothing, kicking them off. Yoongi’s cock is aching a little now, having been pent up for a few hours now. He hastily shoves his sweatpants down enough for his member to spring free.

When you’re seated on his lap you moan in pleasure at the feeling of his hardness against your bare pussy. “I’ve missed you.” You breathe, rocking your hips enough so that the tip of his cock brushes through your lips. He shudders at the combination of your voice and sensation.

His hands can’t seem to decide exactly where he wants to touch you. One has a handful of your ass, encouraging your movements and the other is palming at your tits. Then when you beg him to touch you he knows exactly where his hands want to be.

A sense of pride washes over him every time he feels how wet he makes you. There’s a thrill in knowing he’s the only one who has ever made you like this. The only one who has ever touched you like this. His thumb circles your clit slowly. He watches you with ravenous eyes.

Your soft whines just make the ache to be inside you increase tenfold. It’s so much better than any dirty movie he’s ever seen. It’s real and it's for him. “O-Oh, Yoongi.” Your head falls forward, resting on his shoulder. “I’m ready. Please. Just want you. It’s been too long.”

The fact that two weeks without him was too long for you does nothing but inflate his ego. Rarely does Yoongi ever feel just this self assured. “You have me.” He whispers, positioning you over his swollen cock. Slowly you lower yourself onto him, taking him like the good girl you are. “Fuckkk.” He exhales when you’re completely full of him.

“It’s s-so much.” You choke. He knows exactly what you mean. This is a new position and a new angle for you both. As beginners to sex neither of you had the confidence or experience to experiment too much yet. With you speared on his lap, it’s deeper than he’s ever felt you before.

His grip on your hips is bruisingly tight as he stills you for a moment. It’s overwhelming how good you feel and he already came far too fast last time. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tight.

Eventually he calms down enough to let you bounce on him. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, lids fluttering shut. His mouth hangs open and he knows he porbbaly looks so dumb right now but he couldn’t fucking care. Not with how unbelievably good it felt.

“Yoongi,” You pant, laughing a little “You know I saw this in porn and wanted to try it.”

“Yeah - uh, wa - what?” He splutters, stilling you completely to ensure he heard you correctly. “Since when do you watch porn?”

“Last week the cable TV glitched.” You bite your lip shyly. “I may have watched some.”

“Fuck.” He growls, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length. The idea of you watching porn, masturbating to porn and then thinking about him almost has him blowing his load immediately. God knows he’s thought about you countless times. Even before you’d had ever even had sex. “You have no. Idea. How hot that is.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You’re breathless, cheek to cheek as you whisper in his ear.

“The idea of you touching yourself.” He groans. “Wishing it was me.”

“Of course I wished it was you.” You moan. “Think about you fucking me all the time. You can have me whenever you want me, Yoongi.”

Shit He’s so close to cumming already. Whispered obcenties tumble out from under his breath. Just as you’re starting to get too loud Yoongi covers your mouth with his hand but you grab his two of his fingers and suck them into your hot mouth, muffling your moan as you cum. The sensation of your mouth and your pussy is his undoing, and he explodes not even seconds later, cumming harder than he can ever remember.

“You’re going to ruin me.” He pants, chest heaving.

You laugh, pressing your sweaty forehead against his. “Not if you ruin me first.”

Weekday routine insists you always assist your mother with the after dinner clean up. When you were younger you were often (as your father put it - ‘deviously smart’) at inventing excuses to get out of chores. Now as an almost adult you, it isn’t such a hassle. It’s even nice to spend a little time talking with your mother.

The relationship you have with your parents is the inverse of the one Yoongi has with his. It wasn’t until you understood the gravity of his situation did you really start appreciating them in a newfound way. You could be a bratty kid in your youth, like everyone but you thank your lucky stars you had a loving, safe environment.

“Careful with that plate darling, it’s china.” Your mom instructs as she hands you the dinner plate, knowing full well how clumsy you can be.

“How about we just eat from paper plates now on? They don’t break.”

Your mom cracks a smile as she shakes her head. “When it’s your house you can make the rules.” She gives you a pointed look. After a few moments of silence she asks - “How is Yoongi? I haven��t seen him over in a while.”

You look away to hide the blush that floods your cheeks. He’s over nearly every other night, mother. Right under your nose.

“He’s fine. Same old, same old.” You sigh, stretching up on to your tip toes as you put the precious plate away.

“Is he joining you at Hangyang in September?” You mom pries.

Oh shit. You’d forgotten to tell her. “Uh, no. No he’s not.”

“Oh sweetie. I’m sorry. I know you two were looking forward to it. It’s a shame he didn’t get in.”

“That’s not why.” You take yet another precious china plate from her to dry. “It’s his parents.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have to elaborate any further. It’s not a secret in your home. Your parents aren’t deaf, they hear everything you do. “I wish he would leave them. He’s worried for his mom.”

A long, forlorn sigh leaves your mother. “Gosh when he was young your father and I would phone the police on the really bad nights.” She tells you with a shake of her head.

“What? Seriously?” This was brand new information to you. She nods.

“Mrs Min always defended her husband. Made us look like we were imaging things. It’s so sad.” Her eyes grow misty. “I don’t blame that poor Yoonseok for running away. At one point we even tried to adopt Yoongi, you know.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Language.” Your mother warns and you hastily apologise, desperate to hear more of the story. “Yes. He spent so much time here, it was like he was our kid anyway. We seriously looked into it, hired a lawyer and a social worker. But it was too difficult. Mrs Min stopped talking to us for a long time.”

“I had no idea.” You breathe, awed. Although the idea of Yoongi potentially being your brother makes you feel nauseous now, given everything.

“Mrs Min is a nice woman. She adores her children but she struggles.” Your mom says empathetically. “As for Mr Min? He was the picture perfect father and husband for a good while when they first moved in. You were too young to remember.”

“I wish I could help them.”

“I know you do honey. If only it was so simple.” You mom smiles. “Yoongi is lucky to have you. That boy is welcome in our home any time, as far as I’m concerned. And tell him I was asking after him won’t you?”

“Of course. He’ll like that you were.”

Aside from Yoongi, Anni is probably the person you’re closest with. The juxtaposition between her and Yoongi is almost comical, like night and day. She is bubbly, fun and out-going; a stark contrast to Yoongi’s more foreboding and at times broody nature. Of course he was fun, but in such a different way.

Anni somehow persuades you to accompany her to a house party. Your entire high school life you’ve only ever been to a handful. They’re not exactly your thing. But college is encroaching and that’s what you’re supposed to be doing there right? Partying, drinking, occasionally studying. So it doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you prettied up and ready to go.

It’s Seyoon’s house that’s your destination, a guy in your year you’ve only spoken to a handful of times. The moment you set foot in the crowded building you already feel awkwardly out of place. As if your friend senses this she whispers in your ear, “You look great, don’t think so much.” while pushing you through the crowd.

The first point of call is obviously alcohol. Together you do two shots each before grabbing a cup of something questionable. “Oh! There’s Soomin. Let’s go say hi.”

Soomin was Anni’s friend, someone you only knew by acquaintance. You spot her talking to a group of two guys and a girl you recognise but don’t know her name. You instantly feel a little nervous, one of the guys is clearly older, and not to mention handsome. He looks like a model, beautiful dark hair coiffed perfectly.

Soomin is very friendly and greets you both with welcoming hugs before introducing you to the group. “This is Yeona, her boyfriend Jongsuk and my cousin Seokjin.”

“You don’t go to our school. You look like you spend your time in a drama as the male lead.” Anni teases Seokjin playfully. Of course she would be flirting right off the bat. He takes it in stride, shaking his head with a grin.

“I used to. I just finished my first year at Hangyang Uni.”

“That’s where I’m going next year.” You smile up at him. When he makes eye contact you blush like the school kid you technically are.

“Really? That’s great. What are you studying?” He asks, stepping a little closer so he can hear you over the music.

“I’m hoping to get my degree in Psychology and Sociology.”

“Are you joking?” He laughs. At once you’re confused. You don’t exactly look like the studious academic type, and he doesn’t have to be rude about it.

“No…” You frown. “Why?”

“I’m a psychology student too. You’ll probably even be on the same campus as me!” He grins.

“Ohhhh, that’s cool! What are the odds?”

“I know? Isn’t that so weird?” He laughs.

“Do you enjoy it?” You ask, genuinely curious. That’s been a big fear of yours, worried you’ll begin your (expensive) further education and hate it.

“I love it. I’ve always been interested in Psychology so learning from some of the best experts in the country is amazing.” He looks like a kid on christmas, eyes lighting up as he speaks. This guy might be model handsome on the outside but he is a total geek. It’s so endearing, you can’t help but like it. “It’s a great school. You’ll enjoy it.”

By now the others' conversations have died out. Seokjin’s eyes dart downwards to your empty drink. “Want another?”

“Yeah alright.”

“Come with me, I can tell you about all the cool spots on campus and what books not to buy.” He grabs you by the wrist as he says a quick ‘be right back’ to Yeona. Anni gives you a knowing smirk but you mouth ‘shut up’ at her.

Hoseok’s sunny, cheerful demeanour is something Yoongi normally appreciates about his friend. Unless it’s used as a weapon against him, like it is tonight. This is how he finds himself sipping on a disgustingly warm beer in the corner of Seyoon’s vast living room, doing nothing more exciting than people watching.

You had told him earlier in the week you’d been roped into attending. Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to go with less resistance than usual. If he was truly honest with himself he was scanning the room, hoping to find you and turn this night around. The few times you’d got drunk together were always fun.

He spies Anni first, talking to a group of people, which means you can’t be far off. He knows you went with her. That’s when some movement catches his eye.

Initially it’s the tall pretty boy who alerts his attention, but his gaze drops downward to see him leading you of all people somewhere, wrist firmly encaptured in his grip.

Something hot and prickly rises in his chest and his heart feels like it’s screeched to a halt. If he witnesses this strange boy take you upstairs he might just lose it. That’s what usually happens at these parties.

He exhales a shaky breath of relief when the two of you make a beeline for the kitchen. Although the adrenaline rush isn’t gone yet, his heart is still thundering his ribcage. Through a small gap in the crowd he sees you talking, smiling, laughing. You look like you’re having fun. He doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Do you want another?” Hoseok nudges him with his elbow, gesturing with his head to the nearly finished beer Yoongi clutches.

He does want another but that would mean going into the kitchen, so he refuses.

“Come on, little MinMin.” Hoseok teases, using Yoongi’s least favourite nickname. He hates being called little, or tiny, or short. “I know you want one.”

“Fine but I’m staying here. Fetch it for me.”

Hoseok sticks his tongue out at him before grabbing his empty bottle and disappearing with it.

“Me? No I’m not really into the partying side of college life but I can show you where to go if you are.” Seokjin has been sharing his wisdom for you for the last forty minutes. Evidently he’s learned a lot in a year at Hangyang. “I read books and chill. By myself.” He laughs and you join him.

“It’s funny how we both aren’t the partying type and we literally met at a party.” You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Should we rejoin the others?”

Seokjin agrees and as you two exit the kitchen you see the back of someone’s head that looks a lot like Yoongi’s friend Hobi. You hesitate for a minute, attempting to decipher if it really is him or not when a subtle touch at the small of your back from Seokjin jolts you back into the present.

“Come on.” He’s so unintentionally suave. It makes your heart beat just a little faster.

Anni is animatedly telling the story of when you and her accidentally tried to give her white maltese dog Pricilla a bath and accidentally turned her pink with the wrong shampoo. “Your mom still hasn’t let me live that done!” You join in at the end.

“Neither has Pricilla.” Anni grins.

“Please tell me you don’t have a dog.” Seokjin asks, grabbing both your shoulders in dramatic mock concern. “Please y/n, think about the animals!”

“I didn’t act alone!” You defend shooting a glare at Anni, who is playing innocent.

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not allowed animals on campus.” Seokjin smirks. Anni gives you yet another knowing look. You can practically see the internal cogs of her brain whirring to life. Ever since Jimin she’s been dying for you to at least hook up with someone. Little did she know about Yoongi.

“You two should meet up when you’re both at school.” The look on Anni’s face tells you she’s assuming she’s doing you a favour, a gentle nudge forward in your romantic life.

Before you can awkwardly deflect the question and give Seokjin an escape he answers first. “Yes we should, y/n. If you want.”

“Uh, sure.” You don’t see why not. As of now he’s the only person you know at Uni. It might make the transition a little more fluid.

“Maybe y/n you can give him your number?” Anni meddles further. Oh god, you look so desperate now. You’re not interested in dating him and she’s making it seem like you are.

“I’ll have a different number when I’m at school.” You remind her.

Seokjin reads between the lines, sensing he’s not quite privy to all the information. “No problem, I’ll give you mine.”

He excuses himself for a moment, to grab a pen and paper. You look to see where he’s going and your eyes land on the one person you did not expect to see here. Yoongi. Yoongi watches you as he makes his way out onto the patio with Hoseok, dark eyes unreadable. Your heart leaps. Immediately you want to go over and say hello but you can’t. With one final glance he disappears through the sliding doors. Why do you feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong?

“Here.”

Seokjin hands you a slip of paper with his home number and campus number. “Kim Seokjin.” You read aloud to yourself. “Thank you for this. I just saw my good friend here so I’m going to say hello. It was lovely meeting you!”

“You too.” He smiles warmly.

“Come on Anni, Hobi’s here.” You inform her and her eyes widen in surprise. She likes Hobi. A lot. It’s the sweetest thing.

“Bye Seokjin!”

You drag Anni away before she can do any more damage.

Yoongi and Hoseok are sitting on the railing of the large wooden patio, joined by Jungkook who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He’s talking energetically about something but Yoongi isn’t really focusing. He spots you walking over to him. Your face lights up as soon as your eyes meet. It makes him feel funny.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” You smile brightly as you come to a stop before him.

“Hobi tricked me.” He shrugs, sipping his beer. The frown that his dry response elicits makes him feel guilty. “Are you two having fun?” He nods his head towards Anni.

“Y/n was.” She giggles, nudging you suggestively. “How about you two? I haven’t seen you in a while Hoseok.”

He flashes her a winning smile. “You’re seeing me now.”

Yoongi fights an intense urge to roll his eyes. Hobi’s flirting always made him cringe. It’s even worse when it actually works. Hoseok offers everyone a drink but only Anni takes him up on the offer. Together they disappear in search of alcohol, leaving Yoongi alone with you. He feels awkward for some reason.

“You know she likes him, right? Hobi.” You say after a few beats of silence pass between you. Yoongi figured, from the way Anni hung on Hoseok’s every word.

“I’m sure he’d be down to hook up. He’s not picky.” He mutters.

“Yoongi.” You scold. “They suit each other. They would be cute together.”

He hums in response. You’re right, of course but he’s not really in the headspace to be getting giddy about whether two people will fuck or not.

You hoist yourself onto the railing next to him, scooting close enough that your bodies are touching. He tenses when you lay your head on his shoulder. “You’re not in a good mood tonight.” It’s not a question, you’re just consistently excellent at reading his emotions.

“You know I hate parties.” He mumbles.

“Me too.”

“You looked like you were having fun earlier. Don’t feel obligated to sit with me.” He speaks before he thinks. It makes him sound bitter and jealous and angry. He hates it because not only does it make him sound pathetic; it’s true.

“I want to sit with you.” You correct quietly.

He doesn’t know how to respond, praise and affection always make him feel a little awkward. For a while you sit in comfortable silence, just watching the rest of what seems like the world have fun. Yoongi spies that tall pretty boy you were talking to glancing over and he feels a little smug at the disappointment on the strangers face seeing you and Yoongi looking cosy together.

“Those two have been taking a suspiciously long time.” Yoongi muses, attention now back on his beer.

“Yeah,” You huff a laugh. “I wonder why…”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yoongi asks abruptly. “Let’s go to the diner. I’m hungry.”

“That sounds like a plan.” You agree to his surprise.

At your suggestion you seek out Hoseok and Anni to extend an invitation, only to find them kissing in a darkened corner of the hallway. Yoongi rolls his eyes while you snicker - “About time.”

When Yoongi smiles - really smiles - his entire demeanour changes. He has the tendency to look intimidating and cold when his expression is neutral (“I can’t help my face!” he would always defend when people mentioned it) but when he laughs his eyes light up like stars. You adore his gummy smile.

The thought captures you in the diner as the two of you are doubled over with laughter. You were trying to throw a french fry into Yoongi’s mouth but missed completely, hitting an older woman in the booth behind, directly on the forehead.

“No wonder you suck at basketball with an aim like that.” He grins, stuffing some fries in his mouth.

“I’m so embarrassed.” You cover your reddening face with your hands but you’re still laughing.

“It’s a good thing we’re Mike’s best customers or I’m sure we would have been kicked out by now.” Yoongi points out. He’s right. The greasy, twenty four hour diner has been your hang out for years now.

“I’m going to miss it when I’m at college. I’ll have to make special trips back for the strawberry milkshakes.” You realise.

“What about me?!” He scoffs playfully. “Nice to know on your list of priorities I’m below milkshake.”

“You know you’re my favourite.” You coo, stealing a fry from his hand before he has the chance to bite it. The look of indignation he gives you only makes you giggle.

You walk home together, happy and still a little buzzed from the alcohol at the party. Somewhere along the way the back of Yoongi’s hand brushes against yours and he laces your fingers together.

Summer persists in much the same way. Yoongi gets a job across the street from your work as a full time record store employee. He enjoys talking about music in his free time, so he figures he may as well get paid for it. You’re happy for him and he seems a little more content. You coordinate lunch breaks when you can, meeting to eat in the sunshine.

Once a week Yoongi brings you a record or cassette he thinks that you’ll like. Sometimes he leaves little notes inside the sleeve of the vinyl, secret messages just for you. They range from random thoughts of his, inside jokes or just which song he loved the most. It’s such a Yoongi thing to do.

You make and bring him iced americano’s, on the house of course. At this point you’re pretty sure everyone he works with assumes you are a couple. What’s weird is that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

If you thought the boundaries between you and Yoongi were blurred before, it’s even more confusing now. Yoongi treats you as if you’re his girlfriend, but only when you’re alone of course. When your other friends are around no one would suspect anything at all is going on between you. To say it’s messing with your head is an understatement. You wonder if Yoongi is going through the same mental turmoil about this as you are.

Probably not, if you’re being truly honest with yourself. A part of you knows he’s just latching on to you for comfort, for a way of coping. It’s not like his home life has magically improved in the last few weeks. Truthfully it seems to be steadily worsening.

It’s pathetic how willing you are to pretend that it’s real. That you belong to Yoongi and he to you. Your mother once told you, amidst your heartbreak over Jimin while you had been blaming yourself for him cheating, that if someone wanted to do something, they would, regardless of you. She said it to comfort you but the words haunt you now. If Yoongi wanted you to be together, wouldn’t he ask?

You’re leaving for college soon. You won’t have Yoongi for much longer. So for now, you’ll allow yourself this indulgence, and just enjoy being with him.

“Please tell me you are not taking these.” Anni exclaims, holding up a pair of chunky black platform boots. “They’re the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.” She giggles at the look of outrage on your face.

You’ve recruited Anni and Yoongi to help you pack some of your belongings since it’s only seven short days until you leave for Hangyang and could use the extra pair(s) of hands. The afternoon has consisted mainly of Anni questioning your taste whilst Yoongi rocks on your desk chair, attempting to solve a rubix cube he managed to find.

“Yes I am taking those! They’re cute and they make me feel tall.” You snatch the shoes from her and place them in your suitcase. “Right Yoongi?” You ask, looking for backup.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mumbles without even bothering to look up from the toy in his hands.

“I’m going to miss you and your ugly shoes so much.” Anni sighs dramatically earning an eye roll from you.

“I’m only one hour away from your school babe.” You remind her. Like you, she’s also leaving Daegu for Seoul. “It’ll be easy for us to meet up.”

“Have you met your roommates yet?” She inquires, inspecting yet another pair of your shoes.

“Yeah, I’m with two girls. They seem nice enough. We have our own separate rooms which is nice.”

“That means you can have boys over.” She says suggestively. You hear Yoongi scoff slightly under his breath.

“Yeah yeah,” You dismiss. “Speaking of boys, what’s going on with you and Hobi?”

“He does not shut up about you.” Yoongi pipes up to Anni’s delight. “Seriously. It’s annoying.”

“I like him a lot. And we get on great.” She gushes, face lighting up. “But we’re going to be so far apart come September.” While you both are leaving for the city, Hoseok is going south for school.

“You can still date long distance.” You suggest.

“No you can’t.” Yoongi cuts in bluntly. “It won’t work.”

“What?” You look at him incredulously. “Of course they can.”

“No they can’t.” He rebuts, leaning forward resting his arms on his knees.. “It might work for a while. But she’ll be busy and will be meeting new people and he won’t be a priority anymore, because he doesn’t fit into her new life!”

“She cares about him! She’ll make time for him to fit into her life!”

“That’s bullshit. It won’t happen.” Yoongi jeers, a nasty undertone to his words that’s far too visceral to be directed at Anni.

“Alright, jeez. Calm down you two.” Anni looks between you, wide eyed. “I know you both care about me and Hobi but you don’t have to take it so personally.”

You and Yoongi lock eyes for a moment, a secret realization transpires between you, about exactly why you’re taking one another’s words so seriously. Before the tension in the room can worsen, your mom knocks on the bedroom door.

“Come in.” You call. She pokes her head through the door. “Hey mom.”

“How’s the packing going?” She inquires, peering around the room.

“Getting there.” You exhale, blowing some stray hairs away from your forehead.

“Good, good.” She nods. “I just got back from the supermarket, I bumped into Kim Jangmi and we had a very interesting chat.”

“Kim Jangmi?” You struggle to recall the name. It sounds familiar but you don’t exactly know the name of every single one of your mother’s friends.

“Yes! You know, from my book club? Anyway she was with her son and we all got to chatting and apparently you met him a few weeks ago. Kim Seokjin!”

“Oh….yeah.” You mumble. “He goes to Hangyang and we ended up speaking for a bit.”

“The handsome guy from the party?!” Anni interrupts keenly.

“Gosh, he is handsome isn’t he?” Your mother agrees, a little too enthusiastically for your liking. “He said you’re going to meet up at school?”

You glance at Yoongi before you answer, he is clearly pretending not to be interested in the conversation, looking at the rubix cube as if it is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Maybe. I don’t know. I barely know him.”

“He gave you his phone number.” Anni chirps.

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you.

“He was just being friendly.” You feel defensive for some reason. “We are on the same course, that’s all.”

“He’s a really nice boy, y/n. The reason why I came here was to tell you he’s going to help us when you move in next week.” Your mom beams.

“What?” You gasp, annoyed. “Why did you have to rope him into that?!”

“He offered!”

You sigh, feeling frustrated and defeated. “Okay mom. I'm sure that’s a lie, but ok.”

“Stop being difficult, darling.” She sighs. “I’m going to start on dinner now. Yoongi, Anni, you’re both welcome to stay.”

Yoongi and Anni both say thank you before your mother bids her goodbye. It’s odd in the room now; you feel exposed as if Yoongi just found out a secret you’ve been hiding. You want to tell him you’re not interested in Seokjin. You want to tell him you’re only interested in him. But you can’t. So the three of you continue packing.

Anni doesn’t sense the tension. “I hope your mom is making mac and cheese for dinner. Hers is the best.”

Seven days feels like a substantial amount of time but it’s not, Yoongi has come to understand. His last week with you flew by and he wishes he had even just one more day before you depart for Seoul. Seoul feels final. Seoul feels like the end.

Your life is going to change drastically, in almost every aspect, while his will remain the same. He knows it, feels it in his gut, that you’re going to leave him behind. You were always better than him, too good for him and now you’re going to realise it. And he’s been clinging on like a desperate man.

Somehow he manages to convince you to sneak out. It’s one am and you have to be up early for the big move but he’s grateful when you agree anyway. He’s waiting for you in his car. It’s silent apart from the low thrum of the idle engine and some indie rock playing over the radio at a low volume.

You slip out of your front door, in a hoodie that Yoongi notes belongs to him. He can’t help how the sight makes his heart swell and excitement begin to race through him. He leans across the console and opens the passenger door for you. “Hi.” You whisper with a smile.

“Hi.” He whispers back.

He waits for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling off. The roads are almost deserted at this time, a fact he finds oddly soothing.

“Do I get to know where we are going or…?” You ask, peeking at him slyly out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ll know in a minute.” Is his response. He’s taking you to a spot you’ve both been many times before. There’s an observatory at one of the highest points in town which gives an amazing view of the landscape below as well as the stars. It’s peaceful.

When he parks in the abandoned parking lot (the observatory has long since closed, lying abandoned now) there’s a fond smile playing on your lips. You like it here, having always been fond of the night sky. “Is there a reason you brought me here?”

Yes.

“No,” He answers with a shrug. “Just wanted to have a nice last night with you.”

“You’re acting like I’m going to war or something.” You laugh. “I’ll be back and forth between here and Uni all the time.”

You say that now but he thinks (knows) the reality will be much different.

He’s silent as he draws you in for a kiss. Hands cup your face and he pours as much intensity as he can into the gesture. His name falls breathlessly from your lips as he pulls away. “I need to tell you something.” He manages to choke out. He’s nervous and it constricts his vocal chords.

You blink a few times before your eyes widen with worry. “Is everything okay Yoongi?”

“Yeah! Yeah..” He tries to convince you. “With you leaving and all I just wanted to let you know. Y/n… you mean a lot to me.” He takes a deep breath, an attempt to summon some courage, whilst you watch him curiously. “Our..friendship is different now. Things have changed.” No shit, he thinks. “I like you. So much. More than anyone else. I - I, you, you know?”

He wants to verbalise that he loves you so badly, but his brain is blocking the words from escaping. He feels like a fool. An emotionally stunted fool.

“Yoongi,” You say gently. Your eyes search his own and he knows you understand what he’s trying to say. You’ve always been excellent at reading him. “Me too.”

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.” He confesses in a low voice. “You’re everything to me.”

“I feel exactly the same.”

His heart constricts before thudding wildly in his chest. This was the answer he had hoped before. He hooks your pinky with his just like he always does. “Promise me if things change when you’re away we’ll be friends.” He can hardly look at you as he asks his desperate question.

“I promise.” You squeeze his pinky tightly. “Nothing will change. You will always have me, Yoongi.”

Little more words and confessions are exchanged between you. Yoongi fucks you in the back seat of his car for what he hopes isn’t that last time. It’s different, passionate and slow. The windows steam up just like in the movies.

Still naked and sticky on top of you, he stretches forward and draws a heart in the condensation on the window. He writes both of your initials inside of it, then kisses you through your adorable giggles.

The sun begins to rise and you watch it together before he drives you home.

The next time you will see Yoongi will be December. Three whole months from now. The thought anxiously chews away at your insides as you watch his house disappear in your rearview mirror. He has the phone number of your dorm and you promised to arrange regular phone catch ups. With your mother’s blessing you gave him a copy of the key to your house so he will always have a refuge, even if you’re not there to be one for him.

Areum and Oli are surprisingly easy to get along with. It’s never easy to live with people so you’re thankful you lucked out with some decent roommates. The first night away from home the three of you spend the evening drinking wine, eating take out and getting to know one another.

Your room is cute, decorated with a few polaroids of you and friends and some fairy lights that twinkle at night. Among them is two pictures of you with Yoongi. The first from when you were ten and your mom managed to catch him and you napping on the sofa together and the second was from the last few months and he’s wearing that smile you love. It only makes you miss him more.

College officially doesn’t start for one week, the seven remaining days are filled with orientations and registrations and parties. Almost every bar and restaurant in the area have deals and themed nights on in order to entice the students out and it works.

The third night as an official Hangyang student you find yourself at dinner with Seokjin. After he had struggled to get your mattress into your room he had winked at you and said ‘you can make it up to me by buying me dinner’. Sufficiently guilty at receiving so much of his help you had agreed.

“I spent almost my entire first year here.” He jokes as he sits opposite you at a typical burger place he’d insisted you take him to. “You won’t find a better burger in a fifty km radius.”

“We’ll see. I have plenty of time to find out.”

Now that you’re out of the earshot of your parents you take the time to apologise for them roping him into helping you move. Seokjin waves it off with a genuine smile. If you didn’t know better you would think he wanted to help you.

Surprisingly it’s easy to spend time with him and you soon discover you have a lot in common, beyond being on the same course and coming from the same town. He watches re-runs of 80s sitcoms too and loves bad horror movies. He even has the same obsession with milkshakes you do.

“Let’s share one.” He suggests, ordering only one lone milkshake from the waitress.

“This isn’t 1950. Or lady and the tramp.” You laugh, scrunching up your noise.

“Hey! Lady and Tramp share spaghetti. Have some respect.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I naturally should have assumed that you, a twenty two year old college male felt so strongly towards an old disney film.” You giggle.

He leans in close and beckons you to do the same, as if he’s going to whisper a secret. “I think it’s the cutest film ever.”

“Aw, you’re a secret softie.” You smile.

“The softest.” He agrees.

Your milkshake arrives and it suddenly dawns on you why he wanted to order one to share. This thing was as large as a two liter bottle, and after a huge burger you doubt you could have finished one alone.

It’s almost - dare you say it - cute, sharing the dessert with him. You’re glad you agreed to the dinner. It’s been years since you spent time with another boy that wasn’t Yoongi and it’s nice. Between some of the classmates you’ve met, your roommates and Seokjin college feels hopeful. You’re excited.

You go to pay the check but Seokjin stops you with a laugh, assuring you he was only joking before. “Let me treat you, as a thanks for your time.” He says before walking away with a grin.

Three weeks away from home and your routine is beginning to shape and settle itself. Classes aren’t as hard as you expect them to be but you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t stay that way for long. Seokjin offers to help if you need it and you’re grateful that he’s slowly becoming a friend.

Thursday nights have become a regular thing in your new home. Areum, Oli and yourself make it a thing to have dinner together and gossip about the week. Oli is majoring in sports medicine so is almost always busy while Areum is studying law, which all but shackles her to the library.

There’s a knock on the door and you hop to your feet, hungry and eager to receive the chinese food you’d ordered for the three of you. To your surprise is Seokjin on the other side and not the delivery guy you’ve become so familiar with as of late.

“Seokjin. Hey! What brings you here?” You ask, trying not to sound too put out. As far as you were aware you had no prior plans arranged.

“I just finished my shift at the library and thought I’d come see my favourite freshman.If that’s okay?” He eyes you curiously.

“My roommates and I were just about to have dinner. Unless you want to join?” One more can’t hurt and usually you order far too much food anyway. He agrees eagerly with a smile

Areum and Oli have met Seokjin once before and they greet him warmly when he joins the three of you in the small sitting area. Areum helps you grab some plates and napkins in preparation for the food arriving. Once in the kitchen she peeks over her shoulder to make sure she’s not heard, whispering lowly - “Are you two dating now?”

“W-what?” You stutter, so completely taken aback you almost drop the porcelain you’re holding. “No!”

“Don’t look so offended.” Areum laughs at your reaction. “He’s gorgeous. And so into you.” “No he’s not. Don’t be ridiculous.” You’re quick to defend. Seokjin is your friend and nothing more. You have Yoongi. Sort of.

“So you wouldn’t mind if he and Oli…?” She nods her head towards the two of them, talking and smiling.

“Of course not.” You answer sharply. Areum looks at you as if she doesn’t believe you but doesn’t press the topic further as you rejoin your friends.

“Oh y/n, before I forget someone called for you this afternoon. I totally forgot to say before I had my nap.” Oli says as you sit down. “That Yoongi guy.”

Both of the girls are familiar with Yoongi, given the amount you speak with him. You called each other every other night, it was unusual for him to call during the day. “Oh. Thank you for letting me know. Do you guys mind if I call him back real quick before dinner?”

Your friends assure you it’s fine and you disappear to the kitchen where the house phone resides. Quickly you dial Yoongi’s number, having long since memorised it. You eye the clock, hoping it’s him that answers and not one of his parents. Thankfully your silent prayer is answered when his gruff voice greets.

“Yoongi, it’s me.” You begin quietly. “I’m so sorry I missed your call today, I only just found out - “

“ - It’s okay.” He interupts gently. “You’re calling now.”

“How are things?”

He lets out a worrying sigh. Something in your gut alerts you that things are not good for him right now. “Mom’s in the hospital. Courtesy of Mr Asshole himself.” He spits the last part out with venom.

“Oh my god. Is she okay?”

“Yeah. No. Well, she’s alive. He broke her jaw, knocked out a few teeth.” He says it so casually, it only further exemplifies how used to this behaviour he has become. It’s a miracle he is nothing like his father. “She lied about it to the doctors but y/n, they know. I can see it in their eyes and they either look at us like we’re stupid or that they pity us.”

“I’m sure they don’t think that. They probably see instances like this all the time. It’s heartbreaking as an outsider.” You assure. “This could be a huge turning point. To actually get your mom away from your dad.”

“Yeah.” He exhales. It’s clear he doesn’t believe your nor agree. “Fuck, I wish you were here right now y/n.”

“Me too.” You reply softly, heart aching in your chest. You wish you were too. “It’s almost the weekend, maybe I can book a train home?” You have your first assignment due in a week and definitely don’t have the time to waste at home but for Yoongi you would do anything.

“You don’t have to do that.” He sounds choked up. You wonder if he’s crying. “I’ll be busy looking after my mom anyway. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

“I miss you. Remember you have my key? Use it as much as you need it. You can always come up here for a day or a weekend.” You suggest.

The knock at the door signalling that the food has arrived is loud enough that Yoongi hears it through the phone. Areum’s voice yells to you as she answers it. “Sounds like you have to go. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your evening.” Yoongi tells you sadly.

“Can I call you later?” You ask hopefully.

“Please.” Yoongi sighs.

“Bye Yoongi. Speak soon.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, plastering on a fake look of happiness as you rejoin your friends. They seem convinced, apart from Seokjin. “Boyfriend troubles?” He asks, in a not so subtle attempt of inquiring information of your relationship status. Areum and Oli exchange a knowing glance.

“No,” You reply with a shake of your head. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just checking in with a friend back home.”

“I see.” Seokjin side eyes you, a secret smile tugging at his lips.

Strangely, Yoongi sleeps better knowing his mother is in the safety of the hospital. He spends the night alone, dad having long since fucked off somewhere. Yoongi doesn’t know where and more importantly, he doesn’t care. There’s peace in his home for the first time in forever.

His mind wanders to you. He hopes he hasn’t ruined your evening too much. From what you’ve shared through the phone college life is kicking off to a wonderful start. He wishes he could experience it too.

As you had anticipated, month two of college has your workload almost doubling. Thursday night dinners don’t happen weekly anymore, given how much time you spend studying just to keep up with the rest of your classmates. When you were in high school your natural ability allowed you to not just get by but succeed.

To be struggling, this early on in college, feels embarrassing.

You talk less frequently with Yoongi and your family. In fact you barely even see the people you live with. Seokjin, however you see often, given that he works in the library. The single downside to this means he’s the only one who knows your secret. That college is hard and you’re drowning a little.

Once again, it’s a friday night and you’re buried in a mountain of books, furiously taking notes. Your hand aches, you have eye strain and your stomach has been gurgling for the last hour and a half. The sound of the chair opposite you screeching along the marble floor forces you to lift your head.

“You’re here more than I am.” It’s Seokjin, smiling at you as he plops down onto the chair.

You sigh. “Yeah, we’ve got a huge essay due soon and I need to do well.”

“I can help you if you want. I’ve passed that course, remember?” He taps the side of his temple. “I’m as smart as I am handsome y/n.”

You can’t help but laugh as you roll your eyes. “I could use some help.” You begin timidly. “If you don’t mind! And you’re not busy. I know it’s Friday…”

“I’m happy to make time for you.” He smiles and you feel like a fool when it makes you blush.

Seokjin spends a further hour in the library with you and your coursework. He helps you tweak the essay where it needs it, knowing exactly what the professors are looking for. By the time you’re almost done it feels as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Your stomach embarrassingly gurgles again and that’s when he decides you’ve had enough for one night.

“Come on, we’re getting food.” He is so commanding you can’t help but go along with it.

Both of your roommates are out for the night so heading to your place seems like the best idea, opting to pick up some food on the way. You’re so dead on your feet having Seokjin practically push and pull you around and then home is welcomed.

The shrill pitch of a telephone ringing welcomes you as you cross the threshold into your apartment. You dash for the phone leaving Seokjin to deal with the paper bag of take out food. “Hello?”

“Hey.” It’s Yoongi. “I’ve been calling you for ages, y/n. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been studying. I guess I lost track of time.”

“You said you’d call me at seven.” Yoongi sounds grumpy and defensive. You wonder what’s happened at home now.

“I’m sorry. School is kicking my ass Yoongi.”

“Then don’t tell me you’ll call me at seven if you’re busy.” He almost spits at you. Someone’s clearly in a bad mood tonight.

“I said I was sorry.”

You watch Seokjin behind you as he dishes the food on plates for you both, politely pretending to not listen to your conversation. He has no choice, the phone is stuck to the wall, leaving you trapped there.

Yoongi heaves a long sigh on the phone. “I’m just struggling a little too.” He admits, leaving you feeling instantly guilty.

“How's your mom?”

“Not good, but not any worse.”

“I know it’s hard without me and Hobi there, but christmas is soon and I’ll be home for nearly four weeks.” You remind him.

“I can’t wait.”

Before you can reply Seokjin’s voice is tearing you away from the conversation. “Do you want to eat in your room or the couch?”

“Couch.” You reply, hand over the receiver in an attempt to mute your voice.

“Who is that?” Yoongi's voice is terse.

“Just a friend staying for dinner.”

“It’s a guy.” Yoongi states.

“A friend.”

“You said you were studying.”

“I was.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. You’re ditching me for a college boy already and it’s only been a few weeks. Glad I’m so memorable to you.”

He hangs up and you stand there in shock, the sound of the dial tone echoing in your ear.

Yoongi slams the phone down, an action that is usually satisfying but does nothing for him in the moment. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths, willing the anger he feels surging to subside. How could you move on so easily? He definitely had not imagined your feelings for him. So either he was stupid, or you had lied.

You’re hanging out with a guy who is comfortable enough to suggest being alone together in your bedroom and you have the audacity to claim he’s ‘just a friend’. He’s someone you clearly are overly familiar with. Yoongi scoffs out loud in sheer disbelief.

He has to pull himself together. He can’t allow himself to get angry, not when his mom needs him. She still has a few more weeks of recovery and he’s been taking care of her best he can. An unfortunate and tragic upside to his mom’s injuries is that his dad has left her alone, leading to a relatively peaceful home life. Yoongi can’t be the one to destroy it now by letting his emotions get the better of him.

A few more deep breaths and he’s in a decent enough headspace to go check on his mom. Her painkillers are due soon, anyway. Yoongi retrieves a granola bar and some fruit so she isn’t taking them on an empty stomach.

“Mom?” He knocks on the door to the spare bedroom, where she has been resting. The room was formerly Yoonseoks. In a bid to cling onto some hope of him returning, his mother has kept it intact. Yoongi knows his brother isn’t coming back.

She makes a noise signalling he’s welcoming to come in. Because of her injuries she’s unable to talk well at the moment.

“I brought you some painkillers.” He says gently, placing the items on the nightstand. She hums appreciatively. “I spoke to Dad.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. His mom nods, muting the TV she had been watching. “He’s staying with Uncle Jihoon tonight.”

His mom weakley reaches to squeeze his hand affectionately. He knows that means thank you.

“The hospital called and confirmed your sick pay will extend.”He sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes roughly. “I said you were getting better and would be back as soon as you could.”

He stares at her for a few moments, wishing he had a normal life like you do. “I love you mom, I’m going to leave the door open if you need me.”

“I love you too.” She replies. It makes his chest squeeze knowing that she spoke, even though it pains her. Just to tell her son she loves him.

He nods curtly and leaves the room, ensuring the door is ajar. When he’s back in his own room he collapses on the bed exhausted. The last few weeks have been draining and his sleep is suffering. It’s restless, fraught with bad dreams. He sleeps much lighter, listening out for his mother.

He wishes he didn’t resent you and Hobi so much for leaving him. He wishes his dad didn’t have anger issues and no self control. He wishes his mom was stronger and told his dad to get out a long time ago. More than anything, he wishes he had a normal life.

As ever you’re the nicer friend and you phone Yoongi to make up the next day. He feels like an asshole, knowing how much you hate conflict, but he misses your voice so much lately that it’s enough to override his own dickery behaviour. As usual it doesn’t take you long to have him smiling again.

Before you part ways you tell him it’s only thirty three days until you’re home. He promises to be there waiting for you at the train station the day you arrive. Something warm blooms in his chest and he realises it’s the first time he’s felt hopeful in weeks.

Seokjin insists on taking you out on the last night before winter break. Your complaints about the cold fall on deaf ears as he all but drags you from your apartment. He wraps his oversized red scarf around your neck throwing out a see? Now you have nothing to complain about. And he was right it felt nice., The cotton is warm against your skin and smells like Seokjin’s cologne.

There’s a large christmas market close to campus in which he buys you some hot chocolate. It reminds you of the smaller one back home that you and Yoongi would frequent ever since you were old enough to understand the concept of the holidays.

“Let’s go for a walk.” Seokjin suggests. “The Yanghwa bridge is pretty at night.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you as you stroll side by side. He spots you shivering and slips an arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to his side. His body heat is welcoming. You peer up at him to try and read his expression but he’s staring straight ahead, a wry smile playing on his lips.

“I love Seoul.” You sigh happily. “I might actually miss it back at Daegu.”

“I wish I was going back to Daegu. My parents always go to Japan this time of year.”

“You gonna send me a postcard from Japan?” You ask jokingly, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.

“Obviously. How are you going to go weeks without talking to me?” He grins.

You shake your head with a laugh. He’s been such a welcome intrusion to your life lately a tiny, miniscule, barely there, part wonders the same.

Seokjin stops walking when you reach the middle of the bridge. The view combined with the lights is spectacular. You almost miss how he angles his body towards you until his hands are slipping around your waist and pulling you against his lean figure.

“Y/n, I really like you.” He says thickly.

You are almost unable to respond. You’re not stupid, he’s been dropping hints for months now but to actually hear the words leave his mouth is alarming. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, heartbeat increasing as you think of Yoongi. You shouldn’t be in this precarious situation, you’re not together but he’s yours -

Seokjin completely disrupts your internal monologue by pressing his soft, plush lips against your own. He’s gentle, fearful as if you might completely reject him. When you don’t (to your own surprise) he presses his mouth against you a little harder.

You don’t want to admit to yourself how good it feels.

Seokjin’s large hands tug you somehow impossibly tighter against his body as he slips his tongue against your bottom lip, parting your mouth as he goes. It’s so different to Yoongi. It’s sweet. It’s new, uncharted terrority. Just as you begin to get into it and further deepen the kiss, his touch becomes infuriatingly tame.

He smirks at you when he finally pulls away. You can only imagine how dazed you look.

“I- uh, what was that for?”

“You look cute in my scarf.” Is all he says, as if he didn’t have his tongue down your throat a moment ago. He laughs when your face twists with disbelief.

“Seokjin, I’m not - I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this..” You cringe at how embarrassing that sounds and how incoherent it is.

The confident exterior he brought with him tonight cracks just a little. “Why? You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.” He frowns.

“I don’t. But there’s someone. It’s really complicated. I’m sorry.”

“Ah,” He nods as he accepts the meaning of your words. “I see,” He sighs. “I’m not totally out of the running I hope?”

“I - “

“Look. Think about it over break. I like you. We have fun together! It would be nice to see where it could go.”

“Seokjin - “ You try once more. He shushes you with a smile.

Despite the kiss the rest of the evening is nice. Thank god you don’t have to see him for a while though.

The nearly four hour train ride back to Daegu leaves you with plenty of time to think. Too much time, as it turns out. As much as you attempt to bury yourself in the book and magazine you’ve brought to serve as distractions.

Seokjin kissed you last night. Seokjin kissed you. Seokjin kissed you and you liked it.

You’re on your way to see a boy who you have admitted openly how you feel for him, a boy who has waited months for you and you spent your last moments away kissing someone else. Even though you and Yoongi aren’t official you still feel awful. And if you’re brutally honest with yourself it’s because you can envision dating Seokjin. One could argue you sort of are already. He’s definitely been courting you.

When you step onto the platform and observe Yoongi for the first time, your breath traps in your throat. He looks like a brooding artist standing there in his leather jacket and chuck taylors. Your walk turns into a half run in a bid to get to him as quickly as possible.

He huffs an ‘oomf’ when you crash your body into his but hugs you so tightly that he sweeps you off your feet.

Yoongi carries your suitcase to the car for you. Neither of you can wipe the lovesick smiles from your faces. He holds your hand across the console as he drives, occasionally rubbing his thumb on your palm. It’s so sickeningly domestic and you love it.

When you’re finally alone in your room his lips are on your neck before either of you have removed your outer clothing. He’s all kisses and whispered praise as he undresses you. You’re naked on your back for him as he licks your pussy and all you can manage to breathlessly gasp is “I fucking missed you.”

You come with his tongue buried inside you and his fingers tweaking your nipples. “I fucking missed you, my pretty girl.” He whispers, biting the shell of your ear.

The weight of his heavy cock in your hand is familiar. A visible shudder runs through him at your touch. When you get on your knees for him an exhilarated sigh leaves his lips. “Gonna suck my dick huh?” He’s almost mumbling to himself. You answer him by taking his cock in your mouth. He groans like he’s never had his dick wet before. “Fuck,” spills from his mouth like a mantra.

Before he has the chance to get carried away he’s fisting your hair and flipping you onto your front. Yoongi fucks you harshly from behind. The hand in your hair grasps at your scalp to leave your head permanently tilted back for him. He shoots his seed as deep inside of you as the angle allows.

His heavy breath on your neck and sweat on your skin feels fucking fantastic. You could die right now, happy, satiated and stupidly in love with Min Yoongi.

Christmas Day had always been just another day in the Min household. He only became aware of how abnormal his family’s style was when he was barely a preteen and other kids at school would discuss the fantastical ways they spent their holidays. Even kids who didn’t celebrate the holiday seemed to enjoy it more. He didn’t particularly feel much about Christmas.

Until he met you. And your family welcomed him with open arms. A gesture which included inviting him over every single year. The invitation extended to his family but usually he attended solo (except for that one time Yoonseok joined and spitefully pushed your plate onto your lap).

This year is no different.

Your mom feeds him well. She’s kind to him, taking a keen interest in his life. Your father always asks about the one interest they have in common - basketball. It’s not much but Yoongi’s dad has never broached the subject.

After dinner you suggest going for a walk, an idea with which Yoongi happily obliges. Unable to stop himself he’s lacing your hands together the moment you’re out of eyesight from your parents’ house. He kisses the back of your knuckles as he throws you a devilish grin.

Naturally you gravitate towards the enormous Christmas tree and ice rink in the town center. It’s been a long standing tradition, however it feels far more romantic this time. It’s just the two of you and you’re holding hands, just like the other couples that frequent the area. The sparkling lights on the fir light up your eyes like stars.

Snow begins to fall as you come to a stop at the wooden railing that separates the tree from the public. Yoongi lifts the hood on your parka jacket up for you, kissing you on the cheek as he goes. It’s not even comparable for the amount you do for him but anything he can give you he will.

Adorably you nuzzle into him, resting your head on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around you and he lets out a breath of content. You probably won’t be able to stay out much longer given the rapidly declining temperature so he’ll enjoy this while he can.

“Yoongi!”

A voice startles him, calling out from somewhere in the distance. Yoongi’s head whips round to see Hoseok and Anni of all people. Without thought he quickly, albeit harshly, pushes you away from him, lest you get caught in such a compromising position. No one knows about you two and he’d like to keep it that way. He already knows you’re too good for him; he does not need others reinforcing it at every opportunity.

Yoongi doesn’t think he’s made a mistake until he glimpses one look at your hurt, confused expression.

“Hey guys.” Hobi greets you both warmly. Yoongi notices he’s holding hands with Anni.

“Hey.” You reply. “Merry Christmas! It’s nice to see you both.”

“You too!” Anni replies warmly. “Did you have Christmas at the l/n house?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi mutters. “Just walking off the carbs.”

“Hobi met my parents for the first time.” Anni’s expression is one of pure happiness and he can’t help but feel a little jealous. “We had dinner together too.”

“Aw, that’s lovely.” You say. Yoongi can tell you’re upset, your tone sounds forced. “I bet they adored you Hobi.”

“”Of course.” Hoseok flashes that winning smile. “When are you both free? We should go for dinner or something.”

“How about - “ Yoongi starts.

“I’m not sure, I’ve got lots of schoolwork.” You cut him off and he shuts up instantly. “I’ll phone you Anni and we can sort something out?”

“Sure.” Anni says slowly. “We’ll leave you guys. I want to go inside anyway because I'm cold. Hopefully see you soon!”

Anni gives you a warm hug while Yoongi hugs Hoseok. They both wave cheerfully as they leave. He watches their happy retreating forms until they disappear round a corner. When he faces you once more your body language has completely shifted. Arms folded across your chest, gaze turned downwards.

He feels uncomfortable, he knows he hurt you but he’s not entirely sure how. Now it’s awkward. “Should we uh, walk some more?”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me? You pushed me away from you so fast back there I almost fell over.” You mumble.

“I didn’t mean to. Hobi and Anni don’t know about...anything.”

“So?” You finally look up to meet his eyeline. To his utter dismay your big eyes are glossy with unspilled tears. “Would it be so bad if they did?”

“Uh..I, um. I don’t know.” He trips over his wording like an idiot. The only reason he’s never breathed a word about your illicit activities to anyone is because he naturally assumed you didn’t want anyone to know. Yoongi wasn’t exactly the epitome of a model boyfriend.

“Why have you never asked me on a date? Why have you never asked me to be your girlfriend?” You demand and he panics. He doesn’t have an answer stronger than I don’t know and he’s confused as to why you’re so angry. He naively assumed what existed between you was enough.

“Do you seriously think someone like me would make a good boyfriend?” He all but groans. You of all people should understand that fact. He’s never had a girlfriend. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Then why treat me like I’m yours? Why hold my hand? Why tell me you love me?!”

He doesn’t know what to say. He makes the fatal mistake of shrugging.

You laugh mockingly. “Do you even love me? It feels like you’re just ashamed of me. Couldn’t even stand to touch me in front of your best friend. Just like that I let you have sex with me, I guess.”

“Y/n…” He starts. How is he even supposed to respond? This is all his fault. He’s only ashamed of himself, never you. “I can’t be what you need.”

An uncomfortable tightness constricts in his chest at the verbal admission. The sentiment has been lurking in the back of his mind since the moment he first started noticing you as more than just his friend. You deserve someone happy, stable, with a good background. Not the chaotic baggage he brings.

“You’re not allowed to have your cake and eat it too, Yoongi. That’s not fair.” You sniff as a lone tear escapes. “You can’t treat me this way, get jealous about dudes and then refuse to claim me.”

He had never even thought about it like that, unable to realise that’s what he had been doing to you.

“A guy at college kissed me, you know.” You blurt, heatedly. His guilt quickly turns to shock and now Yoongi wants to throw up because you lied to him. You were off at college kissing people and then hopping back to him, the fool that waits for you no matter what.

“Is that so?” He mutters, hot anger bubbling in his chest. You nod staring at him fiercely. “I’ve met someone too.” It’s a lie. “I just respected you enough not to do anything.”

The entire atmosphere changes. You’re gawking at him as if he’s slapped you in the face.

“You've met someone?”

He hums in agreement, terrified to commit even further to the lie.

“Who?”

“No one that you know. But you’ve obviously met someone too, so it’s whatever.”

Mascara tears spill down your cheeks and it physically pains to witness. He turns his head to the side, unable to watch any further. He did this to you.

“If it’s ‘whatever’ to you then maybe we shouldn’t do this - ” A sob chokes you mid sentence. “ - anymore.”

How is his Christmas day ending so spectacularly poorly? How is this his current reality? Yoongi’s brain and mouth stall, torn between the desire to rescue this horrific situation and hate you for kissing someone else. It simultaneously feels like a lifetime and a split second before you’re speaking, deciding for him.

“Nothing to say? Really?! Maybe I don’t know you so well after all,” the evident heartbreak in your voice makes his eyes burn. Now he really can’t bear to look directly at you.

“You kissed someone.” He mumbles, weak and pathetic. “Maybe I don’t know you.”

“I’m leaving, don’t follow me.”

He glances just in time to watch you walk away. “Fuck,” He groans a little too loudly, attracting the attention of a family nearby. Angrily he kicks a stone and clutches at his hair. He might be the biggest idiot alive. This is exactly why he could never be your boyfriend, he can’t handle anything.

Cold and numb, and not just from the weather, he reaches inside the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a cigarette. It’s a fairly new habit, so new you don’t even know about it yet, but fuck, does he need to take the edge off.

You manage to escape your parents and disappear to the safety of your bedroom as soon as you arrive home. Aggressively you draw your curtains shut, a not so subtle message to Yooni. The implication is clear; you do not want to talk. You doubt he’ll be making an appearance tonight anyway. This was no regular arguement.

You recall that night you left for school, the night he told you he loved you. Technically he never said the words. You. knowing him for most of his life, had assumed he felt what you had. Perhaps you assumed incorrectly. Horrifically inaccurately. And now your heart is wilting in your ribcage.

Stupid, lovesick, little girl.

The train ride back to Seoul is bordering on unbearably lonely, despite the carriage full of passengers. The days after Christmas that bled into New Years seem like a depressing blur that you don’t wish to recall but somehow can’t stop thinking about.

You haven’t heard from Yoongi since that horrible night. You wonder if someone else is occupying his time and that’s why he doesn’t wish to make amends. It’s always you extending the proverbial olive branch. You want him to want to do the same. Right now it looks like he doesn’t.

a/n: if this gave you a rollercoaster of emotions and made you feel sad, dw you’re not the only one, lol. each part is going to be about 20k so buckle up babies! (this story is still going thru editing so if u see mistakes IM SORRY) thank you as always for reading :)))))) P.S feedback makes me happy, lmk what u think! what u think might happen! if you want to slap me for writing so much angst lol! <3

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#yoongi #min yoongi #suga #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi story #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts drabbles #bts story

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morningfears · 4 years

Text

Vodka Pineapple

Rating: M | There’s smut, mentions of drowning, and other adult themes and situations.

Summary: Evie Porter wanted a normal summer. She wanted to be a twenty-something and enjoy bonfires on the beach and have a fling with a boy that would break her heart. Calum Hood wanted to distract himself from his past. They were a match made in heaven until his past caught up with them and they both did what they do best; run. (Mentions of drowning, swearing, anxiety, etc.)

Word Count: 34.2k (....I know. I’m very sorry I am who I am)

Golden hour had a reputation for being the most beautiful time of day. For a brief period, just when the world needed it the most, everything was bathed in beautiful golden. The light bounced off everything it touched and offered a glimmer of hope; it offered a promise of a good day ahead for some and a better tomorrow for others. It was inspiring, the muse for everyone from artists to athletes, and Evie Porter was not immune to its charm. She rarely found herself awake so near sunrise and was rarely outdoors so near sunset but with the end of the semester came the freedom to do as she pleased and nothing sounded more appealing than a skate at sunrise.

She listened to the waves crash against the shore and pulled in deep breaths of salty sea air as she sat on a bench near the boardwalk, lacing up her roller skates. It was quiet, save for the sounds of the ocean, as the small town had yet to wake for the day and with every exhale, she felt a bit more tension leave her body. It was almost surreal, having the chance to spend her summer in the small seaside town she’d frequented as a child rather than in crowded Los Angeles, but she was grateful for the opportunity as she soaked in the atmosphere.

The town was small, infinitely smaller than Los Angeles, and didn’t experience a boom in tourism until July - according to her cousin and housemate for the summer, Dahlia, anyway. There were no pushy tourists crowding the boardwalk yet and she could hear herself think as she reveled in the solitude. She had always loved the beach, particularly the one that sprawled in front of her, and only truly felt at peace when she could lose herself in it completely.

She remained still for a moment, long enough to exhale the last bit of tension and shake off the sleep that lingered in her limbs, before she stood from the bench and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Her skates were brand new, a neon green with pink laces and pink wheels embedded with silver glitter, and she was excited to break them in in the same place she’d learned to skate. Evie’s fondest childhood memories were of scraped knees and bruised shins, of hand-me-down skates and clinging to Dahlia as she guided her down the boardwalk, and she felt an easy smile quirk her lips as she slowly began gliding along the boardwalk.

The boardwalk was simultaneously exactly the same and wholly different than she remembered. There were more cracks and splinters, obvious signs of age, but she found herself navigating the changes with ease as she skirted around a pair of joggers. The wind blew through her hair, the salty air leaving it a tangle of beachy waves whipping behind her, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the freedom she felt. For the first time in months she felt at home, comfortable and calm, and it was wonderful.

Though Evie loved learning and had, once upon a time, been excited for college, the journey was far more arduous than she’d expected. Her parents were footing the bill and while she was grateful to be getting a debt-free education, she was angry at the terms her degree came with. Her parents had both chosen law, both attorneys that loved their jobs more than their children, and demanded she follow in their footsteps like brother had before her. She was given the choice of taking on a staggering amount of debt to follow her dreams or going into a field she hated with a guaranteed job waiting for her when she graduated.

She chose the latter.

With every class she took and every internship hour her parents signed her up for, Evie regretted her choice more. She loved some of the clients, she enjoyed hearing their stories and spending time with people she ordinarily wouldn’t cross paths with and being in a position to help them, but she hated the legal system and would rather learn what made people tick, not the barriers that kept them living in fear. She appreciated the legal system for what it was, a necessary sector of education and society, but she had no desire to spend her life in the field.

She had never really been given a chance to find her own path in life, her parents had always pushed her down the one they’d taken, and she carried the resentment around like a weight tied to her ankle. It lingered in the back of her throat, bitter and overwhelming as she tried to live a life she could be proud of, and only disappeared when she found a rare moment of free time to put on her skates and tune out the world.

Evie took up skating when she was a young child, desperate to emulate Dahlia in any way she could, and kept up with it even after she quit. She had never been naturally gifted at anything athletic - she wasn’t clumsy, just not athletic - so she was surprised to find herself a natural at skating. She felt at home gliding down the boardwalk, the wind in her hair and the sun warming her skin, and realized that any hard feelings she’d been bottling up seemed to trail behind her and disappear with each rotation of her skates.

When she was given the chance to have the summer to herself - her parents were participating in Lawyers Without Borders and had been too distracted to place her in a volunteer role for the summer - she packed her belongings and drove to Dahlia’s the moment she finished her final exam. She wanted a normal summer, one where she could forget her parents and the future she dreaded, and was determined to get it.

All she wanted was to relax, to sleep and skate and forget. Just for a summer.

Evie willed all thoughts of her parents, all thoughts of anything but a happy summer, out of her head as she brushed past a small family on an early morning walk. She didn’t show off often even though she was a skilled skater, but as she heard the coos of interest from the children, she took the opportunity to do exactly that. The skates were new, still a little stiff and not quite comfortable enough for her to do her best tricks, but she pulled off a spin and skated backward for a moment, just long enough to impress the children. She grinned at them, bright and sunny as her mood lifted and the semi-formed dark cloud above her head dissipated, and sent them a wave before turning back the correct way and continuing down the boardwalk.

She slowed and skated slower than normal as she drew closer to the stretch of beach that was always the most quiet, taking in the sight of the sand and the deep blue of the ocean. It was usually deserted, empty of beachgoers and the perfect spot for her to take a moment to rest, but that particular morning she spotted surfers at the edge of the water, pulling on their wetsuits and laughing happily amongst themselves. It was nice seeing a group of people around her age as most of the residents of the town were either old enough to be her grandparents or middle-aged with two or three children and no interest in befriending a college student. She made a mental note to ask Dahlia about them when she returned home and kept an eye on them for a moment too long as she contemplated how difficult it would be to learn to surf.

As she watched a tall blonde man toss a bottle of water at his dark-haired friend, his broad shoulders shaking visibly with laughter as the friend began chasing him down the beach, she failed to notice the body in front of her until it was too late. Evie slammed into the man’s back, her hands slotting between them in an effort to cushion the impact but only serving to shove him to the ground. She landed on her knees beside him, nothing at all like the practiced falls she’d learned in an effort to minimize her injuries, and hissed at the sting of sand and gravel embedding into her skin.

She felt a sharp pain in the palms of her hands and her knees, both of which hit the ground and were likely scraped, but paid it no mind as she scrambled to check on the victim of her carelessness. He was clearly headed to join the group of surfers, his surfboard had clattered into the sand off to the side and was halfway into a wetsuit, and she prayed they hadn’t heard the commotion as she steadied herself on her toe stops and offered the man her hand.

She’d fallen and hurt herself plenty of times as she learned. She’d bumped into friends as they took up the hobby alongside her. She’d shoved into people when she played roller derby. But she’d never accidentally bowled over a pedestrian and she felt a wave of panic and embarrassment wash over her as he grabbed her hand and stood from the boardwalk.

“I’m so sorry. The boardwalk’s been dead so I wasn’t paying attention. Fuck, are you okay?” Her words were rushed, her tone hinting at the panic she felt as he blinked from the shock of hitting the ground, but the sincerity of her concern was evident as her eyes raked over him in search of any obvious injuries. Her cheeks were on fire, a brilliant scarlet that creeped down her neck and blossomed over her chest, and she resisted the urge to bring her hand up and cover it.

The man, who likely would’ve stood a foot taller than her had she not been wearing her skates, nodded as he regained his footing and brushed some of the sand from his bare chest. “I’m okay,” he assured her, pausing in his assurance to reach for his board, “only thing hurt is my pride.”

Evie took a moment to revel in his presence. His voice was raspy and warm, he sounded like he’d just woken up, and she was certain that she could listen to him speak all day. There was a slight amusement hidden behind his words, as if he found the situation funny, and Evie felt her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she raked her eyes over him once more. He was beautiful, that much was obvious. He looked to be about her age, a twenty-something in the throes of young adulthood. His skin was golden, even more so in the shifting golden hour light, and covered in black ink. His short, bleached hair was a stark contrast against his skin and his deep brown eyes held a warmth that surprised her.

He looked uninjured, just slightly thrown off by the encounter, and Evie was thankful. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, her lips twisting into a grimace as she shifted on her skates and ignored the burning desire to check on her own injuries. She dug her toe stops into the ground and willed herself not to shrink away from the man’s scrutinizing gaze, even though she desperately wanted to.

“It’s okay.” He studied her for a moment. His gaze felt heavy on her skin, an acute pressure she was all too aware of, as his eyebrows lifted and his lips quirked in the corners in amused curiosity when he took in the sight of her skates and the knee high socks, shorts, and tank top combination she wore with them.

She knew what she looked like - her friends enjoyed teasing her for leaning so heavily into the aesthetic - and she’d never really been self-conscious about her wardrobe before. However, the way he looked at her left her conflicted; she didn’t know if she wanted to stand a little taller and give a flirty wink at the way his eyes lingered on her exposed legs or shrink away in embarrassment in case he thought she looked like a character from a bad eighties film. There was a reason for the uniform, a purpose for it all, but he didn’t need to know that.

He was silent for a beat, taking in the sight of her, before he met her gaze. His brown eyes shone with mirth and she felt her confusion deepen as he said, “I’m guessing you’re either a really good skater or this is a new hobby.”

“Sometimes I think I can skate better than I can walk,” she confirmed, her confusion dissipating as a a wry smile quirked her lips. She dug her toe stop into the boardwalk to hold her balance and offered a half-hearted shrug. “I just got distracted.”

“Happens to the best of us.” They fell into an awkward silence, neither knowing what to say - or if there even was more to say. The pair of them looked away from one another, both studying the group of surfers lingering near the water’s edge, and Evie opened her mouth to apologize again when the man broke the stalemate first. He turned his attention back to her, fixed her with that amused gaze once more, and said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“I doubt you have. I live in LA and haven’t been here in years. I’m just visiting my cousin for the summer.” She paused, contemplating giving the stranger her name. She wanted to enjoy her summer and though she knew Dahlia would provide adequate entertainment, a few other friends wouldn’t hurt. Especially a friend as attractive as this one. And, at the end of the day, she knew that she didn’t want to spend the summer cooped up in Dahlia’s house or skating alone. “I’m Evie,” she introduced, offering her hand once more.

“Calum.” He returned the gesture, capturing her hand in his, and she bit back a sigh upon feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. It was pleasant, fitting of the warmth that he seemed to radiate across the board, and pulled a smile from her as the embrace lingered a second too long. “Nice to meet you.”

The moment Calum released her hand, a shout of his name broke the spell they’d been under. The world around them suddenly came back into focus, the bustle of the slowly awakening city evident as a few people skirted around them, and Evie felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment once more. She glanced at the group of surfers who were now openly staring at the pair of them, offering a tight lipped smile, before she turned back to Calum.

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry, again.” She knew that she’d apologized enough, no damage had been done, but it wasn’t often that she took out strangers in the middle of a skate. She was embarrassed, more so because he was an attractive stranger, and hoped her cheeks weren’t as flushed as she imagined them to be when she offered final smile and turned to return to her car, her desire to finish the skate losing to her desire to not run into him again on the skate back. “See you around, Calum,” she called, sending him a wave as she completed a spin to show that she was capable of skating.

She didn’t miss the amused grin that lifted the corners of his lips or the way the sunlight made his eyes gleam. He looked beautiful, waving her off, and she had to turn away to keep her focus. She barely heard him but over the sound of her wheels against the boardwalk, his call of “See you around, Evie,” hit her ears and sent a small thrill jolting through her.

**********

“You know, it’s really not as funny as you’re making it out to be.”

Evie sat at one of the high tables near the counter of Flower, the bakery that Dahlia owned, and rested her chin her palm - thankfully it wasn’t scraped, just sore - as she watched her knead a batch of dough for rosemary bread. She hadn’t planned on telling her cousin anything about the incident, she was just going to mention that she’d seen a group of surfers near the water and was curious about them, but Dahlia spotted the scrapes on her knees and chided her for not wearing kneepads before interrogating her as to how exactly she’d fallen. It wasn’t like Evie to fall, she knew that much, and it was even less like her to take other people down along the way. She could tell that Evie still felt embarrassed by the accident - every time she bent her knees, the stinging reminded her of quite possibly the worst first impression she’d ever made - and it was only made worse by the fact that Dahlia knew Calum all too well.

Evie was surprised to learn that not only was Dahlia dating one of the surfers - Ashton, the one who’d been hit with the water bottle and chased the blonde down the beach, if she’d seen them right - she was friends with them all. She didn’t have to ask about the group because when she mentioned the name Calum, Dahlia told her all about them. And when she realized that Calum was the one Evie had bowled over, she decided that she no longer felt sympathy for either of them; she felt pure, unadulterated amusement.

“I don’t get a lot of amusement, kid.” Evie rolled her eyes at the nickname, she was only two years younger than Dahlia’s twenty-three, but didn’t interrupt as she waved a flour covered hand. “It’s not that funny but you have to admit, it’s kind of funny.” This time, Evie did scoff aloud and Dahlia grinned brightly at her. “Not only did you completely eat it, cause enough for amusement as long as you’re not hurt, you took Calum down with you. Ten bucks says he’s going to tease you for it when he realizes you’re my cousin.”

Evie huffed an annoyed sigh, pursing her lips and blowing a piece of hair from in front of her nose, before she rolled her eyes. “Can we just not tell him?” she asked as she stood from her stool and winced at the stiffness in her knees. “I mean, can I just disappear when you hang out with them? I can grab my skates and go bowl over another surfer or five while you have fun like a normal person.” She didn’t mean it, not really, but the thought was tempting.

Dahlia, who’d finished kneading and was dropping the dough into a bowl to proof, laughed. It was a beautiful sound, a crystal clear laugh that belonged to a Disney princess, and Evie was reminded of why she wanted so badly to be like her cousin. Everything about her was carefree and beautiful, graceful and perfect even though Evie’s parents called Dahlia rough around the edges. She was unapologetic in her existence, living her dream proudly and doing as she pleased, and Evie envied her for it.

“That’s going to be tough seeing as your skates are at home and they’re all currently there, setting up a welcome party for you.” Dahlia spoke nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on Evie, and watched out of the corner of her eye as she stopped her perusal of the display case and stared at her. Her mouth opened and closed without sound for a long moment before she stopped, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes, and Dahlia had to admit that it was amusing. She felt bad, getting so much joy out of watching one of the most outwardly put together people she knew have such a rough day, but she she knew that Evie wouldn’t hold it against her.

“It’s just going to be a few people, E,” Dahlia assured her, wiping her hands on the towel she kept in her apron pocket. “Don’t worry about it. And, seriously, don’t worry about bumping into Calum. If anyone will laugh it off, it’s him. He won’t be a dick about it and if you don’t vibe with the teasing, he’ll leave you alone. The guys are really great, I promise.”

Evie trusted Dahlia’s judge of character more than anyone else she’d ever known. Her cousin was good at reading people - better than she was - so if she vouched for Calum’s character, he had to be at least somewhat decent. And though Evie still felt the sting of embarrassment every time her knees ached, she wanted to let loose. She wanted a normal summer and a normal summer included parties and pretty surfer boys, mindless fun and long skates and sunburns; not internships in stuffy law firms and worrying about an impression she’d made on a guy she likely wouldn’t see again in three months time.

“Fine,” she huffed, her nails tapping against the pastry case as she lifted her head and stood on her tiptoes to look Dahlia square in the face. “But I reserve the right to go sulk in my room at any point if any of them are assholes.”

Dahlia, used to Evie’s antics after years of spending summers together, shook her head in good-natured exasperation. She knew that Evie was just nervous, it wasn’t often that she interacted with people outside of her classes or internships or tight-knit group of roller girls - people that Dahlia knew were very different than her own friends - and she didn’t blame her for putting up her guard. Instead of telling her to live a little, she just acknowledged, “You wouldn’t be Evie if you didn’t.”

Evie’s mouth popped open in a mock outrage as she watched her round the counter with a chocolate chunk cookie in hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked as she took the cookie from Dahlia’s outstretched hand and promptly bit into it. “Oh, the salt was a good call on these.”

Dahlia grinned at the compliment, glad that the addition of salt was appreciated by the harshest cookie taste tester she knew. “I know. Ten times better than the old ones.” She fell silent then, hesitating for a beat as she watched Evie eat her cookie, before she shook her head and nudged her shoulder. “Look, you have a habit of hiding when things get tough. You can’t do that in the real world, kid. If one of the guy’s is an asshole, dump a beer on his head. Fuck, go grab your skates and use him as target practice. Just… just try not to run, even if you want to.”

Evie exhaled a harsh breath. Although she knew it wasn’t Dahlia’s intention, she felt like a child being scolded. However, she knew that her cousin was right. When things got tough, Evie had a history of running away - she’d run from Los Angeles to spend the summer with Dahlia when the pressure to be perfect got to be too much - and she hated to admit it. She liked simplicity, she liked for the things she could control to be easy and normal, and didn’t want to invite complications into her life. If she could avoid problems, she would. But for Dahlia’s sake, she knew that she had to at least try.

She was incapable of telling her cousin no so she nodded her reluctant agreement. “Fine. But if you see me dump a beer on one of your friends, you can’t yell at me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she teased - and she wouldn’t. Just as Evie couldn’t say no to her, Dahlia couldn’t ever be mad at Evie. They were opposite sides of the same coin, different but similar enough to be as close as they were, and both wanted the best for the other. And Dahlia deemed that for Evie, the best would be indulging in a ridiculous party hosted by her friends. “Come and help me clean up. Ash just texted me. They’re almost done setting up so we can head home.”

Evie was nervous. She was nervous to meet Dahlia’s friends - ones she automatically assumed were much cooler than her own - and nervous to meet her boyfriend. She was nervous to have to spend the night making new friends. But, most of all, she was nervous to see Calum again, especially after she’d made such an idiot out of herself that morning. He was beautiful, stunningly so, and she didn’t want to come off as just Dahlia’s dorky younger cousin. She’d felt something - a spark of attraction, a few errant butterflies taking flight in the pit of her stomach, the last shreds of her sanity leaving when he smiled at her - and was nervous to see how things would play out.

She wanted to get to know him, to let something unfold naturally, but she also wanted him to see her as her ideal self. She wanted him to see her as she portrayed herself to the world - as confident and sleek, sure of herself and put together - rather than for what she truly was; an insecure, unsure girl who just wanted someone to love her despite her flaws.

But she deemed a reality check necessary. At the end of the day, she knew his opinion didn’t matter much. She’d say goodbye in August and that would be that. However, that didn’t stop her from agonizing over what he could possibly think of her as she began helping Dahlia wipe down tables so they could get home to the party.

*************

Calum stood behind the makeshift bar he and Ashton had pulled together in Dahlia’s backyard. It was a set of old card tables, barely big enough to fit all the alcohol and barely stable enough to stand on their own - Calum actually worried they might collapse if anyone got too close - but the setup did the trick. It got him out of the cramped kitchen and gave him at least a little room to work while he mixed a drink for himself. He knew that he would be stationed there half the night and while he didn’t normally mind - it was his profession, after all - he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be spending his night off doing his job without the benefit of a paycheck.

He’d taken the night off weeks ago, when Dahlia first mentioned wanting to throw a welcome party for her cousin, and was glad to be spending the night away from the bar. With schools dismissing for summer, more and more college students who’d moved away were returning home while tourists were slowly starting to trickle in. Combined with his regulars, Calum was already tired of putting on his best customer service smile and just wanted to spend the night with his friends. He wanted to forget that anything outside of Dahlia’s backyard existed and hoped that his night would be better than his morning had been.

He had gone to bed around four but found himself unable to sleep with the yard work happening outside his window and the constant buzzing of his phone. Between Luke, Ashton, and Michael, he swore he received at least a hundred messages, begging him to come surf with them, and had only relented when he realized they wouldn’t give up, even if he turned off his phone.

He was sleep deprived, still annoyed from the night before, and had only been more annoyed when he was knocked off his feet by a girl on roller skates. He didn’t realize that the girl who’d bowled him over was Dahlia’s cousin until the guys asked him who he was talking to. In his sleep deprived state, he’d just assumed it was a coincidence, another girl named Evie from Los Angeles, because she looked nothing like her cousin and didn’t exactly fit the image he’d crafted in his mind after hearing her description.

Dahlia was tall and graceful with short blonde hair, bright blue, doe eyes and an openness about her that warmed everyone she met. She was bubbly and fond of the same things Ashton loved - essential oils, yoga, green juice that couldn’t possibly be made to taste good - while she described her cousin as anything but.

Dahlia warned them all that Evie was more reserved, able to put on a polite face and make conversation but more than happy to be alone with her thoughts. She preferred the outdoors and tight-knit groups of friends over parties and packed houses - part of why Calum was hesitant to help with the party; he knew what it was like to be dragged to social events and feel out of place - and was apparently studying to become a lawyer. Her family was well off, Dahlia mentioned not getting along with them at all, and he pictured someone who looked like Dahlia but had the attitude of a spoiled LA brat.

But he’d been warned that Evie would be everything but what he expected and Dahlia hadn’t exactly been wrong.

Where Dahlia was golden hour, Evie was late evening with deep brown hair that hit her ribcage and pensive, guarded brown eyes that glittered gold in the early morning sunlight. Evie was smaller in stature, even in her skates Calum was taller than her, but she filled out the cliche skate outfit she wore nicely. From Dahlia’s description, he’d imagined her to be a runner or a volleyball player, maybe even a swimmer, but never a skater. However, he could tell that she dedicated time to her hobby as he’d spotted few bruises and bright white scars marring her otherwise flawless skin.

He couldn’t have imagined his first meeting with her would go the way it did. He certainly didn’t expect to just run into her, literally, as she skated down the boardwalk and he didn’t connect the dots until Ashton squinted at her retreating figure and declared with a certainty that Calum questioned at the time that that was, in fact, Dahlia’s cousin.

He didn’t know her, not yet, but he could already tell she was nothing like he’d been expecting.

“What time are they supposed to be here?”

Calum was broken out of his reverie by Luke’s question and lifted his head to watch his friend attempt to decorate the backyard. Luke was stood atop a step ladder, blue eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to untangle a mess of string lights without undoing the work he’d already done - half the strand was already taped to the side of the house and looped over parts of the fence. Michael stood behind him with a red cup in one hand and his cellphone in the other, occasionally lifting his head to make sure Luke hadn’t fallen. Neither of them looked like they knew what they were doing - Calum was, frankly, surprised they hadn’t given up and gone inside to eat the cookies Dahlia left for them yet - and the image made him shake his head as he grabbed his cup and wandered across the yard to where they stood.

“Don’t fucking pull the lights, mate. You untangle them before you plug them in.” Ashton, who had been blowing up pool floats and tossing them into the water, glanced up from an inflatable slice of pizza and rolled his eyes as he watched Luke tug at a tangled mess of string lights. He looked exhausted, as he always did when attempting to wrangle his three best friends, and shook his head as Luke shot him a dirty look.

“Now you tell me,” Luke muttered, annoyed by the lack of direction from Ashton, as Michael and Calum laughed.

Ashton ignored Luke’s comment. Instead, he focused on the task at hand and answered Luke’s initial question. “Other people should start getting here soon. Dolly and Evie won’t be here until seven.”

Luke made a face at Ashton’s answer and Michael shook his head. The backyard was nearly ready but they still had a good bit of work to finish if they wanted it to look the way Dahlia - and Ashton - envisioned. Ashton was obviously not pleased with the job Luke was doing in the backyard and seemed to regret giving the job to him and Michael. However, it wasn’t as if he’d done it on purpose. They just grabbed the lights and started stringing them up around the backyard the moment they arrived and he hadn’t had the heart to tell them to stop he accepted their willingness to step in and help, however, Calum knew that his perfectionist of a friend wanted nothing more than to do it himself as they both surveyed the mess Luke and Michael had made.

Instead of chastising them as Calum knew he wanted to, Ashton shook his head once more and turned his attention to Calum. “You met her this morning. What’s she like?” When Calum blinked, only half paying attention to the question as he watched Luke knock himself off balance and flail his arms as he narrowly avoided falling from the ladder, Ashton rolled his eyes. “Evie. What’s she like?”

“Oh, Evie. Seems nice.”

He didn’t know what Ashton wanted him to say. He’d met her, sure, but it was a quick interaction that was over in a matter of moments. She crashed into him, apologized, and skated away. She’d been nice, polite, but it wasn’t as if he expected her to knock him to the ground and just leave without a word. Their interaction was brief and though he had thoughts based on the far off look in her eyes, in the way she seemed to revel in just skating alone without a care in the world and the embarrassment she felt at a simple mistake, he didn’t feel qualified to pass judgment.

The only judgement he did feel qualified to pass was that she was gorgeous.

“She’s cute.” Luke echoed Calum’s initial, unspoken impression as his legs wobbled. He stood on the top step of the step stool, arms stretched to reach a high enough place to hang the lights, and Calum was just waiting for him to topple off the stool and fall backward into the pool. “Is she single?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at Luke’s question and stared up at him, his hand extended with a roll of tape for Luke to grab. “How do you know she’s cute? She was too far away this morning. Your eyesight’s shit, dude.” He paused, his eyes narrowing and his head cocking to the side, before he added, “And aren’t you having a thing with that girl from the library?”

“Instagram.” When the backyard went silent at Luke’s nonchalant confession, he turned as best he could on the ladder and met the curious gazes of his friends. Michael stared at him with raised eyebrows and an unimpressed look on his face as Ashton and Calum bit back laughter at the pink that blossomed on his cheeks. “What? Dahlia showed me! I was curious. It’s not like I went stalking her online,” he defended as he returned his attention to the lights clinging to the side of the house. “And Jen and I are just friends. She’s dating that girl who works at the tattoo shop on the pier.”

Calum rolled his eyes at Luke’s answer. He wasn’t surprised he’d gone snooping to figure out what Dahlia’s cousin looked like. Luke had had a crush on Dahlia when he first met her, before he realized she was Ashton’s girlfriend, and obviously hoped her cousin would be a close match in terms of looks. However, that wasn’t to say the rest of them had no interest in Evie at all.

They were all curious, anyone Dahlia spoke so highly of had to be someone worth getting to know - and they lived in a small town, new people were always interesting -, but unlike the others, Luke had taken the initiative to ask Dahlia more about her. He wasn’t content to wait where the others were. Calum wanted to get to know her, especially now that he knew what she looked like and felt a spark of attraction for her, but he didn’t want whatever information he got secondhand to influence his feelings about her. Instead, he wanted his opinion to form naturally.

Instead of joining their conversation and speculating about what she’d be like - they all had wildly different theories and it was almost amusing - Calum focused on gathering the bottles of alcohol Dahlia had purchased the day before. He set up his bar with a few extra bottles placed near the door so Dahlia wouldn’t have so many people venturing into her home before he set about choosing an appropriate playlist - a task he’d been assigned but knew Ashton would likely regret handing off to him.

And when all was said and done, he took a seat on one of the poolside chairs and sipped his drink as he waited for the guests to begin arriving.

It started slowly at first, a trickle of guests into Dahlia’s backyard all filing in one by one. He could recognize every face that entered, each was a close friend that Dahlia really wanted Evie to meet, and he felt at ease as he sat with Michael and his girlfriend, Crystal, as another friend recounted his trip to Vegas for a bachelor party. After that, the guests started arriving in droves.

People piled into the backyard, shoving through the gate two or three at a time, and Calum wasn’t sure if he genuinely didn’t know any of them or if he’d just already had too much to drink. It looked like every person in town under the age of thirty had flocked to Dahlia’s backyard and he was mildly impressed by her ability to draw so many people away from the only bar in town, even if it was just for one night.

Dahlia and Evie were the last guests to arrive and Calum was back behind the makeshift bar when they stepped through the sliding glass doors. He was just out of earshot, just far enough away to observe but not interact, but he could guess that the party wasn’t something Evie wanted. He watched as she hid halfway behind Dahlia and only offered polite smiles - and greetings, if he had to venture a guess - as the party cheered for her. She looked taken aback at how many people littered the backyard and Calum was willing to bet that Dahlia had severely played down the amount of people she expected.

He watched for a moment, still behind the bar as people took the drinks he’d pre-mixed, as Dahlia introduced Evie to Luke and Ashton. She looked happy to be meeting friends, he could tell that the smile she flashed them both was genuine, but she still looked overwhelmed beneath the grin she wore. Her cheeks were flushed pink, much as they had been when he met her, and the flush creeped down her neck to cover her chest.

The flush spread over her skin and Calum found himself studying her much closer than he intended. She looked cute, soft and sweet with her flushed skin and shining eyes, and it was a contrast to the mischief he saw when she skated away backward, just to prove she could. He was glad to note that she’d changed her clothes since their first meeting. Instead of the tank top, shorts, and knee high socks combination she’d skated in, she wore a light summer dress in a pretty blue that looked beautiful on her. She wore a pair of sandals that showed him just how small she was and he shook his head as he watched Luke bend down to hear her reply to something he said.

He didn’t know why he felt a tinge of annoyance as Luke crowded her, a smile on his lips and clearly undressing her with his eyes, but he did his best to swallow it as he observed her. When he spotted her shifting her weight from foot to foot, a small sign of her anxiety, he began moving without much thought. He ignored the requests he was getting for this drink or that one as he reached for the vodka and pineapple juice Dahlia had purchased specifically for Evie. Her drink of choice was the easiest he’d mixed all night and it only took a minute for him to finish the drink and cross the backyard to where she stood.

He didn’t want to interrupt - he wasn’t really sure what he was doing, anyway; he was just responding to an overwhelming urge to make her comfortable - so he waited until Luke and Ashton were caught up in a conversation with Dahlia, all three of them turning their attention away from Evie for the time being, before he approached and offered her the cup. “You look like you could use this.”

Evie turned to him, surprised by his presence and the offer of a drink, and nearly refused. He could see it in the way she hesitated to take the cup and he realized how it must look, a strange guy offering her a drink, but when she met his eyes and he offered her a smile, she took the cup from his hand. “Thanks. I was going to come grab one when they let me leave,” she joked before her smile turned sheepish. “Sorry, again, for this morning. I just got a little distracted and didn’t realize anyone was crossing the boardwalk. I try not to make running over pedestrians a habit.”

Calum could tell that she still felt bad. She wasn’t quite able to look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds and he believed her when she said this was something that didn’t happen often. “It’s okay,” he assured her with the same smile he’d given her that morning. He was no longer sleep deprived, amused at the smallest things, but he found himself enjoying watching her cheeks flare red and her eyes drop to the ground.

Dahlia had warned them she was shy, a little reserved and quiet, and he could see it as he bit back the teasing jabs he wanted to make about giving her a bell to ring or asking her for a little warning before she pounced on him the next time. She sipped at her drink, her eyes roaming the backyard in an effort to avoid meeting his, and he hid his smile behind the rim of his cup. “You were good, skating away. How long have you been at it?”

Evie looked directly at him again and he noticed that she seemed surprised that he’d stuck around and even more surprised that he was asking her about her skating. He didn’t want to pry, not really, but he made a mental note to ask Dahlia about it later as he waited for her answer.

“I started when I was a kid. Eight, maybe nine?” She paused, considering exactly how long she’d been skating, and shrugged. “Dahlia’s the reason I got started.”

That surprised Calum. Dahlia did yoga with Ashton but other than that, he didn’t think she had ever even stepped foot in a gym. “Really? I can’t picture her as a skater.”

“She grew out of it. She took it up because it was cool, you know? California kid in a beach town, skating on the boardwalk; it was what everyone did and she wanted to fit in. I just wanted to be like her so I started skating, too. She grew out of it, I didn’t. I should, but it’s fun.” Evie shrugged off her explanation, a halfhearted gesture that showed Calum few people stopped to ask her about her hobby, and he struggled to hide his frown as he watched her down the rest of her drink in one go.

“If you enjoy it, keep at it. I think it’s cool.”

“Thanks.” She looked genuinely appreciative, a warmth in her eyes that told him she was grateful for the compliment, and he nodded his acknowledgement. The conversation stalled, neither of them really knowing where to go from there, and Calum chalked it up to her discomfort at being thrust into such a large crowd and his inability to read her.

He didn’t want to make a snap judgement, she seemed quite good at contradicting his assumptions about her, so he he consciously tuned out the declarations his brain wanted him to make. Instead, he wanted to add more, tell her that she should keep skating regardless of what other people thought about it as long as she enjoyed it, but before he could open his mouth, Dahlia turned her attention back to her cousin and grinned as she caught sight of Calum.

“Cal! You’re not bullying my cousin, are you?” She fixed him with a playful glare, a mock suspicion that told him she knew about the incident, and laughed when he rolled his eyes. She was the most willing to give him hell, to call him out if he was being a little snappy or overstepping in the pursuit of teasing his friends, and he knew that beneath her humor was a genuine question so he shook his head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dolly. Why would I bully anyone else when Luke is right there?” Luke, who had tuned into the conversation and stood too close to Evie for Calum’s liking, shot him an unimpressed glare and held up his middle finger in response. Calum just grinned in response, as he usually did, before he returned his attention to Evie. She giggled at the exchange, a genuinely amused smile quirked her lips, and he felt a strange sense of accomplishment as he met her eyes. “D’you want another?” he asked, gesturing to the empty cup in her hand.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though. And thanks for this one. Vodka pineapple is my favorite.”

Calum almost admitted that Dahlia told him. He opened his mouth to tell Evie that her cousin had bought too much vodka - and endured too much teasing from Calum and Ashton for the amount of vodka she purchased - just for her but Dahlia spoke before he could. “He’s a bartender,” Dahlia told her, a sly smile in Calum’s direction that he didn’t quite understand, “he’s got that sixth sense of knowing what alcohol you need.”

Evie didn’t look like she believed her - Calum knew he wouldn’t have - but she played along and nodded appreciatively. “It’s a good sense to have. Arguably the most useful of them.” She met his eyes, both of them silently agreeing that whatever Dahlia was attempting to do was not working, and he couldn’t hide his smile as they remained like that for a long moment.

It was just a small joke, a little jab to poke fun at her cousin’s exaggeration, but it was something and it intrigued him. He would’ve been content waiting to hear more, spending the night getting to know her instead of making drinks for insufferable drunks he wouldn’t get compensated for, but Michael’s shout of his name drew his attention back to the abandoned bar.

He rolled his eyes at Michael’s repeated shouting and turned his eyes back to Evie for a beat. He offered her an apologetic smile before he gestured to the bar. “I better get back before someone has to make their own drink,” he deadpanned, annoyed that he was being roped into pouring drinks when all he wanted was to enjoy himself.

“That’d be a national tragedy.”

Evie bit her lip, obviously not meaning to speak the thought aloud, but it made Calum laugh yet again. “It’d be a shame,” he agreed, his mood lifting slightly as he watched her lips curve up in a soft smile. “If you need another drink, you know where to find me.”

Calum reluctantly left Evie with Dahlia, Luke, and Ashton and crossed the backyard to return to the bar. He lost sight of her between the partygoers that crowded him and the friends of friends that crowded her. Though he hoped he would see her again, their paths didn’t cross and, as disappointed as he was, he imagined it was for the best. He didn’t want to monopolize her time, not when there were more interesting people for her to interact with, and he didn’t want to get too attached to someone who would be leaving in a few months, anyway.

There was nothing there for them, even if they both felt the swarm of butterflies he tried to drown with a shot of tequila, and he wasn’t going to fan the flames. He wanted his summer to be easy, calm and quiet, and he could see her breaking his heart if he let her in too close. So he didn’t look for her, didn’t try to catch her attention even though he knew he could. He just let it be and sat behind the bar, making drinks and counting down the hours until he could leave.

And as he thought about his night, he decided the future didn’t matter. He was just glad he’d gotten her to smile.

************************

Evie woke the morning after the party with a dry mouth, something that always happened when she drank, but no other signs of a hangover. She hadn’t had much to drink - just the vodka pineapple Calum brought her when she first arrived and the spiked punch Luke grabbed for her that she only drank to be polite - so she wasn’t surprised to find herself hangover free. She was exhausted from socializing, she would’ve been content to lie in bed and pretend other people didn’t exist for the day, and found herself awake far too early for a day that had no plans but, otherwise, she felt fine.

Dahlia, on the other hand, looked like she felt worse than Evie ever had.

The first thing Evie noticed when she stepped into the kitchen was Dahlia sitting at the table with her head in her hands and an untouched cup of coffee and an open bottle of painkillers in front of her. The room was a mess of red solo cups and flickering string lights, there was even a few deflated beach balls littering the living room floor, but it was nothing compared to the backyard.

Evie spotted red cups littering the bright green grass - and the cool blue water of the pool - as well as articles of clothing and even a few remaining guests asleep in lounge chairs. There were plenty of deflated pool floats, a pizza box with half the pizza still inside, and even a few empty liquor bottles strewn across the grass and she grimaced at the thought of cleaning it all up. The aftermath made the party look far cooler than it had actually been and she balked at the state of it all as she poured a cup of coffee and lifted herself up onto the counter to stare at her cousin.

“Don’t start,” Dahlia warned, her voice low and thick with sleep. She waved a hand in Evie’s direction, her nails noticeably chipped and her skin stained with Sharpie from where Michael drew on her after she fell asleep. “Just… don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Evie hid her grin behind her coffee cup and watched as Dahlia lifted her head to fix her with a dirty look. She scowled, her blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Evie swallowed her laughter with a sip of coffee.

“If my head didn’t hurt so bad, I’d be rolling my eyes. I just wanted you to know that.” Dahlia groaned at the effort it took to lift herself from her chair and heaved a heavy sigh as she crossed the kitchen to dump her now cold coffee into the sink.

“Sucks to be you. You’ve gotta go open the shop,” Evie reminded her as she watched her run a little water in the sink to drain it of coffee. “You can’t really call out when you’re your own boss, huh?”

“God, the last thing I want to do is go to work today.” Dahlia looked like she forgot that work existed and, for a moment, like she regretted opening up her own business. However, after a moment of scanning the mess that was her house, she paused. Dahlia’s face twisted in a thoughtful contemplation, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, before she fixed Evie with a look that she didn’t like at all. “Want to open up for me?”

“No.”

Dahlia groaned at Evie’s swift response and closed the small gap that existed between them to place her hands on Evie’s knees. “Oh, come on! Please? All you have to do is open the shop up and take care of customers for a few minutes. I’ll be there by ten, at the latest. I just need to shower and, I don’t know, find a new liver.” Despite her best efforts, Evie laughed at this and Dahlia grinned as she watched her soften.

Evie was usually steadfast in her decisions, able to stick with whatever she chose regardless of how her feelings changed - her future career path was evidence of this -, but Dahlia was good at convincing her to change her mind. And it wasn’t like she didn’t want to help. She would do whatever she could to help Dahlia out. However, opening a shop she hadn’t been to since it opened and working it, alone, for an hour? That thought intimidated her.

One of her biggest fears was failing spectacularly and she feared she would accidentally burn down the shop or maybe offend half of Dahlia’s customer base and she didn’t want that at all.

However, she found herself unable to tell her no. Although the party wasn’t exactly for Evie - not really, it was more an excuse for Dahlia and her friends to party without feeling guilty - she was still housing her for the summer with little expectations. She wasn’t paying rent or doing much outside of helping with groceries so she felt like she owed her that much, at least.

She only had one option and she didn’t really like it.

Evie remained silent for a moment, her eyes narrowed at her cousin just to make her squirm, before she heaved a heavy sigh and nodded. “Fine. But if you’re not there by ten, I’m locking up and leaving the shop empty while I go skate. I want to try out the skate park before it gets crowded with kids for the summer.”

“Deal. Love you, kid. Thank you,” Dahlia exclaimed, looking brighter than she did a moment ago, as she reached out and pinched Evie’s cheek. She laughed Evie swatted at her hand and nudged her side to get her to stop. “The shop is dead before eleven on Saturday, anyway. At most, you’ll have a few people wanting pastry but that’s about it. Find what you need in the pastry case. If someone has a custom order, write it down and get their name and number and I’ll confirm with them later.”

After her explanation, Dahlia took off down the hallway. Evie watched her disappear, rushing toward her bedroom with a grace that Evie still couldn’t manage, even on skates. She was envious of how Dahlia moved, how it looked like she was floating on air even with the way her shoulders slumped and her head fell forward due to the hangover, and found herself comparing their differences yet again as she retreated to the guest bedroom she claimed as her own for the summer.

She envied Dahlia in a number of ways. Dahlia was graceful, of course, but she was also living life the way she chose. Her parents wanted her to go to college and get a business degree but her passion was baking. She knew the degree might be helpful - she sometimes lamented not choosing the college route, especially as she navigated the wonderful world of entrepreneurship - but she preferred getting practical experience so instead of spending four years in school, she worked in cafes and bakeries and trained with any pastry chef that would have her. She attended culinary school, after working long enough to save up the money so she wouldn’t feel like she owed her parents, and was steadfast in doing whatever she could to make her dream come true.

Evie, meanwhile, was stuck living the life her parents deemed appropriate just because she was too afraid to challenge them.

She didn’t want to be a lawyer. It wasn’t the life she would’ve chosen for herself. However, as she skated along the sidewalk that ran between Dahlia’s house and Flower, she realized that she wasn’t sure what life she would’ve chosen for herself. She hadn’t really been given the opportunity to dream as a child - her future had long since been determined for her - and feared it was too late now.

And, even if she was given the chance to dream, what would she do as she dreamt?

She was stuck, though she realized there were worse places to be stuck than with a paid for degree and a guaranteed ticket to law school.

Evie heaved a heavy sigh as she stopped in front of the shop. She paid no attention to her surroundings as she flipped through Dahlia’s keyring to find the front door key. Her headphones were situated over her ears and she was lost in thought as she stepped inside, rolling around the tables and flipping on lights as she did. As soon as the computer was turned on and everything was ready to go, she pulled off her headphones and sat down at one of the tables to switch her skates out for a pair of Docs.

“When you’re not body slamming strangers, you are actually really good.”

“Jesus Christ.” Evie stood from her seat, sending her skates rolling across the floor and shaking the table, as a voice echoed through the empty shop. She hadn’t heard the bell ring - a fact she chalked up to the headphones - and was surprised to find Calum standing near the entrance with a smile on his face. He was leaning against a table, arms folded over his chest, but leaned down to grab the skate as it rolled across the floor to him.

Evie was glad to see him again. She’d planned on seeking him out at the party, she wanted to talk to him, but every attempt she made was thwarted. If she wasn’t inundated with questions for Dahlia’s friends about her life in L.A., Luke was following her every move. He hung onto her like a lost puppy and while she thought he was cute, someone else had already captured her interest.

She smiled at Calum as he crossed the shop, holding the run away skate out for her to take, and willed herself not to flush pink in his presence yet again. She didn’t feel so embarrassed, not anymore. Those feelings were replaced with butterflies raging in the pit of her stomach and she willed her thumping heart to calm as she shook her head and said, “Thanks. Good morning.”

“Good morning. That happen often?”

Calum smirked at her, obviously amused by her string of bad luck when it came to him, and watched her as she moved. “Not really, no. I’m beginning to think you’re bad luck, Calum.” Evie laughed as she teased Calum, a grin on her face to let him know she was joking, and focused on lacing up the remaining boot before she placed her skates on the leash and stashed them beneath the counter beside her bag. “What brings you to Flower?”

“The guys are all dying of hangovers. It was my turn to pick up breakfast and I know the owner here,” he said, his eyes shining with mischief as he approached the counter she now stood behind and watched her brush her hair over her shoulder and away from her face.

“Mm, well, the owner isn’t in but I’ll do my best to help you fulfill your duties as breakfast bringer. What do you need?”

“Surprise me. I’ll trust your judgement.” Evie raised an eyebrow at Calum’s words, her smile still present, before she rolled her eyes and set about gathering an assortment of pastries. He made a noise, a sound that made it seem like he’d just had a thought, before he added, “I will admit, it’s hard trusting your judgement when your favorite drink is vodka pineapple but…”

Evie lifted her head, shooting him a playful glare over the top of the pastry case, before she narrowed her eyes and huffed. “Isn’t it against the bartender code of ethics or something to judge someone based on their drink choice?”

“Absolutely not. I think that’s the most ethical decision. Saves me from getting to know people with bad taste,” he defended, a laugh leaving his lips as he leaned back against one of the tables and watched her work. “And it’s a good way to pass time during slow shifts.”

Evie placed a piece of pastry paper into one box and reached for another to pack a few more items. “There’s such a thing as a slow shift at a bar here?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but this isn’t exactly L.A. There’s one bar in town and it’s only busy when kids come home from college. The rest of the year, there are plenty of slow shifts.” Calum explained with a shrug as he watched her bag up the boxes of pastries and slide them across the counter.

“You getting good at judging people based on their drinks, then?” Evie was certain she looked skeptical, she felt it, but Calum took her question in stride as he offered her a playful shrug.

“You can always come to the bar and see for yourself. I’ll share some of my judgements, you let me know how you think I did.”

Evie blinked in surprise at Calum’s offer. She hadn’t expected him to be so bold but she found that she liked it. The friends she made, the guys she dated, often beat around the bush or took far too long to ask for what they wanted. Calum, on the other hand, seemed comfortable enough to dive right in. It was a welcome change and she found herself nodding without really thinking it through.

“Okay, sure. I’ll come judge your judgements as long as you promise not to make fun of my drink of choice. Or my skating.”

“Never made fun of your skating, Evie,” Calum reminded her with a tooth-filled smile, “just your string of unfortunate luck when I’m around. My shift starts at seven tonight. Dolly usually drops by around eight with Ash and the guys if you want to join them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Calum lingered near the counter for a beat of silence after paying for the pastries. They stared at one another, both with glittering eyes and butterflies in their stomachs, and smiled as they took in the matching pink tint both their cheeks took on. Neither of them had gone into the summer with the intention of anything more than fun but they could feel something brewing beneath the surface. There was more to them than either of them wanted to admit yet, they didn’t know what awaited them down the line, but they were both coming to the conclusion that getting there would be a fun journey.

“See you around, Evie.” Calum broke the stalemate first, his words spoken softly with a hint of hope that didn’t go unnoticed. He gave her another smile, this one soft and unlike the others she’d seen thus far, before he turned to leave the shop.

“See you around, Calum.”

Evie watched as he left the shop. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he left the shop and she bit her lip to keep her smile from growing any wider as he did so. She felt giddy, an annoying sort of excitement that she hadn’t felt in a long while, and willed herself to calm as he disappeared into the morning sun. She wasn’t sure what she was getting herself into with Calum, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but for the first time in a long while, she found that she didn’t quite mind the uncertainty.

In fact, she was looking forward to it.

**********************************

Calum stood behind the bar at Jack’s, a dingy dive that he’d been working at since he turned eighteen, and wiped at the counter as he waited for another customer to approach him. He hadn’t been old enough to bartend when he started, he just bussed tables and stocked the backroom, but since he turned twenty-one, he’d been behind the bar almost every night as he worked to save up enough money to finally leave his hometown.

He loved his family, he loved his friends, but he didn’t exactly love the life he was living. He was desperate to make a real life for himself, a better life for himself. He wanted an opportunity, a chance to prove that he could be something other than a small-town bartender or a washed up surfer, and he hoped that L.A. was the answer to all of his problems. Though, realistically, he knew that it was likely anything but.

He sometimes felt envious as he thought about the lives those around him led. His friends were settled into their small town lives. Ashton and Michael both had steady partners and were attempting to build futures as Ashton opened his own surf shop and Michael made more than enough money designing video games. Luke was just enjoying himself, having fun as he navigated small town life and worked to complete as much of a degree as he could at the local junior college. All the while Calum felt like he was drifting.

He felt like everyone around him had a plan, an idea of what they wanted from their future, while he felt like he had no idea and it scared him. He’d had one, once, but life hadn’t worked out he way he wanted and it threw him off balance. He was plunged into the unknown and it was well beyond uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to the uncertainty, to not knowing what would come next, and he felt like he needed to get his life back on track.

He just wasn’t sure how.

He didn’t know what was next, what came after spending his so-called best years working in a dive bar and not really doing anything he deemed important. He didn’t know where he would end up or what he even wanted to do anymore. He just knew that he needed to leave his hometown and make something of his life.

He needed to matter.

Calum heaved a heavy sigh, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest, as he shook his head to clear it. Those thoughts always hurt more than he cared to admit. He didn’t like dwelling on the what-if’s and the heavier parts of his life. He didn’t like the heavy feeling that lingered in his stomach or the way his chest tightened when he worried about it. And, maybe, that was why he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He couldn’t bring himself to think about it for longer than a few moments at a time. If he did, he panicked and it only served to hurt him more.

It was a catch-22; no matter what he did, he felt like he was fighting a losing battle.

Thankfully, as his thoughts started to swirl a little too quickly, a regular approached him and requested a refill on his favorite beer. Calum welcomed the opportunity to focus on work and listened idly as the man made a comment about the baseball game that played on the televisions above the bar.

He listened as the man complained about the current pitcher, a player he didn’t recognize as he didn’t follow baseball himself, and paid no mind to the noise as a new group entered the bar. He assumed it was a group of kids, just returned home from college, and worked to finish the task at hand. However, a flash of motion at the end of the bar caught his attention.

He turned his head just enough to catch sight of the customer and spotted Evie out of the corner of his eye, her long hair brushed back over her shoulder and showing off the low-cut top she wore. He had to take a moment to breathe, to swallow down the bubbling attraction he felt in the pit of his stomach, as he slid the beer across the counter. But when, with a smile and a tilt of his glass, the regular walked away, Calum had no choice but to turn his attention to Evie who flashed him a bright smile and waited for him to move close enough to hear her.

“I’m definitely not in L.A. anymore,” she commented, her eyes bright as she glanced around the dingy bar. She took in the decor, a mixture of old photographs and street signs and records, and Calum grimaced. It was rough - he knew that it looked like a bad dive from an even worse movie - and he could only imagine how it compared to the kinds of places she went to in the city. However, she surprised him when she said, “But I like it. Doesn’t feel so intimidating. I don’t feel like I need to look picture perfect, you know? I do feel kind of overdressed, though.”

Calum would be the first to admit that she looked out of place. She was definitely overdressed compared to the few older couples in casual beachwear and a few college students dressed in athletic shorts and oversized t-shirts. She wore a white, ribbed short-sleeved top tucked into a high-waisted red skirt and a pair of platforms that gave her a few inches of height. It was a good look on her - and it made Calum realize that skirts and shorts, anything that showed off her legs, were staples of her wardrobe; not that he was complaining - and he surprised himself when didn’t hesitate to tell her that.

“Doesn’t matter. You look beautiful,” he complimented as he wiped at a spot on the bar and glanced at her from beneath his lashes. Just as he expected, her cheeks tinted pink and she rolled her eyes at the compliment as she turned her head to glance around the bar once more. He spotted the others - Ashton and Dahlia, Michael and Crystal, and Luke, watching her with an interest that told Calum he wasn’t the only one who noticed how beautiful she looked - and sent her a smile. “First round on you?”

“Mhm. Least I could do for the party,” she answered with a shrug. He knew she hadn’t loved the party - he could see it on her face - but he was pleasantly surprised that she was attempting to pay it forward. “They said you know their usuals. I’d like to hear your judgements based on their orders.”

“I know them too well to judge their orders.” He began pouring the beer that Michael liked, a local brew that everyone else hated, as he lifted his eyes to meet hers once more. “But I can tell you my thoughts on some of the drinks I’ve already made tonight.”

“That’s not violating bartender-patron confidentiality?”

“Not by a long shot. See those girls over there?” When Evie nodded, subtly looking in the direction of the two college students that sat near the door, he repeated the gesture. “Both have really shitty, cheap white wine. It’s a social drink. There’s barely any alcohol in it so they’re not here to get drunk, just here to gossip and vent. They’ll both wobble out of here after one drink, that has barely any alcohol, and use it as an excuse to do something stupid like text an ex.”

“I don’t know if you need to know their drink orders to guess that. That’s just their demographic. What else you got?” She had a playful look in her eyes, offering up a challenge for something less obvious, and Calum laughed as he set to work pouring Luke’s tequila-based drink.

“That couple, way over there.” Again, she sent a subtle glance in their direction before nodding. “They’re in here almost every night. He drinks the same beer, she drinks the same vodka soda. They both like routine. He likes simple, no fuss. It’s a way to relax. For her, she gets that to pretend she’s more sophisticated than she is. Wants a drink with more alcohol than white wine but not something complicated and fruity. Sees it as a sort of marker of status or something.”

Evie nodded, a thoughtful look on her face as she watched him pour Dahlia’s drink of choice - which just so happened to be a vodka soda - before she tilted her head to the side and asked, “What does my vodka pineapple tell you about me?”

Calum looked at her. She was genuinely curious, not challenging or defensive, and he smiled as he finished pouring Ashton’s beer before he rounded the bar to help her carry the drinks to the table. He fixed her with a look and she raised an eyebrow as she waited for him to answer. “You don’t like to drink, you chose a drink where you can barely taste the alcohol, but you want to be a part of the group. If you did want to drink, you would either be a complete lightweight or drink everyone here under the table, there’s no in-between. You want simple, no fuss, and you put on that you don’t care what other people think but, deep down, you care more than anyone else.”

Evie blinked in surprise at his answer. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed and her cherry red lip between her teeth, before she shook her head and offered a half-hearted laugh. “All that from a vodka pineapple?”

“You’d be surprised what you can learn behind a bar. I’ll help you get these over to the group before they start rioting.”

Calum didn’t want to admit that he’d watched her at the party. He didn’t want to admit that he’d kept his eyes on her, even when she was surrounded by friends of friends and strangers alike. He didn’t want to tell her that those were the observations he made based on watching her interact with a group of people, nor did he want to tell her that he had more thoughts that, based on her reaction, were likely just as correct.

He kept that to himself just as he kept his growing attraction to her to himself.

He knew the signs of a bubbling crush - a term he hated because it felt so middle school but he wasn’t sure what else he could call it - and could feel them crashing over him like a tidal wave. He didn’t like the way his chest tightened when she was around. He didn’t like the way he wanted more, wanted to get to know her beyond the little bit he already guessed. He didn’t like the way he felt butterflies swirling in his stomach and climbing up the back of his throat. He didn’t like the way he was starting to feel about her and what he was beginning to learn about her from their brief interactions.

He hadn’t learned it all - and hadn’t formed his crush - from a vodka pineapple but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

Calum helped her carry the drinks to the table and averted his eyes when he watched her take the open seat beside Luke. It wasn’t as if either of them had any claim on her, both were interested but neither had made a move - even though he was starting to feel certain that she wasn’t interested in Luke the way he was in her - but he still felt annoyed watching her sit so close to the one other person who seemed to be vying for her attention.

Normally, Calum would’ve stuck around, hung out for a few minutes. He would’ve attempted to capture her attention once more, maybe crack a joke or ask her another question, but his own attention was promptly pulled back to the bar. Instead of getting to see her smile once more, he turned away from the table and missed the look she gave him, the way she watched him return to work with a crestfallen look on her face.

During his shift, Calum snuck a few breaks to hang out with the group just as he usually did. He tried not to monopolize Evie’s time, he tried to interact with her as he would with anyone else, but he found himself drawn to her time and time again. He kept his eye on her and seemed to meet her gaze every time he glanced her way.

When the bar finally emptied of anyone but them around ten, he changed the music to a playlist they all loved and laughed as he watched Dahlia and Ashton get up and begin to dance. They always took the opportunity to dance, although neither of them could move sober, and he found it endearing to see them still so smitten after so many years.

What he didn’t find endearing, however, was watching Luke hold his hand out to Evie. It was a gesture meant to entice her to dance but Calum felt a small thrill as she refused without hesitation and gestured to the bar. Instead of joining the others on the makeshift dance floor, she slid out of the booth and crossed the empty bar to take a seat on one of the barstools, all the while smiling directly at him.

He didn’t want to seem too pleased with her decision so he kept his gaze on the glasses he’d been cleaning. “No dancing for you?” he asked as she shifted on her seat and watched Luke crowd in to dance with Crystal and Michael.

“I only dance on wheels. ‘Sides, couldn’t leave you over here alone while everyone else had fun. I figured I’d keep you company.”

Calum hid his smile at the fact that she chose to spend time with him over dancing with the others and kept working as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She watched him work, her brown eyes trailing him as he moved. “You spend a lot of time on skates, huh?”

“When I have free time.” She shrugged, offering him a small smile and a nod of gratitude when he slid a glass of water across the bar to her - he had been correct; she’d only had one drink before switching to water while the others were sufficiently hammered. “I have a few friends that are into it and I do roller derby when I can but I don’t get to skate as often as I want. What about you? Living this close to a nice, more or less uncrowded beach must give you a lot of time to surf.”

“When I have free time,” he repeated her answer, smiling at her as she rolled her eyes. “I go pretty often but I’m here most nights and end up sleeping all day most days. Night shift can be brutal.” He shrugged himself, a nonchalant expression meant to show that he didn’t mind the long hours he worked, but Evie frowned at him and he felt a pang of something - affection, maybe? - as she expressed her sadness for him.

“I’m sorry. It sucks to have something so close seem so far.”

It was brief, a throwaway comment meant to ease his mind, but Calum appreciated it just the same. However, he didn’t want to dwell so he simply acknowledged her comment with a hum. He paused then, his eyes fixed on her as she glanced at Dahlia and Ashton and smiled as she watched them move. And before he could really think about it, he asked, “How hard was it to learn to skate?”

“I don’t really remember,” she answered, her lips curving downward into a brow as she turned her attention back to him. She looked thoughtful, attempting to remember how difficult her early days of skating were, before she shrugged. “I was so young when I started that I don’t really remember the struggle. It just kind of feels like I’ve always been skating, you know? Tricks are tough to learn, even now, but skating itself? I’m probably remembering wrong but it felt really easy at the time. Why? You want to learn?”

She meant it as a joke, he knew that, but Calum was serious as he nodded. “I was thinking about it, yeah.” He’d never really given any thought to wanting to learn to skate. He enjoyed watching people skate down the boardwalk in the summer and had seen a few roller girls in his day but he’d never been curious enough to want to skate himself. However, Evie loved skating so much and spent so much of her time on wheels that it seemed like the perfect way for him to spend time with her.

He felt a little embarrassed as she scrutinized him, blinking in surprise and mild amusement, but before he could walk it back and tell her he’d been joking, she grinned at him. She looked so earnest and excited at the prospect and he found it endearing as she beamed at him. “I could teach you,” she offered, smiling at him over the rim of her glass. “I mean, if you really want to learn, I could help.”

“Really?” This was exactly what Calum had been hoping for and tried his best not to convey his utter excitement as he watched her nod.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s the least I could do for body slamming you yesterday. But I’m going to ask for a favor, too. So, it’s both an apology and a sort of, uh, quid pro quo situation.”

“Ah, so it’s not just out of the goodness of your heart. What do you get from this then?” He was curious, unsure of what he could possibly offer her, and waited for her response with a raised eyebrow and his full attention on her.

“Teach me how to surf.”

To say that he hadn’t expected that would be an understatement. Calum blinked slowly, not expecting her to want to surf as it didn’t seem to be up her alley whatsoever. But, then again, he hadn’t pegged her as a skater and here she was, offering to teach him. And, as much as he hated that the thought entered his mind, he wasn’t going to complain about getting to see her in a bathing suit so he nodded. “Alright. You teach me to skate, I’ll teach you how to surf. I have Friday and Saturday off. We could meet at the rink on Friday morning and the beach on Saturday? I don’t think I’m ready for the streets yet.”

Evie laughed at his admission and nodded her agreement. “The rink sounds like a great option. I’ve been wanting to check the one here out. I’m looking forward to it.”

She was completely sincere in her words, her excitement evident and catching as Calum felt his own smile widen. He was looking forward to it, too, and told her as much as she caught Dahlia’s eye and nodded her acknowledgement that they were getting ready to leave. “I can’t wait,” he admitted, a grin on his lips and a flush to his cheeks. “I’ll see you on Friday, Evie.”

He didn’t miss the way Luke, Michael, Crystal, Ashton, and Dahlia looked at him. Everyone - apart from Luke - looked amused at the situation at hand. He knew they all heard him tell her he’d see her on Friday and he knew that they would all know their plans soon enough but he reveled in the annoyed look on Luke’s face as he waved them out with a smile. Evie was the last to leave, calling out her own goodbye over her shoulder before she disappeared into the warm night air, and Calum felt his grin grow.

He was still worried about his future, deep in the back of his mind, but he decided that the near future - Friday, to be exact - was more manageable for him to think about. He had something to look forward to, plans that didn’t make him anxious, and he was excited to see Evie again. He still didn’t want to admit it to himself, not with the luck he’d had in terms of summer flings, but he was looking forward to her company.

*************************

Although Evie and Calum didn’t plan to see one another again until Friday, they’d been able to speak a few more times over the course of the week that separated them. He hadn’t been joking about his - hers now, too, she supposed - friends visiting the bar regularly. She’d spent almost every night in Jack’s, right alongside the group she was quickly coming to know and love, and kept Calum company whenever the rest of the group got too drunk to be much fun.

They talked, mostly about their friends and stories from their lives that were deemed safe for getting to know each other, and she found herself even more excited for their skating session now that she knew a little more about the kind of person Calum was. She found herself growing attached to him, looking forward to seeing him at Jack’s or getting a meme from him at three in the morning when he finally got off work and made it to the house he shared with Ashton, and that worried her.

Evie knew herself well enough to know that pursuing something with Calum wasn’t exactly realistic. They had no future - she would be back in L.A. in a matter of less than two months and a three hour commute for a summer fling didn’t seem to be the most feasible idea. However, she tried hard not to remind herself of the harsh reality that awaited them come August.

She liked Calum, far more than she believed she would at first, and felt a more intense swarm of butterflies swirling in the pit of her stomach every time they crossed paths.

As much as she wanted to overthink it, as much as she wanted to rationalize her way out of pursuing him, she didn’t believe that was possible. She felt her rationality chipping away, piece by piece, with every smile Calum gave her. And, besides, that felt too much like running and she didn’t want to disappoint Dahlia. So, instead of thinking her way out of a fun summer, she decided to just let fate control her destiny.

If a summer romance was in the cards, well, who was she to run from it?

Evie tried her hardest not to get lost in her head as she arrived at the rink. The parking lot was deserted, there was only one other car and she imagined it belonged to whoever had the opening shift, and she wasn’t surprised to find the rink empty as she entered. It was barely ten, the rink had only been open for a matter of minutes, and from what Dahlia told her, the rink didn’t see many customers until the sun went down.

She felt a pang of longing for her own rink, a place that felt more like home than her own home did, and although she missed the crowds and the staff at her own rink, she was glad that it was empty for Calum’s sake. She didn’t really remember learning how to skate herself but she couldn’t imagine it would be fun having the whole town watch you fall on your ass. It was more fun skating with a group when you knew what you were doing, however, learning alone was far easier.

She’d arrived early enough that she still had fifteen minutes until Calum was supposed to meet her. She lingered near the door for a moment, contemplating her options, before she decided to spend the little time she had alone skating around the rink. She knew that she would be spending the rest of the morning guiding Calum around, that was what she signed up for, so she wanted to utilize the time to both loosen up and free herself of the thoughts that were plaguing her.

The best way for her to clear her mind had always been going for a skate.

Evie didn’t really stop to think about it as she took a seat on one of the neon green benches and pulled off her sneakers. She shoved them into her backpack before pulling on her skates - complete with a fresh set of indoor wheels - and stepped out into the rink.

It almost felt strange being in a rink again. She hadn’t been to one in months, most of her skating was done outdoors or in a derby setting, and had almost forgotten how much she loved it as she started off slow. She took her time as she made a few laps around the rink, just enjoying the music (the same 80s hits that seemed to play in every rink she’d ever been to) and warming up. It was nice, getting a second to breathe, and she was grateful for the opportunity as she lost herself in the feeling.

As she took a few laps, she didn’t notice the door open, nor did she notice anyone enter the rink. She was focused on her movements, on trying a few tricks that she hadn’t quite nailed on asphalt but could complete with no problems on the rink floor that mimicked the hardwood of her apartment, instead of on the world around her. If she had looked, she would’ve seen Calum standing off to the side, his elbows resting on the wall that enclosed the rink and a soft smile on his lips as he watched her. He looked awed by her movements, his eyes bright and excited as he watched her spin and jump, and resisted the urge to clap as she landed a trick that looked effortless but likely took more practice than he ever could imagine.

Evie knew that she was more graceful on skates than she was on her own two feet and she sometimes wondered how she managed it. Her friends claimed it was odd, how she could trip over nothing when walking down the street but could glide and spin and flip with the best roller girls, and she wished she knew why. It was just the way things worked out for her.

She focused on loosening up, on pulling a few practice moves for a few more minutes, and enjoyed the feeling of the wood gliding beneath her skates. She loved feeling her hair whip around her, blowing behind her as she moved, and grinned at the rush she felt as she glanced over and spotted Calum near the wall. She shot him a smile as she skated across the floor to him, her eyes wide and her chest moving a little faster than usual as she caught her breath. She took in the sight of him, looking as out of place among the neon decor of the rink in his all-black ensemble as she had at Jack’s.

“Hi,” she greeted, her voice displaying her slight lack of breath from the exertion. “You look comfortable.” He did, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and she was glad he’d listened to her when she told him to dress for comfort.

“I didn’t get the memo. Is the aesthetic necessary to the learning process or do I magically get a pair of knee high socks when I get good enough?”

She was wearing an outfit similar to what she’d worn the first day they met, a crop top and shorts with a pair of knee high socks, and rolled her eyes at his teasing. “Yeah, your fairy skate mother brings them to you along with a pair of new skates and a fanny pack. To be a good skater, you have to dress like a roller girl from the seventies. It’s the first rule in the handbook.” Calum grinned at her teasing and she shook her head before she gave him a once over. “D’you at least wear a pair of high socks?”

“I did,” he confirmed, lifting the leg of his sweatpants just enough to show her the highest socks he had in his collection and felt silly wearing. “I’m ready for my first lesson, coach.”

“Come on, then,” she laughed, stepping out of the rink and gliding across the carpet with a gesture for Calum to follow. “Let’s go get you a pair of skates. What size shoe do you wear?”

Calum told her his shoe size and she relayed the information to the worker behind the window as Calum caught up with her. He glanced at the racks of skates and frowned at the standard beige and orange combination he saw. “These aren’t as cool as yours,” he commented, glancing down at the neon green skates she wore, now with black wheels. “These are… boring.”

Evie laughed at his observation and shrugged. “These cost five bucks to rent. You’ll probably hate me if I tell you how much mine cost.” When he made a face, something that told her she was right, she shook her head and pressed the skates into his hands. “Come on, first lesson is how to tie these things.”

Calum followed Evie across the rink, back to the bench where her backpack laid, and took a seat as she leaned against the wall. He kicked off his own Vans, sat them beside her bag, and began pulling on his skates. When he went to tie them himself, Evie shook her head.

“They fit okay?” When he nodded, she repeated the motion and stepped closer before kneeling down in front of him. Calum blinked, willing himself not to get any ideas on her close proximity and position, as she said, “Give me your foot.” He raised an eyebrow at this, unsure of what she was doing, but she paid him no mind as he followed her directions and she yanked the laces tight on the boot and looped them over the three metal hooks at the top before tying them in a bow.

“Okay, wow, that’s a little tight,” he mumbled, not wanting to sound like he couldn’t handle it but completely surprised at the feeling as he watched her shift to his other foot. “Fuck, you skate like this?”

Evie laughed at his reaction and nodded her head. “You get used to it.” She stood from her position and brushed her knees off before she explained, “You don’t want your skates flying off your feet or your feet coming out of them when you fall. Plus, it keeps them tight to your ankle and helps with balance. It keeps you secure. Ready for lesson number two?”

“If that’s standing then, uh, maybe give me a second?” Calum requested as he glanced down at his feet and gave them an experimental roll across the carpet. Evie bit back a laugh as she watched, amused by his actions and the widening of his eyes, but nodded as she waited for him to deem himself ready. It took a long moment but he finally lifted his head and looked at her again. “Okay. Ready to stand.”

“Alright. See that thing on the end of your boot?” Calum looked down and she hid her laughter as she watched him nod. “That’s your toe stop. Dig that into the carpet with one foot and use that to help you keep your balance as you stand. I recommend using the toe stop on your dominant foot.” He looked uncertain, shaky at best, but his eyes narrowed in concentration as he attempted to follow her directions. It took him a moment, he took a deep breath to build himself up, but he finally managed to dig the toe stop into the carpet as she directed and lift himself from the bench.

He wobbled on his skates, his arms flailing by his side as he attempted to steady himself, and Evie swallowed her laughter as she reached out and grabbed his arm to help him regain his balance. “I’m good,” he nodded, though he looked a little wide-eyed and panicked just standing there, “I’ve got it.”

Evie didn’t believe him, not in the slightest, but she nodded. “If you say so, champ,” she teased, her grin prominent as she began skating backward toward the rink itself. “Come here, to the edge, and I’ll show you what you need to be doing. You can hang on to the wall here.”

Calum slowly moved across the carpet, his movements steady and unsure, and Evie kept close to him just in case he started to go down. She bit her lip to hide her smile as she watched him barely inch across the carpet but when he paused, eyes wide as his feet started to shift in a way he didn’t like, she laughed and glanced at her watch.

“Shut up,” he snapped, though there was no real malice in his voice as he finally made it to the wall and gripped the edge as he watched her step out onto the hardwood floor. “Not all of us are professionals.” He leveled a glare at her, his eyes narrowed and his fingers digging into the wall as he said, “I can’t wait to laugh at you tomorrow.”

“Mm, I’m sure you can’t. I’ll do my best to remember I have it coming,” she confirmed, a peal of laughter leaving her lips as she gestured for him to step out onto the wood himself. She could tell that he felt even more unsteady, even as he clutched the wall, and she kept close enough to reach out but far enough to not get hurt as he settled into one spot. “Okay, so, starting is pretty easy. You want to stride. If you try to move like you’re walking, you’ll trip and hurt yourself. Now, I want you to make a penguin shape.” She demonstrated, placing her feet in a ‘v’ shape and bending her knees slightly, and Calum frowned in concentration as he replicated her movement.

Evie nodded encouragingly as she watched him move. “Good. When you move, you don’t want your toes to be pointed straight because you won’t really go anywhere. Shift out, like this. She demonstrated the move, striding with her feet shifted out, and smiled at how concentrated Calum looked as he watched her feet move.

Calum slowly began copying her moves, his feet shifting as he attempted to stride, and clutched onto the wall as he did so. She moved along beside him, slowly gliding over the floor in a way that she hoped looked effortless, and nodded encouragingly as he attempted to let go of the wall and move on his own, unaided.

“You’re a natural,” she teased, her voice clearly expressing how much fun she was having as she watched him shuffle along. He shot her a dirty look and she laughed as she watched him flail. “When you feel like you’re going to lose your balance, bend your knees. Whoa, whoa, drop it low, okay?” Calum raised an eyebrow at this and Evie shook her head as she gestured to his knees. “Just bend your knees, please. It won’t hurt so bad when you hit the floor this way.”

“That’s really encouraging, thanks.”

Evie laughed at Calum’s deadpan words and reached out, without thinking, to lift his chin and keep his gaze off the floor. “Don’t watch your feet or the ground. Keep your chin up. You’re going to fall. It’s just how it is. Everyone falls when they start, I fall and I’ve been skating most of my life. You just take steps to minimize the pain.”

Calum hummed, a thoughtful noise, and nodded his understanding as the pair of them slowly began shuffling around the rink. She watched him, a quick glance at his feet before her eyes flickered to his face, and felt a soft smile quirk her lips as she watched him begin to relax.

“You’re doing good, Calum. You want to hug the wall for the rest of the morning or do you want to try and move away a little?”

“The wall’s comfortable. We’ve become best friends.”

Evie rolled her eyes at Calum’s words, a laugh leaving her lips as she reached for his hand. She was gentle as she took his hand in hers and guided him away from the wall. Neither of them thought about the contact, her too focused on keeping him upright and him too alarmed at the thought of his safety net disappearing, but she knew that she would dwell on it later as she squeezed his hand and began guiding him around the rink.

“Don’t think about it,” she advised, her words gentle as she spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Just feel it. Don’t look at your feet, don’t look at the floor. Shoulders back, chin up, knees bent; there you go.”

The pair of them moved just a little away from the wall, Calum doing his best to follow her instruction, and she watched as he struggled to find his balance. He was athletic and she knew that balance was necessary for surfing but balancing on wheels didn’t seem to be his strong suit. With every stride he made, his footing grew less steady and despite her repeated calls for him to bend his knees, he remained stiff once she let go of his hand. He was on his own, moving slowly, and she could see the fall coming before he knew what was happening.

She watched as he hit the ground, landing square on his ass and wincing as he tried to catch himself on his hands - something she reminded herself to teach him not to do. She bit back her laughter, amused at the look of sheer surprise on his face, as she lowered herself to the ground beside him so she could teach him how to get up.

“You okay?” Her question was serious, a genuine inquiry as to how he was doing, but Calum took the muffled laughter as a sign of her amusement and rolled his eyes as he flipped her off.

“Perfect,” he mumbled, his voice displaying his annoyance at both his fall and how difficult he was finding learning to move on skates. “How the fuck do I get up?”

“Similar to how you got off the bench. Also, when you fall, don’t try to catch yourself on your wrists. I know that’s your first instinct but you’ll break your wrist. Fall on your knees or your butt. Okay, get on your knees.” Calum studied her for a moment, a look of skepticism on his face, but when she moved into position, he followed suit. “Okay, place one foot down - use your dominant foot - and press your hands really hard against your knee. Use your toe stop on the other foot to push yourself up.” She stood, just as she practiced time and time again, and Calum took two tries to get back up on his feet the way she had.

“I’m glad this place is empty,” he huffed as he stood there, his toe stop against the floor and his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. “I’d be fucking embarrassed to get shown up by a group of eight year olds right now.”

“Yeah, that’s why I chose a time I knew it’d be empty. Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego again,” she teased, calling back to their first meeting.

Calum narrowed his eyes at her, however, he wasn’t able to hide his smile as he shook his head. She felt the butterflies in her stomach again, a furious storm of them fluttering about, as he smiled wide and laughed at his own mistake. He took a second to calm his laughter, and hers, before he asked, “Alright, what am I supposed to do again?”

Calum did his best to follow Evie’s instructions to the letter this time and she was pleased at how well he was listening as they completed their first circle. He took to bending his knees and she could hear him mumble, ‘Whoa, whoa, drop it low,’ under his breath every time he so much as wobbled. However, instead of holding his arms out in the way that she’d been taught, he took to gripping onto her whenever he felt unsteady.

“If I go down again, you’re going with me,” he explained, a teasing lilt to his voice as they made yet another rotation around the rink. Evie wasn’t complaining, not in the slightest, however, she could tell that he was growing more comfortable as his grip on her hand grew less panicked and a little more casual.

“Sure thing, Cal.” She knew how to fall, she knew the way to minimize her injuries, and figured whenever he fell again, he would take the brunt of it. Until then, she decided to just let him get a feel for moving. They remained silent for a moment, the sound of an 80s song she couldn’t identify filling the lull in conversation, before she asked, “Want to play twenty questions?”

“Is that your way of distracting me? Because if it is, it’s not going to work. I’m still sort of freaking out here,” he informed her, his smile showing that he was only partially serious. “But sure.”

“How long have you been surfing?”

“I started when I was about thirteen. I didn’t have many friends so my parents encouraged me to play sports or something to make some. My sister was a lifeguard and there were surf lessons, they took advantage of them. I met Luke and the rest is history, I guess.” Calum shrugged, a soft smile on his lips, before he turned his head just enough to look at Evie. “Why’re you spending the summer here instead of in L.A.?”

“I just needed to get away for a while. My parents left before they could, uh, encourage me to find an internship for the summer so I have a few months free for the first time in ages. I just wanted to do nothing for a while, you know?” Evie knew that she likely sounded like a spoiled brat, desperate to free herself of responsibility for a summer, but she didn’t know what else to say. However, Calum nodded, a look akin to understanding on his face, and she hoped that he really did get where she was coming from. Instead of allowing herself to dwell, though, she asked, “From the vast amount I know about them, Michael and Ashton don’t seem like the surfer type. They just fall into line somewhere along the way?”

“Mhm,” Calum confirmed, a smile on his face at the sarcasm that laced the beginning of her question. “Luke and I became friends, went surfing all the time. I met Michael in junior high and we became friends. He would come, sit under an umbrella while we surfed. He didn’t get in the water until a few years ago. Ash came along about a year after that and we’ve been friends since. They started surfing because of me and Luke.” He paused, his eyes lighting as he recognized the song playing and began bobbing his head to the beat, and Evie grinned at the endearing sight. “What kind of law are you studying?” When she shot him a look, confused as to how he knew what she was studying, he clarified, “Dahlia told us.”

“Ah. I’m pre-law right now. No specialty but I’m thinking about criminal law. Or maybe media. I don’t know. I haven’t found my niche yet, I guess.” She shrugged, unsure of herself and unsure of how to explain it to someone else, but didn’t let the subject linger as she asked, “You grew up here?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he confirmed, nodding as he followed her around the rink and grew a little steadier on his skates. “My parents moved here in their twenties, settled down, and raised me and my sister here. What about you? You grew up in L.A.?”

Evie nodded and took Calum’s relaxed grip on her as an opportunity to practice her footwork a little as she slowly guided him a little farther from the wall. “”Born and raised. Some people really are from L.A., I guess.” She shot him a wry smile, poking fun at her home, before she asked, “You’re a surfer. That the ultimate goal or are you still figuring it all out?”

“It was,” Calum answered, his voice taking on a quality that Evie didn’t quite recognize. He seemed a little more guarded with this question, a little less ready to answer it, and she didn’t blame him. If he asked her the same, she would likely hesitate, too. “Plans change, though. I’m still figuring out what the new goal is.” It was short, but honest, and Evie nodded her understanding.

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What do I want to do with my future?” She breathed a heavy sigh, one that she hoped conveyed her understanding, and Calum looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she tried a grapevine move.

“Aren’t you going to be a lawyer?” He, like most people, assumed her future was planned out and that she was well on her way to reaching her goals.

“Mm, yeah. But the real question is, do I want to be a lawyer? And the answer to that is no, I don’t.”

Calum stumbled slightly as he fully turned his attention to her. He looked surprised by her admission, shocked that she didn’t have her life as together as he imagined she would, and said, “You’re still figuring it out, too.”

“I am. That’s part of why I wanted to come spend the summer here. I’ve never really had time to just sit down and think about what I want so… maybe now I can.”

Evie didn’t know that Calum had the exact opposite problem, too much time to sit and think about the future, but as he tightened his hold on her hand, she realized that they were in much the same boat. They were drifting, floating through life without a real idea of what they wanted, and a small part of her wanted to suggest that they float together. But, realistically, she knew that she was projecting her desire for a dream, something to hold onto, onto Calum.

So instead of voicing that thought aloud, instead of telling him that though their circumstances might be different, she understood where he was coming from, she held onto his hand and hoped the embrace would convey everything she left unsaid as they continued their rotation around the rink.

*********************

Calum and Evie spent far longer at the rink than either of them imagined they would. They’d skated until an employee informed them they were closing to set up for the night skaters and Calum had gotten significantly more comfortable on his wheels as the time went on. Their conversation didn’t dip much below surface level, not after their brief discussion surrounding their mutual uncertainty about the future, but it was nice.

Calum learned a lot about her. She grew up rich, yes, but she spent most of her free time interning at law firms and helping with pro bono legal work - research mostly. She’d had a job before quitting to spend the summer with Dahlia - she worked in a boutique that a friend’s mom owned - and wanted to get another when she returned to L.A. She had a greater work ethic than anyone he’d ever met and he was surprised at how much time she devoted to something she wasn’t certain she wanted to do.

He was also surprised at her taste in entertainment. She sheepishly admitted that she loved a lot of the same artists he did and balked when he told her he’d never seen the original Star Trek.

They got on like a house on fire, continually surprising Calum as he tried his best to get to know her in whatever way he could, and he felt his crush on her grow exponentially the more time they spent together.

Neither of them had wanted the night to end - Calum was glad he wasn’t alone in feeling something as she lingered near the entrance with him, her skates slung over her shoulder and a coy grin on her lips as they said goodbye - and he’d gone to bed with the giddy knowledge that he would be seeing her in a matter of hours. (Plus, he got to see the look on Luke’s face when he arrived home and would be lying if he said he didn’t get at least a little bit of joy out of being the one to get the girl.)

Calum was growing to like her, genuinely like her, far quicker than he had anyone else in a very long while and he tried not to let that thought scare him. He wanted to remain open, to let the universe guide him wherever he needed to be, and as he glanced out at the perfect ocean view, he liked to think that the universe was guiding him here and bringing her along for the ride.

He heard her before he saw her. The roll of her wheels down the boardwalk, the laughter of children as she passed them by and did a trick for their amusement, all signaled that Evie was approaching. He turned just in time to watch her untie her skates and place them on the rainbow leash she wore over her shoulder before she bounded down the steps. Her hair billowed behind her, a curtain of brown waves that he wanted to tangle his fingers in, and he willed the thought away just as quickly as it hit.

She carried a picnic basket in one hand and a beach bag in the other but that’s not what had Calum grinning at her. She wore a pair of shorts, the standard high-waisted black that he was coming to really love, and a lime green bikini top that looked neon in the sunlight. He shook his head at her, amused by the sunny smile on her lips and the spring in her step, as she crossed the sand and dropped the items in her hand near him.

“Good morning!”

He wasn’t sure if she was just a morning person or if she was genuinely excited about surfing. Either way, he raised an eyebrow and teased, “You’re really fucking chipper for it to be so early.” His voice was tinged with good-natured humor, the tone he found himself using more and more often when she was around, and he watched as she stowed her skates in a zip-up bag before she dug around for a can of sunscreen. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“I could barely sleep,” she admitted, a laugh escaping her lips as she sprayed her shoulders and chest with sunscreen. “I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf. I’m definitely going to wipe out but at least I can say I gave it a shot.” Calum smiled at her, thrilled to see her enthusiasm, and held out his hand to take the can from her when she seemed to be struggling to cover her shoulders.

“If I knew you wanted to learn this bad, I would’ve asked for something more than a skating lesson.” He wasn’t serious, he was glad to be teaching her and had thoroughly enjoyed his own lesson, but he liked seeing how her cheeks flushed and her mouth dropped open when he winked at her. He nudged her shoulder, gesturing for her to turn, and laughed.

She was quiet for a moment, contemplating her reply, but before Calum could clarify that he’d been joking, she shrugged. “I mean, we don’t know how good a teacher you are yet. There might be a bonus in it if I learn something today.”

She met his gaze, a playful spark of something he was beginning to recognize as uniquely Evie shining in the honey of her eyes. They remained for a beat too long, neither of them wanting to blink, but Calum broke the stalemate when he grinned. Evie returned it, just as bright, and Calum felt the overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss her.

Instead, he turned his attention to picnic basket by her side. When Evie noticed where he was looking, she turned the bashful pink he loved seeing and shrugged. “I made the mistake of telling Dahlia what we were doing so she sent some things for lunch. Mostly new stuff she’s working on for the shop. She wants us to be her guinea pigs, I guess.”

“Hopefully it’s better than the time she decided to make savory and sweet combinations. She saw this article about flavors that shouldn’t work but do and… well, the flavors really don’t work.”

Evie made a face, her lips twisted into a grimace, and Calum laughed as he recalled the way Michael dropped his pastry in horror and refused to eat any of Dahlia’s food for months after that. “Yikes. Remind me not to encourage her experiments, then,” Evie mumbled, digging her toes into the sand and watching as Calum reached into his own bag.

“You’re not the only one who came with gifts from friends. Ash sent this for you,” he told her as he pulled out a wetsuit. It was basic and black - and Calum hated asking her to cover the bikini she wore - but he knew it would be more comfortable for her when they finally got in the water. The only consolation was that it, like the rest of her wardrobe seemed to, showed off her legs and fit her well.

“That’s so sweet of him!” She looked amazing, surprised by the gift, and excitedly stripped her shorts to pull on the wetsuit. Calum grinned at her excitement and obliged when she turned and requested his help with the zipper. “How do I look?”

“Like a real surfer.” She beamed at his comment, happy that she looked the part, and pulled her hair back into a high ponytail as Calum reached for the boards he’d brought. He had his, the lucky green one he’d used for years, and a smaller one that Ashton had taken to letting the guys - mainly Luke - borrow to teach their partners how to surf if they so chose. “Ready to work on the basics?”

“Lead the way, coach!”

Calum knew that his teaching style was different than hers. She’d gone slow, one step at a time, and was good at breaking things down into manageable chunks of information. He, on the other hand, knew where his strengths rested and a slow breakdown was not something he was good at. However, he wanted her to get he best experience she could have - especially because she was so excited - so he bit back his uncertainty and handed her the board.

Evie was a much more serious student than Calum had been and far more eager. She didn’t hesitate to follow the directions he gave her. She was quick to complete the drills, her agility from skating working in her favor as she practiced moving into a standing position on the sand. She didn’t complain about having to repeat the same motion a dozen times and Calum was impressed by how serious she was taking it all.

He was also impressed by how willing she was to get out into the water after nearly an hour of practicing on sand.

“You know, I thought I was going to be making fun of you for being afraid or falling but you’re making that really hard,” he joked as he helped her wrap the leash around her ankle securely.

“What I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm.” She winked at him, clearly teasing him as he’d done her, and he found himself unable to think of a reply as he shook his head and grabbed his own board.

“Alright,” he laughed, his own cheeks tinting pink as he willed himself not to think about the other ways she could mean that statement, “in the water, Porter.”

Evie eagerly rushed toward the water, board held in her arms as best as she could. Calum held back his laughter at how small she seemed compared to the board, it was comical watching her try to maneuver it when she was so clearly not used to needing anything other than her skates but he didn’t want to discourage her. He wanted her to be able to surf just as badly as she’d wanted him to be able to skate - a skill that he hoped he’d get to work on while she was in town - and was hopeful that she’d be as naturally gifted on a surfboard as she seemed to be on skates.

“Okay, remember what I told you. We’re not going out too far yet. Just far enough for you to catch a wave. It’s kind of like skating, fall on your butt. As soon as you realize you’re going to fall, jump away from your board. If you get caught by a wave that feels too big for you, go low and come up slow. Put your arms over your head because you don’t know where your board is going to be and it hurts like hell when you hit your head on it.”

“Fall on my butt, jump away from my board, go low and come up slow with my arms over my head; got it. Anything else?” She had a bright smile on her lips and looked so excited that it was catching.

Calum felt his own smile grow a little larger as he watched her bounce on the balls of her feet and shook his head as he thought about a warning. While he hadn’t exactly been eager to learn - it was more or less forced on him - he knew how exciting the prospect of catching a wave was. He didn’t want to crush her spirit but he did want to make sure she was being safe.

He knew exactly how disastrous it was when safety wasn’t the top priority and felt a shiver run down his spine as he willed himself not to think about what could go wrong.

“I think that’s it,” he finally agreed, nodding as he glanced out at the ocean. “Like skating, you just have to go for it. Don’t go for a big wave first. Try something a little smaller, until you get comfortable. And then we’ll see about getting you a bigger wave. Alright?” Evie nodded again, her smile still bright as she turned her head to look at the ocean, and Calum laughed. “Let’s go, then.”

Evie rushed forward, dropping her board into the water and climbing on to paddle out into the waves, and Calum followed suit. He was used to bigger waves, he’d learned how to handle himself over the years, but he stayed by Evie - close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough to avoid an accident - as they waited for the first wave. She had done the same for him at the rink, slowly moving around the hardwood at the rink, so he decided it was time to return the favor.

“I know your answer will probably depend on how well surfing goes today,” he said as they waited for a suitable wave, his eyes on the water instead of her, “but I’d love to go skating with you again.”

“It doesn’t matter how well surfing goes today. I mean, I’d love for it to go great but either way, I’d love to skate with you again.”

Calum felt his heart thud in his chest at the prospect of spending more time with her. He’d only known her for a week but it had been a really good week that was needed in the otherwise bleak year he’d been having. He was quickly falling for her, head over heels into something that he couldn’t have imagined he’d want, but the thought of spending time with her, of kissing her, of falling in love with her made him happy and he desperately wanted happiness.

He just hoped she wanted the same thing.

As quickly as the thought crossed his mind, it left. A wave, suitable for Evie, was approaching and he nodded to her when he noticed she was getting ready to start paddling. “You got it,” he encouraged her, offering a bright smile as he watched her move, “go for it!”

The wave was small enough that Calum could ride it out sitting on his board but Evie paddled like it was the biggest wave she’d ever seen. He watched, amused and endeared, at the look of concentration on her face as she attempted to stand on her board. She got halfway up, almost on her feet, but before she could fully stand, she was knocked off balance and fell into the water.

She fell just as he instructed and he imagined it was because of her skating background. The moment she realized she was going down, she fell back into the water and Calum waited for her to pop back up. He’d been difficult, pouting and annoyed, when he fell - mostly for show, to make Evie laugh, but also because he wanted to know he could do something as seemingly simple as roller skate - but she was all smiles when she surfaced. The moment she opened her eyes and got her bearings, she laughed and Calum couldn’t help but laugh along.

“I think I got water up my nose,” was the first thing out of her mouth and he couldn’t say that he was surprised. She wiped at her face, eager to get some of the salt water off her skin, before she attempted to get back on her board.

“I’m kind of annoyed. I still don’t have anything to laugh at here. You’re too well-adjusted for this.” His complaint was teasing, a joke that she took with a wide grin, and he felt his heart ache in his chest as he watched her eagerly await another wave.

“What can I say, I give my all, enthusiastically, no matter what I’m doing.” Another innuendo, another teasing grin, and Calum bit back his groan as she paddled away with a laugh that told him she knew exactly what she was doing. He shook his head, willing himself not to think about anything other than ensuring her safety as he was well aware his wetsuit left little to the imagination, before he followed her back out.

The pair of them spent an hour in the water, him encouraging her to catch waves and her trying her best to stand, but wave after wave, she got halfway up on the board before she fell into the water. Each fall was practiced and perfect and she kept pushing but Calum could tell that she was getting frustrated. He could see the set of her jaw and the way her eyebrows furrowed. He could see her growing more annoyed with her inability to stand and he didn’t hesitated to paddle a little closer to her.

“Tell me what’s happening when you try to stand,” he instructed, his voice even as he reached out to tap her board to get her to look at him.

“I don’t know. I try to stand, I feel fine, and then all of a sudden it feels like I’m falling and I bail before I can wipe out. It’s like…” She paused, trailing off as she searched for the right words to convey her feelings, and Calum waited patiently. “It’s like when I’m trying something new at the skate park, if I’ve fallen or something. It’s a block. I just need to either get it or really fall once and I’ll be okay.”

Calum could relate. He had mental blocks often, times where he just couldn’t make himself stand on his board and ride a wave, and knew that for him, the easiest way to get over them was to do exactly as she said; get it right or fail spectacularly.

“Come on, then.”

With anyone else, he would never have taken them that far out on their first surfing adventure. But Evie was different. She could hold her own, he knew that, and she was determined to get it right. He wasn’t as wary, not as concerned for her as he maybe should have been, as he paddled a little farther out and began watching for bigger waves.

Evie glanced at him curiously, unsure of whether she was reading the situation right, and Calum nodded at her as a perfect wave began rolling in. “Get it right or fall,” he encouraged her, “I’ll be here when you come up.” She stared at him for a long moment, fixed him with a look that he couldn’t read, before she nodded and began paddling.

Calum did his best to ride out the wave on his board, just as he did the others, and kept an eye on Evie as she finally managed to stand on the board. He cheered, a large smile covering his lips as he watched her ride the wave for a brief moment, and clapped as she fell into the water. It took her a second longer to come up but the smile she’d worn at the beginning of the day was back and brighter than before as she searched for him.

“I did it!”

He paddled to where she was climbing back onto her board, his own grin just as bright as hers was, and held up his hand for a high five. “You’re really starting to make me look bad here,” he teased, his words light as he watched her continue to beam. “Can’t half ass anything, can you?”

She shrugged, a sheepish grin on her lips, and Calum felt a fondness wash over him as she turned her head to watch for another wave. He knew she was determined, desperate to get things right even if she didn’t want to, so he knew he was only seeing a fraction of what she was capable of as she attempted something she truly wanted to accomplish.

Throughout the day, as the hours dragged on and the pair of them grew weary from the sun and the water, Evie managed to stand and ride a wave to completion more than once. She got better, her footing grew steadier, and Calum grew prouder with every attempt she made. Just as she’d stuck by his side in the rink and held his hand, he gave her space to surf safely on her own but rode along beside her. And when the sun was high in the sky, he all but dragged her from the water and encouraged her to sit with the picnic basket she’d brought along.

“That was so fucking cool!” She was beaming, proud of herself and happy that she’d finally gotten over the block that was keeping her from achieving a goal, as she bit into one of the treats Dahlia had sent along. “I surfed! That felt as cool as it’s always looked.”

“Why have you never gone before? I’m sure you could’ve found someone to teach you in L.A..” He was grateful that he was the one to teach her - he loved seeing the smile she wore and the excitement in her eyes when she finally got it right - but she could have easily gotten lessons. If it was something she’d wanted to do, there should’ve been nothing stopping her.

“I didn’t have time.” She shrugged, a gesture Calum was growing used to seeing her use, before she took another bite and stared out at the ocean. Calum remained silent, waiting for her to go on, and when she realized he wanted to hear more, she brushed her hands off and brought her knees to her chest. “My life was always planned, you know? Super structured. Debate team, Model UN, gymnastics, AP classes, internships; I didn’t have time for new things that wouldn’t look good on a college application. I had skating and I had to sneak out to do that. There was a tennis court near our house so when my parents went to bed, I went there and practiced. But new things weren’t really an option. It was routine.”

“Is that why you’re going to be a lawyer? It’s what your parents want?”

“Want isn’t really the right word there. Demand, maybe. But, yeah. My parents are both lawyers, so is my brother. The deal was, they’d pay for school if I went to law school. College is expensive and I’d rather have no debt and a solid career trajectory than crushing debt and no real plan. Stability is stability, even if I hate it.”

Though Calum didn’t have the same problem - his parents had always been very supportive of his dreams, whatever they happened to be when they asked him - but he understood where she was coming from. It made sense. She grew up with a safety net, no debt and no worries about money, so to take on staggering debt of her own and go off into the unknown, even if it was what she really wanted, was likely terrifying. Calum understood.

He knew that if he had been in the same position, he likely would’ve done the same thing.

“What did you want to do?” He was curious, eager to know what she would’ve wanted from her life had she been given the chance to really live it. But she just shrugged.

“Dunno. Never had a chance to think about it.” She turned to him, a sad smile on her lips as she met his gaze for the first time since sitting down, and shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now, I guess.”

“It still matters. You should get a chance to be whatever you want.” He hesitated, wondering whether it was his place to comment on her life, but ultimately decided he’d like her to know what he thought of her. “I think you’d make a good teacher.” When she laughed, clearly skeptical, he shook his head. “Seriously, I think you’d be good. You’re smart and you’re outwardly positive, even when you don’t feel it. You’re good at breaking things down. You listen and have the ability to capture a room when you speak. And you’d definitely be the teacher all the kids have a crush on.”

At this, Evie blushed and shook her head but Calum could see her lips curving into a genuine smile. She was quiet, staring out into the ocean, and Calum wanted to ask what she was thinking but he chose not to. Instead, he remained quiet beside her and watched as other surfers began swarming the ocean in a contemplative silence.

Hours later, when the sun began to go down and their cheeks were tinted pink from the sun, Evie packed her bags and shrugged off the wetsuit Ashton had gifted her. “Thank you, Calum.” He looked away from her exposed skin and met her eyes, surprised at the gratitude she expressed. His confusion must have been evident as she clarified, “For today. For teaching me to surf, for helping me get over that mental block, for helping me try to figure out my future. This has been the best weekend I’ve had in a really long time.”

In another surprising move, Evie stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He blinked, his cheeks going even redder than they had been, and she grinned. “I’ll see you later, Cal. Have a good night.”

She bounded away, only stopping at the top of the stairs to put her skates on, and Calum stared in the direction she disappeared for another long moment. His own smile grew brighter and his cheek burned in the most pleasant way where she’d kissed him. It was small, nothing that had ever affected him before, but he felt her presence so clearly and every move she made seemed to hit him harder than anything ever had. She was overwhelming in the best possible way and it made him forget everything he worried about.

He’d been worried about the past, about things he could no longer change and people he could no longer save. He’d been worried about his own future, about plans that fell through and dreams that had been crushed. He’d been worried about his own present, about letting her get too close and break his heart when she left for L.A. after a magical summer. But as the waves crashed and laughter rang out around him, he felt his worries melting away. He was happy, glad to exist and eager to see tomorrow for the first time in a long while, and he felt excited to see what tomorrow would bring him.

*******************

Two weeks of bliss.

That was the only way Evie could describe the last two weeks of May, the two weeks after her surf lesson with Calum and the kiss she gave him on the cheek. There were minor annoyances - Dahlia had taken advantage of her presence and asked her to open Flower most mornings, even though Evie really had no idea what she was doing; tourists and students were starting to flock to town, crowding the boardwalks and streets and skate park; her parents had found the time to call and encouraged her to get some work done instead of just lounging around - but they were vastly outweighed by the good.

She continued to spend almost every night at Jack’s, the barstool on the lefthand side of the bar was always left vacant for her as if it was some unspoken rule, and kept Calum company as he worked. Whenever there was a lull in business, she listened to him share more thoughts about customers or drinks and tried cocktails he decided to experiment with when no one else would.

On the days that Calum didn’t work they spent their mornings at the beach, usually with their friends in tow, and their nights at the rink. Calum had gotten better at skating, able to keep his balance without needing to hold onto her for stability - though he still held her hand, something she certainly wasn’t complaining about - while she had gotten better at surfing. She was able to ride mid-sized waves and joined the boys in the water while Dahlia cheered them on from the shore.

There were nights where they all got takeout, all sitting in Dahlia’s backyard with containers around them and happy smiles on their lips as they listened to music and talked, and there were nights when Calum and Evie ate alone on the beach. She learned so much about him on those nights, bits and pieces that helped her make sense of who Calum was, and she loved them more than she’d loved almost anything else.

It was something out a dream, a summer ripped from a romance film she once would’ve deemed cheesy, and she felt excited to see where the day would take her when she awoke. Her crush on Calum was unbearable, teetering quickly into head over heels territory, and Dahlia wouldn’t leave it alone as they packed up a picnic basket for their bonfire on the beach.

“Just tell him you’re into him. We’re all tired of watching the two of you eye-fuck whenever we hang out.” When Evie scoffed, an incredulous look on her face as she turned to stare at Dahlia, her cousin rolled her eyes.

“What do you want me to tell him, D? ‘Hey, Cal, I’m leaving in a few weeks but I’m super into you. Want to makeout and pretend everything is cool until I have to go?’ I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

Evie knew that that was what they were already doing. They were avoiding the elephant in the room of her inevitable departure and enjoying their time, but they hadn’t done anything they couldn’t write off as friendship thus far. There were flirty jokes and kisses on cheeks but she could pretend that that was just the way she was. She could just leave it, blame it on her newfound sense of freedom, and that would be the end.

If she went any further, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to come back from that.

“Not everything has to be so serious, Evie. Have fun. Be young! You’ve never had a summer fling so why don’t you just go for it? If you and Cal get serious, cool. You can come here for breaks and stay with me. If not, well, I’ll help you avoid him whenever you come to visit. Just stop thinking about it. He makes you happy, right?” When Evie nodded, Dahlia repeated the gesture. “Then just let him. Even if it’s only for a few weeks.”

Evie hated to admit it but Dahlia was right. She always dated with the intention of having it last forever and ended up having her heart broken when it didn’t. She wanted something real, something full of love and light, and hated the idea of wasting her time on someone who wouldn’t be a part of her future. However, she knew that she shouldn’t think that way. If she really enjoyed it, if she loved them and found herself better for having known them, it wasn’t a waste of time. Calum wasn’t a waste of time.

She wanted to enjoy herself, to have fun while she could, and even if Calum wasn’t going to make her happy forever, he was making her happy right now and that was all she could ask for.

By the time they made it to the beach, Evie with a blanket in one hand and a box that held a gift for Calum in the other, she’d made up her mind that a few weeks of bliss were worth more than months of heartache. She knew that, should things not work out, she would mourn her relationship with Calum as a devastating loss but she believed the old saying; to love and lose is better than to never love at all.

“What’s in the box?” Evie yelped, surprised by the sudden voice in her ear, and glared at Luke as he grinned. He still hadn’t given up, despite her obvious feelings for Calum, and she rolled her eyes as she nudged him away with her elbow. Undeterred, Luke remained at her side and stared curiously at the unmarked box she held in one hand.

“None of your business, Hemmings.” She paused, taking a good look at the towering blonde, before she frowned and asked, “What’d you do to your hair?” It was lighter than she’d seen it, and shorter, and she knew that neither were from the sun. Her assumption was proven correct when he grinned at her as he ran a hand through it.

“Cut it and bleached it. Wanted something new. What do you think?”

Before she could answer, tell him that it was different but nice, Michael chimed in with, “Bullshit. He got gum in it so Crystal cut it for him and then he decided to bleach it just for the hell of it.”

Luke rolled his eyes but shrugged off Michael’s explanation as he kept his eyes on her. “I’m thinking about dying it pink but I can’t decide what shade. What d’you think?” He stared at her expectantly, a bright smile on his lips as he watched her shake her head and begin spreading her blanket on the sand.

“Pink would be nice. Pastel, rose gold, maybe?”

Luke looked contemplative, like he was seriously considering the pastel pink, and opened his mouth to speak when a different voice cut him off. “Don’t encourage him. Our bathroom is already stained from the time Ash dyed his hair red. And then black.” She felt her own grin grow wider as she spotted Calum and he returned it as he approached the pair of them and nudged her hip with his own. “What’s in the box?”

“Everyone is so nosy,” she teased, a laugh leaving her lips as she nudged the box to the side. “You’ll see. D’you bring the alcohol?”

Calum, the permanent bartender for their group, hummed his confirmation and held up a beach bag full of pre-made drinks. They were all things he knew each of them would like, bottles of their favorites ready for them to pour, and he handed it off to Michael as he cheered at the sight. He kept his eyes on the box, a curious glint that told her he wanted to pry, but ultimately left it alone as he helped Ashton begin the bonfire.

When the bonfire began to rage, the seven of them crowded around it and poured their respective drinks. It was better than the party they’d thrown for her on the first night, more her speed than anything they’d done thus far, and Evie felt at ease as she watched her friends enjoy their night.

Time seemed to both still and move much quicker as they sat around the bonfire. The sun sank below the horizon and the stars were shining bright in the sky as they sat around the fire for hours, just enjoying being together. They were a happy group, each interacting, but everyone had a distinct role and she could easily see it as they joked around.

Michael, who Evie was surprised to learn played guitar in his free time, strummed along to a song that she vaguely recognized as Crystal sat by his side and cheered him on. Ashton waxed philosophic about the state of the world and how beautiful the beach was at night with Dahlia curled into his side. Luke, who frowned every time Calum touched her, sat too close and bumped knees with her every time he laughed. And Calum, Calum was biting back his laughter every time she shifted closer to him to avoid it.

It was nice. She had friends but she’d never done anything like this. It was stereotypical California, a part of life she’d longed to experience, and she reveled in it as she let herself rest her head on Calum’s shoulder. She laughed at a joke Michael told and enjoyed the warmth the felt. She was pleasantly tipsy from the vodka pineapple Calum mixed just for her and would have been content to stay there forever, basking in the glow of the firelight and feeling Calum’s eyes on her, had he not nudged her side when the rest of the group began teasing Luke - lovingly - for his newly bleached hair.

“Want to go for a walk?” Calum’s voice was quiet, not wanting to draw attention to them as Luke whined at their teasing, and she nodded rather than voicing her agreement aloud.

He stood, offering his hand to her, and she took it readily. Before they began their walk, she grabbed the box to her side and grinned at Calum when he raised a curious eyebrow. Neither of them cared that the others spotted them and shared knowing looks and grins of their own, everyone except Luke had been urging them to share their feelings with one another since day one, as they set off down the beach.

Their hands found one another, fingers intertwined and swinging between them, just as they tended to at the rink and she bit her lip as she thought about what to say. She had so many things she wanted to tell him, a number of words she wanted to share, but opted to show him what was in the box instead as they found an uninhabited stretch of shore.

Calum looked slightly confused but said nothing as she pulled him to a stop and tugged her hand free of his. She spotted a smooth rock, a large enough surface for her to place the box on rather than putting it in the sand, and grinned when she dropped it and gestured for Calum to open it. “It’s for you,” she confirmed, a grin on her lips as she watched him furrow his brows and reach out to brush his fingers over the cardboard.

In the box rested a pair of skates, a bright yellow that Calum loved, and he lifted his head to look at her when he realized what they were. “You got me a pair of skates?”

“Mm. I figured I could teach you how to skate outside now. You’re good enough in the rink. Town’s getting crowded but Dolly’s neighborhood is empty most of the time and if you get confident enough, we can go to the skate park.” She fell silent for a moment, carefully choosing her next words, before she continued. “I…I just wanted to say thank you. No one has ever really taken an interest in my skating, you know? No one has ever sacrificed their off days for me or tried to teach me to do something like surfing. And no one has ever tried to help me figure out what I really want to do with my life so this is just something to say thank you.”

Calum looked stunned. His lips parted in surprise but his eyes softened as he took in the look on her face. She felt her cheeks heat as he stared at her, an unreadable look in his eyes, but she stayed quiet as she waited for him to speak. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by continuing to talk, regardless of what she wanted to say, so she left the conversation up to him.

As was becoming a theme for them, Calum took the opportunity to surprise her. He stepped closer to her, his hands lifting to brush his thumbs over her cheekbones, and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. It was soft, a barely there pressure that left Evie desperate for more, and he lingered close enough for her to feel his breath fan across her lips as he pulled away.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” It was a whisper, barely audible over the crashing waves, but she heard it clearly and shrugged. She knew that, she knew he didn’t expect anything from her, but she’d wanted to give him something. And the way she saw it, it was at least a little selfish. It was a way for them to spend more time together, to enjoy one another’s company, and she wanted all the time with him she could get.

But now, now that she’d gotten a chance to feel his lips against hers, she could think of nothing but kissing him again.

The skates and the words she wanted to share were forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back into her. He smiled into the kiss, glad that she was as eager to kiss him as he was her, and stepped closer. Their bodies melded together, his hands on her hips and her fingers in his hair, as their lips moved easily. There was no awkward adjustment, no tentative shuffling and hesitant hands. It was easy, natural, and Evie melted into his embrace.

Calum was steady and sure as he kissed her. He slowly guided her back against the rock, his fingers digging into her hips as he lifted her enough to sit on the edge, and never broke the kiss as her hands tugged at his bleached locks. He’d let it grow, it was a fraction longer than it had been when she met him, and she could see the slight curl whenever she took a moment to look.

His hands were warm against her skin as they brushed her thighs, his fingers dragging along the skin marred by skating accidents and general clumsiness. She sighed against his lips, content to remain in that moment, and Calum smiled.

“We don’t have to do anything.” His voice was reassuring, steady despite the breathy quality it took on, and she nodded.

“I know.” She did. She knew that he wouldn’t take anything she wasn’t willing to give, but she wanted to give him everything. She didn’t hesitate to return her mouth to his, her lips slotting into place as if they were made to kiss his, and brought her hands to slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

“You sure?” He wanted her consent, enthusiastic and unwavering, and she gave it to him without a second thought. A simple ‘yes’ and he nodded, his own thoughts disappearing as he crowded into her again and dipped his hands beneath the hem of her dress.

She wore another sundress, another vibrant blue that he loved to see, and they were both thankful for her forethought as his fingers brushed her panties. Her mind was clouded with lust and an overwhelming feeling of happiness, a joy she’d never felt in a situation like this, and she let it drown out everything else - the worry that someone might catch them, the fear that this would embed Calum in her heart and make it that much harder for her to let him go when it came time for her to leave - as she focused on the feeling of Calum’s hands against her skin and his lips against her own.

Her own hands brushed over his stomach, her nails lightly scraping his skin, and she grinned as she felt his stomach contract under her touch. She was glad to know that she had just as much of an effect on him as he had on her. With every sharp gasp, with every shaky breath, with every low hum of pleasure, she felt her own pleasure grow greater. His hands were steady, pleasantly rough from years of surfing, and they captured her full attention as he slipped his fingers beneath the band of her panties and brushed her folds.

“Please, Calum.” Her voice was breathless, eager and just as fucked as she felt, and she barely recognized it as she waited for him to move.

She wanted him, all of him, and he didn’t have to be told twice as he shifted his jeans down just enough to free himself and rolled a condom onto his length. Calum surrounded her, overwhelming her senses in the most pleasant way, and she felt her eyes slip shut and her mouth drop open in a silent moan as he entered her.

They let themselves express everything they’d kept quiet over the three weeks they’d danced around one another in their kisses and in the brushing of hands against skin. Everything she’d wanted to tell him, every worry she’d had and every wish she’d made, seemed to be conveyed with every brush of her lips against his.

Every movement of his hips, every thrust he made, he returned the gesture and conveyed the thoughts he’d been keeping to himself. They let themselves be vulnerable, open and honest, and she felt such a heavy storm of emotions that catching her breath seemed impossible.

Her release crashed over her, a wave of feeling hitting her and leaving her seeing stars, and she dug her fingers into Calum’s shoulders as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. A sharp gasp left her lips as she came, an intake of breath followed by a moan of Calum’s name, and he followed suit with a moan of his own.

They remained locked in an embrace, his hands moving to her cheeks while hers looped around his neck, as they caught their breath. The sounds of their breath mingled with the crashing of waves and the far off sounds of their friends and others like them but Evie wouldn’t have traded her little slice of heaven for anything as Calum shifted away from her and straightened his clothes before helping her with her own. He settled onto the rock beside her, his arm around her shoulders, and smiled as she leaned into his side.

There was far too much for them to discuss, too many words that felt better left unsaid but needed to be brought out into the open, but neither of them wanted to destroy the bubble they’d built. Just as they’d done in the weeks leading up to this moment, they stayed quiet.

There would be another day, another time to decide where to go from here, so they settled for just enjoying the moment as it came and left it uncomplicated for yet another day.

************************

Following the night at the beach, Calum and Evie remained in a sort of limbo. They were happy, enjoying their time together and more connected than they had been before, but both knew that they needed to have a conversation about where they were going to go from there. They knew that they needed to talk about what they wanted and what would happen, that it needed to be spoken aloud, but neither could make themselves begin the conversation.

Were they dating? Were they friends with benefits? Was there more to them than a summer fling? Would they try to keep contact when Evie left? They both wondered these things but neither dared speak these questions aloud. Things were good, happy and easy, so neither wanted to complicate their joy with talk of feelings. Feelings were messy, hard and unpredictable, and either wanted anything more than happiness.

Weeks passed with their feelings left undisclosed, shared only in kisses and touches but never in concrete words, and their lives grew more and more intertwined. Where you found one, you could likely find the other. They spent their days skating and surfing, Evie cheering Calum on as he grew more confident in street skating and him returning the favor as she grew steadier on a surfboard. Their nights were spent at Jack’s, Evie trying her hand at making judgements based on drink orders, or in Evie’s bedroom at Dahlia’s. They were official in every way that mattered, partners in every sense of the word, only they had no idea what to say should anyone ask.

Despite that, despite the lingering uncertainty and the unspoken questions, Calum felt his heart swell with happiness with every moment he spent with her.

Her walls dropped the longer they knew one another and every fear she had, every worry she’d been harboring about her future, spilled past her lips in late night conversations held on the beach. They laid together, intertwined on a blanket as they listened to the crashing waves, and Calum felt himself surrendering to her parts of his past he’d never laid bare for anyone else. He told her about goals that he let go of and dreams that were shattered. He disclosed dreams that still lingered, far off and covered in cobwebs as he never allowed himself to consider them, and fell harder for her with every encouraging word that spilled past her lips.

They pushed one another, both desperate for the other to be happy and live the life they deserved, and he didn’t know how he’d gone so long without her. She was like the sun, bright and warm, and he’d been stuck in the dark for far too long.

Calum felt his chest tighten with his overwhelming affection for her - could he call it love when it had only been two months? No, that would be absurd - as he watched her sip her drink and watch the crowd that swarmed the bar. They were in Jack’s, surrounded by people, but he only had eyes for her.

She’d grown more comfortable with her alcohol intake, had gotten used to drinking a little more than she had when she first arrived, and he once commented that he’d been right. She could drink them all under the table if she chose to do so and she seemed to be well on her way - or maybe she just didn’t realize how much she was drinking - as she downed another of his specialty drinks.

She’d convinced him to have a few drinks with her, not enough to impair his skills and not enough to draw the ire of his boss, and he felt a pleasant warmth color his cheeks as she turned her head and smiled at him.

“What’re you looking at?” Her voice was quiet in the din of the bar but he heard every word clearly. She was grinning, a smile that told him she knew exactly what he’d been looking at, and he returned it as he wiped at the counter where a customer beside her had spilled a bit of his drink.

“My girl.” It was his standard answer, safe enough for her to know he wanted her just as much as she wanted him without calling her his girlfriend, and it made her blush every time. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, a color that he loved to see on her, and she shook her head as she turned her gaze to the drink in front of her.

“When does your shift end?” She always changed the subject when he got too soft about their relationship, whatever it was, but this time he imagined it was less her desire to avoid talking about where they stood and more her alcohol-addled brain pushing her thoughts in a million different directions. “I got something I want to show you.”

“Is it as good as the last surprise you had for me?” The week before, he’d come home after a shift - one of the very few he’d spent without her in weeks - to find her lying in his bed. She wore nothing but blue lace and a smile and it was the best surprise - save for the skates she’d given him that night on the beach - he’d gotten in years.

“Mm, no.” She laughed at the exaggerated disappointment that made him shake his head and he grinned as she downed the rest of her drink. “But I do think you’ll like it. Maybe not as much but in a different way.”

“My shift ends in about an hour. You want another or are you done for the night?” He knew her answer, she had yet to get completely drunk and always stopped just shy of hammered, but he reveled in the delighted surprise on her face when he placed the correct drink, always a glass of water, in front of her. She looked at him with wide eyes, amazed that he’d gotten it right so quickly, and he always accepted the kiss on the cheek she gave him after.

For the remainder of his shift, she sat and nursed her water. He could feel her gaze on him whenever he moved, her bright eyes sparkling with the same affection he felt, and he shot her a wink or a smile whenever he had the chance to look away from whatever customer he was serving. He rarely worked a single shift but he was glad he had the chance to take one as his co-worker, a pretty brunette named Sierra that Luke had started falling for, entered the bar and grinned at him.

“Don’t look so excited to leave, Cal,” she teased as she tugged on her apron and glanced at the list of open tabs over his shoulder. It was longer than normal and she frowned. “Busy night?”

“Kind of. Mostly locals and a table of frat boys on the patio. I’ve got better shit to do with my night than hang out here.” He and Sierra both glanced at Evie. She sat in her seat, playing with the straw in her drink and dancing to the song that they could only vaguely make out over the noise, and he smiled as he watched her.

“Happy looks good on you, Cal.” He was always surprised when people noticed a difference in him but Sierra wasn’t the first person to comment on his change in demeanor. He was happier more often now that Evie was in his life, the past traumas and lingering darkness he had yet to share with her no longer weighing as heavily on his chest, and he briefly wondered if that happiness would fade when she left.

However, before he could lose himself in the darkness, he shot Sierra a smile that he hoped didn’t look forced and nodded when he brushed past her. “It feels good.” And it did. He had to work at it, try his best to keep the darkness from blotting it out, but it felt better than anything ever had.

“Ready to go?” After Evie said goodbye to Sierra, Calum guided her out of Jack’s and tossed his arm over her shoulders as they wandered the streets leading to the beach. His surprise was waiting for them there and he couldn’t even begin to think of what she might’ve done as they descended the stairs and he held her close to keep her from falling over.

When they reached the section of beach that they jokingly referred to as theirs, she grinned at him. “Wait right there. Close your eyes, okay?” He made a show of closing his eyes and placed his hands over them when she tapped her foot impatiently against the sand. Her giggle made him grin and he waited patiently for her to give him permission to open his eyes. “Okay. You can look!”

He opened his eyes to find her blocked from view by a surfboard, one that looked alarmingly familiar, and he felt his brows furrow in confusion as he stared at it. It looked exactly like his old one, one that had been destroyed the day his dreams died, and he had no idea where she got it or if she knew what it meant to him.

“D’you like it? I can’t take all the credit. Ash had it in his shop and said he’s been working on it for you. I helped paint it but that’s about it. They wouldn’t let me use any of the tools. He said it was important to you and that it was your first board. I told him he should give it to you but he wanted me to do it so…” She trailed off, aware of his lack of response, and poked her head out from behind the board to get a look at him.

He didn’t speak, he wasn’t sure that he could, as he took the board from her hands and ran his fingers over the refinished surface. It looked so familiar yet so different from the last time he’d seen it. The cracks were gone, the lines and scratches from where he wiped out time and time again, but the biggest difference was that it was whole again. The lat time he’d seen it, it was broken into two pieces and lying discarded on the sand as he coughed up water and listened to the wail of sirens as an ambulance took one of his friends, another surfer that had been like a brother to him and Luke, away. He was fifteen at the time, scared shitless and broken beyond repair when his brother left the hospital in a hearse, and the board served as a reminder of everything he wanted to forget.

It was a reminder of the darkness that lingered in his chest and he wanted to be grateful for such a thoughtful gift but he couldn’t bring himself to choke out the words of thanks that he knew she was hoping for. He wanted to drop the board in the sand and tell her just how badly the accident fucked with his head but he couldn’t do anything except stare at the board in his hands.

“I… I get it if you hate it. Ash said it might not be a good idea to give it to you but he wouldn’t tell me why. And Luke got this look in his eye but didn’t say anything so maybe I misread everything. I’m sorry. I brought another board, a different one, if you still want to surf. I know it’s late but there’s enough light for one trip out. We didn’t get to go this morning and it doesn’t feel like a complete day without it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice was quiet and she looked sad when he finally looked at her. “You’ve had too much to drink and neither of us are in our bathing suits. We’ll go in the morning.”

He completely ignored the board, not acknowledging the elephant on the beach at all, and she bit her lip in contemplation as she stared at him. “I’m okay. And I’m wearing my bathing suit. I have yours but if you don’t want to go in, that’s fine. Maybe you can just watch from here? I won’t go out far.”

“Don’t be stupid fucking, Evie. You’re barely able to stand on a board in daylight, sober. You’ll fucking kill yourself if you go out here drunk in the dark. Come on, I’ll take you back to Dahlia’s.” It was harsher than he’d ever been with her, he knew that, but he was rattled at seeing the board and being reminded of something he was finally starting to forget. He could see the look on her face, a look of disappointment and a flash of anger, and he knew that it was only made worse by the alcohol she’d consumed.

“I’m not being stupid and I don’t want to go home. You can go if you want but I’m going to get in the water. Leave the board, I’ll take it back to Ash and he can put it in storage or something.” She was being childish, petulant that she didn’t get her way, and Calum was reminded of the girl he’d imagined she would be before he met her.

She was the L.A. brat who pouted when she didn’t get her way but he knew that wasn’t her. She was only acting out because she felt slighted, hurt by his lack of communication and his sudden shift in mood, and he moved to apologize. His hand brushed her exposed shoulder and he frowned as she shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me.” She nudged him away and tugged off her dress, exposing the neon green bikini he was so fond of.

“Seriously, Evie, don’t be an idiot. Yell at me or give me the silent treatment but do it on land and we’ll talk about this in the morning.” He reached for her again, determined to stop her from going out into the water, but she dodged his hand and grabbed her own board.

He thought about chasing after her, he knew that he should have, but he just stood and watched as she ran into the water. He kept his eyes on her, annoyance surging through him at her sudden decision to be rebellious, and wondered if this would be their first - and possibly last - fight. It was stupid, something that should have never even come up, and he knew that they were both overreacting. He needed to tell her exactly what the board meant to him and why he reacted the way he had but she also needed to understand that he was serious and concerned for her safety.

He understood that she was getting the freedom she’d always wanted and making decisions for herself but that decision didn’t need to be a life ending one.

True to her word, she didn’t go out farther than she had the very first time she’d gone surfing, but it was still deep enough to worry him. He could see the neon of her bikini in the dark, bright against the blackness of the ocean, and he was grateful for it in a very different way as it helped him keep track of her. There were few waves and he hoped that she would give up, her tipsy brain would realize it was stupid and that she would come back to shore before she could even try to surf, but he could see the waves forming and knew that she was going to try and ride it.

He was surprised when she managed to stand on her board and ride the wave, her footing steady and her form better than he’d seen it, and felt a wave of relief wash over him as she began moving closer. But before he could relax entirely, he watched her fall into the water. It was as if time slowed as he waited for her to emerge from the water. He wanted her to pop up and grin at him, happy that she’d done such a brilliant job right up until the end, but seconds passed and she was nowhere to be seen.

He knew that she would never try to scare him, not really, and that she was a strong swimmer. However, her abilities were impaired and it was dark. There was no telling what happened to her when she fell and he didn’t stop to think as he rushed into the water. He only paused to throw his phone into the sand, should he need it, before he went searching for her.

He swam to the spot he thought he’d last seen her and dove, his arms sweeping the water as he tried his hardest to find her. His own lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and he couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking - if she was still thinking anything at all - as he swam to the surface to inhale a breath of air. He called her name, hopeful that she had surfaced, but when he was met with silence, he dove back down.

He wasn’t a big believer in miracles but when his hands hit something warm and solid, he prayed that he’d been on the receiving end of one. He gripped what he was glad to discover was her arm and tugged, pulling her up and out of the water. She was limp, not breathing, and he struggled to get her to the shore. When he finally dragged her into the sand, he hoped beyond hope that he hadn’t been too late and used the CPR they’d all learned after the fatal accident to try and keep her with him.

The time that passed between him starting CPR and her coughing up lungfuls of water was only seconds but it felt like decades as he waited for her to come back to him. When she did, he breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his head as she groaned. She was clearly disoriented, uncertain as to what happened, and he didn’t know if he wanted to shake her or kiss her. Instead of doing either, he reached for his phone and called Dahlia to let her know what happened.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, with Ashton and Dahlia questioning him and Evie groaning as she laid in his lap. She would be fine physically, he knew that, and if anyone could bounce back from nearly drowning, it would be her. However, he didn’t know how he felt.

He’d had a flashback to one of the worst days of his life, watching one of his best friends die on the beach, and he had feared the same thing was going to happen to the girl he loved. He knew it, that he was in love with her, and it scared the hell out of him. He was going to lose her in a few weeks and the future he’d been afraid of suddenly felt all too real. It was all pressing in on him, suffocating, and when Evie was safely in a room with Dahlia by her side, he did something he never thought he’d do again.

He ran.

*************************

Evie woke up with no real recollection of the night before. She felt the vague sense of guilt, a lingering feeling that told her she’d done something wrong, that came with drinking too much but she wasn’t sure why. The more pressing question was why it hurt to breathe and why there was a steady beeping that sounded eerily like a heart monitor.

Her fears were confirmed when she spotted the white walls of a hospital room and the telltale monitor by her bedside. She had a hospital bracelet wrapped around her wrist and bruises on her arms but that told her nothing about the night she’d had. She was alone in her room, unsure of why she was there in the first place, and unsure of what she should do next as she stared down at the bracelet on her wrist.

“Fuck, thank God you’re awake.” Dahlia stepped into the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag with what Evie hoped were clothes for her in the other, and rushed forward when she realized Evie had returned to the land of the living. “What were you thinking? E, that was so fucking stupid. Be glad Calum was there and he’s a strong swimmer. You could’ve died.”

“What happened?” Her night was returning in flashes, she remembered Calum telling her something similar, but she couldn’t piece together what landed her in the hospital. “I remember going to Jack’s but not much else.”

“You got drunk and tried to go surfing in the dark. What the fuck possessed you to do that?” Dahlia didn’t hide her disappointment as she dropped the bag that did, in fact, hold Evie’s clothes onto the bed.”Seriously, Evie, do you have a death wish?”

Evie was stunned to hear that she’d done something so reckless. She didn’t think she was that drunk, she didn’t remember drinking enough to make her do something so stupid, but apparently she had been. “No. Fuck, I don’t know. I…” She trailed off, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember exactly what had driven her into the ocean, and found her memory of the night returning in more solid fragments. “We didn’t get to surf yesterday. I wanted to make up for it. I gave him a board Ash has been fixing for him and he called me stupid. I don’t know why I went into the water when he wouldn’t but I felt like I had to. It felt really important.”

“Everything feels really important when you’re hammered, you moron. Fuck, how do you feel?” Dahlia softened as she watched Evie rub at her chest, the soreness of her body hitting her as she tried to talk, and she reached out to grab the cup of water the nurse had brought by.

“I’m fine. Feel like I got hit by a truck but I’m assuming I almost drowned and that’s why.”

“The doctor said you’d be sore for a bit. But there was no lasting damage.” Ashton stepped into the room, a soft smile that she had never seen him wear on his lips, and stood behind Dahlia as he ran his hand along her shoulders. “You got lucky, Evie.”

“Yeah.” She paused, examining both Ashton and Dahlia, before she glanced around the room for any sign that Calum had been there. She worried that she’d made him angry, that she’d hurt him more than she meant to - she hadn’t meant to hurt him at all -, and when she didn’t spot any sign of him, she frowned. “Where’s Cal?”

Ashton and Dahlia exchanged a look that she didn’t like but Dahlia was the one to tell her, “He left.”

“Left? Where’d he go?” Evie knew that he was likely furious and that she’d probably scared him more than she realized but for him to not be there when she awoke was disappointing. She felt her heart sink and couldn’t stop herself from slumping against the pillows as she waited for Dahlia or Ashton to explain.

They both remained silent for a moment, neither sure what to tell her, and she almost asked again but when Dahlia looked at her, when she met her eyes and shot her a look that was full of both disappointment and pity, Evie remained silent herself.

“What happened when you gave him the board? I found it on the beach near your clothes.” Ashton was curious but Evie could tell there was something more behind his question.

“He didn’t say anything. He just got quiet and stared at it. I told him I’d give it back to you and let you store it somewhere and then he told me that I could barely surf in daylight so it was stupid to go out at night and then I went into the water. He kind of looked like he saw a ghost when he stared at it. I don’t get why he freaked out about it. It’s just a board.”

The whole thing was, to her, out of character for him. He was reserved, only sharing pieces of his past when she asked, but he talked to her. He told her what he was thinking and didn’t hesitate anymore to let her in. He had secrets, she knew that, but she’d been under the impression that he would have told her if something were really wrong. But she’d only known him for two months. How much could you really get to know someone in such a short period of time?

“That was his first board.” Ashton shifted uncomfortably, his arms folded over his chest as he looked away from both her and Dahlia, and Evie realized that Dahlia wasn’t in on the secret either. “I hadn’t known them long, a few months, maybe? We were friends but not like we are now. He and Luke had another friend, Alex, who was like a brother to them. They were out one day, trying out bigger waves and just fucking around, but it was a bad day for surfing. There was a storm and the waves were shit. They wouldn’t listen to anyone telling them to come in, though. And before someone could go out and get them, they both went down. It was bad, nothing I’d ever seen before. There were pieces of board floating back to shore and people scrambling to get out to them because we knew they’d at least be injured if they came up on their own. Cal nearly drowned and Alex did.”

“Fuck, no one ever told me that.” Dahlia was the first to speak, her surprise evident as she glanced over her shoulder at Ashton. “I mean, I never would’ve guessed. Cal still surfs and no one has ever mentioned anything about Alex.”

“It was a rough time and they just wanted to forget it. It’s why they both stuck around here. Cal started playing soccer with Alex and he was good. He was getting scouted, probably would’ve gotten a scholarship, but after Alex died, he stopped playing. He stopped doing everything, really. You remember what he was like when you first met him.”

When Evie frowned and Dahlia nodded, Dahlia turned her attention to Evie and explained, “He was reserved, quiet. Not really in on the joke or a part of the group. He was just… here. Like, now he’s funny and goofy but it’s taken time. I thought he was just warming up to me.” She turned to Ashton and asked, “When he disappeared, it wasn’t just him working a lot, was it?”

“No. He ran away after Alex died. He disappeared for two weeks and, honestly, none of us ever asked where he went. We figured he’d tell us if he wanted to and he never did. But for a while, he’d just… run. Every few months, we’d wake up and Cal was gone. Sometimes Mali, his sister, went with him. Sometimes he went on his own. But he always came back after a few days and never wanted to talk about it. He hasn’t run in a little over a year so we figured he was getting better. I shouldn’t have let you give him the board. I just figured since he’s been so happy with you, it might not be as hard on him.”

To say that Evie was stunned would have been an understatement. Calum told her that he’d played soccer and that he’d wanted to play in college but he hadn’t told her why that dream had fallen through. He told her that plans had changed and that his future was no longer as set in stone as he’d wanted it to be but, again, he hadn’t told her why. And she was more concerned with happiness, with keeping things light and easy, than with getting the full story. She wanted a carefree summer and asking what destroyed his future wasn’t exactly part of the plan so she’d kept her questions to herself and enjoyed the kisses he gave her to distract her from prying.

“It’s fitting that we found each other.”

Ashton was confused, unsure of what she meant, but the look on Dahlia’s face told Evie that she understood. Evie could see the subtle shake of her head, a cue for Ashton not to ask, and she was grateful. She didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to talk at all. Her throat felt raw and there was a feeling of unease washing over her. It was as if the entire thing was a bad dream, something she would wake up from, and she wondered where exactly Calum had run to and when he would return.

However, in the three weeks she spent in town after Calum disappeared, she never got an answer. Not that she expected one. Dahlia told her that none of the guys knew and she believed them. But that didn’t mean she wasn��t left wondering. She thought about it, late at night when she laid awake in bed. She spent the three weeks she had left in Dahlia’s guest bedroom reflecting on her relationship with Calum.

It wasn’t love, she knew that, but it was the closest she’d ever gotten. He’d felt like a missing piece, a part of her life that she hadn’t known she needed until she found him, and she wondered how she was supposed to return to her life with the knowledge that he was out there somewhere, just waiting for her to find him. But she couldn’t dwell, she wouldn’t let herself.

When the three weeks were up and she was due to return to L.A. to prepare for her final year of university, she went back to the beach for the first time since she nearly drowned. She hadn’t left Dahlia’s house much, only to take a walk around the block when she got stir crazy, and hadn’t put on her skates since she left the hospital. She didn’t really feel like it, not when she had gotten used to skating with Calum, and packed up her skates before she packed anything else.

When she packed up her room, she left a box on her bed full of things that reminded of her Calum. She wanted to take the polaroids, the few photo booth pictures they’d taken on the boardwalk, the stuffed dog he won her at a carnival, but she knew that they would only hurt to look at down the road. She didn’t regret falling for Calum, not even as she felt her heart break over when she looked at a photo of them sitting on the boardwalk as Calum attempted to lace his skates for the first time, but she wondered if she still would’ve fallen had she known what she was signing up for.

They were more alike than they were different, she realized that now, and she wondered if that was what drew her to him in the first place. They were two sides of the same coin and even if she tried to deny it, she loved him enough to hold him in her heart. He would remain there, a question of what could’ve been that she feared she would never be able to answer, and she hoped she would remain in his heart. She wished she would’ve abandoned her dream of a carefree summer and let herself delve deeper into feelings and thoughts and emotions with Calum but she didn’t regret any of it.

And any time she had a vodka pineapple, she knew that she would think of him.

*****************

EPILOGUE - 1 Year Later (May)

“Dolly, I really wish I could have made it but I had an exam at four. I wouldn’t have gotten in before the party was over. I’m sorry.”

Evie stood at the edge of Dahlia and Ashton’s backyard, just far enough from the noise for it to go unnoticed on the phone but close enough to see some of the partygoers as she waited, and bit her lip to hide her grin as she waved at Ashton. Unsurprisingly, he looked shocked to see her and didn’t bother to hide his own grin as Dahlia’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“No, that’s okay. School comes first. I get it.” She heard Dahlia heave a heavy sigh as she held her finger up to her lips as a signal for Ashton to keep quiet. He nodded and placed a reassuring hand on Dahlia’s shoulder as she said, “But you’ll have to come up soon. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, D. You’ll see me soon, I promise.” It was hard, standing back and waiting for the perfect moment to surprise her cousin when she hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, but Evie lingered near the sidewalk as she spoke with Dahlia.

“I better. I need a hug.” Dahlia went quiet for a second, seemingly hesitating, and Evie knew what she was going to ask before the words left her lips. “Is this about…?”

Calum.

Dahlia never said his name, she never asked how Evie felt after her summer with Calum that ended in heartbreak and no real closure, and Evie had been glad at first. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it, she hadn’t felt the need to talk about it, but when she got home to an empty apartment and an overwhelming amount of school work, everything she repressed started to bubble to the surface. So when the nightmares started, she’d talked it out with her therapist.

And she was fine.

“No, D. I really have been busy.” It wasn’t a lie. She was two weeks away from graduation and it seemed like every deadline was hitting her right at the same time. But she couldn’t miss her cousin’s engagement party, not when she had been promised the maid of honor job practically the moment Ashton proposed, so she busted her ass to finish what she could and shoved whatever books she would need into her bag to finish her paper before driving back to the city on Sunday.

The thought of seeing Calum hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Good. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I love you, E.”

“Love you, too, D.”

Evie ended the call and pocketed her phone before she took a deep breath and stared at the new home Dahlia and Ashton shared. It was beautiful, a dream home for the both of them, and she was glad. They deserved happiness, they deserved one another, and she was proud that they were getting their happy ending.

She scanned the faces she could see milling about the backyard and she spotted all of the friends she’d somewhat kept in touch with since leaving. She hadn’t meant to let her relationship with them all fall away but with her schedule and the awkwardness that came with avoiding the subject of Calum - something they all did, whether consciously or not - they had tapered off and she wondered how they would react to seeing her again. Luke was the first person she spotted, his arms wrapped around Sierra with a grin on his lips as he laughed at his own joke. Then there was Michael, standing with his arm around Crystal’s shoulders and shaking his head at whatever terrible joke had obviously left Luke’s lips. Dahlia and Ashton were there, too, looking more in love than ever and beaming with joy as they were surrounded by friends and family.

She and Calum were the only noticeable absences.

She knew that he was back in town, or he had been, anyway. He returned not long after she left and she knew that he’d finally told Ashton, at least, where he went when he disappeared and exactly why he ran. But no one ever told her and she wasn’t going to ask them to. It wasn’t their place, it wasn’t her place, so she left it alone. Dahlia didn’t mention him and she didn’t ask. Whenever they spoke and she heard Calum’s voice in the background, she noticed that Dahlia left the room or made an excuse to end the call. She imagined they were trying to protect her but she didn’t need protecting.

She was fine.

She repeated that to herself as she weaved through the crowd in the backyard. It reminded her of the party Dahlia had thrown her almost a year before and she wondered how time had flown that fast. A part of her missed that, before she knew what the rest of the summer would hold, but she still didn’t regret it. It was, all things considered, still the best summer she’d ever had and she was grateful for it as she made eye contact with Luke and shot him a bright grin.

He realized what she was trying to do, who she was there for, and kept quiet as she approached their group. But the smile he wore was enough proof that regardless of her own disappearing act, she hadn’t been forgotten. Michael spotted Evie next and Crystal had to keep him from blurting out her name. And by the time she was behind Dahlia, everyone knew that she was there except her cousin and they all watched expectantly as she reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

She looked different, a far cry from the Evie she had been when they’d last seen her, and Dahlia had to pause to take it all in. Her hair was cut short, a blunt shoulder length style that made her cry when she first chopped it, and she wore an outfit that was mostly black rather than her typical bright colors but the smile that she wore was entirely Evie.

After a pause, Dahlia launched herself at Evie and wrapped her arms around her tight. She was glad to see her, surprised and thrilled and overwhelmed, and Evie could tell as Dahlia wiped at her cheeks. “You little shit. That was so mean, I was so sad!”

“You should’ve known better, D. There was no way I could miss this.” Evie laughed as Dahlia continued to wipe at her cheeks and shook her head before turning her attention to Ashton. “Congratulations, guys. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Evie. I’m glad you could make it.” She’d proposed the idea to Ashton weeks ago but hadn’t been completely sold on it until that morning. It was a last minute decision, an impulsive act that she normally wouldn’t have undertaken, and she could see that he was glad she’d finally settled on coming. “We all missed you.”

She heard murmurs of agreement from the group as they all piled in on her and she laughed as arms wrapped around her. She patted whoever she could reach, though she wasn’t sure who she was returning the affection to, and laughed as someone tugged at her hair.

No one addressed the obvious elephant in the room as they all grinned and caught up. No one mentioned Calum as they asked her what she’d been up to. Everyone congratulated her when she told them she was headed to Stanford in the fall and expressed their sorrow when she sheepishly admitted she hadn’t gone skating in months - she wasn’t going to tell them but she’d tried, when she got back to L.A., and found that it had lost some of its joy. But no one lingered on the sad when they all began sharing happy news of their own. Michael and Crystal were also engaged, Luke and Sierra had moved in together and had gotten a dog named Petunia - one she gleefully accepted the invitation to come meet -, and everyone was moving on with their lives.

They all seemed to content, so happy with their places in life, and she was happy for them. But she felt as if she wasn’t a real part of the conversation as she’d missed so much and excused herself to go get a drink when she’d finally had enough of being on the periphery of conversation.

There was an actual bar at their new home, near the pool, and she was almost disappointed that she didn’t see Calum behind it. But that disappointment was replaced by confusion as she sat down and a drink was placed in front of her before she could order. It was a vodka pineapple, still her drink of choice, and she stared at it with a frown on her lips.

“You don’t really look like a vodka pineapple girl anymore but I figured it was still your drink.”

Evie had imagined seeing Calum again. She imagined how she would react and what exactly would happen and in every situation, she saw herself uttering some witty quip or maybe a simple response to whatever he had to say to her - if he had anything to say at all. But she never imagined she would freeze. Hearing his voice was like a shot of ice water through her veins and she found herself unable to move as she felt him moving closer to her.

She kept her eyes on the drink in front of her, watching as drops of condensation rolled down the sides, and tensed as he leaned against the bar beside her. It was strange, feeling anything but ease around Calum, but she felt almost hollow as she waited for him to speak again. And when he did, she realized that she wasn’t as fine as she thought she was.

“I’m sorry I ran, Evie.”

“It doesn’t matter.” It did, it mattered more than she was willing to admit. “Water under the bridge now.”

Calum had always been able to read her better than anyone she’d ever met. He could see through her smiles, pinpoint the exact emotion behind her words, and this time was no different. He knew her better than she knew herself, even if he’d only known her for a few months, and she heard him breathe a deep sigh as he lifted his own drink to take a sip.

“Ash told you what he knew, right?” She didn’t respond, didn’t indicate that she’d even heard him, but that didn’t stop him. “I shouldn’t have run. But everything was overwhelming. When Alex died, running was easier than facing it. And every time I started thinking too much, running let me get it out of my head. I always went to this spot a few towns over. There’s a beach there that’s the perfect place to surf. I’d sit on the shore and watch the waves and just forget about my life for a little while. It kept me from doing something stupid.”

Evie didn’t know what he wanted her to say. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. So she sipped her drink and kept silent as Calum rolled on.

“When I met you, I was getting better at controlling my emotions. I could distract myself a little easier. Falling in love with you was a good distraction, too. It was more than just a distraction but it made things easier. And when you almost drowned, I… I don’t know. Something snapped and I couldn’t deal. I shouldn’t have left but I couldn’t stay.”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say, Calum. I’m sorry about Alex. I know that there’s a lot of trauma left and that it was hard on you. I’m sorry that I was being an idiot and that I put myself, and you, in that position. I shouldn’t have done that and I haven’t stepped foot in the water since that day. But beyond that, I don’t really know what else we have to talk about.”

There was a lot left to talk about. She caught it when he said he’d fallen in love with her, she caught it when he said that being with her made things easier. But that was a year ago and they couldn’t change the year and the miles that separated them.

“I missed you.”

She wasn’t expecting that and she lifted her head to glance at him. He looked different, just as she did. His bleach blonde locks were gone and replaced by a buzzcut. But when she met his eyes for the first time in nearly a year, her Calum was shimmering beneath the surface.

“You don’t have to tell me you missed me, too. I just… I just wanted you to know. Dahlia told me you got into Stanford. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She hesitated, unsure of whether she should tell him that no one would tell her what he was up to, but ultimately decided that she wanted to keep the conversation going. “What have you been up to?”

He looked surprised that she was willingly talking to him but his lips quirked into a barely there grin as he watched her sip her drink. “I was saving up to move to L.A. but I changed my mind. I, um, I’m saving up to buy Jack’s.”

“You want to buy Jack’s?” Evie was surprised, to say the least. The last time she’d talked to him, Calum couldn’t wait to leave so to hear that he was actively planning to stay confused her.

Calum shrugged, a small smile on his lips as he brought his hand to the back of his neck. “I’ve been there for a while now and I love it. I like bartending more than anything else I’ve tried and I’ve learned to be happy here. I’m learning to be happy in general.”

“That’s good, then. I know that you love Jack’s so it’ll be in good hands with you at the helm.”

The conversation tapered off, neither of them sure what to say, and Evie felt her stomach churn at the silence. It was awkward and she hadn’t felt like this around him since they first met. But she didn’t know what else there was to be said. She wanted to ask him if he thought of her, if he regretted leaving, if he still loved her. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Calum, however, spoke without her needing to. “Can we start over? Even if we can’t go back to what we were, can we at least be friends? We’re going to be seeing each other again. I’m Ash’s best man.”

She stared at him, unsure of what she wanted and if she even wanted to talk to him outside of the wedding, and watched as he gave her the most hopeful glance she’d seen from him. So she nodded. “I’m Evie.” She held out her hand, much as she had the day they met, and offered him a small but sincere smile.

“Calum.” He grasped her hand in his, still warm and reigniting the flurry of butterflies in the pit of her stomach that she believed was long gone, and lingered as he said, “Nice to meet you.”

The glow of the golden hour, the light that made Calum look even more beautiful than he already was, washed over them both as they stood in Dahlia and Ashton’s backyard. The world around them ceased to exist and it was like the day they met all over again. Evie didn’t know what the future held for them, or if there was a future for them at all, but that was fine.

There were still questions, still moments of hurt and anger and things she needed to work through, but the answers would come in time. And everything was fine.

_______________________________

Author’s Note: I have no idea what this is. But I hope you like it. It took two weeks and I’m very tired.

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kiruuuuu · 4 years

Text

Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion suffers from the consequences of being tortured. (Rating M, hella angst + some comfort, ~3.3k words) - written for @renegad3spectre! Thank you a ton for commissioning me, I really really enjoyed this prompt, just took it and ran with it. It was a pleasure, all the love to you 🧡🧡🧡

Horrifically, it’s his grandfather delivering the blows.

He’s got fond memories of him, of sweets smuggled into his pocket, repeated stories ever-changing from one retelling to the next, quiet banter loud enough for him to hear but muffled enough that he suppressed his own laughter. He smelled of books and wood and old people, and that must’ve been it – the building had held a heavy, stale air which probably triggered the association, unwanted as it is.

So now the creature in his head, the remnant, the ghost haunting his mind wears his grandpa’s face like it owned it, like it had absolutely any right. It hurts more this way. It hurts to be called a disgrace, worthless, useless. It hurts to be disowned, it hurts to hear I have no grandson and it hurts to be accused of killing them, you killed them, your hand held the scalpel and this particular voice coming from his grandfather’s mouth is even more disturbing.

Who do you work for, he yells, unforgiving, merciless, and now his features shift, skin discolouring and eyes sinking into their holes to make way for nothing but darkness, and soon it’s the familiar sight of a brutal, faceless monster, concealed by a mask, surrounded by others looking exactly like him, supported by clones. Where are they, they scream at him in unison, who else. And he wants to answer, wants so desperately to reply to make it stop, is willing to give up anything, everything, if only it means this unbearable noise in his head quiets down. But his thoughts are made of tar, spread slowly and directionless, impossible to wade through. Words elude him, fade like smoke whenever he attempts to grasp them, endeavours to put this horrendous suffering into a single sentence.

Not like any expression he knows would be sufficient to describe this torture.

He doesn’t know what’s real. At times, he’s losing himself in a loud beat and a steaming crowd, coloured lights sweeping overhead and music seeping into his bones, and he knows he needs to reunite with his friends to keep partying, keep the night alive. It’s convincing enough he can taste the cheap drinks in his throat and feels naked, sweaty arms brush over his own on the dance floor – and the next second a blinding light pierces his skull and there are too many people around him he doesn’t know. They sound alarmed, eyes wide, and it sparks an instant, shrieking panic: something is wrong and he has no idea what it is. The strangers refuse to let him go, hold him down, and he tries to explain while the sterile stench they exude causes his stomach to churn and turn.

Most of the time, his ears are filled with accusations. The source is constantly evolving but what stays is the nauseating sense of dread. His heart races against the rest of his bodily functions and easily wins every time since his senses are sluggish, his perception unreliable and his thoughts wrapped in cotton. Grimaces of fury are persistent companions, and though he can’t put a name to all of them, their familiarity cuts deep. His mother, his former friends, his father, his sister. Alexis. Claire. The guy he met in Marseille who pretended to be his friend. Doc. Thatcher. An abomination from that cursed city Lion tries so hard to forget. Doc. The masked entity, omniscient, omnipotent, terrifying. Alexis. Doc.

He understands.

Why people would betray their loved ones, their country, their morals – he understands now, and the realisation is as chilling as the experience. He begged to be able to tell them. Begged for his life, begged for his life to be taken. Begged for peace as opposed to the chaos inside him, and he knows now most people have no idea what chaos really means. They humanise it, award it positive or negative qualities yet Lion would tell them it’s neither malevolent nor merciful. It just is. Against it, he is nothing, smaller than a speck of dust, utterly inconsequential and unimportant: in the face of true chaos, he’s meaningless. All he can do is hope he survives it.

The room is empty, his eyes tell him, and his ears tell him the same, but his brain is convinced of someone’s presence, just out of sight. Pitiful noises fill the barren, bleak chamber and they come from him, but at least they summon another human. A human with Doc’s face, and then with a mask, and then it’s Doc’s face again. Lion buries his fingernails so deep into his arm he tastes copper on his lips and pleads for him to stay. He sounds like a broken record, this voice isn’t his, the syllables barely intelligible among the dry heaving and the sobs. Music starts playing, a loud riff reminiscent of his teenager years, signifying rebellion and freedom and the worst fucking period of his entire life, and Doc says your hand held the scalpel and he’s gone again.

More, he implored as if anything he said would sway them, yes, please. And he looked at the needle and hated it, despised himself for craving it like this, abhorred the ones who turned him into this, and simultaneously he needed. He needed it so much. Without it, he was broken.

His throat is hoarse from screaming, so the visions morphed from atrocious to tragic until he had no more tears left to cry, and then they went for the very core of him. And this, too, he understands now: why anyone would go above God and decide existence isn’t worth it anymore. If he’s being tested, he’ll gladly fail as long as it means silence. If he’s being punished, he’s ready to receive eternal punishment for it can’t be any worse than this.

Someone is calling his name. The man – the men – knew it because he told them, it was one of the many things he told them, so he fights tooth and nail to continue drifting in this vegetative state, but it grows ever more insistent and strips away the layers of mud obstructing his consciousness, leaving him no choice. He can’t remember what it’s like, to have a choice, to choose.

Long words are being thrown at him. He deciphers none and yet an image forms below his eyelids, less blurry with every new description. The professional tone of voice pushes him gently back to his days of studying, a time filled with diligence and the hope to make a difference, and his despairing brain latches on to the information like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.

Delirium, the familiar voice lists, agitation, seizures, anxiety, hallucinations. Too many syllables to fully absorb, and still he deconstructs them halfway. The mask wouldn’t know them. And if it did, it wouldn’t use them around him.

He’s safe.

He must be, it’s the only valid conclusion, but why does his existence still hurt this much? Why is the world shaking, why is he slowly drifting away from everything he ever held dear, from his life, this earth, himself?

They have Alexis. The realisation jolts through him like an electric shock. He needs to rescue him somehow, together with the people by his side, yet he can’t shoot at the maniacally cackling crowd running away from him because he’s not sure which one of them has him, and he can’t risk hitting his own son. Risk harming his most important footprint on this world. The masked grimace tells him he’ll be too late, and besides, it was his own fault anyway: Lion willingly told them about Alexis’ whereabouts in exchange for his next fix.

And he did do that. He did that. These are the consequences of his own actions, his punishment for complying with minimal resistance instead of staying strong, remembering his training. He sacrificed his son for something this trivial. Offered him up in exchange for complacency. Put himself first.

People are screaming, Claire, his colleagues, his family, and he knows he must interfere if his life is meant to be worth anything anymore, and there’s a small voice inside his head, an old companion. Full of vitriol, pulling at threads to make him come undone, scratching at scabs to cause scars, widening holes so he’s incomplete. It suggests a scenario and with petrifying speed, he’s there to live it.

He has a choice. On the one side is his son, gagged, tears in his eyes, struggling against his restraints. On the other side is –

There’s a –

It’s a syringe.

“-s alright. You’re alright. Take a breath, Flament. You’re safe, you have nothing to worry about. Do you need to throw up?”

Paying no attention to the words, Lion is flailing, sitting up abruptly and touching his legs to check whether they’re still there, touches his face and feels blind panic flare up the moment he spots the object in the crook of his arm. He’s narrowly stopped from ripping it out by an iron grip against which he struggles wildly, demanding to be let go, knocking something over and shattering it.

The vice-like grip never once wavers, and gradually his surroundings begin to sink in. He’s in a hospital, it seems, and the person by his side is none other than Doc, trusty (your hand held the scalpel) Doc who’d never let a patient suffer more than absolutely necessary. Bleeding heart Doc. Doc with his stoic face which barely contains the rage undoubtedly roaring in his chest (and is it directed at Lion?).

From one second to the next, Lion deflates and sinks back into the pillows, thoroughly fatigued. His adrenaline wears off quickly and makes way for uncomfortable nausea and the sensation of itching limbs. He needs to move, needs to shake off this horrible feeling of having slept a decade, but he doesn’t trust his body. The hand finally lets go of his wrist and leaves behind a print even lighter than Lion’s skin already is.

“Alexis is safe, too”, Doc assures him.

Lion jumps at this. How does he know? His throat closes and opens, produces a dry rasp and forces him to cough. Next to him, Doc is waiting patiently. “Where is he?”, Lion eventually gets out.

“At home. He never left.” He sounds composed despite the storm clouds visible in his expression, so Lion isn’t the intended recipient of his cold fury. “You kept calling for him, so I figured you must be worried. But there’s no need for concern.”

“What happened?”

Doc pauses for a few seconds. “We apprehended the ones responsible. Fortunately, we intercepted their outgoing messages, so what little information you gave them never reached anyone else.”

If this was true, Lion could exonerate himself. He also takes note of how Doc is silent about the before. He must guess Lion remembers being captured, remembers what they did to him. Bruises on his body are evidence for some of it, and the hellish trip tells the rest of the story. “How much did I say?”

“Doesn’t matter. We caught it.”

“How much?”

“You shouldn’t worry about -”

“Gustave!”, Lion roars, desperate to be either condemned or redeemed. He needs to know, must know so he can better assess his own mental strength. So he knows what to confess. So he can pray for forgiveness.

Doc’s lips are a thin line. “I don’t know. Grace and Mark had an agreement with Harry not to disclose any details. He says it’s standard procedure to prevent potential animosity.”

Not good enough. He’ll never be able to look Alexis in the eyes again if it turns out he did mention him. How much of his memories are real, how much were part of his nightmares? “What about my son?”, he whispers and Doc just shakes his head.

“As I said: I don’t know. Try to get some rest, Flament.”

Just as he exits the room, Lion spots the deep scratches on Doc’s forearm. Please stay, just please, he yells at Doc in his head, unable to bend his lips around the words. Don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me.

He starts crying again.

So weak is he that the tears won’t stop, can’t stop, a broken silhouette in the shape of a man. Fragmented, just like his thoughts. He can’t remember ever feeling this terrible, hasn’t felt this frail and fragile in forever. His body doesn’t feel like home.

No time that night is spent sleeping. Restless, he crawls out of bed, explores the room that isn’t his while dragging his IV stand along, lets his eyes wander over pages not belonging to him, books left on his nightstand on accident probably, and doesn’t absorb a single word.

Once his thoughts are his own again, he utilises them with newfound fervour. He requests his phone and types until his thumbs hurt, types and deletes, corrects, amends, reinvents.

This is a theme in his life, an endlessly repeating circle: arrogance begets punishment. A boastful adolescent loses his innocence by nearly terminating an unborn life, by indulging vices too great for him to understand. A reformed young man deeming himself competent is burdened with death and riddled with blame (your hand held the scalpel).

A man, feeling invincible, having repaired bridges, full of empathy, is beaten bloody and broken.

He hasn’t updated his will in years – a symptom of a much more dangerous cause. Rainbow instilled a delusion of grandeur in him, promised him a future, coloured his life vibrantly and provided a new motto. Not me. He won’t be killed in the line of duty, not with these people by his side. He’ll be fine. Whatever happens, he’ll be fine.

This was a close call. Targeted and much more efficient than Six anticipated, or else Lion never would’ve been captured in the first place. If this is a sign, it couldn’t be any clearer: he’s not only not invincible, he’s delicate. This was just one weakness they could’ve exploited, Alexis obviously being another, his family as well. He won’t be as cocky when embarking on a mission from now on, and he’ll try to convey to the others how easy it is not to return.

It’s an earth-shattering wakeup call.

And so he types until the letters blur before his eyes, and says things which needed saying years ago. And he vows that this change in perspective will be a permanent one – he’ll never open himself up like this anymore. He’ll stay alert. He’ll fend off complacency.

And then Montagne is by his side and says a thing too chilling to be true. He’s gone, it drips from his lips like poison, and Lion knows with absolute certainty that it’s the truth. Doc accompanied him on the mission, Lion failed him, only he was saved. Endless protest is shushed by a sad shake of the head, a head with a face so ashen Lion can tell he’s not the only one filled with sorrow at the news.

There’s so much left unsaid between them, so much admiration and respect bottled up in order to show no weakness, and now he knows it’s useless to suppress emotion due to pride. Neither of them had managed to move on and now that Lion was willing to offer introspection and the admittance of possible mistakes in the shape of good intentions and the only course of action he saw, Doc would never be able to accept any of it.

Doc would never tell him he did a good job again. He’d never show him this grim smile again, the one he wore whenever he was satisfied with Lion’s work despite the outcome, laced with pride almost – or maybe this is wishful thinking, because after all they’ve lived through, a part of Lion still craves his approval so desperately that every positive word makes him glow from the inside, only he’s gone now, and Lion will never tell him –

“Olivier.”

Drenched in sweat, a pounding headache and with trembling limbs, he wakes up. Still in the hospital, still with Doc by his side. Of course: his demons have been depriving him of all things positive in his life, so why not him too? Nightmares know no bounds and refuse to accept Doc is sacred.

The other man is flushed slightly, dressed immaculately as always, but most importantly: alive. His gaze is turned downward to where Lion is gripping his wrist so tightly his knuckles are white. “I’m here”, Doc says gently. “You can let go. I’m here.”

Lion considers complying, though when it registers that Doc called him by first name, all he does is loosen his grip. “I dreamt you died”, he admits, staring up at the irregular patterns on the ceiling. He couldn’t ever convey this emotionless void Doc’s death caused in him, the utter emptiness – somehow, it was as if he’d lost his life’s goal. Which is insane, because his aim is to better the world. Not win Doc over.

“I could tell”, says Doc.

He must’ve been distraught, calling out in his sleep, reaching for his colleague. A question occurs to him which he should’ve asked sooner: “Is everyone else alright?”

“Yes.” Hesitation. “Ying has a black eye. When we came, they were currently depriving you.”

Lion figured as much. “I need to apologise to her.”

“You weren’t yourself.” Doc’s eyes meet his. “That wasn’t you.”

His relief must be palpable. Hearing it from Doc’s mouth doesn’t make it true, but it drowns out that malicious voice which never fucking shuts up. Giving up their secrets, thirsting for a meritless high, attacking blindly – even himself: he’s more than that, and knowing Doc is fully aware of this causes him to fight back tears of gratitude. “No. It wasn’t.”

After a moment of silence, Doc’s arm twists around and offers his hand, which Lion immediately accepts. For now, there’s no second-guessing motives, no long deliberation as to whether Doc is helping a co-worker, a friend, someone more than that, whether he’s volunteering support or understanding or something else entirely. All he knows is: the hand is warm, so warm it spreads a soft calmness all throughout him.

“I brought you music.” Doc indicates an old iPod on the bedside table next to the stack of books (which has grown), a vase with flowers and a few cards. Lion either failed to notice them before or they’re a recent addition. “Dominic helped with the selection.”

This is good news. Lion hopes for unfamiliar bands – he’s not sure what kind of reaction the ones from his youth might trigger in this state.

“And I spoke with Harry.” The segue is too casual. Lion has become proficient at reading between the lines with Doc, and he translates it as I gave him a stern talking to. “He said to tell you the information you gave was deemed ‘insignificant’.”

The wording doesn’t escape him: there’s no certainty in what -

“And you didn’t even mention Alexis.”

Lion takes a deep breath.

Between the constant pressure against his temples, the rolling stomach and nauseating dizziness, he’s felt better, but trusting Doc’s words to be true settles something inside him. Doc wouldn’t lie about this. “Thank you”, Lion replies and hopes his earnest gratitude is audible.

There’s so much to say between them his thoughts are going haywire considering just a fraction of it. All their arguments are ultimately the same as Lion’s treason: insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Something invisible connects them and it should be time to drag it to the surface, but not now. Not when he’s barely begun to heal from his outside and inside wounds.

Instead, he asks: “Will you stay a little longer?”

This time, Doc nods and remains where he is, a bastion of calm. And when Lion squeezes his hand, Doc returns the gesture and it’s all he needs for the moment.

It’s enough.

#rainbow six siege #doc #lion #doc/lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #my internet search history is very suspicious now #they're tired of dancing after this #there's more important things than beating around the bush

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kenzieam · 3 years

Text

Remember Me - Chapter One

@jewels2876 @moonbeambucky @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iammarylastar@captstefanbrandt @badassbaker @pinknerdpanda @oliviastan17 @mizzzpink

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Major angst, drama, sorrow, pain, suffering, language, my usual shit

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Lev is newly born, her entire life up until the last mission gone. How does she navigate these new waters where she doesn’t remember anything anymore? And what to make of the heartbreaking way Bucky is always looking at her now?

***********************************************************************

My head hurts and I’m getting tired of the endless questions, but the people milling around me can’t seem to accept what I keep saying, over and fucking over.

“You don’t remember me?”

I study him, if only to give the impression that I’m trying really hard to remember but it’s all a blank, just a big fucking expanse of white. Not overly tall, tailored suit and smart-ass twist to his lips. “No.”

He glances at one of the others, a quiet, introspective guy who’s been doing most of the medical shit and only receives a shrug in return.

“C’mon Banner, what the hell is going on?” The little one asks, sounding surprisingly distressed.

Who are these people and why do they care so much if I know them?

“I told you,” the one called Banner begins, voice quiet and somehow chronically sad. “She can’t remember; going by my preliminary findings, it’s most-likely post-traumatic retrograde amnesia.”

“What? She hit her head or something?” The little guy looks around at the rest of them, hands out in exasperated query.

I consider answering, something cutting and acerbic about the blood-stained uniform I wear, the bruises and cuts and cracked bones that Banner has already splinted and given me lovely drugs for, but it seems like too much effort and really, if the suit can’t deduce that something went down out there based on how I look and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, I’m not going to waste my breath.

A tall blond who’s holding his side gingerly answers, flicking a glance at me as if he’s read my apparently scrambled mind. Judging by the way the others pay attention to him, I’m guessing he’s one of the bosses. There’s a reassuring steadiness about him and I see why he’s the one everyone looks to for answers. “Yes, Tony. She hit her head, Kozlov had a few dirty tricks laid out that we got stuck in.”

The one called Tony shrugs, looking inexplicably pissed. “The rest of you look okay.”

That was far from true, every single one of them was bleeding or bruised somewhere, but if he was referring to the fact that no one else was sitting there unable to remember anything personal, then he was right. A petite redhead, her arm in a sling, shifted her weight, throwing a dirty glance at Tony, while a handsome black guy, one whole side of his uniform scorched and torn but the skin beneath thankfully intact, scoffed, looking ready to say something in return if not for the blond glancing warningly at him over his shoulder but my attention was on the brown-haired man hovering in the shadows.

As tall as the blond and heavily muscled, chocolate brown hair hung lank in a stunningly beautiful face, all the more striking because of his almost supernatural blue eyes but the most defining feature by far was his shiny, metal left arm. He looked like he was struggling with the urge to simultaneously destroy something in rage and collapse into tears, the dichotomy both fascinating and unsettling. Although heavily injured, at least to my eyes, he’d eschewed all attempts at help, insisting on everyone else being taken care of first. He’d spent most of the time here in this sterile room watching me, something indecipherable in his stare. He seemed to be taking this amnesia business far more personally than anyone else, eyes red-rimmed and swimming in tears, even as his fists, one metal and one flesh, clenched at his sides.

“I know,” the blond replies, sounding chagrined and I look his way once more, curious despite the pain in my head. He flicks his eyes to me, and I’m surprised at the distress there. “Lev took a hit meant for all of us.”

I did? Why? And is that my name, Lev?

The anguish in the metal-armed guy seems to overflow at the blonde’s words and he turns away, hammering his synthetic fist against the wall, the sound barely concealing his sob, but the group appears remarkably indifferent to his reaction, as if used to it; maybe he’s the emotional one of the team.

Or maybe, based on the way he’s been watching you; this news hurts him more.

Whatever, my head frickin’ hurts and I just want to lie down, we can all play twenty-questions later.

Banner seems to notice my weariness first and steps closer, freezing when I tense then seeming to accept my reaction almost sadly. “C’mon, let’s leave her alone. She needs to rest.”

“She can’t go to her quarters…” the redhead begins, looking between the one named Tony, Banner and the blond, glancing once apologetically at the brunette, who’s turned away from the wall to watch us again, but looks like he is barely holding on. A strange compulsion hits me, to leap off the exam table, rush to him and hold him close but it makes no goddamn sense, I don’t know this man, I need to go lie down, like Banner said.

“No.” Banner agrees, and he too flicks a look at the man, seemingly sorry to agree with the woman. “That won’t work… not right now…. Anyway, she needs to be monitored closely for the next day or so, I’d feel better if she stays here.”

Whatever, I can’t think about this, everything hurts too goddamn much. The darkness swirls up again and, rather than fighting it, I embrace it, faintly registering my body sway and tip over, the impact with the bed probably painful but I’m too gone to notice.

********************************************************************************** Heavy breathing wakes me later and I slit my eyes open, trying to find the source. Whoever it is, they sound like they’re fighting tears and my heart cracks at the sound. I imagine the sound of anyone crying is something I don’t particularly want to hear, but something about this person’s anguish is particularly cutting.

It’s the brown-haired man, the one with the metal arm. He sits to my side, hunched over, face buried in his hands and massive shoulders shaking. It’s disconcerting to see someone so physically imposing and large looking so… broken but there’s some serious shit going on with this guy.

Before I can move though, shift my hand to brush his knee or anything really to help him, the blond appears at the doorway. I can barely make his features out, due to the dim lighting and my barely-opened eyes, but he’s not looking at me anyway. I close my eyes again, it’s easier.

“Buck, c’mon man.” He murmurs, stepping further into the room. “You need to lay down.”

Buck, okay; that’s his name.

“She’s gone, Steve.”

No, I’m not. I’m not dead.

“No, she’s not.”

Thank you, Steve.

“Her memory is! She can’t remember us; she doesn’t remember me.”

“Bruce hopes it’ll all come back.”

“What if it doesn’t?” There’s a horrible resignation in his deep voice, a stark question.

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

“She’s everything to me, Steve. She’s my life, you know this. If all we had is gone-”

“Stop it.” There’s an edge in Steve’s voice now, but I get the impression it’s not anger, but the same fear currently affecting Buck. “She will come out of this. You know as well as I do that Tony and Bruce won’t rest until they figure this out.”

Buck scoffs, but it’s half-hearted and I feel a calloused hand take mine. The touch is gentle, if a little desperate. It feels like he’s saying goodbye.

I hear Steve step in further, a hand slap lightly on a shoulder. “C’mon.” He says again and I hear the chair scratch as Buck stands. A moment later dry lips brush my forehead.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” Buck murmurs but then my shadows are dragging me down again and if he says anything more, I don’t hear it.

********************************************************************************** The next days pass with painful slowness, dragging like rusty blades across my skin and, based on the faint scars I find on my inner arms and thighs, that’s something the old me used to do with heartbreaking regularity.

What sort of life did I lead, that made inflicting pain on myself acceptable?

I want to stay away from the others, but it’s made difficult by their damn persistence. I’m given some space but not nearly as much as I crave. They all mean well but being asked a hundred times if some location or activity ‘triggers anything?’ gets old. And Banner, Bruce now as I’ve learned is his first name, has a thousand and one ways to try and restart my memory.

But it all remains frustratingly blank.

I remember nothing, not one thing about my life before waking up in the quinjet, everyone hovering over me looking like I’d gone and died on them a time or two.

But apparently there’s records and I spent the first few days that Bruce insisted I stay in the medical labs working my way through them.

I was an orphan, raised in a series of group homes and shoddy orphanages, fighting for scraps. Faint memories trickle back as I read this, just flashes and hints but, based on what I’m reading, that’s a good thing. Sometimes they seem little better than nightmares.

And it explains the scars.

After slumming around in dead-end jobs for a while I, seemingly on a whim, applied to SHIELD and passed the entrance exam, a surprise given my basic background, lack of higher education and chip on my shoulder regarding authority.

Following one particularly ugly assignment, where I completely disregarded orders and then told my commanding officer to go fornicate with himself, I was offered a choice.

Leave SHIELD in disgrace, or volunteer as a guinea pig, only I wasn’t supposed to call it that, even if I was.

For what exactly I had no idea, but that didn’t seem to stop me and, after a half-dozen unsuccessful tests where I nearly got my head blown off more that once testing out experimental weapons, (an expendable resource for R&D), I was offered up to Tony and Bruce.

And what a proposition they’d had for me.

For years Stark had been working on perfecting a serum similar to what his father and Erskine had used on the blond I now knew was called Steve and, with Banner’s help, he’d achieved a version he was fairly confident in.

For whatever reason, they saw something in me (that I did not and had never seen in myself) and the multiple personality and psychiatric tests that were standard at SHIELD and felt I was worthy of the opportunity. Or maybe just perfectly expendable, with no family or close friends to speak of.

And I’d apparently had no sense because I’d agreed to let them test it on me.

If the serum had failed, as it had the few other times Stark had felt confident enough to try it on a real person, I would have probably been booted out of SHIELD entirely, left to my own flawed devices; but it hadn't and I’d become the first successful recipient of serum since Rogers himself, at least for our side. There was a section included in my reading on HYDRA and their Winter Soldier program, including a group of volunteers who’d been executed by their handlers that I skimmed over, feeling the strangest sense of discomfort.

Anyway, with that came the transference to the team, and my first exposure to The Avengers.

That was as far as I got before Bruce cleared me to leave medical, despite the near crippling headaches I was still suffering from, and I was glad for it, being awakened every few hours (usually just after I’d managed to nod off again) had gotten old fast.

The topic of my quarters was still a touchy subject apparently, because I was led to a furnished but plain set of rooms to make myself at home. Steve was the one to take me and his shoulders stiffened when I asked if this was where I had lived before.

“No,” he replies quietly, not looking directly at me.

I was getting really tired of being spoon-fed inf0rmation, at the rate everyone else had decided I could handle it and there was obviously more here than Steve was willing to tell me. “Then where did I live before? Why can’t I go back there now?”

“Lev-” Although I didn’t remember this man, the look of reluctance on his face was universal. He doesn’t want to tell me.

“Goddammit, would someone tell me the truth?” I snap, slamming my fist into the wall, only a small part of me sorry for my outburst. “Why is everyone lying to me?”

“We’re not lying!” Steve almost shouts and I get the sense that this big man rarely raised his voice like this because his face went pink and blotchy and he looked away from me. “Look, Lev. This is hard for everyone-”

I snort, because really.

“No, it’s true.” He returns, finally meeting my eyes. “We just don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“By taking me to an empty room?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Its not a good idea for you to go to your old quarters.”

“Why not?”

He looks downright miserable now. “Because you share them with someone.” He lifts his gaze to me, beseeching me to stop asking, to not press him further.

To hell with that. “Who?”

“Lev.”

“Who?!”

“No,” he shakes his head and get the feeling he’s digging in his heels. “Bruce said it’s dangerous to overload you with information, I’ve already said too much. Don’t ask again.”

There’s such misery on his face I pause. “Was it you?”

He starts slightly, fighting to hide it. “No.”

I feel bad suddenly, pressing him like this. It’s not his fault I can’t remember anything (at least I don’t think it is) and he’s just the poor bastard that got tasked with showing me my new room. A headache flares up with sickening strength and I suddenly don’t care anymore who I shared space with. “Okay, thanks.” I reach for the knob, hoping to keep my face from betraying my pain.

“Lev-”

“I’m going to go lay down now, Rogers. Thanks.”

I close the door in his face before he can answer.

************************************************************************************ Murmured words against my throat.

Soft lips caress my pulse-point.

A soft, stroking touch.

Heat and weight as someone stretches out on top of me, the feeling welcoming and familiar.

A knee between my thighs, a shuddered exhale.

“I love you, baby.” A tender voice.

I wake to a dark room, cold and alone. There is nobody with me, no one whispering tenderly in my ear. Whoever they were, I trusted them completely, felt one hundred percent safe with them and…. Shit, loved them in return.

But who?

My brain has been too scrambled, my interactions with the team too awkward and stilted to give me any clues. Nobody so far has sparked anything in me like that, male or female; not that I’m prejudiced, but the weight on me, the timbre of the voice says it was a man I loved.

Steve says it wasn’t him, but that doesn’t really narrow it down. There’s apparently a thunder god running around out there somewhere I haven’t met in my new form, and his brother, plus a multitude of others, it’s all a jumbled maze in my head right now.

I could be standing right next to this person and not have a fucking clue, thanks to the tangled spaghetti in my brain.

It’s been a week since I was escorted to these empty rooms and I’ve rarely ventured out, preferring solitude to everyone’s well-meaning ‘help’. It’s not like I’m partying it up or anything, most of the time I sleep, exhausted and baby-weak, trying to remember my life when I’m awake, which usually just leads to more sleeping.

The others do get in unfortunately, because even though it’s exhausting and draining to talk with people, see the hope in their eyes that their words are going to somehow trigger some memory in me, it’s also strangely lonely by myself. I don’t have myself in my head anymore to keep me interested, the general background noise of a busily-humming brain. Mine is still shell-shocked, with no files to sort through for entertainment.

The dreams, or perhaps memories, continue. Not all the time, but enough to make me think they’re more than simple fantasy. The whispered words, the warmth of someone’s strong, muscular body. I’d sit down and try to figure it out if I didn’t now have the attention span of three-year old and the napping habits of a ninety-year-old.

“It’ll come back.” Bruce reassures me, but I’m not sure who he’s talking to, me or him.

“The memories,” I clarify. “Or everything?”

“Everything?”

“My… ties with people, friendships?”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know. It’s still too early to tell, but with traumatic brain injury there is always the risk of permanent damage, personality changes. You being serum-enhanced just makes it a bigger question mark. Steve has never experienced something like this, and Bucky’s amnesia was an entirely different set of circumstances.”

I’ve learned since that first strange encounter with him, that his name isn’t in fact Buck, but Bucky, and both are nicknames for his real name, James; but that’s about it. The guy avoids me like the plague, and I guess that’s fair, since Bruce just said he’s experienced something the same but different, and probably doesn’t want to be reminded about it.

Once or twice, I’ve brought up Bucky to Steve, the first time in curiosity, the second to see if I imagined the first reaction. Both times his face went red and he suddenly couldn’t speak clearly, suffering from an acute case of the mumbles.

It would be telling, his reactions, if I actually remembered the man and whether he was a frequent sufferer of such things, or if my questions are hitting a particularly sore nerve.

“How’s your headaches?” Bruce continues, watching me carefully.

“You tell me, I know you’ve got that computer thing watching me all the time, what’s it called, MONDAY?”

He smiles faintly. “FRIDAY, and it’s for your own protection. You insist on being alone but if you ever suffered a seizure or was suddenly overcome with pain or-”

“I’m fine, really Banner. Don’t need a babysitter.”

“Right now, you do. Sorry Lev, I know that offends your sense of independence.”

“I have a sense of independence?”

“Yes, you were very self-reliant. That didn’t stop you from maintaining strong relationships with the team, but you preferred to nurse any wounds or injuries only in the company of a select few.”

“Them being?”

He grimaces, the same ‘oh shit’ look on his face as Rogers and we’re back into the ‘keeping Lev in the dark for her own good’ bullshit. “Lev-”

“Either tell me or leave me alone, Banner. I’m drowning in ‘what’s good for me’ around here.”

“Lev,” he looks genuinely hurt and I feel bad for a heartbeat. “We just want to help you, this is as strange and new to us as it is for you, we don’t know what will trigger memories for you, or overload you-”

“I know.” I heave a sigh because, as much as it grieves and frustrates me, I do get the sense that these people truly care about me and want what’s best for me.

“Do you feel well enough to try some exercise?”

I shrug, was that something I was into before? The toned lines of my body say yes but, as with everything, I have no memory of gym training.

“You have retrograde amnesia Lev; your personal memories are affected but not the practical ones. Your body remembers repetitive activities, you can dress and feed yourself, if you went down to the training area your body would remember your exercise routine, your muscles would take over.” He paused, weighing his next words. “No guarantees, but it might help trigger your memory as well.”

I nod absently because I’m wondering the same thing. There’s small bits and flashes that I remember now, but they only come if I’m not trying to remember. My mind needs to be blank and floating, basically concentrating on the opposite of thinking and sometimes I’ll get a little hit, some quick blip. Mostly it’s early memories so far, before I joined SHIELD or the team, but I’m starting to get a sense of the scrappy orphan I was, fighting more often than not, learning street smarts more than books.

I don’t feel like talking anymore and if the old me felt the need to exit conversations gracefully, the new one doesn’t. I stand, surprising Bruce and force a smile. “Okay, see you later?”

He recovers quickly and smiles. “Yes, Lev. Later, and I’m here anytime you need to talk, okay?”

Start actually answering my questions and I will, I think bitterly as I leave.

I find gym clothes in the bag someone packed for me, as well as a set of earbuds. Huh, maybe I’ll get more of sense of who Lev was if I listen to her music choices too.

The training area is empty when I get there, which is better than I’d hoped for. I don’t want anyone watching me right now or, even worse, trying to help.

I jab experimentally at the display on the treadmill and start walking. Bruce’s right, the practical shit is still here, I can work a treadmill, but if you asked me what my favourite colour was, I’d be lost.

Oh well, at least this gives me something to do besides sleep.

After a while, I speed up, moving into a jog. Even though I’m still stiff and sore, it feels good to move, and my body seems to remember doing it and doing it well. I catch sight of me in the mirrors and can’t help but smile. I don’t know how much is hard work and how much is the serum, but I love this body, it’s toned curves and latent strength… if only my brain would catch up.

The doors open and I look up, turning down some bass-heavy rap song that old me used to listen to and stumble on the track.

He looks as surprised to see me as I do him.

The infamous and rarely glimpsed Bucky.

He dithers at the door, clearly torn between continuing what he was doing or turning and leaving before setting his square jaw and marching inside. He nods once to me, averting his eyes and heads directly to the weights section.

I try not to stare as he gets started, putting in his own set of earbuds and grabbing a large set of dumbbells. Sweet baby Jesus, but the man is a work of art, and strong as an ox to boot.

I turn up my treadmill and music, forcing myself to look away because, damn.

But, despite myself, my eyes occasionally track back over.

Sweat darkens his tank top, his metal arm shining under the lights. His skin glows with good health and effort, each muscle cut and sharply defined. Small tendrils escape his man bun, sticking to his cheeks and the back of his neck. I can’t hear him over my music, but I imagine a very manly series of grunts as he works, straining at the weights, pushing for each rep. Maybe he swears too, the occasional gasped ‘fuck’ that wouldn’t be out of place in bed either-

Jesus. Calm the fuck down.

My fingers fly over the controls and some program flashes across the screen, something with lots of hills and valleys, whatever and, for awhile, I’m too busy trying to keep up to worry about Bucky. Then, movement nearby makes me flinch, a completely unexpected reaction.

Bucky, a few treadmills away, freezes at my response, something sad crossing his face, dimming the hope I see there, it looks like he was approaching me tentatively, perhaps to talk, and I had to go and spaz instead. I swallow, trying to think of something to say, a feat in itself since this program I chose is actually quite demanding and I’m working my ass off to keep up but, before I can think of anything, everything swirls grey and my knees give out. A loud thump hits my ears and I wonder if it’s my body bouncing off the track, but it doesn’t matter, because the comfort of oblivion has wrapped around me again and nothing else matters.

Raised voices wake me later, that and another monster of a headache. This is getting old, fast and I struggle to make sense of what’s going on around me.

“We need to tell her; she needs to know!”

“She needs to know, or you need her to know?”

It’s hazy, but I recognize the voices, Bucky and Steve, apparently arguing about something I need, or Bucky needs me to know. But then another voice weighs in, Bruce this time.

“We can’t rush her; this seizure just proves how fragile she still is.”

“No, the seizure was because someone told her she was okay to go to the gym!” Bucky snaps. “Who the fuck said that?” The way he asks it says he already knows and through slitted eyes, I see him squared off with the quiet doctor, his face a stormcloud of emotion, scary even. Steve intervenes, stepping deliberately between them. Tony appears, seemingly out of nowhere and the whole tense stand-off is dragged outside the medical lab, the doors cutting off any sound.

I can’t keep up with this shit and I let the darkness take me once more. Sleep is infinitely better right now than cryptic conversations I clearly was not meant to hear.

The next time I wake, my head is better, but my body still aches; what did I hit on the way down and I seriously consider just trying to close my eyes and go back to sleep, but there’s someone sitting beside me again.

It’s Bucky and he’s staring blankly at my hand, which is currently twined with his, tears in his eyes. He looks like sitting here beside me is absolutely killing him, or is it me? Something about me is hurting him. Does he feel bad I fell in the gym in front of him? Were we friends before all this happened?

I swallow painfully and the motion startles him back to life. He looks at me with indescribable pain in his eyes, like he’s dying to say something but can’t, maybe won’t. He’s the one I heard saying I needed to know earlier, what did he mean, what is so earth-shattering that the others seem to think I don’t need to hear yet?

His other hand reaches up and, I must still be semi-dreaming, because he strokes my forehead gently, an easy intimacy, like he has a right to my body and then he murmurs, so softly I almost don’t hear it.

“Baby.”

I jolt, but before I can get myself together enough to speak, he stands, giving me one last heartbreaking glance before leaving and I lay there for a long time in shock.

His voice; the few times I’ve heard him speak it was always in anger, arguing with Bruce or Steve or someone; I’ve never heard him tender, speaking softly and, now that I have, more questions flood into my tangled brain.

His voice is the one I hear in my dreams, the one that makes me feel safe and loved.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky and lev #bucky and levi #bucky barnes drama #the avengers

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megalony · 4 years

Text

A mother’s love- Part 8

Here is the next part of my King! Ben Hardy series that I hope everyone is enjoying, thank you all for the lovely feedback so far. There is a lot of angst in this part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod @jensmyth098

Series masterlist

Warning: Details/ scenes of suicide.

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) lost their first baby but now they have a baby boy together, an heir to the throne. But life is far from easy when (Y/n)’s mental health starts to take a drastic turn for the worst.

Enjoy.

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She could still hear him.

His voice was relentless in her mind despite him being in a different section of the palace and the sound of the water lapping against her skin flooding her mind. She couldn't hear the sobs rattling from her own lips due to the volume of his cries that she knew were only on repeat in her head rather than having him crying right next to her. But it was so loud she could have sworn he was laid on her lap crying up at her.

There was no escaping from him even when he was in a different room, he followed her wherever she went like a shadow she no longer wanted to be attached to her.

When he cried relentlessly it was enough to make anyone want to walk away, but when he cried directly at (Y/n), she could understand. She knew James was telling her that she was not the parent he preferred, she was not the one he wanted to be holding him or feeding him or trying to settle him down. She was the one who had given everything to him but she wasn't the one he wanted. James had taken her for granted and she let him, but she couldn't do this anymore.

(Y/n) couldn't try anymore, she couldn't go to hospital and try to be his mother when he would be going with her, both of them knowing full well that he never wanted her in the first place. James didn't love (Y/n) and she couldn't see how she could learn to love him now. Being trapped in a room with him for possibly weeks wasn't going to do her any good, it wasn't going to make her better. Hearing her son scream at her wanting his father was only going to make (Y/n) want to hurt him and she couldn't feel like that anymore.

All (Y/n) wanted was to go back to before James was born.

She wanted to wake up in the morning and not have to look at him or feel so much hate and anguish towards him. She wanted to have a proper nights rest and wake up and do her work and sit with Ben without both their minds needing to focus on the boy who stole everyone's attention.

But (Y/n) couldn't rewind time and she couldn't hurt James like she had been thinking about because it would only make things worse. As much as she didn't want him around, there was part of her that knew she couldn't lose another baby and she couldn't do that to Ben.

In her eyes, it was James who was the cause to all her problems, he was the one who was intentionally hurting her and making her life such a misery. But if no one else was seeing James as the problem, then (Y/n) would have to look at this through everyone else's eyes.

She was the problem.

(Y/n) was the one who was suffering, she was the one who was in distress and in need of help, she was the one who James hated more than anything else in the world. (Y/n) was the one who people were now going to stare at and whisper about and tut at. If she couldn't get rid of James or get people to see that it was him at fault, maybe she should just agree with them.

Last night (Y/n) had agreed that she would go to the hospital today, she promised Ben she would go and he promised everything would be okay and that he wouldn't leave her. But now that she was so close to going, she was beginning to change her mind. How could the hospital make (Y/n) love her baby? There was no medication or drugs to make her suddenly love someone, it didn't work like that and she didn't know what else they could do. Simply tolerating her baby was never going to be enough and sedating her for the rest of her life wasn't going to work either.

If (Y/n) went to the hospital today she didn't know when she would be coming home or if it would even make any difference to her or not.

But if (Y/n) did something to make sure she wouldn't go, then everything would be sorted. If she hurt herself so badly she would never recover, everyone's problems would be solved. Everyone would have the heir to the throne that they had been desperate for, that they had bullied (Y/n) about until she followed through with her duties as Queen. No one else would see or realise how cruel and how much of a problem James was, they would dote on him and love him and bow down to him and it would be fine. Ben could bring James up on his own, he was the only one James wanted anyway.

(Y/n) had done what she was supposed to do, she had given birth like they all wanted and if she died now, no one would care. They told her she shouldn't be a mother and this would only make them pleased and show them that they were right that she couldn't do it.

She didn't want to be with James anymore. He was her baby and she was desperate to love him but she just couldn't. (Y/n) couldn't care for a child that didn't love or want her, it was too hard to be his mother. James wouldn't care if she died now, he didn't love her and he would forget she ever existed. He would be fine without her because with (Y/n) around, he was in danger of being hurt if he pushed her too far.

Ben was the one thing that was making (Y/n) question what she was thinking about doing.

She loved him so much, (Y/n) loved him more than she could comprehend, he was the only reason she had gotten this far after James was born. But she was a burden. Ben was King, he had a whole country he needed to control and look after, he couldn't be slowed down by needing to watch (Y/n) every second of every day and make sure she was okay and not a risk to their son. As much as (Y/n) knew she would hurt Ben, she knew it might be easier in the long run. He could still do his work and look after James without her being in the way and having to rely on him to keep her sane.

She didn't know if she could do this anymore. Now that she had made the decision to be a mother, everyone was going to make sure that was the only job she ever had. There was nothing else for her to do and she couldn't even do this.

If (Y/n) ended her life she could be with Finn, she could feel a sense of peace that she hadn't gotten since the moment she went into labour with James. She wouldn't be hurt anymore, she wouldn't be in pain or confusion or feel like her mind and soul were being crushed simultaneously. She could be with the baby she wanted, she could be reunited with the baby that she knew for certain she had loved and that had loved her too.

A violent sob rattled from (Y/n)'s broken lips when a sudden realisation hit her. Her eyes were squeezed as tightly closed as she could manage and her mind was raiding through every memory that it had stored away, but she could no longer remember what Finn looked like. (Y/n) couldn't even remember where her box was that contained his birth and death certificates and the prints of his tiny hands and feet or the one picture they had of him.

She knew this would happen, she knew the moment she dared to hold James, he would consume every thought of Finn and corrupt them until he was the only child she knew. He had taken everything away from (Y/n) and he made sure he replaced the one person she had been yearning for. Why shouldn't be take her life too?

The steam from the water swirled around (Y/n) like it was trying to envelope her in a comforting hug but it didn't help like she thought it would. The hot water was soothing to her aching muscles and the headache behind her eyes but it did nothing to help the rampaging thoughts in her head.

(Y/n) could feel the droplets of water each falling from her lashes, she could feel one droplet making a trail down the ridge of her nose and another falling from her hair onto her shoulder. She could feel her heart beating harshly against her chest due to the temperature of the scolding water she had submerged herself into. All of her nerves were tingling like they were sparklers that had been lit. Everything seemed to be magnified in the water, even the pain in her heart was expanding until it was all she knew.

Her knees slowly curled up a bit closer to her stomach as her head leaned against the crystal white side of the bathtub she was slouched in. It reminded her of all the nights she had spent after Finn was born, curled up in bed with the covers almost pulled over her head and her body as small as she could make it. The only thing that was missing was Ben's arm wrapped around her waist to hold her against his chest like he was silently telling her everything would be alright.

Pushing her shoulders a little further down, (Y/n) laid until the water was up to her chin and only her head was above the surface, hoping it would force a better memory to take over her mind. Her eyes were still closed but when another memory came to the front of her mind, it was almost as if she could see it from a different point of view.

(Y/n) could remember the days leading up to Finn's birth, she could feel the anticipation rattling through her bones and she could almost feel Ben's hand on her stomach when the baby had been kicking. Even if things had turned out exactly the same way, that was the time that (Y/n) wanted to go back to the most out of all the memories she had. She didn't want to go back to when she met Ben or when they got married or those few months before kids had been discussed. She wanted to go back to Finn because it had been the happiest times she could remember.

That was when she felt that being a mother was something she could do, it was when she had both a role in life and a job to do other than producing an heir. It was when she was happy, when she could see a future and when there had been no heartbreak at all.

(Y/n) didn't realise what she was doing until her breath was held in her lungs and her head was suddenly below the surface of the scolding water that had turned her skin red like she was bleeding all over. It felt funny to have the water tickling her nose and the temperature made her face itch for a few seconds before it wore off. She could feel the water in her ears and at any other time, that feeling would have made her cringe and resurface immediately. But right now, that feeling suddenly made her realise that the screams she could hear had disappeared completely now that she was under the surface.

It felt like peace was already rushing through (Y/n) when the memories rolled around in her head like a short tape playing on repeat to serenade her.

The burning feeling in her lungs didn't last very long, it felt like only a second before the feeling disappeared and (Y/n) was left feeling like she was floating in the clouds. She could already feel her mind drifting as her stomach and chest seemed to tighten, but it wasn't painful or irritating. The feeling of the water rushing up her nose did spark pain and caused her head to push back at the feeling, but she felt no other reaction or pain other than that.

But (Y/n) had no words or thoughts to describe how it felt when the water suddenly shifted so violently it was like a tsunami had taken place in the small space of thw bathtub. She could feel her head shifting with the water until it hit the back of the tub and a wave of water pushed even higher over her head like it was a wave trying to sink her to the bottom of the ocean. But just as soon as the water washed over her head, it pushed back in frantic splashes and waves to the other side of the tub near to her feet.

(Y/n) felt like the wind had a hand wrapped around her throat and was dragging her to the surface when her body was abruptly pulled from the serenity of the water. Her head was the weight of ten bars of gold and caused her neck to strain when her head flopped backwards until her neck felt like it was snapping and the top of her head fell back into the water. No muscle in her body was under her control but something was holding her chest up from the water, bending her frame until her spine was bent to the point of breaking.

When a hand pressed to the back of her neck and pulled her head forward, the cool air of the bathroom seemed to hit her like a rapid punch in a fight and sent her body into shivers. The cold air pushed down her nose worse than the water had done and it scratched her sinuses and burned her throat when it battled with the water clogged up in her lungs.

Every inch of her chest and her lungs burned like they were on fire and her throat tightened and started to scratch against the water and bile that rose up and suddenly spluttered from her mouth. (Y/n) could feel every movement her stomach made to pull inwards in order to give her chest the strength to push out the unwanted water she had intaken and the feeling was horrible. It felt like someone had dumped a weight on her stomach and chest like they were trying to deflate her.

Each breath was staggered and caused (Y/n) to choke on the water she couldn't throw up but when she tried not to breathe at all it only made her choke worse.

It seemed like hours had passed until (Y/n) could breathe without spitting water from her lips or feel a trickle falling back down her throat into her lungs. But that first proper breath felt like she had been resurrected, it burned her whole body and brought back her senses that had been momentarily paralysed.

(Y/n) couldn't stop a noise that resembled a weak tortured scream that lacked power and volume from leaving her lips when the hand left the back of her neck and started to lift her body from the water. She felt no control over her muscles, she was a rag doll to be moved at someone else's control but it didn't stop the pain from arising when she was forcefully moved. Her arms were limp over the other person's biceps as an arm was tight around her lower waist and another held the back of her thighs to pick her up.

When the water left her body (Y/n) couldn't stop herself from shaking, the water had been so hot but it had been soothing as well as scolding. The cold bathroom air was cruel and unforgiving despite the steam the water gave off.

(Y/n) choked when she felt her knees and lower legs slowly scraping against the edge of the tub, catching against the top of her feet before she was free from her self-confinement. But no sooner had she suddenly been laid on her side on the mat with a hand forcefully rubbing up and down her back, her mind started to go black. Her mind seemed to glitch and spark like a computer that had been submerged underwater. She shut down almost straight away, but as she felt herself disappearing, it didn't give her the satisfaction or the serenity and peace the water had done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why wasn't she crying?

Ben's shoulder stopped pushing against the door when he realised that the only thing he could hear was his own voice calling out to (Y/n). Why had she suddenly stopped crying? She had been sobbing so loudly when Ben entered their bedroom, he could hear her cries from the office and she was so loud when he stood outside the adjoining bathroom.

But now everything was silent; deathly silent.

The sound of the lock breaking was music to Ben's straining ears when his shoulder finally forced the door enough to break the metal forcing it locked. His shaking hand gripped the door handle with so much force that should have broken as well but when he took two steps into the bathroom, he froze. He had been expecting to see (Y/n) sat on the floor or maybe stood hovering over the sink. Ben thought she would have a razor in her hand or a bottle of pills or maybe she was just in pain or had hurt herself or had fallen, but he couldn't see her.

Ben could no longer breathe the moment his eyes just so happened to glance over to the bath on the left side of the room. As soon as he looked at the bath, it registered to him just how sweltering hot the room was and how there was steam circling at the ceiling and steam clinging to the bathroom mirror.

His body stayed frozen in place but his head very slowly leaned to the side to allow him a better view of the bath. The water was almost spilling over the side and he could see (Y/n)'s outline under the water and her hair spreading out like tentacles or Medusa's hair under the water. But he couldn't see her face.

Two, then three seconds ticked by before realisation dawned on Ben that (Y/n) wasn't going to suddenly resurface from the water and he didn't need to question at all that this was on purpose. She had been crying so badly and so loudly that she couldn't have suddenly fainted and slipped below the surface of the water. Ben also knew for a fact that (Y/n) never liked putting her head under the water so this was not some sort of trick to try and calm herself down. This was on purpose and she wasn't intending to resurface again.

When that realisation hit him like a train, Ben's feet were skidding and sliding against the floor that was wet from the steam of the water. He was in such a rush to get to the bath that he couldn't stop himself before his hip crashed into the edge of the tub and almost made him fall in head first.

Ben collapsed down beside the bath on his knees but the moment his arms plunged straight into the water he almost screamed at the temperature. It wasn't hot, it was scolding to the point he didn't see how (Y/n) couldn't have blisters and burn marks on her skin.

His nails dug into her arms so his grip on her didn't loosen but when he leaned over the bath, the edge pushed very harshly into his lower chest and stomach and he could already feel the indentation marks forming. He tried to pull her up but he couldn't with how he was leaning over her. Without a second thought, Ben kept hold of (Y/n)'s arms but moved so he was standing up before he let his body fall over the side of the bath.

His right knee bashed into the wall before crashing down into the water, knocking into (Y/n)'s hip before he felt his knee hit the bottom of the bath and stabilise himself. His left leg was bent and pressing horribly into the side of the bath, his right shoulder merging with the wall so he didn't fall onto (Y/n) as he very quickly hauled her up out of the water.

Ben didn't realise he was crying until his tears fell into the crashing water of the bath when he watched (Y/n)'s head surface but tip back instantly like her neck had broken.

A choked scream escaped Ben's chapped lips before he let go of (Y/n)'s arm causing the left side of her body to lean back into the water so his hand could cradle the back of her neck and tip her head forward. Every part of his body was aching and screaming but all he could feel was the pounding of his heart against his ribs that was screaming out for his wife.

"Don't you dare leave me."

Ben felt a horrible urge to shake (Y/n) by her neck or her shoulders to get her to cough up all the water in her lungs but he did all he could to refrain himself so he didn't hurt her.

Another horrific scream tore against Ben's throat as he watched his wife stay motionless in his arms without taking a single breath or even coughing. Ben's left leg was full of pins and needles but he forced the numb leg to shift from the edge of the bath to place his foot on the floor. He dragged his right knee from the water whilst also holding (Y/n) to his chest, pulling her with him as he stumbled to get out of the bath. Tears fell rapidly from his eyes as he hiccuped through gasps for air before he stumbled and fell back onto the floor, pulling (Y/n) until she was half out of the bath.

A pained yet relieved look came over his features when the jolt against the side of the tub caused (Y/n) to start to splutter the water she had inhaled.

Ben couldn't find the ability to speak, only to sob loudly until he had managed to pick (Y/n) up out of the bath and get her laid on the bath mat in front of him. He rolled her onto her side a bit too roughly for his own liking but he didn't care as he planted his hand on her back between her shoulder blades and started forcing his palm up and down to make her cough. When he heard her spluttering, shaking breaths, he felt like he had been electrified.

"Stay with me baby."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt like a lifetime had passed before (Y/n)'s senses came running back to her and caused her eyelids to open like shutters on a store opening for business.

What she was faced with was not a sight she had ever been faced with before.

Even as the water dripped from her lashes and tried to distort her vision, (Y/n) could clearly see the broken look on her husband's face so clearly that she could almost see the cracks forming in his skin. His face was blotched with patches of red and his lips were blushing ruby red implying he had bitten down on them hard. But it was his eyes that made (Y/n) choke on air, his emerald eyes were no longer the vibrant shade she always knew, they were pale like all of the life had been drained out of them and his eyes were like glass that was cracking.

Tears were covering the whole of his eyes and draining down his face, he had never looked so broken in all the years (Y/n) had known him.

(Y/n) soon realised that Ben was leaning up against the side of the tub with (Y/n) resting between his legs and his arms wrapped tightly around her. She must have blacked out for a minute or two in the least because when she blacked out she had been laid on her side, presumably so she would throw up all the water she had ingested. But now Ben had a towel wrapped around her and was cradling her in his arms like he thought he had lost her.

"Why would you do that?" Those few little words caused (Y/n)'s vision to blur with tears and made a stake run right through her already broken heart.

She had no answer to give him.

"W-why would you try and leave me?" Ben watched as (Y/n) could hardly see him through her tears but she tried so hard to focus on him and shake her head. Leaving him behind wasn't the intention, she didn't really know what the intention was other than to find an escape from the pain she was suffering. Leaving James was more what she was trying to do, but she would never want to leave Ben. He was the only purpose she had to live, but she guessed even that hadn't been enough when her mind had already tried to shut down completely.

Ben's arm tightened around (Y/n)'s waist so he could pull her against his chest as if he was trying to stuff her into his heart and his other hand moved to cradle the back of her neck, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

"I- I d.. I didn't... I t-thought it w... would be easier..." (Y/n) choked through her words, feeling her burning lungs shrivelling up from the pain of having to restart again and her brain having to think about breathing when it should be an automatic response.

"Easier? Baby... that's not an easier option to take-" Ben seemed to cut himself off the moment he pulled back enough so that he could look into (Y/n)'s eyes.

She wasn't implying it was easier for her, she meant it would be easier for him. (Y/n) didn't want to feel like she was a burden to him, she didn't want to have to rely on him as heavily as she did or make him feel he had to watch her every minute of the day. She was stopping him from working and reducing him to a panicked state of mind because he was constantly making sure she was okay as well as looking after James. With (Y/n) out of the equation she thought things would be so much easier.

The look in his eyes was like a fire of anger had just sparked them back to life as his nose and upper lip curled in distaste. Ben's life would be over if (Y/n) wasn't in it, easy would be a word he could never associate with again if she was gone.

Ben couldn't live without (Y/n).

"If you're not with me, I have nothing. I'm selfish, baby, I can't let you do that because I can't live without you." A torrent of tears fell from Ben's eyes and his chest started to quake as he held (Y/n) tighter, feeling her arms weakly wrapping around his neck. If wanting (Y/n) to live was selfish then that was what Ben was. He wanted to be entirely selfish right now because he knew how much pain (Y/n) was in, he knew what she was going through and he knew she felt like no one could help her. But she hadn't taken the chance of getting help yet and Ben was going to overlook the peace she might gain from suicide because he was selfish.

He wanted her to find peace from anywhere but death because if she died, he would die too. Ben wasn't living a life where (Y/n) wasn't a part of it.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #BoRhap #royalty #dad! ben #a mothers love

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ichor-and-symbiosis · 5 years

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