Keep Living with Me
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x Andersen!cop!reader (r's mom is Captain Zoe Andersen)
Summary: You fell in love with Tim Bradford quickly, and he receives your mother's blessing to propose. After you watch your mother's murder, his plans are thrown off and he gives you a place to heal.
Warnings: spoilers for ep 1x16 "Greenlight," parental death (Captain Zoe Andersen), grief, panic attacks, nightmares. comfort at the end! not proofread
Word Count: 4.6k+ words
Picture from Pinterest
“Good mornin’,” Wade greets as he enters roll call. “Before we get started let’s give a warm welcome to our newest Andersen. Welcome, all the way from Chicago! I know your mom is here so we’re all too scared to give you any grief, but I hope LA treats you well.”
“Thank you, sir,” you reply, nodding to the officers beside you.
“Andersen?” Tim whispers.
“Captain Andersen’s daughter,” Bishop answers. “She was working her way toward detective in Chicago but transferred a few weeks ago. Wanted to be closer to her mom, from what I’ve heard.”
“Meaning that if you want to lay some Bradford charm on her, you’d have to answer to your boss,” Angela adds.
“Cute,” Tim replies, giving Angela a fake smile.
“You said it.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Officer Bradford,” you call, jogging to catch up to him. “I just wanted to say thanks for the assist back there. I don’t know how that second guy got past me, but I’m sorry for not paying attention.”
“It happens,” Tim offers with a shrug. “And it’s my job to have your back.”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some thanks every once in a while. I’ll let you get back to your rookie, but, seriously, thank you.”
“No problem.”
Tim doesn’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, after you arrived in Los Angeles, he got attached to you. Now, he keeps an eye out for you and shows you a side of himself that very few people are lucky enough to meet.
Calling your name, Tim beckons you back to his side. “Let me buy you dinner? As a thanks?” he asks, squeezing his hands together nervously.
“Why would you be thanking me? You saved me,” you remind him.
“Just-“
“I’d love to. But I’m paying,” you answer, smiling before walking away again.
“Doubtful,” he murmurs to himself before returning to his shop.
✯✯✯✯✯
Two weeks after your first date with Tim, you smile at him over your shoulder in roll call. You haven’t told anyone about your feelings, and Tim is just as happy to keep your relationship private for now – that’s something he made clear from the beginning, private not secret.
“Bradford, Andersen, the captain wants to see you,” Wade says as he enters the room. Neither you nor Tim move until he adds, “I think that means now.”
Once the door is closed behind you, you promise, “I didn’t tell her.”
“Relax,” Tim demands. “It’s probably not about us.”
He opens the door to your mother’s office, and she points for both of you to sit. Pulling your hands into your lap, you fiddle as she looks at a paper on the desk before her.
“Care to explain?” she asks.
“Explain what, ma’am?” you reply.
“You’re in here as my daughter, though I’m not thrilled to learn you and another officer are dating without my prior knowledge.”
You look at Tim, but he seems content observing this confrontation.
“Mom, I-“
“It better be a good reason,” she interrupts. “Because it’s been weeks since Tim asked me if it was allowed.”
Looking over at Tim, your mouth gapes before you accuse, “You told her!”
“I had to,” he answers. “I wasn’t dealing with her wrath, as captain or your mother.”
“So, you’re not mad?”
“Why would I be?” your mom asks. “You chose the best of them.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Tim says happily.
“Don’t think that makes you infallible,” your mother threatens. “I have a gun and I can fire you, and what I choose to do depends entirely on you.”
Tim nods severely, and they both chuckle when you release a relieved sigh.
“Congratulations,” your mom tells you. “I’m glad you’re happy, and I’ll see you both at dinner on Friday?”
Tim leads you out of the office, and you ask, “What’s Friday?”
“Probably a chance for everyone who loves you to threaten me.”
“Sounds fun.”
Tim reaches out for you, but you turn away quickly.
“You told my mother without telling me. No hugs for you until Friday.”
Smirking, Tim replies, “Yeah, you try holding out that long.”
✯✯✯✯✯
✯✯✯✯✯
✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯
“I’ll be back in a few,” Tim tells you, kissing your forehead.
“Where are you going?” you ask, looking up at him from your spot on his couch.
“To get your favorite breakfast,” he answers. “Because I love you.”
“Be careful. I love you.”
After a year of dating, you and Tim easily acknowledge the depth of your feelings for one another. He makes you feel important, loved, and like the center of his world. It was easy to fall in love with Tim, yet every moment spent with him makes you happier.
While you wait on his couch, Tim heads to your favorite café. Fiddling with the box in his pocket, he smiles as he thinks of you. You’ve gotten to know him so well you have become practically impossible to surprise. (At least since he first told you he loved you, holding you close under a starry sky in the California desert.) This, though, should be the best surprise yet.
The bell over the door chimes as Tim enters, and he quickly finds the woman he’s here to meet.
“Good morning, Captain Andersen,” he greets, sitting across from her. She looks at him until he amends, “Sorry, Zoe.”
“It’s been a year, Tim, you’re going to have to get used to it at some point,” she teases.
“I will. I actually asked you to meet me here because I have a question about my future with your daughter.”
Zoe’s smile grows, sure that she knows where this is going. Tim removes the velvet box from his pocket and slides it across the table.
“I want to propose, ask your daughter to spend the rest of her life with me, but I refuse to do that without your permission. So, Zoe, my question is, will you allow me to marry your daughter? I can’t bring her half as much happiness as she brings me, but I will love her until my dying breath.”
“Tim,” Zoe begins, pressing the ring box back into his hand. “I would love to have you as a son-in-law; of course, you can marry my daughter. And if your proposal is anything like that, I can’t imagine her saying anything other than yes.”
“Is she going to cry?”
“Most likely,” Zoe answers with a laugh. “But you should get going before she gets suspicious.”
Tim stands with Zoe, pulling her into a hug as he thanks her. She reminds him that the family is having dinner together on Friday, and his standing invitation still stands.
“We’ll be there,” Tim promises. “And I’ll let you know when I pick a date.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim knocks on Zoe’s door a week later, entering her office and closing the door behind him.
“I’m proposing this weekend,” he tells her, smiling as he thinks of you.
“Take it easy this week, then. You want everything to be perfect,” Zoe reminds him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Are you okay?” you ask Tim. “You’ve been… different.”
“I’m great,” he promises. “Just ready for the weekend.”
You nod, unconvinced by his brush-off answer. Trusting Tim is easy, so you know he will tell you when he’s ready. As the day progresses, with IA reversals, celebrities, and an attempt on Nolan’s life, you’re not sure you and Tim will be able to talk about whatever bothers him.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you hear about the shots fired and the greenlight on Nolan, you don’t hesitate to meet your mother at the scene. Not telling Tim yourself wasn’t a conscious decision, simply the result of your adrenaline surging and concern for your fellow officers. Lucy is talking to Nolan as you approach, walking behind your mother, and you notice Tim standing to the side, sending him a concerned look.
“According to intelligence, you’ve bee greenlit by Southern Front,” Captain Andersen – no longer acting like your mother – announces.
“How’s a rookie get greenlit before me? I gotta step up my game,” Tim adds.
“It’s not a badge of honor, Bradford,” you reply, giving him a stern look.
“I was kidding,” he promises, his full attention on you.
Listening to the facts and learning why Nolan is being targeted, you know that finding the gang in a city as big as LA will be next to impossible. As your mom and Nolan leave, you rush to catch up with them.
“I’m coming with,” you announce.
“Officer Andersen, no,” your mom argues.
“I have more gang experience, I assisted in countless cases in Chicago. You need to let me help.”
Shaking her head, your mother gestures for you to join them. You know you’ll get yelled at, lectured, and, if you’re lucky, encounter the wrath of a concerned mother rather than an undermined captain when you get home later.
✯✯✯✯✯
“K-9 unit already swept the property,” Zoe says as she leads you and Nolan into his place.
“Uh, no, Ben left for New York yesterday. So, what’s happening here?” he replies.
“The DA approved a VARDA alarm. It bypasses 911, sends a red alert to all the cops in the area.”
“So, what’s next?”
“That’s up to you.”
“I mean, I can’t just go to work, right? I’d be endangering everyone who came within five feet of me.”
“Being a cop is being at risk.”
“You’re saying I should just report for duty, act like nothing happened?”
“I think we tell the criminals what to do, not the other way around.”
“No matter the consequences?”
“No matter the consequences. But, look, it’s up to you. No one is gonna judge you either way.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Nolan, this isn’t about bravery. You have a family. Any cop who’s ever worn a badge understands that. It seems the system is up and armed. We have a unit parked out front. Try to get some sleep.”
“I’ll stay,” you offer. “And I’m sure West and Chen are on their way.”
“You call me if anything happens,” your mom demands. “And make sure West and Chen know that, too.”
✯✯✯✯✯
The next day, when you and Nolan enter the station, Tim gives Nolan a nod of approval. The rest of the officers break into a round of applause, and Tim’s eyes move to yours.
“You need to be careful,” Tim mouths.
“I promise,” you reply silently. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Riding in the backseat of the shop, you listen to your mom and Nolan while thinking about Tim. Being careful has always been a priority, but knowing that you risk not going home to the man you love puts everything into perspective.
The radio comes on as dispatch announces, “7-Adam-15, possible 459 in progress, 1936 Kristol Lane.”
“7-Adam-15, show us responding,” Nolan responds. “I hate this. Feels like everyone’s fighting my battle for me.”
“City still needs policing,” your mom points out.
An engine revs behind you, and you glance out of the back window, quickly noticing the nondescript van behind you. “Uh, mom?”
She nods once, removing her gun from its holster as the van moves into the lane beside the shop. You and Nolan similarly prepare to defend yourselves. The van sits beside the shop momentarily before turning onto another road.
“Uh, that was…” Nolan begins.
“Exilirating,” your mom finishes.
“I was gonna say ‘terrifying.’”
“What if we meet in the middle and say ‘dangerous,’” you recommend.
“That’s a good choice too.”
“7-Adam-15, go to channel 2 for Sergeant Grey.”
“Andersen,” Zoe calls after switching to the proper channel.
“It worked,” Wade says. “Midas forced Cole to lift the greenlight.”
“I guess you are back to being just another rookie,” Zoe tells Nolan as he takes a deep breath.
“But maybe keep your guard up for a few more days,” you suggest. “Just because there’s no greenlight doesn’t mean you’re safe.”
“Does this mean this little partnership is over?” Nolan asks.
“We got a burglary call to take,” Zoe answers with a smile.
✯✯✯✯✯
Following your mom and Nolan into the open door of the burglary location, you take the left side as your mother goes straight, and Nolan goes right. Nolan turns off a radio before a flashbang is thrown into the room. You cover your ears and move toward an assailant before he throws you onto the floor, taking advantage of your disorientation as another man sticks a cattle prod to Nolan’s chest. You’re unsure where your mother is, but as your eyes close, you hope she proves she’s always been the best cop in your family.
✯✯✯✯✯
You regain consciousness first, but the men don’t seem to care about you as they watch Nolan. Handcuffed to wooden chairs with your backs to the pool, you don’t have many options to break free, so you can only hope that your fellow officers have noticed how much time has passed since you radioed a code 6 upon arrival.
Nolan groans as he wakes, and you can’t warn him to stay quiet before he’s noticed.
“Look who’s awake,” Cole says as he turns toward Nolan, holding up the electrical prod. “Packs quite a kick, doesn’t it? It’s got four times the voltage as LAPD uses. Could probably cook the eyeball right out of your skull.”
Leaning back, Nolan replies, “Look, look, I did not intend to disrespect Astrid, okay? Or you, okay? And I would be happy to apologize.”
“Too late for that now. Only way this ends is with you dead.”
Your mom chuckles, and your head snaps toward her as she continues, “Yeah, I, uh, I’d heard that you were dumb, but it is shocking to see it in person.”
“Dumb?” Cole repeats.
“Dumb,” you say with your mother.
“Who lured you into an ambush with a false surrender?”
“Does your father know that it was false? Huh, junior? I can’t imagine that revelation’s gonna go too well, huh?”
“I think it’ll go fine.”
“Oh, he’s dubmer that I thought. What’s my rank?”
“What?”
“Her rank, idiot,” you interject. “You should be able to tell by her uniform.”
“Who cares?”
“I have a feeling you will.”
“You put a hit out on a rookie,” your mom adds. “But two bars and a badge that says ‘Captain’? You’ve just crossed a line that anybody with half a brain would run screaming from. A line that even your father might whack you for crossing. Understood? So, let me tell you how this is gonna go. You and your little goonies are gonna-“
Cole lunges forward, pressing the prod against her. You pull against your restraints as she yells in pain.
“Hey! Cole! No!” Nolan yells. “Hurt me! Right? I’m the one you want hurt, right? Killing me, that’s trouble you can handle, okay? But not her. You need to let her go.”
“Do you think I’m dumb, too?”
“No.”
Cole looks back and forth between Nolan and your mother. When he moves toward her, you and Nolan yell, “No!” but can’t stop him from kicking her chair into the pool.
“No! No! No!” Nolan chants, fighting the handcuffs.
While you pull as hard as you can, attempting to break free, you begin tipping your chair back toward the water.
“If the line’s already been crossed, then there’s no going back. Which means non of you are walking out of here. As long as your bodies never turn up, the murder can’t be pinned on me,” Cole says.
Twisting in your chair, moving onto two chair legs, you watch your mother struggle underwater through blurry eyes, your vision affected by your tears.
“No, you’re wrong,” Nolan answers before offering to make a video apologizing to Astrid. “Just get her out first. Right now,” he adds after Cole agrees.
“No, you got to make the video first. Come one!”
“Nolan!” you grunt, hoping he makes this quick.
Turning back to look at the pool, you think your mother’s arm is free, and as she swims to the surface, pulling one of Cole’s “goonies” into the water, Nolan tips his chair to tackle Cole to the ground. You move toward the other man, unconcerned, when he points a gun at you. Headbutting him once you’re on the ground, you flinch when a gunshot sounds in the pool.
“No, no, no,” you repeat lowly, turning toward the water’s edge.
Your mom raises over the edge, shooting the man standing above you.
“Mom, no!” you warn as Cole reaches for his gun.
You and Nolan struggle against the cuffs, and when a bullet hits your mom’s neck, time seems to slow down. She presses a hand to the wound before she lowers back into the water.
“No!” you scream, your voice cracking with emotion. “No, no, stay up!”
“No, Cap-“ Nolan calls.
“Mom!”
Nolan breaks his chair and dives into the pool as you watch helplessly.
“Come on,” Nolan repeats, beginning chest compressions.
“Nolan,” you whisper, sobbing against the wet concrete beneath you. “It’s too late.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Nolan tells you to stay still while he breaks your chair, but with your attention on your mom, that should be the least of his concerns. He frees you, pulling one end of the handcuffs away from the chair so you can move.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
“It- it isn’t your fault.”
You begin crying again, looking at the bloody water as you kick the pieces of the chair away from you. Releasing a pained yell, you move to your knees, sitting beside your mom as sirens approach.
Nolan is beside you, unmoving, until Wade places a hand on his shoulder. Tim rushes to your side, kneeling beside you as he pulls you up.
“It was Cole,” Nolan says.
Tim leads you away from the pool as the coroner moves your mom into a flag-covered coffin. As you follow the procession through the line of officers, you stop beside Tim, waiting for his nod before you continue.
After the coroner leaves and Wade dismisses everyone with instructions to find Cade, you avoid looking at Tim. You can’t fall apart until you catch her killer.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you walk into roll call the following morning, Bishop offers you her seat, and you gladly take the place beside Tim. He slides the black strap over your badge before taking your hand under the table. You stay behind the roadblock, letting Nolan and Tim approach Cole to make the arrest. Once he is in cuffs and in the back of a shop, you holster your weapon and keep your eyes on Tim.
He rushes to you, pulling you into his arms, holding you close as you cling to him.
“I’m sorry,” Tim says against your hair. “Do you want to go with them?”
Shaking your head, you move toward Tim’s shop, and Lucy nods as she finds another ride back to the station.
“I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without her, Tim,” you say when you’re alone.
“The hurt never goes away, but it lessens,” Tim promises. “And I’m right here.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Somehow, you manage to get through the funeral without falling apart. The moment you prepare to go home, to begin a life without her, that changes. You freeze on the sidewalk, looking back to the headstone.
“C’mon,” Tim murmurs as he approaches you. “You’re not staying alone tonight.”
“I can’t do this, Tim.”
“Yes, you can. Look at me. She loved you, and she wanted you to live and love, and do what you wanted to do. Do not let that monster take your life, too.”
Tim cups your cheeks, kissing your forehead as you nod.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you’re not alone, okay?”
“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim holds you against his chest until you fall asleep, but you don’t get much rest before a nightmare wakes you. Slipping out of Tim’s arms, you walk into his backyard and close the door behind you. Sitting on his deck, you feel like you’re back in Cole’s yard, frozen and unable to do anything more than scream. Why didn’t you take action like Nolan? Get the gun somehow before Cole got away from Nolan? … Why didn’t you save your mother?
Pressing your hand against your mouth, you attempt to silence your cries, but you should have realized that Tim would notice the moment you left his side. He closes the patio door softly, sitting beside you.
“Can I come closer?” he asks softly.
You shake your head quickly, and your thoughts spiral. So many things could have been done differently, and maybe this is a sign that you should have never come to Los Angeles, never have become a cop and that you are the reason she is dead.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim calls, demanding your attention as he grabs your hand. “Breathe. Breathe with me.”
As Tim grounds you, you crawl toward him, letting him hold you as you fall apart in his arms. Crying into his chest, you eventually fall asleep again, and Tim whispers a promise that he will always be here for you.
✯✯✯✯✯
The first few weeks are the hardest as reality sets in, and you relive the moment. Tim never leaves your side, though, offering a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, or a reminder that you are not to blame. As the time between tears grows longer and you can look at pictures of her and smile, you decide you’re ready to return to work.
“Are you sure? If you need more time, that is completely understandable,” Tim replies.
“I’m sure. You told me not to let Cole take my life, and I’m ready to start living again.”
“Still room for me?” Tim asks with a smile.
“Loads of room for you,” you promise, leaning against him.
“Then I’ll be by your side the whole time.”
So, when you walk into work three months later, you assume that Tim is responsible for the round of applause and the “Welcome Back” banner hanging in the bullpen. You and Tim are both surprised by how easily you return to the station, smiling as you greet your friends and able to walk past your mom’s office with nothing more than a sad smile.
✯✯✯✯✯
After practically moving into Tim’s house after the funeral, you know where everything is. So, when he spills a drink while watching the game, unable to draw his eyes from the screen, he asks you to get him some dry clothes.
“Sure thing,” you reply, smiling at him.
Tim yells when his team scores, and you shake your head in loving amusement as you enter his closet. Moving a small basket to get a shirt from behind it, you accidentally knock something onto the floor. When you stand after picking it up, you realize that it’s a jewelry box. Opening it, you see the one thing you didn’t expect.
In the other room, one of the teams calls a time-out, and commercials begin playing. Tim realizes that you’ve been in the bedroom for a while, so he stands, stretching as he sets out to check on you.
“Did you fall into a-“ he begins, freezing when he sees you staring at the engagement ring.
“Sorry,” you say, snapping out of your shocked stupor as you close the box and put the ring back. “I knocked it off and didn’t think, uh, here’s a clean shirt.”
Tim grabs your hands rather than the shirt, stopping you before you can walk around him.
“I’ve had it for a while,” Tim explains. “I just- I could never find the right time to ask.”
Wiping a tear from your cheek, you press the shirt against Tim’s chest and ask, “Can you get dressed, please?”
“For what?”
“I need a hug, but you’re really wet.”
Tim laughs, changing right beside you before pulling you toward the bed. He rolls onto his side, looking at your face as you reach for him.
“What about the game?” you whisper.
“Who needs a game when I have you?”
“Well, if you’re not using the tv,” you begin, trailing off.
Tim sighs, kissing your cheek as he reaches over you for the remote. He turns on your favorite movie, inviting you to lay against his chest as you cuddle against him.
“Yes,” you say a few minutes later.
“Yes what?” Tim asks, looking down at you.
You pause the movie, rolling toward Tim to look up at him as you lay your chin against his chest. “If you proposed, I would say yes. No matter when or where.”
Tim smiles, and you decide to watch him rather than the movie.
Considering what his proposal may be like, you whisper, “I wish my mom was here.”
“A few months ago, I left to get breakfast, and then I was acting different the rest of the week. Do you remember that?” Tim asks. You nod, and he continues, “I went to see your mom that day. I showed her the ring and asked for her permission to propose. She told me that I had her blessing and she’d love to have me as a son-in-law.”
Tim smiles as he remembers Zoe's excitement after learning about his plans.
“I was going to propose the weekend that – that she died.”
“She loved you,” you remind him as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks.
“And I love you.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Get dressed,” Tim whispers in your ear as the movie ends.
“What?”
“Put clothes on. Unless you want to go to dinner wearing that,” Tim replies, gesturing to your well-loved pajamas. “Not that you don’t look beautiful, of course.”
“Move,” you mumble, pushing past him to reach the dresser he emptied for you after the funeral.
As he drives you to dinner, you watch Tim’s profile, feeling like the luckiest, most loved woman ever. He stops at a park, exiting beside a tree covered in fairy lights. Walking to the passenger door, he takes your hand and helps you out of the truck.
“Tim, what is this?” you ask.
“Something I should’ve done before,” he begins, kneeling. He looks into your eyes, reflecting the lights above you as he speaks. When you say yes, crying just as Zoe said you would, Tim stands, pulling you into his arms before sliding the ring onto your finger.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hi,” you greet, lowering to sit in the grass. You look at the sparkling ring on your finger and smile. “Tim proposed. I- I wouldn’t have seen it coming if I hadn’t found it in the closet.”
The wind blows, wrapping around you like a comforting hug.
“He told me that he went to see you and you gave him your blessing. I know you loved him, and you knew how much I loved him, but… sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve him. He singlehandedly held me together after that day with Cole. And I don’t want to receive more than I give.” Leaning toward the headstone, you read your mother’s name and ask, “What do I do to show him I love him?”
“He knows,” Tim answers, approaching with flowers. “May I join?”
You smile, inviting Tim to sit with you at your mother’s grave. He lays the flowers against her headstone before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
“What are we talking about?” he asks.
“Us.”
“That’s my favorite topic.”
As you fall back into conversation with your mom, and Tim joins you, you feel like your mom is sitting across from you. With her love and Tim’s, plus all the love you have to give, you know you will be okay. Great even, you think as you lean against Tim, and the sun glints off the ring on your left hand.
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this one to me feels much more oc-like than a reader-insert (bc of all the details i added) but a few of yous said to keep it as a reader fic so i hope this is okay!! don't hate me if you can't relate to it please n thanks <3
also sorry for the weird formatting of my fics/the random bold or italics or small text idk tumblr hates me and keeps doing it!!!
comfortember day five: treehouse (+day eight: grief/mourning)
aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader
aaron is there for you, just like he always is, after you lose your mother.
word count: 2.1k
warnings/content: parent loss, death of reader's mother, hurt/comfort, some emotional conversations and sad topics, mentions of crying, pet names, kissing, hugging, established relationship.
lyrics that inspired this:
"do not enter" is written on the doorway / why can't everyone just go away / except you / you can stay / what do you think of my treehouse? / it's where i sit and talk really loud / usually / i'm all by myself
comfortember masterlist here!
also on ao3!
the treehouse
You step out into the back garden and take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you allow the crisp air to wash over you. Aaron steps out moments after and closes the door quietly before his hand finds your lower back.
"You okay?" He asks, his voice just above a whisper. It's almost drowned out by the sound of mourning doves overheard.
You shrug, your shoulders feeling as though they’re being weighed down by the heavy armour you’re trying–and failing–to shield yourself with. “I will be.”
“Yeah.” He looks around the garden and lets out a short, flat hum. “But no one is expecting you to be okay, you know that, right? There’s no time limit; you’re allowed to grieve.”
“I know.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. But I just wanted to remind you.” You turn to look at him and, at the sight of his genuine concern, your brave face crumbles. He wraps his arms around you immediately, pulling you close and enveloping you in his warmth. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you whisper as you cling to him, trying your hardest to hold back your tears but failing miserably. “I know.”
“Good.”
“I just don’t know what to do.”
Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything.”
You pull back and look up at him, confused. “Yes, I do. I have to… to get rid of everything and sell the, the house. And do all the paperwork and figure out what to do with her antiques and, and, and–”
“Hey, hey,” he interrupts you gently, pulling you back into a tight hug. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. I’ll do that.”
“What, no–”
“Let’s not talk about this now, okay? We’ll sort it out later or tomorrow. Give yourself some time to think about it.”
“But what do I do in the meantime? I can’t just… sit around.”
He thinks for a moment. “Show me around.”
“What?”
“Show me around the house. Tell me everything you can, anything you can remember, and I’ll listen. I wanna know what life was like for you.”
You almost burst into tears at his words. “Really? You wanna know about my childhood?”
“Sweetheart, I wanna know everything about you.”
***
You take Aaron inside the house, taking him to the living room. The room hasn’t been touched in a few days, save for a few files on the coffee table you checked earlier, and you feel sick at the thought of leaving the house behind once everything’s packed away. Then the thought of having to pack everything away makes you feel even worse and you sway on the spot. Aaron notices you falter and reaches out to squeeze your arm gently, standing beside you patiently.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when all this is gone.”
“It doesn’t have to be gone,” he replies. “You can take it all.”
“And keep it where?”
“In our house, in a storage container… there’s many places.”
You think for a moment, holding back tears, before shaking your head. “No. I need to… to let it go. Not all of it, but I can’t keep everything. She wouldn’t wanna weigh me down with all her stuff.”
“Alright,” Aaron says, squeezing your arm again and leaning to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Take anything you need. I promise we’ll find a place for it. That sound good?”
You nod and lean into him for a moment before slowly making your way through the living room, grabbing the objects with the most significance to you and telling Aaron about them before sorting them into a box to take back to the house. You pack a few of your favourite DVDs, ones you’re sure won’t even play anymore with how scratched they’ve become, as you tell Aaron vague memories of watching them as a kid. What happened when you watched them, who you watched them with, how you felt–anything that comes to mind because you know he’s listening.
A few family photos are displayed on the TV stand, as well as a cabinet in the corner, and you relive the memories of when they were taken as you tell him all about them. He asks to look at one closer and you give it to him, watching as he smiles down at a photo of you with your old dog. “You looked happy.”
“I was,” you reply, nodding. “Some of the time, anyway.”
He gives you a small smile and hands you the picture. “I know what you mean.”
You continue to walk him around the house, showing him dents in the wall from where you hurt yourself and little drawings you hid behind drawers and peeling wallpaper. He listens intently, smiling at your happy anecdotes and comforting you when tears well up in your eyes as the worst memories cloud your mind. You show him your childhood bedroom, telling him about friends that used to come over for sleepovers and the first time you kissed someone behind the open door so no one would see.
“My first kiss was with Haley,” he replies. “In the theatre room at our school.”
“Isn’t that where you first met her?”
“Yeah. I kissed her in the same spot I first saw her.”
“Aw,” you smile as you grab an old diary and throw it into your bag. You’ll read that later when you’re alone so you don’t embarrass or upset yourself anymore in front of Aaron. “You’ve always been a romantic, how cute.”
He blushes and presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes by, making his way to your desk and flicking through a few papers you left there when you were last over. “You think you’d want these?”
“Probably not, doubt they’re important.”
Aaron nods and begins to open the drawers, pulling out miscellaneous items and silently dividing them into piles of things you might want to keep and things you’d throw away. You watch him with a sombre smile, feeling your chest ache at the realisation that he knows you so well and that his love for you is endless. When he catches you watching him, he pauses and raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“I love you, you know that, right?”
“Of course I do,” he replies, closing the drawer and walking back over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you close. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”
“Hm, I don’t know. I think I have a pretty good idea.”
“I don’t want to doubt you, sweetheart, but I really don’t think you do.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, channelling all his love into it. “I can’t even begin to express how much I love you. I just… do.”
You press another kiss to his lips to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. The love you feel for him is so strong it feels like you might burst. He kisses back, letting you take the lead. Pulling back, you look deep into his eyes and smile the first genuine smile you’ve been able to manage since you first heard the news. “I love you more.”
Aaron chuckles. “Sure you do.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips with a hum. “Ready to carry on?”
“Yeah,” you mutter, going to pull away before a thought strikes you and you let out a sharp breath. Aaron pulls you back into his arms immediately, looking down at you in concern but keeping silent to give you a moment to think. “Sorry, I just… realised that that was gonna be my last kiss in this room.”
“Is that a good thing? Or bad?”
“I don’t know,” you reply honestly, feeling out of it. “I don’t like the thought of everything we do in this moment being the last of anything, but… the fact that it’s you that I’m doing all this with… yeah, I think that’s a good thing.”
He smiles sweetly at you, love shining so clearly in his eyes, and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Then let's stay here for a little longer.”
“We should get it over with, I don’t wanna waste all your free time off work. You deserve to get some time to yourself.”
“Oh, honey,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his head against yours. “This isn’t a waste of my time. Trust me. I want to be here, with you, for you, and that’s all that matters. Don’t think like that, okay? I’m here because I want to be, not because I feel like I have to. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “It does.”
***
“I guess that leaves the treehouse,” you shrug, feeling drained as you step back outside with Aaron following you. You stare up at the treehouse, wondering if it's necessary to go up there. “You don’t have to come up. It’s pretty small.”
“I’ll go wherever you go.”
“You’re so cheesy,” you say with a small smile, even when his words mean the world to you.
He smiles at you. “You love it.”
“I really do.” Making your way to the treehouse, you glance at Aaron and allow a small smirk to dance over your lips. “Don’t stare at my ass as I go up.”
Aaron laughs. “No promises.”
You roll your eyes and begin climbing, risking a glance back to find Aaron’s eyes firmly on the ground and being as respectful as ever. It makes your heart skip a beat. Reaching the top of the ladder, you look at the treehouse's entrance and cringe at the big ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign hanging beside the doorway. It was a sign you carved yourself when you were younger. When you look inside the treehouse, your heart aches as memories flood through you. It takes you a few seconds to force yourself inside but once you clamber in, you call down to Aaron to let him know he can join you.
The sound of him climbing up surrounds you as you push yourself into your favourite corner, one filled with soft padding and blankets. A few of your favourite books are scattered across the floor and pictures of you and your childhood friends cover the walls. The nostalgia hits you hard and you bite your lip to stifle a sob.
Aaron joins you, crawling inside and looking around with interest. As he gets comfortable in the small space, his long legs curling against himself to fit, you realise it’s the first time anyone’s ever been in the treehouse with you. Or at all.
He remains silent, waiting for you to be the first to talk. You appreciate that.
“I used to come up here a lot,” you say after a few minutes. “To read, to think, to talk to myself out loud… everything.”
“And did it help?”
“Yeah,” you nod, reaching over to grab one of the books beside you. It’s one you’re sure you’ve read a million times over, the pages worn and yellowing and a small layer of dust covering the outside. “It was nice. Peaceful. Somewhere I was never bothered.”
“I had a place like that,” Aaron muses, smiling at you. “Not as personal as this, though. It was a bench a few blocks from where I grew up, hidden by a few overgrown trees. I liked it.”
“Did you go there a lot?”
“Whenever I could. Couldn’t go much in the winter because of the cold, though.”
You huffed out a laugh. “Same here. Still came here even if I meant I almost froze to death.”
His smile becomes sad but there's clear understanding in his expression. “Yeah.”
The two of you sit inside the treehouse for almost an hour, talking about whatever comes to mind. Aaron listens intently to every word you say, his comforting hand drawing patterns over your thigh and eventually over your side when you move to curl up against him. You feel yourself drifting off at one point when the exhaustion settles deep in your bones, feeling so safe and warm and loved and comforted beside him, but you force awake to finish back up in the house.
Aaron follows you inside, as he always has and always will, and comforts you through everything that comes after that. He helps you pack up the house, assuring you over and over that you can take however many boxes you want back to the house you share with him. He sits with you for days after, mostly in silence when the grief catches up to you and you can hardly think, never once looking as if he’d rather be elsewhere. He holds your hand throughout the funeral, never once leaving your side or once letting you think for a moment that you’re ever alone. And even after it’s been weeks, months, years, since that moment, he’s there for you whenever you need a shoulder to cry on. Just like he always has been.
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