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summary: based on conan gray's song, you meet your ex-boyfriend luke at a house party.

This party's shit, wish we could dip

Walking into the huge halls of Connor’s house, you felt out of place. Like you were stepping somewhere you weren’t welcome. “Come on! Loosen up a bit,” sighed Silena. “It’s the beginning of summer, and your annoying little brother isn’t here to moral police you — let’s have fun,” without even waiting for an answer, she took your hand and dragged you straight to the drinks table.

Go anywhere but here

“Jackson! Hey!”, a voice emerged from the troubling crowd around you, “How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a while now!”, it was Chris first, then his posse that began having a conversation around you. Small talk was never your thing; you could only make yourself a strong vodka cranberry and pretend to perform, pretend that you felt fine enough to leave your room, pretend that your throat didn’t burn from the harsh taste of alcohol, pretend that you didn’t dread something — rather, someone.

Any moment now, he’ll walk in with his beautifully tousled hair, his hazel brown eyes scanning the room to find you, and a smile against the already sweet expression of his. To reiterate, he was perfect, and he had been yours. But to tragically replace the present with the future, he wouldn’t search for you, not anymore. And you wouldn’t find a smile on his face, rather a blank expression, like you were a stranger.

So before that could happen, you decide to hide. Explore the walls, the flowers, the empty design behind every door, and match it with your heart. Walking around, you hear familiar voices, a wave there, and a simple ‘I’m good, how are you’ sufficed. 

There was a moment you hoped to find him, to greet him accidentally, and for him to greet you back. You missed him; there was no escaping the fact. It terrified you. You couldn’t bear to see him again; you couldn’t take it. And there was some part of you that only came to the party for him, hoping for him to come through, to love you again — how stupid. Naive girl wishes on a broken star, an inkling of hope washed away by the rain, the same rain that made him kiss you once, now holds your heart and his ignorance.

Don't take a hit, don't kiss my lips

The stairs led you to the balcony, a solace provided the warmth of the night. Escaping the cold, hearing the ocean lap its course, you felt near home. From your pocket, you took out a pack of reds, held it in your mouth before fishing your other pocket for a lighter. Fuck.

“Forgot something?”, you were so entirely fucked. With the cigarette still in your mouth, you turned around, almost flinching at the sound of his voice.

“Luke,” you mumbled, shocked. “Here, let me.” he took out his lighter, the same one that you gifted him. If you’d turn it around, it’d have your initials together. It was silver, and you were pale.

With your eyes trained on his hand, he brought the lighter up to the cigarette, lighting it for you. Blinking, as if he’d disappear — you felt heat rush inside you, quickly, you held the cigarette out by your hand. Exhaling the distress and smoke, you turned back to the railing. You needed to ground yourself before you fell back into his arms.

“You look great,” he said with a tint to his speech; he’d been drinking. And to add to the fact, he carefully took your cigarette from your mouth and took a puff.

Yeah, he was far from sober. To be honest, you were beginning to be too.

And please don't drink more beer

Your voice trembled at this point, “Don’t, just,” you paused to turn your head back to him, to grasp the sight before your eyes. He was beautiful, but he wasn’t yours. Sweet Luke Castellan, under all the alcohol, you could still see him. “You can’t do this to me, Luke. You can’t say that.” You shook your head, gritting your teeth, taking the cigarette back for a puff. Zeus knew you needed it.

“Why?” He sounded a bit more together this time. “Can’t I compliment a friend now?” He chuckled darkly. Your heart sank. Is that what he wants? Is that what he’s been thinking about?

Scoffing, you find him close to you, leaning into your presence, trying to get you to look at him. “What do you want from me, Luke?” You ran a hand through your hair. He just kept staring.

I'ma crawl outta the window now

“I’m just going to leave now, thanks for the productive conversation,” you rolled your eyes. The silence was too deafening, and with the music blaring through the speakers, one was better than the other.

Moving beside him, you tried to leave, but it was his hand that strongly grasped yours and pulled you back. To the front of him, “Don’t leave, not again,” he admitted, a strange whisp of vulnerability to him. “Luke, leave it.” You were unsure of what to say, “Fuck, stop doing that.” he let go of you, taking a huge sip of his beer.

“Doing what?” You toyed with your arm, the same place he touched you. It felt like a burn, like you’d be reduced to ash any second now.

“Saying my name,” he looked up from the floor, “Well, what do I say then?” you questioned.

'Cause I don't like anyone around

“Anything, anything but my name.” he turned his head, “Why not, Luke?” You tested his patience, the buzz from the liquor treading your veins, giving you a sense of confidence.

“Gods, why can’t you ever listen to me?” he poked his cheek with his tongue, looking at you with something you knew all too well. Selfishly, you couldn’t help but return it.

“Why are you really here, with me?”, you drunkenly asked. There was something stuck in your voice, escaping, and he caught it. Sheepishly, he tucked his hands into both his pockets and shrugged, “Everyone else bored me.”

You laugh into the midnight air, “So what, you’re here to do what exactly?”, “Cause I think you can probably go back to Chris, or anyone for that matter — I’m not-”, before you could get your point across, he interrupted you.

“I want to be with you,”

Kinda hope you're followin' me out

Your breath hitched — what did he mean by that? “Lu-You- what?” you whispered, flinching at the mention of his name again. “I told you,” he stepped closer, engulfing your skin in his hands, “I want you,”

But this is definitely not my crowd

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get out of his grasp and his presence in general. You felt your whole body feign fire across, “You can’t say my name like that and expect me to act normal,” he leaned in just close enough so that our breaths turned into one, the smell of beer and tobacco drowned into the arousal forming — and so did we.

Nineteen, but you act twenty-five now

It was only a second after that he kissed you. It didn’t start warm, no. We knew time was running out, you knew he kissed you like that when he needed you, “Friends, yeah?”, you mumbled in between breaths,

“Fuck that.”

Knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow

Taking advantage, he took control of the kiss, hands splayed messily and lazily wherever he found me, trying to salvage the hunger from our time apart. You could only hold him delicately, like he was bound to break.

Moaning into the kiss, he groaned, “I missed you.” he trailed a rough path of kisses down your lips, from under your jaw, to your neck — leaving you to grab the railing behind you, a euphoric fervor rushing through your body. You felt him everywhere.

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed

Leaving a mark on your neck, he prided himself on making you his again, even if it was temporary, even if it was something he’d have to rush. He loved to return to you, the smell of your skin, the kiss of your soul — and to have that as something familiar, he felt like the luckiest guy on Olympus.Sure, the beer helped drown reality for a while, but this, whatever you were doing to him, felt real. If only it were more than the surface, but you both were waves crashing onto the shore, into each other, and he couldn’t wait to delve deeper. Completely and irrevocably breathe underwater. It remained blue without you, and he didn’t give up that easily.

Take me where the music ain't too loud

“Can we take this upstairs, or somewhere less...public?” you whispered, shying away from the open air around you. “Yeah- yeah, we can do that,” he nodded,

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her

“I have my car parked outside, we can go to my place – or yours?” he nervously uttered, “Whatever’s closer,” you looked at him, and the urge to kiss him and his annoyingly gorgeous features returned, “Just don’t make me wait,” he laughed, and you followed.

Save me 'til the party is over

Closing the door, he didn’t waste any time on getting you all over him again. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he admitted, while you spent your sweet time catching up with his neck, sighing in pleasure, “About you.”

You felt time stop. You paused, and he stiffened, “Gods, Luke.” You went red, and you couldn’t help but smile into a laugh, “Stop being a romantic, and kiss me.” You avoided the rush of butterflies in your stomach, “Don’t know about romantics, but kiss you — that I can do.”

You and he weren’t oceans apart after all.

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover

He kissed you calmly, gently, as if the clock chimed with his pace, putting on a show. You climbed onto his lap, comfort leaving the situation, almost feeling the touch of his heat against yours; it was nothing new, but it had been so long, you felt a charge of electricity shoot through you.

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

It was ultimately up to the fractured meaning of intoxication that led you both to intimacy, finding a place to rest your hearts for a while, to find meaning, and to find each other. But when reality would seep in, he would ignore it — while you traced it in with his touch.

Trip down the road, walking you home

Somehow managing to drive and keep his hands to himself, while you teased him throughout, you made it to his house, his own apartment. A place that would recognize you immediately, the walls blue with your essence, the furniture you chose, the bed that hid your naked body, while he cherished it under the lights of the same place.

You kiss me at your door

It was only when you made it inside that he leapt over you. Hands through your hair, moving down towards your shirt, while you unbutton his, lips moving filthily across each other, tongues clashing in a war where none would choose to win.

Pullin' me close, beg me, "Stay over."

Taking off his shirt, you mapped his skin with your palms, feeling each and every new change of his with admiration. A scar from the battlefield, a regret, and a secret — you knew the reason for each one.

Moving through the house, he loitered the way with your clothes and you with his. By the time you reached the bedroom door, you were almost completely naked, and he was too. “I missed the way you touched me,” you admitted shyly,  kissing him softly. “You’re the only one who knows how to,” he doubled the weight of the meaning.

With words colliding over and over, clothes weren’t a question anymore; it was only the two of you under the covers, and the desire and sanctity of each other's bodies welling together.

But I'm over this roller-coaster

Soon after, the pillow heard sweet nothings and whispers of the same two pair, and you felt high. Simply too merged to make out a simple reason for leaving, so you did what you truly wanted to.

You stayed.

I'ma crawl outta the window now

It was only when the sun’s rays pierced your eyes open that you realized the gravity of the situation. He had weighed you down with his show, something you couldn’t grasp the reality of, the deluded love of yesterday, was something of fiction today.

Getting good at saying, "Gotta bounce."

Silently getting up from your spot, his eyes remained shut, but you knew he knew. You were leaving, bolting the second you got your hands on your clothes.

Honestly, you always let me down

On the way outside, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Hair a mess, body a mark of his, and clothes crumpled — the walk of shame welcomed you with open arms, the morning after always hurt with a deep swell, something you’d question for days to come now. What else would be the repercussion of such a sin?

You truly believed he’d wanted this, because you did. Wasn’t that ever going to be enough? It wasn’t the night, it was simply him who wanted you, finally — he said he missed you, and he showed you the world you once had together, that must’ve been real.

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

But he was drunk. And the party was far from over.

...

summary: draco couldn’t hide his feelings for you anymore, not when you’re dancing with his worst enemy.

The silk of her garment knocked him out of his consciousness. Maybe it’s a silly phase he’s going through, but he can’t make any promises, though. For her presence ignited something far worse inside him, if you could believe it could get any worse, that is. He liked looking at her; it was that simple. “Malfoy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Parkinson exclaimed, tapping his shoulder, all he could manage was a grunt. “Don’t touch me.” He straightened his posture, finally looking at the black-haired girl beside him. Another eye roll, and he moved forward, leaving her standing.

The violet glowed beneath the brown of her skin, and the gold shone its way through everyone's vision. “Looking for something, rather, someone?” he quietly approached you.

“Malfoy! Finally, someone I know.” You held onto his arm, “Where are the others? I thought I saw Theo for a second!” You looked up at him, baby blues clashing with your curiosity.

“Late. As always. Theodore’s with Parkinson, who’s been hollering about you for the past thirty minutes, I’ve been stuck with her.” he rolled his eyes, with the antics Pansy had pulled with him in the past years at Hogwarts, he never ought to understand her aim.

“Hush! She’s my friend, she’s only worried.” You let out a laugh, and his knees almost buckled. Clearing his throat, he let out a bit of truth. “You look good, tonight.” he couldn’t meet your eyes, looking ahead in the crowd, masking his interest — but you knew him too well. “Thank you, Draco.” With his name slipping out of your tongue, his knees could’ve given out, and he wouldn’t even notice. He was already too busy reminiscing about the sound of his name from your voice. Sweet, melodic, disguising the cruelty the name came with. 

“You look nice as well, really nice.” The last part came out in a whisper, for only him to hear, for only his heart to feel. His head turned, gracing you with a small nod, accompanied by a smile. It didn’t last as long as you’d like, as he turned to the crowd again, “If only Potter didn’t beat me to it,” he traced your palm with his fingers, “He better dance well, treat you the best.” he let out a self-effacing chuckle and let you go, “Draco, wait–” “There you are! Up, come on!” McGonagall took you by your shoulders and faced you beside Harry. “Hi. You look beautiful! Thanks for agreeing to come with me,” he sighed and grinned, looking at you, “Of course, Harry.” You smiled tightly, returning his gaze. But a certain blonde controlled it, and so you returned to the path of where he left, standing there alone — this didn’t feel right.

But the music played, and you waltzed. Waltzed to the sound of murmurs, Harry, with his two left feet, let out, and plagued an apologetic smile. At the end of the dance, you parted your ways — you knew Harry would come and find you later. You just needed air. 

Carefully looking around yourself, you made sure to be invisible to the room before stepping out. If Snape saw you sneak out, he’d surely deduct points from his own house. 

With the wind lapping around you, it felt bearable, the confusion. Tip-toeing around your own feelings, you’d never think of the night to go this way. After all, you’d been the most excited for the ball, only reading about it on your own — you thought it’d feel magical, and you’d feel loved with a dress of your own in the hands of the one. 

“You’ll catch a cold,” his voice came out surprised, as if he’d never expect to see you out, especially now. “So could you, yet you’re out here as well.” You finally turn around to look at him, properly. His blonde hair was a mess compared to the beginning of the night, as if he’d run his hands through it. He looked like an exquisite mess. 

He had taken off his blazer, only in his waistcoat, a white shirt, and his carefully ironed pants. You could feel his eyes on you, taking in your presence like you were his. “You and Potter have fun?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, “You know, I have no problem with him. Only you do.” This made him scowl. “A problem? He is a problem, a major one. You should know this.”, “You’re just mad I said yes to being his date, you know, it was either him or one of those creeps — from our own house, might I add!” You were getting mad now. What choice did you have? Harry was one of your friends; it wasn’t anything romantic. He made that clear, and so did you.

“You did have another choice, Y/N.” Hearing Draco call you by your name, you felt time stop. “Yeah, who?” You pressed the issue. He just looked at you. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Go inside before you get cold, Pansy’s waiting for you” “No! Stop steering away from the topic; you started this argument! Tell me who else I would have gone with? It’s not like-”, before you could finish your point, he interrupted you. “Me!” he said loudly, frustrated. He laughed manically, “Has it ever occurred to you in the past five fucking days in the midst of these ‘creeps’ asking you out, I could be a choice?” you gasped. “Draco, what are you saying?” you whispered. “I’m saying,” he crept closer, “you could’ve gone with me.” “But that’s never been a choice for you, has it?” he snarled. “Don’t get wild on me. For Merlin’s sake! You could’ve asked, Draco. I would’ve said yes, you know, I wished on nothing else but for exactly that!” “You never could pluck up the courage and just ask me, so before you get frustrated and mad that I didn’t choose you — I never knew I could!” you were almost screaming, he looked straight at you, a feeble expression visible.

“Wished?” he repeated, “You wished for me to ask you?” We were both breathing heavily, words exchanged — all we could do was remind ourselves about boundaries, while trepidatiously stepping around them.

“Is that all you could get from what I said? You really are daft as a balloon, I-” your words were muffled, and your frustration sank. With a quiet lean, he pressed himself against you and touched your lips with his own. “Shut up,” he mumbled into the kiss, his hands moving up to grip your waist, while you stood surprised, unable to move. “What are you doing?” You murmured feverishly as he gave space to the gap between both of you, again, already missing his lips on yours. You felt drunk, your eyes were heavy and his gaze toxic. “What I’ve wanted to do for the past five years,” he breathed out, while you could only look at him and process this. My gaze shifted to his lips, “What do you want, love?” he whispered, “I’ll stop, I’ll do anything you want me to.”, It was your turn to say something. “I don’t want to ruin this,” You said, finally taking my eyes off him and gazing into the distance behind him, “Ruin what?”, he asked, taking a step back. “This- our friendship. I can’t lose you, Draco.” Your voice sounded apologetic, and you regretted those words as soon as they came out. Damn it, rationality was never your strong suit. Why now! “Okay,” he nodded and turned his heel, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.” You stayed quiet as he walked a few steps ahead, your back turned against him. It was only when he’d walked considerably far that you acted out. You couldn’t let go of him, of what you and he had. You’d been wishing on every shooting star, on every fallen petal, on every fallen eyelash — for him. To run to him, back home. To scream at him, to heal him, to talk to him, to be whoever you wanted to be — with no one but him.

To love him. As you had done, since you met him, since you saw him being kind, a hidden part he refused to acknowledge. To carry the wicked of his name, and to love it. You were only fooling yourself when you spoke about friendship. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the stupid smirk off his face and fall asleep in his arms. You wanted Draco Malfoy wholly to yourself.

Your feet started moving before you could think, and suddenly, you were running. Your heels clacked against the stony pathways of this school, against the same corridor you walked with him, hand in hand. A simple intertwining of both your hands, the normality of it all. You knew where to find him. The turns and the stairs, your feet ached in desperation, and your heart cried out from the breath you refused to take. Not without him, not today, cupid. You found yourself hurriedly climbing the spiral staircase of the all too familiar tower, where your constellations lay together, and you both could lie down and talk about your and his defeats. His quiet sighs, the smoke from his lungs, and the silent companionship.  Up and above, you found the room to be empty and stepped out onto the balcony. On a random day, he would’ve been with you. Sharing a cigarette, sharing a look, and sharing his secrets. “Draco,” you gasped. Merlin knew you had no air inside your lungs. 

He turned around almost immediately, surprised at your voice, “Of course you knew where to find me,” he shook his head, and looked above in desist. “I’m sorry, love. I can’t hear more about our friendship,” he laughed, still not looking at you, “Or, as a matter of fact, I can’t even look at you right now.” “Why?”, “Because when I look at you, I see something you don’t.” You wait for him to continue, “I don’t want to be your friend, I can’t take a single minute of being your fucking friend and not being able to touch you, to kiss you, and to admire you. Pretence was never my strong suit, and never will be.” “Frankly, I’m done pretending,” he finally said, looking at you, eyes dropping to your lips. “We can’t be friends anymore,” he pursed his lips together, “I want you, and I can’t hide it. I don’t want to hide it.” “Kiss me, again,” you spoke up, finally. “Kiss me until you’re tired of it,” “What?” he looked up again, bleary eyes full of hope. “I don’t want to be your friend, Draco Malfoy. No, I was wrong.” “Are you playing a joke?” You laughed aloud and shook your head ‘no’. You stepped closer towards him and ironed out his shirt with your hands, grabbing a hold of his collar with one, and his face with the other. “I want you, only you, Malfoy. I was so very wrong.”, with his signature smirk returning, “I know,” he muttered and took you by your lips again.

Laughing into the kiss, it felt more intense than ever. It was pure need and devotion. His tongue battled yours until he controlled the movement, his hands wandering all over your body, as yours travelled towards his chest, trying to feel his heart.

Mumbling sweet nothings into the kiss, it felt true to be alive with him. It felt normal, natural, like it should’ve been so ages ago. Parting slowly, he took your hands in his, “You feel it?” “Your heart's hammering,” You giggled, feeling the not-so-steady beat of his heart. The cold and gleaming Draco Malfoy, and you could feel him in the palm of your hand.

james was the sun. he was the bright ray of light everyone needed to fix their gloomy day, he was the definition of happiness. he was the only one who could light up the room with his smile and emerald eyes.

on the other hand, regulus was the total opposite. he was known to drag a presence of mystery with him. he was present among the stars. he had something about him, too far for anyone to understand. his emotions unclear, kept in a safe, the key scattered far away from him.

his mind brimmed with thoughts of potter. his final hope. he admired his hair highlighted by the sun, a deep hazel that glowed whenever beneath it. oh, and those angelic eyes, as if painted by nature. just like the forests, he had to confront the consequence of getting lost in james's eyes.

most say the moon is the closest to perfection, but never the sun. the moon was dependent on the sun for its presence. just like the tortured soul of regulus black depended on the healing powers of james potter. he wanted and needed him, and his sole purpose in life was him.