Hehe69

—————

You still come by Emily’s place, putting on your best performance, trying desperately to hide how much being there hurts. How out of place you feel now, watching the boys all happy while you feel like you’re slowly rotting away on the inside a little more every time Paul’s laughter fills your ears. It’s nauseating, how many emotions well up inside of you as such a simple sound. You don’t know if his laughter is the sweetest torture or your salvation, it’s only thing that helps lessen the void in you.

You’ll take whatever he’s willing to give you, greedily, hoarding every ounce of attention he offers willing. Take every inch that feels like miles, the glances, the half smiles, the hands on your elbows as he squeezes past you in the kitchen. You take them all, cataloging them into your mind so that you can call upon the echos of them to ease the aching hole he leaves in you. Constantly you have to remind yourself that this is all you’ll ever get, all you’ll ever know, in an attempt to save yourself from more torment by false hope. But not matter how hard you try, some small part of you will always cling tightly to that hope.

Maybe it’s just the imprint, or maybe it’s you. But you’ve never felt so empty before as you do when you don’t see Paul for weeks. It’s been about a month since the last time you saw him in person.

You’ve changed so much since the night of the rejection, barely eating or laughing, always sleeping because that’s where you could find him. It doesn’t help that Paul has been avoiding you. It’s why you’re in so much agony all the time now. A rejection you could handle, but this is so much worse.

At first you were grateful for the humiliation it saved you from but now…now the wound in your chest rips open just a little more every time he goes out of his way to not look at you, not touch you, not to speak to you. You wish so deeply that you had just kept your mouth shut that night. Having Paul as a friend was infinitely better then whatever it is that you are to him now. Better to have that inch of his affection then almost none.

It’s as you’re just some fly or a dust bunny waiting to be swatted away and finally be put out of your misery. Like Paul can’t even stand your presence anymore, like the very existence of you fills him with guilt. And when he does look at you…it’s like he pities you.

Poor little Y/N, hung up on someone who will never want them.

“You okay?” Emily’s voice cuts through your train of thoughts. You flush as the realization that you’ve just been sitting there, staring off into space instead of helping her cook. The woman is watching you very intently, worry had an evident presence upon her face and it fills her eyes as her brows frown.

“Yeah…yeah I’m good.” You say clearing your throat and forcing out the most convincing laugh you can manage. “Sorry, I was daydreaming.” Shaking your head at you put your focus back in the task before you, continuing to chop up carrots.

You feel Emily’s watchful gaze on you, she knows you’re full of shit and you know she’s fully aware of it. “Have you been taking care of yourself?” Emily’s voice cuts through the silence, and you feel her eyes boring into the side of your skull. “You don’t look like your usual self Y/N. You haven’t for weeks.” She puts a hand on your shoulder as she turns your face to look at her. You don’t meet her eyes. “Y/N what’s going on?”

You huff out a breath, and attempt to shrug her off. “Nothing, I’m fine…just a little tired that’s all.” You don’t look at Emily as you speak, partly from shame and partly out of guilt for even attempting to lie to her. One big factor about Emily is that she can call bullshit from a mile away.

“It’s about Paul…isn’t it.” Her tone is soft, and she rubs your back as your body tense at his very name. She’s not asking, she’s stating it, she knows it has everything to do with him.

“I don’t want to talk about it..” You mumble out and swallow back the burning sensation in the back of your throat, your feel your mouth beginning to water as the need to cry floods your body. “Y/N, you can-“I said I don’t want to talk about it Emily!” You snap at her, slamming the knife in your hand down and finally looking Emily in the eyes. You don’t like snapping at her, it’s something you’d never usually do but like she said…you haven’t been yourself in weeks.

Meeting her eyes is what finally breaks the dam

“Oh honey.” Emily voice is soft and gentle as she pulls you in for a hug. You cry softly, and as quietly as you can possibly manage.

A month of isolation, of sleeping for hours on end and sometimes…sometimes wishing you’d never wake up. Wishing you could keep dreaming and never have to face the loneliness and pain that has become your very existence. And it’s not all Paul’s fault, you’ve been doing it to yourself.

Not wanting to be around people because you had this deep rooted fear that everyone around you knew how broken you felt. A fear that they pitied you for it. You began to just want to be alone, preferring your own company instead of others’. For no apparent reason at all, you just wanted to sleep and keep sleeping.

It all comes out as Emily holds you, once you’ve stopped crying…you feel lighter. That hole in your chest feels a little more smaller and more bearable.

———

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that being around people you care about actually helps. They bring you joy and comfort, they make your face light up and joy fill your heart.

Of course, theres still that void in your being but it begins to shrink the more you spend time with friends and family.

You start to notice that Paul is almost hovering around you, keeping a distance but always watching you. Like a hawk, it’s confusing to say the least. If anyone even slightly flirts with you or even just speak to you, he’s chasing them off. Glaring at them, pulling them to the side to threaten them.

It’s pissing you off.

———

Somehow, a friend of yours manages to convince you to go to a party with them. Some random dude from Highschool decided to throw a ‘rager’.

So there you are, trying to have fun with a friend of yours, till some asshole starts harassing. Out of all the people in this party, this slimy guy who looks like he chews tobacco and spits it wherever the hell he wants, decided to hassle you about dancing with him. At first, you tried to politely say no. But he wouldn’t let it go. Then you told him to fuck off and he started putting his hands on you.

Before you can give this asshole a piece of you mind, Paul comes in out of fucking nowhere like a fright train and shoves the guy hard.

“They told you to back the fuck off!” Paul shouts at said random asshole. He pushed this dude hard enough for him to send him flying to the ground and causing enough of a ruckus to draw the attention of ever single individual in this living room.

“What the fuck Paul?!!” You shout at him, pushing Paul’s chest as hard as you can, and he actually stumbles backwards.

“He had no right-” Paul’s defense floods your nerves with white hot anger, as he steps towards you pointing at the man on the ground “And you do?!” You hiss out in pure, uncanny rage, cutting him off completely.

“I don’t need your fucking help Paul!” Your face is contorted into complete and utter, seething anger as you stare him down. Daring him to even so much as utter one of his witty OG cocky comebacks.

But Paul…Paul backs down, like a wounded puppy of a man. He looks down as he mutters out an uncharacteristically quiet and timid okay. And he leaves, he just walks out of the party after making a bigger fucking show. Completely unlike him.

It’s pisses you off even more and you storm right after him.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You shout after Paul as he continues walking to his truck. “Paul!!!” You yell his name and he doesn’t turn around, he just keeps storming away.

You begin to run just to catch up to him. When you do finally reach Paul he’s about to open his truck door beofre you jerk his shoulder back hard enough to get him to turn around and face you. He gets up in your face, heavy breaths and nostrils flaring. Paul looks like he’s about to phase on the spot, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t even speak to you as he gaze burns onto your face. Paul looks as intimidating as ever, but you stand your ground.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You deflate as you speak, worn out from the whiplash of Paul’s mannerisms these past couple of months. Paul doesn’t answer you, instead hus eyes widen at your question and then he just looks away from you. Paul looks as tired and exhausted as you have felt for weeks.

“Paul!” You hiss, his silent deflection of your questioning stoking up the embers of your white hot rage. You feel yourself heat up with simmering resentment as Paul looks at. “Why am I doing this to you!” Paul all but growls out, his hot headed nature finally making an entrance.

“You’re the one who’s been fucking tormenting me.” You frown at him as he shoves his face closer to your own, it only makes you more frustrated with him. The way he’s turning this all around onto you, as if he hasn’t been haunting your every waking moment.

“Oh fuck you Lahote!” You’re seething now, and get right in his face back. But Paul doesn’t so much as backpedal at your anger. “You can’t just-just act like this fucking claim that you have on me means anything to you!” Your voice cracks, and you hate it, hate that now your anger is twisting into desperation. You look away from him, and shrink into yourself.

“I know that you don’t feel the same way I do Paul!” You feel your throat burn as you speak. “You make that painfully clear all of the time. You’re the one who created this divide between us.” You glance at him, and he’s expression is pain and guilt. You look away, and pray for the ground to swallow you whole as shame, white hot and bitter, flows through your very bones. All you ever do is make things worse for Paul.

“I can’t stand the look of pity you give me all of the time Paul.” Your voice cracks. “I know I’m pathetic-“Y/N” Paul’s voice is faint and pleading as he moves towards you. “You’re not-“Oh save it!” You hiss, cutting Paul off and pushing him away from you.

“You look so ashamed of me! All the time Paul. We’re not even friends anymore so quit pretending like you actually give a shit!” Paul’s body shakes as you speak, but not out of the rage he usually feels. He hates himself, Paul has always been too much. Too arrogant, too hothead, too rash too aggressive too-You deserve something better than his mess.

He’s tried pushing you away, tried to make it easier for you to leave him. But you stay, you make him want to be better. Make him want to learn how to be better, not for the reasons he’s always had for himself. But because, for some insane reason he can’t wrap his head around, you like him for how he is now.

He can’t stand there and listen to you talk about yourself like that. Being this close to you after so long, only to see just how much damage he has done.

Paul surges forward and takes your face into his hands and he presses his lips against yours. Cutting you off and the force of the kiss has you back peddling into someone else’s vehicle. And Paul pins you there till you shove him off of you. You stare at him, shocked, and still so fucking pissed. He comes here, makes an ass of himself after weeks of keeping a distance from you.

And then he just kisses you…as if that’s going to change anything. Like it’ll cover up the fact that you have spent weeks trying to convince yourself that you’ll never belong with him, that he’ll never be yours. You’re about to keep yelling at him, but there’s a look in his eyes. Desperate…raw and pathetic, pleading. Paul has never looked at you like that before, so raw and beautiful. Your whole body heats as your breath catches at the sight of Paul’s state.

Paul tills his head to the side and breaths out hard, head shaking slightly as he shifts on his feet and his eyes scream with his silent plea. Don’t do this, just stop, I’m so tired of all of this.

You lunch yourself at Paul, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smash your lips against his. Paul grunts at the impact, as he stumbles back and his body hits his truck. But Paul springs into action almost instantaneously. Gripping your waist and tangling one of his hands into your hair, as he kisses you back with an electric and overwhelming force of emotions that flood your nervous system and warms your body. It’s heated, messy, desperate, all hands and tongue. Lungs burnings and hearts racing.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” You mange to hiss out between kisses. “I know.” Paul breaths out hard as you move to kiss his jaw. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” That makes you freeze.

You back away enough to look him in the eyes, Paul looks so mournful. “I never ment to make you feel unwanted…I just-I” Paul huffs out in frustration as he looks for the right words. You wait there, patiently, as he thinks.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Paul says softly, laughing in a self deprecating manner. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It all peices together in your head. Paul has talked to you about how much his anger scares him. Sam lost control and hurt Emily. Sam, a man Paul basically idolizes, a man Paul looks to for guidance on everything. Paul sees Sam as a better man than him, someone to inspire to be like.

“Paul.” You says softly and he looks down in shame, so you lean your forehead on his, moving your hands to cradle his face. “You are so much more than your anger.” You whisper out softly and Paul breathes out softly before he speaks.

“You’re so important to me…if I ever did anything like what Sam did to Emily-if I ever hurt you like that…I don’t think I could live with myself.” Paul’s voice shakes and he moves to hold you close. Paul hugs your tightly, warm and lovingly.

“You won’t.” You say softly and beofre Paul can disagree, you continue. “I know you won’t Paul.”

He lets himself believe you, so he hold onto you. The both of you sit there for a long while, breathing in each other’s scent, basking in each other’s warmth. The feeling of finally getting to have this kind of intimacy.

For a moment, you’re afraid this is all some dream. But the feeling of Paul’s presence, the sounds of his heartbeat and his breathing. Those are things much too sweet and beautiful for your mind to conger up.

———

Paul drives you home, and the two of you end up sleeping in the same bed. His smell fills your nose and sticks to your clothes, to your bedding. Arms warm and comforting, breaths hot and soft against the back of your neck as his chest presses against your back.

You fight of sleep for as long as you can manage, wanting to soak in this moment. For the first time in a long time, you finally have a reason to stay awake again.

—————

SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG

I really hope yall enjoyed it and that part 2 lived up to your expectations.

As always thank you for reading and feel free to request something that you’d like for me to write.

Love ya🫶

—————

You still come by Emily’s place, putting on your best performance, trying desperately to hide how much being there hurts. How out of place you feel now, watching the boys all happy while you feel like you’re slowly rotting away on the inside a little more every time Paul’s laughter fills your ears. It’s nauseating, how many emotions well up inside of you as such a simple sound. You don’t know if his laughter is the sweetest torture or your salvation, it’s only thing that helps lessen the void in you.

You’ll take whatever he’s willing to give you, greedily, hoarding every ounce of attention he offers willing. Take every inch that feels like miles, the glances, the half smiles, the hands on your elbows as he squeezes past you in the kitchen. You take them all, cataloging them into your mind so that you can call upon the echos of them to ease the aching hole he leaves in you. Constantly you have to remind yourself that this is all you’ll ever get, all you’ll ever know, in an attempt to save yourself from more torment by false hope. But not matter how hard you try, some small part of you will always cling tightly to that hope.

Maybe it’s just the imprint, or maybe it’s you. But you’ve never felt so empty before as you do when you don’t see Paul for weeks. It’s been about a month since the last time you saw him in person.

You’ve changed so much since the night of the rejection, barely eating or laughing, always sleeping because that’s where you could find him. It doesn’t help that Paul has been avoiding you. It’s why you’re in so much agony all the time now. A rejection you could handle, but this is so much worse.

At first you were grateful for the humiliation it saved you from but now…now the wound in your chest rips open just a little more every time he goes out of his way to not look at you, not touch you, not to speak to you. You wish so deeply that you had just kept your mouth shut that night. Having Paul as a friend was infinitely better then whatever it is that you are to him now. Better to have that inch of his affection then almost none.

It’s as you’re just some fly or a dust bunny waiting to be swatted away and finally be put out of your misery. Like Paul can’t even stand your presence anymore, like the very existence of you fills him with guilt. And when he does look at you…it’s like he pities you.

Poor little Y/N, hung up on someone who will never want them.

“You okay?” Emily’s voice cuts through your train of thoughts. You flush as the realization that you’ve just been sitting there, staring off into space instead of helping her cook. The woman is watching you very intently, worry had an evident presence upon her face and it fills her eyes as her brows frown.

“Yeah…yeah I’m good.” You say clearing your throat and forcing out the most convincing laugh you can manage. “Sorry, I was daydreaming.” Shaking your head at you put your focus back in the task before you, continuing to chop up carrots.

You feel Emily’s watchful gaze on you, she knows you’re full of shit and you know she’s fully aware of it. “Have you been taking care of yourself?” Emily’s voice cuts through the silence, and you feel her eyes boring into the side of your skull. “You don’t look like your usual self Y/N. You haven’t for weeks.” She puts a hand on your shoulder as she turns your face to look at her. You don’t meet her eyes. “Y/N what’s going on?”

You huff out a breath, and attempt to shrug her off. “Nothing, I’m fine…just a little tired that’s all.” You don’t look at Emily as you speak, partly from shame and partly out of guilt for even attempting to lie to her. One big factor about Emily is that she can call bullshit from a mile away.

“It’s about Paul…isn’t it.” Her tone is soft, and she rubs your back as your body tense at his very name. She’s not asking, she’s stating it, she knows it has everything to do with him.

“I don’t want to talk about it..” You mumble out and swallow back the burning sensation in the back of your throat, your feel your mouth beginning to water as the need to cry floods your body. “Y/N, you can-“I said I don’t want to talk about it Emily!” You snap at her, slamming the knife in your hand down and finally looking Emily in the eyes. You don’t like snapping at her, it’s something you’d never usually do but like she said…you haven’t been yourself in weeks.

Meeting her eyes is what finally breaks the dam

“Oh honey.” Emily voice is soft and gentle as she pulls you in for a hug. You cry softly, and as quietly as you can possibly manage.

A month of isolation, of sleeping for hours on end and sometimes…sometimes wishing you’d never wake up. Wishing you could keep dreaming and never have to face the loneliness and pain that has become your very existence. And it’s not all Paul’s fault, you’ve been doing it to yourself.

Not wanting to be around people because you had this deep rooted fear that everyone around you knew how broken you felt. A fear that they pitied you for it. You began to just want to be alone, preferring your own company instead of others’. For no apparent reason at all, you just wanted to sleep and keep sleeping.

It all comes out as Emily holds you, once you’ve stopped crying…you feel lighter. That hole in your chest feels a little more smaller and more bearable.

———

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that being around people you care about actually helps. They bring you joy and comfort, they make your face light up and joy fill your heart.

Of course, theres still that void in your being but it begins to shrink the more you spend time with friends and family.

You start to notice that Paul is almost hovering around you, keeping a distance but always watching you. Like a hawk, it’s confusing to say the least. If anyone even slightly flirts with you or even just speak to you, he’s chasing them off. Glaring at them, pulling them to the side to threaten them.

It’s pissing you off.

———

Somehow, a friend of yours manages to convince you to go to a party with them. Some random dude from Highschool decided to throw a ‘rager’.

So there you are, trying to have fun with a friend of yours, till some asshole starts harassing. Out of all the people in this party, this slimy guy who looks like he chews tobacco and spits it wherever the hell he wants, decided to hassle you about dancing with him. At first, you tried to politely say no. But he wouldn’t let it go. Then you told him to fuck off and he started putting his hands on you.

Before you can give this asshole a piece of you mind, Paul comes in out of fucking nowhere like a fright train and shoves the guy hard.

“They told you to back the fuck off!” Paul shouts at said random asshole. He pushed this dude hard enough for him to send him flying to the ground and causing enough of a ruckus to draw the attention of ever single individual in this living room.

“What the fuck Paul?!!” You shout at him, pushing Paul’s chest as hard as you can, and he actually stumbles backwards.

“He had no right-” Paul’s defense floods your nerves with white hot anger, as he steps towards you pointing at the man on the ground “And you do?!” You hiss out in pure, uncanny rage, cutting him off completely.

“I don’t need your fucking help Paul!” Your face is contorted into complete and utter, seething anger as you stare him down. Daring him to even so much as utter one of his witty OG cocky comebacks.

But Paul…Paul backs down, like a wounded puppy of a man. He looks down as he mutters out an uncharacteristically quiet and timid okay. And he leaves, he just walks out of the party after making a bigger fucking show. Completely unlike him.

It’s pisses you off even more and you storm right after him.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You shout after Paul as he continues walking to his truck. “Paul!!!” You yell his name and he doesn’t turn around, he just keeps storming away.

You begin to run just to catch up to him. When you do finally reach Paul he’s about to open his truck door beofre you jerk his shoulder back hard enough to get him to turn around and face you. He gets up in your face, heavy breaths and nostrils flaring. Paul looks like he’s about to phase on the spot, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t even speak to you as he gaze burns onto your face. Paul looks as intimidating as ever, but you stand your ground.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You deflate as you speak, worn out from the whiplash of Paul’s mannerisms these past couple of months. Paul doesn’t answer you, instead hus eyes widen at your question and then he just looks away from you. Paul looks as tired and exhausted as you have felt for weeks.

“Paul!” You hiss, his silent deflection of your questioning stoking up the embers of your white hot rage. You feel yourself heat up with simmering resentment as Paul looks at. “Why am I doing this to you!” Paul all but growls out, his hot headed nature finally making an entrance.

“You’re the one who’s been fucking tormenting me.” You frown at him as he shoves his face closer to your own, it only makes you more frustrated with him. The way he’s turning this all around onto you, as if he hasn’t been haunting your every waking moment.

“Oh fuck you Lahote!” You’re seething now, and get right in his face back. But Paul doesn’t so much as backpedal at your anger. “You can’t just-just act like this fucking claim that you have on me means anything to you!” Your voice cracks, and you hate it, hate that now your anger is twisting into desperation. You look away from him, and shrink into yourself.

“I know that you don’t feel the same way I do Paul!” You feel your throat burn as you speak. “You make that painfully clear all of the time. You’re the one who created this divide between us.” You glance at him, and he’s expression is pain and guilt. You look away, and pray for the ground to swallow you whole as shame, white hot and bitter, flows through your very bones. All you ever do is make things worse for Paul.

“I can’t stand the look of pity you give me all of the time Paul.” Your voice cracks. “I know I’m pathetic-“Y/N” Paul’s voice is faint and pleading as he moves towards you. “You’re not-“Oh save it!” You hiss, cutting Paul off and pushing him away from you.

“You look so ashamed of me! All the time Paul. We’re not even friends anymore so quit pretending like you actually give a shit!” Paul’s body shakes as you speak, but not out of the rage he usually feels. He hates himself, Paul has always been too much. Too arrogant, too hothead, too rash too aggressive too-You deserve something better than his mess.

He’s tried pushing you away, tried to make it easier for you to leave him. But you stay, you make him want to be better. Make him want to learn how to be better, not for the reasons he’s always had for himself. But because, for some insane reason he can’t wrap his head around, you like him for how he is now.

He can’t stand there and listen to you talk about yourself like that. Being this close to you after so long, only to see just how much damage he has done.

Paul surges forward and takes your face into his hands and he presses his lips against yours. Cutting you off and the force of the kiss has you back peddling into someone else’s vehicle. And Paul pins you there till you shove him off of you. You stare at him, shocked, and still so fucking pissed. He comes here, makes an ass of himself after weeks of keeping a distance from you.

And then he just kisses you…as if that’s going to change anything. Like it’ll cover up the fact that you have spent weeks trying to convince yourself that you’ll never belong with him, that he’ll never be yours. You’re about to keep yelling at him, but there’s a look in his eyes. Desperate…raw and pathetic, pleading. Paul has never looked at you like that before, so raw and beautiful. Your whole body heats as your breath catches at the sight of Paul’s state.

Paul tills his head to the side and breaths out hard, head shaking slightly as he shifts on his feet and his eyes scream with his silent plea. Don’t do this, just stop, I’m so tired of all of this.

You lunch yourself at Paul, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smash your lips against his. Paul grunts at the impact, as he stumbles back and his body hits his truck. But Paul springs into action almost instantaneously. Gripping your waist and tangling one of his hands into your hair, as he kisses you back with an electric and overwhelming force of emotions that flood your nervous system and warms your body. It’s heated, messy, desperate, all hands and tongue. Lungs burnings and hearts racing.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” You mange to hiss out between kisses. “I know.” Paul breaths out hard as you move to kiss his jaw. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” That makes you freeze.

You back away enough to look him in the eyes, Paul looks so mournful. “I never ment to make you feel unwanted…I just-I” Paul huffs out in frustration as he looks for the right words. You wait there, patiently, as he thinks.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Paul says softly, laughing in a self deprecating manner. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It all peices together in your head. Paul has talked to you about how much his anger scares him. Sam lost control and hurt Emily. Sam, a man Paul basically idolizes, a man Paul looks to for guidance on everything. Paul sees Sam as a better man than him, someone to inspire to be like.

“Paul.” You says softly and he looks down in shame, so you lean your forehead on his, moving your hands to cradle his face. “You are so much more than your anger.” You whisper out softly and Paul breathes out softly before he speaks.

“You’re so important to me…if I ever did anything like what Sam did to Emily-if I ever hurt you like that…I don’t think I could live with myself.” Paul’s voice shakes and he moves to hold you close. Paul hugs your tightly, warm and lovingly.

“You won’t.” You say softly and beofre Paul can disagree, you continue. “I know you won’t Paul.”

He lets himself believe you, so he hold onto you. The both of you sit there for a long while, breathing in each other’s scent, basking in each other’s warmth. The feeling of finally getting to have this kind of intimacy.

For a moment, you’re afraid this is all some dream. But the feeling of Paul’s presence, the sounds of his heartbeat and his breathing. Those are things much too sweet and beautiful for your mind to conger up.

———

Paul drives you home, and the two of you end up sleeping in the same bed. His smell fills your nose and sticks to your clothes, to your bedding. Arms warm and comforting, breaths hot and soft against the back of your neck as his chest presses against your back.

You fight of sleep for as long as you can manage, wanting to soak in this moment. For the first time in a long time, you finally have a reason to stay awake again.

—————

SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG

I really hope yall enjoyed it and that part 2 lived up to your expectations.

As always thank you for reading and feel free to request something that you’d like for me to write.

Love ya🫶