elliot.

But tonight was your final night staying with him, at least for now. No matter how much you didn't want to leave, you had responsibilities, work, a whole manner of adult things that needed tending to back in your everyday life. Not to mention Baxter had his own things to do, mainly a long list of new weddings to plan, something you certainly didn't envy him for.

But despite the fact that you'd already planned Baxter coming to stay with you about a month from now, you were upset to leave. You had to admit part of those feelings were probably left over from the last time you'd parted for a significant amount of time, but regardless of their origin, the feelings were real.

You had a sneaking suspicion that Baxter felt the same way; you'd gone to bed together an hour ago and still, neither of you had made any attempts to fall asleep. You were just laying on his chest, drawing patterns on the visible skin of his wrist. You could hear from his heartbeat that he was equally as awake.

Being this close to him forced a thought to pop up in your head, and you were too tired for your filter to stop it from being vocalised.

"I'm glad we haven't had sex yet."

You felt Baxter's chest freeze for a moment as he stopped breathing. You had caught him off guard, but only briefly, because the moment quickly passed and he soon resumed breathing and answered you.

"Oh?" he said, voice teasing. You could imagine the smirk that must be sitting on his face. "And why is that?"

Any embarrassment you felt at blurting out such a statement was overcome by the burning desire to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Because," you started, sitting up and turning around until you were hovering over him. You held yourself up with one hand and cupped his face with the other, before you slowly shifted the second hand down to his chin, before flitting your fingers gently onto his neck. As you reached his throat, he swallowed heavily, the smirk melting away, replaced by a light blush.

"Because?" he whispered, voice husky and eyes lidded.

"Because I have a feeling," you continued, speaking softly. "That the moment I get to touch you, all of you, I might-" you pressed a feather light kiss to his throat- "just-" you moved slightly further down and pressed another one on his warm skin- "become obsessed."

With the final word you pressed a kiss onto the mole on his neck, delighting in the way he shivered under you.

"If I got a taste of you now," you pulled away and ran your palm down his chest, deftly undoing the top three buttons of his pyjama shirt. His heart was beating wildly. "I'd need at least a week before I could let you out of my clutches."

"That would be quite the excuse to explain my absence to my clients," he tried to tease, but the breathlessness in his voice undermined him, as you slipped your hand beneath his shirt until your fingers were resting in between his pecs.

"Oh, believe me, Baxter, you won't be in a position to explain anything. That's a promise."

His gazed up at you with lidded eyes and you were struck by how beautiful he was. Baxter had a hold on you that you couldn't escape from. Something of a grin had settled back onto his face now, but you were more focused on the cloudy lust you could see in his eyes. Unfortunately, the moment couldn't last forever. His wild grin melted into something softer.

"I'll hold you to that," he said, gently pushing you away. He grabbed the hand on his chest with one of his and threaded your fingers together. You were forced to cease your ministrations and allow him to rebutton his shirt with his other hand. You understood his actions for what they were, though. He wasn't saying that he didn't enjoy your attention, quite the opposite, he was showing you that any further attention and your plan to wait might fall to pieces. "But as you said, now is not the moment."

You sighed loudly, but acquiesced, leaning away from him as much as your joint hands would comfortable allow. Baxter smiled up at you, cheeks still flushed.

"Don't look so disappointed," he grinned, leaning up to peck you on the lips. His lips were warm and soft and the spark the kiss lit underneath you couldn't be dampened by a little awkward nose bumping from the angle you were at.

You pressed forward and re-joined your lips when he tried to pull away. You pulled that trick three times until he was fully reclined onto the pillows and you were back to hovering over him.

Seeing no further space for escape, Baxter gently grabbed your chin with his fingers and pulled you back. Your lips disconnected with a sad, but satisfying noise.

"You're incorrigible," Baxter said, looking at you fondly. "Utterly incorrigible."

"You love it," you shot back, settling back down on his chest, recognising that the game was finished.

"I do," he replied gently, running his thumb along the back of your still conjoined hands. "Very much."

You were going to miss him, truly and deeply. You were going to miss the little snort laugh you could pry out of him on occasion, you were going to miss the way he turned to you in times of stress or anxiety, and you were definitely going to miss the way his skin felt against yours.

"Stop thinking and sleep," Baxter said suddenly, squeezing your hand. "For some reason you decided to leave before 9 AM so you need to rest."

You laughed at the disgust in his voice at the early time you'd chosen to depart.

"You don't have to get up with me, Baxter, I've told you that already."

"It's no bother," he said through gritted teeth.

You only laughed harder at the blatant lie, but you had to admit that you were looking forwarding to seeing a sleepy, disorganised Baxter see you off; it was his cutest side after all.

Baxter managed to pretend to be offended for a couple more seconds before he joined you in laughing, his chuckles jolting your head as he did.

As the laughter in the room died down, you both lay contentedly in the silence. Distantly, you could hear the cars passing outside and the sound of a neighbour's door closing on the other side of the corridor. His bedding was very soft and you idly noted that you needed to buy some nicer bedding for you bed, to entice him to stay as long as possible.

"Baxter?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

-_-_-_-_-

The first time Baxter heard the Alpha’s music was towards the end of that fateful summer, a week before he was due to say good-bye. You hadn’t been around on that particular day. Your mothers had a long list of errands that needed to be done and being the good, dutiful person that loved their parents that you were, you decided to take over some of the more tedious tasks so they could have a break. 

Baxter admired you for it. You always seemed to know when someone needed assistance and almost always stepped into help. Before meeting you, he had never known such selflessness. 

Still, you running errands for your mothers meant he was alone for the day. 

Which, once-upon-a-time, was ideal. Baxter did very much prefer his own company to that of others and often chose to spend quiet nights inside doing whatever he fancied.

But that changed when he settled into your neighborhood. 

Your gaggle of demonstrable genuine and kind compatriots had spoiled him away from the solitude he once enjoyed by gifting him friendship.You spoiled him further by offering yourself to him as something that teetered far from the line of friendship and despite refusing to label it anything other than a spring fling, Baxter was forever changed by it all. 

Being alone itched at him now, a rash under his skin that prickled and mocked his attempts to find relief. He would never admit that he wanted nothing more than to crawl under your shirt and live there.

Somehow the universe sensed his plight though because he ended up spending the day with Miranda, who texted him in the early afternoon and insisted on going for ice cream in her own demure way. 

“Yum yum yum,” she hums cheerfully as the worker handed them their ice cream bowls. There weren’t many people in the shop so there were quite a few tables available. Miranda chose one near the front of the shop, her back facing the large window that faced the street while he sat to her left, his own back to the wall. 

“So…we’ve never really hung out one-on-one before,” she starts, scooping up ice cream with her plastic spoon and directing it into her mouth. 

“We have not,” he responds casually, taking his own bite. He rattles his brain for conversation topics and settles on a few good openers, but Miranda beats him to the punch, opening up with some wild thing she and her ‘hopefully soon-to-be-partner because I will not survive if I am not their girlfriend by the end of the year’ were watching. 

Baxter quickly learns that she isn’t a ‘how is the weather’ type of person. 

It's invigorating.

It isn’t long before they are laughing hysterically over their respective partners’ antics, scraping the empty sides of their bowls in an effort to prolong their time in the shop. Baxter is tempted to order another ice cream, just to have the excuse.  

In the middle of a retelling of the time Terry got stuck in a cactus because Y/N had gotten stuck in a cactus, Miranda’s phone flashes and starts playing the chorus of a song Baxter had never heard of. She bobs her head a little as she flicks her thumb across the screen. She holds up a finger, mouthing ‘My mom’ before answering the phone call with a cheery little ‘hi mom!’

Baxter tunes the conversation out, focusing on the sound of the singer's voice. It sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. His ever growing knowledge of popular music fails him as Miranda quickly wraps up her conversation. 

“Sorry about that. Mom wanted to check in.” 

Baxter waves off the apology, “No need. It's a great thing to have - parents who love you enough to check in.” He makes sure to keep his voice steady, lest the bitter jealousy threaten to rise from the back of his throat and spit its poison.

The look in Miranda’s eyes makes him squirm in his seat. Soft and sweet but knowing still. 

“What song was that?” he diverts with an easy smile, unwilling to delve further into conversation about it, “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

Miranda perks up, picking up the unspoken need to move on, “It’s one of Y/N’s songs. They made it into a little ringtone for me.”

Those two sentences don’t compute for Baxter for a handful of moments and when they do, he doesn’t know what to do with all the information it brings forward. It must show on his face because Miranda’s big brown eyes widen.

“You don’t know?” Miranda’s mouth drops open a little before she blinks her shock away, a contemplative look forming on her pretty face, “Well actually, yeah. I can see it. It took Y/N agggeeessss before they even told us they were interested in music. The only reason we even know they make their own music is because we - Terry, Cove, and I - walked in on them recording a demo. Y/N’s really insecure about it.”

Baxter says nothing but he does blink and he considers that a win. 

Miranda continues, shrugging, “Yeah, they had a lot of complicated feelings about their adoption and what happened to their birth parents. Their moms got them into some creative type classes per a therapist’s recommendation and music stuck. Y/N writes songs about everything.”

“Everything?”

Miranda nods, the movement overly exaggerated, “Oh yeah. They wrote a whole song - verses and chorus and melodies- about how betrayed they felt when Cove ate the last donut. Cove hates it. Not because he thinks it's dumb - which, for the record, he does.” Miranda’s lips curl into a smile - one Baxter mimics because he can’t seem to stop himself. “He hates it because it's good.” She starts giggling. “He constantly starts humming his own diss track and gets mad about it when he realizes it.”

Baxter rubs his hands on his pants. It feels odd to know these private things. To be trusted with these private things. But he can’t help but need to know more. Just when he thought he knew everything there was to know about the person you are…

“Can I listen? To the song your phone plays?” “Oh yeah, absolutely!” Miranda swipes her fingers over her screen. “Hold on. I have the audio file of the whole thing.” Miranda pulls out headphones from her bag and hands them over, syncing her phone to them so they don’t disturb anyone else in the shop. 

When she presses play and the music starts, Baxter falls away from himself, lost in the way the sounds move across his synapses. You sound so different. So much more of yourself than he had known. You are so much more than he was expecting. Everything is raw and exposed, flayed open as his heart pounds and blood rushes through his ears. 

It’s terrifying. The whole thing is terrifying. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Miranda whispers, leaning in close.

He nods, the movement a little more vigorous than he would have liked but all of this has put him off balance. 

“I asked Y/N to help me write a song for Terry,” she squeaks out happily, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it just yet but when I do, it's going to be the most romantic thing ever! Terry deserves nothing less.”

His face splits into the biggest smile he has ever given, “Terry is a lucky Alpha.”

“You think so?,” Miranda bites her lip shyly.

“I know so. Any Alpha would be lucky to have you vying for their attention.” 

 He hands the headphones back with a carefully crafted smile.

-_-_-_-_-

The second time Baxter heard Alpha’s music, it was during a study group at university. Finals were approaching quickly and while he was confident he would do well, the same could not be said for some of his classmates. When they asked him to come to their final study session to have one big review party, he graciously agreed. 

A little socialization never hurts anyone, especially when one is getting a business degree with plans to open their own wedding planning business. 

When he arrives at the library, he finds all but one person accounted for. According to Luz, his lab ran long so he was going to be a little late. Which is fine. Baxter could use the time to set up his notes and engage in polite conversation. 

“So,” one of the Beta girls - Megan, if he remembers correctly, begins, addressing her friend from across the table, “I got around to listening to that song you sent me.” 

“Oh really?” Hana replies, perking up as she flips her textbook open to the correct page, “What did you think?”

“It was perfection,” Megan asserts with a solemn nod. 

“I told you,” Hana beams, “They’re a gem. It’s a shame they haven’t been discovered yet.”

“Who?” Another Beta - Barry - interrupts, looking up from his Switch with mild interest. 

“Some Alpha Hana found on youtube,” she responds, tapping away on her phone before putting it on the table in front of him and Baxter. “They don’t show their face or anything but they upload original songs. I stumbled across them when I was looking for some low-fi to study too.”

Barry nods and returns to his game, no longer interested. Baxter, however, watches with polite interest as Megan navigates the channel. 

The youtube page is bare bones at first glance despite having over 40k subscribers. A simple black and white banner and a shadow silhouette as a profile picture. Under the About tab, it says “My friends bullied me into posting. Hope you like my stuff.” with no links to any other form of social media. However, when Megan clicks on the videos tab, a plethora of videos appear, all of which have some form of the same silhouetted shadow figure in the thumbnail.

It looks a little ominous but whoever it is, at the very least, is consistent with their content. 

“How do you know it's an Alpha?” Baxter asks to avoid saying anything contrary.

Megan sighs, a dreamy sort-of sound, “They wrote this really beautiful love song a while back and there is a part where they like…use their growl in a harmony? I’m not sure if that's the right word but they use a lot of Alpha vocalizations throughout their music, either in the verse or in the background somewhere. No way an Omega or Beta roll their words with a growl like that.”

“Yeah, I’d be hard-pressed to believe they are anything other than an Alpha,” Hana agrees, “Those sounds are incredibly difficult to produce, even with AI, and a lot of the things they use to record are pretty generic. No fancy equipment or software. Just talent and a couple of instruments.”

Baxter nods as if he understands anything about how music is made, “Do you have a favorite?” 

“Oh, you do NOT want to get me started,” Megan giggles, “I have a whole playlist of favorites but right now, it's this one.”

The song is called “Smoke and Summer.” It was recorded over a year and a half ago according to the upload date. Megan allows him to sync his headphones to her phone so he can listen. When she presses play and the singer starts the first verse, everything just stops. Color melts from his vision and drains out of his face.

He knows that voice.

It's a voice he hasn’t heard in almost 2 years. Not since that fateful night where he broke up with the one Alpha that made him feel something. 

Y/N.

With practiced ease, he schools his features. The music washes over him, prickling at the soft, vulnerable part of his brain that remains at the beach with them. The words filter in one ear but don’t attach themselves to anything, pressing against his brain before dissolving into smoke. The Omega part of him screams its indignation. 

When the song ends, it takes him a moment to come back to himself. His Omega snarls and bites and claws at him, renewed anger prevalent in the face of old wounds torn open. 

“It's a lovely song,” he nods as he nudges the phone back towards Megan. He quickly puts his headphones away, desperate to separate himself from the music. 

“I’m glad you think so,” she smiles, unaware of the war raging between him and his Omega, “I’m debating on whether to send it to Chadara.”

“The Alpha from Chem?”

“Yeah. Like “I was thinking of you” with the link. Shoot my shot before the semester ends you know?”

“Don’t do it with Summer and Smoke. Do it with ‘Out of Line’ or ‘Immortal.’”     

When he gets back to his dorm several hours later, he drops his bag and his body to the floor unceremoniously. The tightening in his chest is unbelievably real. It took everything out of him to continue the day as if nothing happened. He was tired and sad. 

His phone dings with a text from Megan.

“Thanks for your help today! I appreciate you!”

It brings a small smile to his mouth despite the thrumming numbness settling over his body.

Before he can respond, she texts him again.

“Btw here is the channel from earlier, in case you wanted to listen to more. We don’t gate-keep good music in this house.”

His finger clicks the link before he can stop it, the youtube app opening on his screen. He taps on the username under the video. Clicks on the videos tab. Stutters a breath when he sees a new song has been posted within the last half hour. 

“I Think of You (When the Sun is Out).” 

His fingers hover over the song before he flicks the app away with a wobbly sigh. 

-_-_-_-_-

The third time Baxter heard Alpha’s music was during his very first consultation with clients as an independent wedding planner. The couple was young, younger than him by a few years, but their enthusiasm was delightful. Their budget was tight, and they had very little familial support so they were cashing in favors from friends for a lot of the details, but Baxter was nothing short of a miracle worker.

And when your clients are a dream to work with, one does put more effort into making dreams a reality.

“My best friend is going to be in charge of the music so we don’t have to worry about hiring someone for that,” the young Omega - Matthew - smiles, hand held tightly in his Alpha’s hand, “He has his own laptop and equipment and the venue let us do a test run so it should all work out. I emailed you his contact information in case you need to iron out extra details.”

“Wonderful,” Baxter smiles politely, updating his task list on his Ipad accordingly, “Have you decided anything regarding your first dance? Song? Dance? Are you even having one at all?” 

“Oh yes,” Matthew smiles, nearly bouncing in his seat as he reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. He unlocks it and starts tapping along the screen. “We think we are just going to do a slow waltz or something. Neither of us are very coordinated.”  

“Arata picked out the song,” he continues, “It's called ‘Wake Me Up Slow’ by Y/N L/N. The acoustic version.” 

It's like a shock of cold water, hearing your name said out loud again. An annoying, prickly part of him is annoyed that another Omega has said your name so casually and he beats it down with a stick. Ridiculous.

It's all ridiculous. He has gone out of his way to ignore any and all traces of you and yet your presence appears in his life once more. 

“I’ve never heard of them before,” the lie burns on his tongue as Matthew places his phone on his desk. On the screen there is a youtube video of you, posted from the same account that he refuses to acknowledge he memorized all those years ago, but it's discernibly different from the ones he had seen in college. 

For one, you were actually in the video front and center, clear as day. No more shadows and strategic angles hiding your face as you performed. And two, you were on a stage, performing for a group of people live from behind a large, beautiful piano. 

You look good too. Really good. So different from your teenage self but so much still the same. You matured but retained all the quirks Baxter remembers. You are you but new. Memories of what you look like pile on behind his eyes, overlaying with the person he sees on the screen. You have only grown more attractive.

It's not fair.

The beginning of the song starts to play from the small speaker, a slow and sweet piano tune that reaches through the calcified barriers of his being and strikes something tender inside of Baxter’s chest. Thankfully, the video is pretty short - whoever edited the video cut out all the extra beginning introduction bits so he didn’t have to hear you speak. 

Towards the end of the video, Baxter catches a shock of teal hair hovering by the stage for a brief second and something ugly twists in his gut and behind his tongue.

It shouldn’t. He knows it shouldn’t. Cove was your childhood friend. He’d known you years before Baxter entered the picture and he had still been your friend at the end of that summer. Cove would have been the one to help you heal over the heartache he left behind, Miranda and Terry not far behind. It wasn’t a surprise he was still lurking around all these years later. 

Baxter was the one who left after all. 

“It’s a beautiful song,” he clears his throat as the screen goes black and other recommended videos pop up, “Perfect for a first dance. Let me give you the card for one of my favorite dance instructors. I don’t have any available openings to teach you both myself but I can get you in with one of my colleagues at no cost to you. Tell her Baxter said to call and he’s cashing in a favor. She’ll know what it means.”

A lie but Baxter knew he couldn’t spend hours teaching the soon-to-be newlyweds how to waltz while one of your songs played repeatedly in the background. It was a torture he couldn’t bear. He didn’t hate himself that much. 

Besides, Hana did owe him a favor. 

“We appreciate that so much,” Matthew gushes, looking excitedly between his Alpha and Baxter, “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Make no mention of it. It’s my pleasure,” he said, the swirling lie dripping along the edges of his honesty before disappearing under it. He would lean on the truth of it. He wanted these two to have their dream wedding and he would make himself be okay with everything. 

The appointment ends soon after and he can’t close the door and lock it fast enough. His next appointment isn’t for an hour and while he should take the time to have lunch, he finds no appetite when he pulls the bento out of his bag. 

He sits back in his chair, scowling the tiniest bit at the ceiling. He had no business feeling like this. 

-_-_-_-_-

The fourth time Baxter heard Alpha’s music was in the middle of prepping for a heat in a bed at a very well-known, well-respected, high-end heat facility. The previous heat he experienced took a lot out of him, more so than normal, so he opted to spend it under the care of a team of trained professionals that can get him help should he require it for the next one. 

The facility was specifically catered to unmated Omegas, providing them all the needs and luxuries that would get them through a heat without fuss. It was private, remote, had every toy and aid known to man and some known to aliens, and had strict rules implemented for a wide variety of safety concerns. No Alphas were allowed on the premises unless they were emergency responders but the facility provided online and phone access to Alpha sex workers who had Heat Aide certifications and training. 

Baxter opted out of that particular amenity. He had no need for an Alpha’s help. His imagination was more than enough to get him through.

Well. His imagination and the fucking machine he requested be brought to his room before his arrival. 

“Alexa, play the first playlist,” Baxter whines as he attaches one of the dildos to the end of the machine and coated it in lube. The set-up he had chosen was called Elite, designed to fuck him for 30-45 minutes depending on the setting with several dildos that all had the ability to knot and pump him full of fake seed. The lube they provided was scented with generic Alpha pheromones to give the illusion of being taken by a real Alpha. 

Slick soaked the bedding underneath him, the heat coming on much quicker than normal. Normally, he had a day of slow build-up. Arousal simmering deep in his belly to be teased out before overflowing and sending him deep into heat space.

It was not the case this time apparently. 

“Playing ‘Heat List 1 - Harmony of Hearts.”

It wasn’t a crime to listen to love songs while he fucked himself blind okay? Mind your business and let him live. 

The song starts as he gets comfortable against the pillows, legs spread wide as he guides the tip of the dildo inside of him. The stretch is delicious as the head of the fake cock pops inside.

Baxter jolts when he hears your voice come through the speakers, his finger pressing on a button on the remote in reflex. The machine whirs to life, the dildo suddenly pressing all the way inside of him before retreating slowly.

He throws his head back, pleasure shooting through his body despite the shock. He hadn’t been expecting to hear your voice. Not in this scenario. Not like this. 

Not when he was hot and needy and at his most vulnerable. 

Your voice croons over the speakers, coaxing long suppressed Omega vocalizations that he barely knows the name of from the back of his throat. His back arches as the machine speeds up, the dildo rubbing against his sweet spot with every perfectly timed thrust. 

A memory of that summer flings to the front of his mind without his permission. He had gotten bold one night, forgetting himself to the delight of being so adored by you. The bonfire had died down to slow rising embers. The others had all departed for the night, leaving him alone with you as you packed up. 

An overwhelming need to kiss you had overtaken him, a familiar feeling at the time, and he, for once, decided to take it. He crawled into your lap, nice and gentle, before taking your mouth with his own. His hands had slipped around your shoulders and down your back, his hips grinding tiny circles against your crotch as you took control. 

You both had gotten excited - your hardness pressed against him as he dampened his underwear with slick - but stopped before it could go beyond grinding. He wore out the batteries of his favorite toy that night after you dropped him off at home, nose buried in his own shirt that smelt so heavily of your pheromones that it could have been mistaken as yours. He obsessed over the girth he had felt in your pants, craving the taste of it on his tongue and inside his body. 

As the machine picks up a more punishing pace, he wonders where you are. If you think of him still. If you think of him like he thinks of you when he’s alone and there is nothing to distract his mind from his darkest moments.

Do you miss him?

He misses you. 

Years of denial have paved the way towards acceptance and acknowledgment. He misses you. He made a huge mistake in leaving you behind without so much as even an email address. He was too stupid, too blind to see what was before him. How special what you had was. How special you were. 

How special you still are.

The song has been long over and replaced with several others when the machine finally slows down enough for the dildo’s knot to swell, lock, and pump him full of fake Alpha cum. It's warm and sticky but it feels wrong.

All of it feels wrong. 

It's not you in his bed. It's not you sharing in his heat. It's not your cock inside of him. It's not your cum warming him from the inside. His neck is without your claim and his body is untouched by your hands and he has forgotten what you taste like on his tongue and it's all so very wrong. 

Tears leak from the corner of his eyes as another one of your songs comes through on the speakers. His body convulses gently as he’s fucked on the knot inside of him, the machine gently rocking in the way an Alpha might rock into their Omegas as they cum. 

When the fake knot goes down, he turns the machine off and pushes it away from him, curling up into a ball. 

Would you even want him back? After everything? After all this time? Could he earn your forgiveness?

He had to try. 

-_-_-_-_-

The fifth time Baxter heard Alpha’s music, it wasn’t actually the fifth time. 

Listening to his mate had become a daily occurrence once you reconnected. Music rested heavily in your bones, lifeblood that thrummed in damn near everything you did. Miranda had been correct all those years ago. You wrote songs about everything. The only difference now is that you are loud and confident about it, unabashedly finding lyrics and tunes and melodies in the most mundane things.

Baxter still can’t get over how you made a whole chart-topping love song revolving around the sounds drops of rain made as they dripped slowly from a random drainpipe in the middle of the city. He watched the process of creating that particular song from beginning to end and he still has very little idea how your brain created something so large from something so small. He was, and is, still so enthralled by the beauty of it.

So enthralled by your beauty.

Baxter does his best not to fall into melancholy over everything he missed during the years of your separation. The regret will stick to him for the rest of his life but what matters now is that he gets to hear it every day, whenever he wants, right from the source instead of over a speaker.

He endeavors to not let his second chance go to waste. He was not one to make the same mistake twice.

“I wrote something for you,” you grin as you sit down opposite him on the large couch. He puts his book down immediately, eyebrow quirking up to mask the immediate jolt of excitement he feels. 

“You write a lot of things for me,” he responds, his own grin spreading across his face, “What is it this time? A ditty about my new haircut? A single about the suit I wore to work last week with the gold cuff detail? A melody inspired by songs of me rummaging in the bathroom after a bath?”

“Nah, none of that,” you laugh sheepishly, “But like, fuck you.” You punctuate your expletive with hitting a pillow to his legs.

Baxter can’t help but laugh, “I kid. Tell me. Seriously. What is it?”

“A love song,” you start, your scent shifting heavily around you in a manner Baxter is incredibly familiar with. His eyes darken as you crawl over him, resting on your arms to keep most of your weight off of him. Wetness starts to form between his legs as you settle between them. 

“Oh?” He swallows thickly, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. 

“Mhmm,” you hum, ducking down to get at his neck. His eyes flutter shut at the sensation, back arching up to press his chest into yours. 

“Thats…” he huffs, breathing suddenly incredibly difficult as you work over an incredibly sensitive spot on his neck, “That's…nothing new…oh!”

“I know,” you croon, pulling away to look down at him once more. “But this one is more specific.” 

“Tell me,” Baxter commands, hands wrapping around his mate to press them closer, “What about this new love song makes it different from the other ones you’ve written for me?” 

*a month after their meeting*

ch: jungsoo

ch: hypothetically, what if your ingame crush with cute anime girls avatar is an ahjussi on his 30 and very masculine one?

cjs: what

ch: this might sounds crazy, instead being upset, im liking him even more??

ch: jungsoo. am i gay?