angst daffodil

GONE BY MORNING

fluff / smut / angst (18+)

word count: 13.2k

SUMMARY: The year is 1984 and she never asked for this, but when you fall in love with Michael Jackson, life becomes loud. For an entire year, they've built this loudy, messy, tender life together. For the first time in a long time, she was happy, believing that despite the whirlwind that came along with the Jackson craze, Michael's love was unwavering. But the road to fame has many victims and she just might be one. Whispers she tries to ignore, nights when he doesn't come home and the gnawing feeling that she's not the only one he gives himself to continue to grow. When a tabloid photo splashes across the morning headlines, proving what she always feared, she has no choice but to call him from a thousand miles away and hears the truth in the silence.

GONE BY MORNING (part 2)

fluff / smut / angst (18+)

word count:

You didn’t know how long you sat there on the edge of your bed, staring at him through the blur of your own tears. The room felt too quiet — except for Marvin Gaye’s voice drifting from the record player in the corner.

The song felt cruel now. Ironically foreshadowing the impending arrival of heartbreak you knew was coming your way.

The very thought of it made you physically ill, you could practically throw up.

Michael stood across from you, hands trembling at his sides, eyes shining with a sadness he was trying — and failing — to hide from you. He looked like he wanted to come closer. He looked like he wanted to walk away. He looked like he wanted to take every word back and swallow them whole.

To hold you and chase away every drop of sorrow he’s implemented on you all in the span of 5 minutes.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, breathing unevenly as he watched you slowly fall apart.

You wiped your cheeks quickly, trying to stifle the sob building in your throat. You didn’t want him to see you cry. You didn’t want to make this harder. You didn’t want to give Joseph the satisfaction to experience your pain in the slightest, but nonetheless, your body continued to push the boundaries of betrayal.

A quiet, broken sound slipped out — small, but sharp enough to make Michael flinch like he’d been struck.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Just… please don’t…”

You shook your head, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as another tear slid down your cheek.

“I’m trying,” you choked out. Your eyes are squeezed shut so tightly it started to ache.

He took a step forward — then stopped himself, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, voice trembling. “'Swear I don’t. But Joseph… he keeps saying that I’m losing focus…and I got uh, a problem.”

Your breath hitched.

“And you believe him? You think I’m a problem?”

Michael’s eyes squeezed shut, and he shook his head, longer than he should, like he was trying to shake the thought out of his skull.

“No, ‘course not. I just — I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he whispered. “I just know he won’t stop. And I’m tired. I’m so tired, baby.”

You stood slowly, legs unsteady, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

You walked toward him until you were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. He didn’t move, didn’t try to reach out for you, or pull away. He just stood there. He couldn’t even look you in the eye, but you could see that they were glossed over, reflecting a mental battle of fighting his own tears from streaming down his warm cheeks.

“Michael,” you whispered, voice breaking, “I love you. Isn’t that enough?” His face contorted, and he swallowed.

“It should be,” he says shakily, “but not for him.”

You reached for his hand — the same hand that had held yours on late‑night drives in the back seat, on Ferris wheels, in the comfort of this very bedroom — but he hesitated.

“I don't know, sweetheart. I’m scared,” he admitted, voice barely audible. “I’m scared of losing you… of choosing the wrong thing.”

Your throat tightens, frustration building in your throat.

He was being a coward. Running away from his own dreams and his own conscience. And for the first time, he pissed you off.

“Nah, you’re not choosing wrong, Mike. You’re choosing fear. And you’re trying to find ways to please your father with the excuse of everybody else.”

The truth hurts him more than anything.

“Baby—”

“Michael, you can’t let him take your life away from you. From us."

The pain in his eyes was enough to make your heart fall impossibly further.

“I don’t want him to, I just — I don’t know what to do.”

You nodded, tears falling silently down your cheeks. There's a pause in the air.

“Right,” you said, "then go ahead. If you're considering breaking up with me, at least do it all the way." You look dead into his eyes, trying your absolute hardest to restore your composure, but he can see it.

Your heart feels like it could shrivel up and give out at any given moment, and he sees it. He sees it so clearly that you know you have to turn your back to mask the vulnerability etched into your features.

Then there was silence.

Silence so still, so intense, not even a blade of forgiveness could cut through the heartbreak you were experiencing.

And he did nothing but watch.

He felt so conflicted, so into his own head, he didn't even know how to comfort you. Especially when he was the root of your sorrow. But he reached out hesitantly, stopping himself inches away from your shoulder, fingers trembling.

"I love you," he said, voice shaking. "I love you so much—"

"No. Don't do that shit to me. Just don't." Your words shook through him. His breath caught in his throat. "You don't get to leave me high and dry for weeks on end, then tell me you love me while giving me your ass to kiss."

He swallowed hard, eyes widening with a mix of guilt and devastation. He's never heard you speak like this, let alone to him. You have always been so soft spoken — reserved — just like he was. He couldn't even imagine the way you were looking at him right now. He became a stranger in your world.

A sad stranger who would do anything to please his father at the cost of his dreams.

"I wasn't trying to—" he started, but the words died in his throat. Because you were right. I mean, what could he possibly say to you?

All roads led back to Joseph. Excusing his behavior. Just excuses. All of them.

You wiped your cheeks with your palms, but the tears kept flowing, sliding down your face faster than you could catch them.

"You didn't even call. Not once. Not even to check on me, or to let me know that you were okay. You just vanished." You sniffle, walking to your bed again, sitting on the edge that faced away from him. You couldn't even look at him anymore.

"I wanted to protect you," he says, walking over to you, crouching in between your knees, a desperate plea to look you in the eyes again. "I thought if I stayed away, he'd leave you alone."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh slipping through your tears.

"And all you did was prove him right."

...

"If you're going to continue to follow behind his shadow, then he's right.

We can't do this anymore."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

steve harrington had once been the kind of boy everyone looked at.

not because he was kind, not because he was thoughtful, not because there was anything particularly deep about him back then, but because he was easy to notice. loud in all the ways that mattered in high school. charming when he wanted something. careless with people’s feelings when he thought he could be. the kind of boy that walked through the halls like the whole place belonged to him.

and then, somewhere along the way, he changed.

you never really asked him exactly when it happened, because in your mind, steve had always just been steve. the version of him that showed up at your side one rainy afternoon senior year with a split lip, tired eyes, and a softness to him that hadn’t been there before. quieter. humbler. still funny, still stupidly handsome, still capable of flashing that crooked grin that made your stomach flip in the most embarrassing way, but gentler. like life had knocked something loose inside him and replaced it with something better.

he always said that meeting you was what finished the job.

“you made me better” he’d told you once, half asleep, head resting in your lap while you played absently with his hair. his voice had been heavy with sleep, soft enough that you almost thought you imagined it. “seriously. i was kind of a dick before you.”

you laughed, because steve always said things so honestly that it caught you off guard.

“kind of?”

he’d opened one eye, smiling lazily.

“okay. huge dick. but now i hold doors open and care about people’s feelings, so.”

you smiled at the memory even now, because that was what loving steve had been for so long. easy. warm. full of little moments that tucked themselves into your chest and stayed there.

he loved hard, steve did.

he was soft with you in ways no one else got to see. he remembered small things. how you liked the corners of brownies more than the middle pieces, how cold your hands always got, how you couldn’t sleep unless there was some kind of noise in the room. he’d drive across town at midnight just because you casually mentioned craving fries. he kissed your forehead when he thought you were asleep. he held your hand like he meant it.

when it was just the two of you, everything felt simple.

which was why this hurt so much.

because somewhere along the line, you started feeling like you were sharing him with something you couldn’t see.

at first, it was easy enough to ignore.

steve would disappear for a few hours, sometimes a whole day, with some vague excuse that never really made sense when you thought about it later. helping a friend. car trouble. work stuff. family thing.

always something.

and then he’d come back.

sometimes exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days.

sometimes bruised.

once with a cut split across his ribs, wrapped poorly beneath his shirt, his face twisting when you touched him by accident.

“basketball thing” he’d said quickly, not meeting your eyes.

you stared at him.

“steve, you don’t play basketball.”

a beat of silence.

then,

“right. yeah. uh… helping dustin practice?”

the lie had been so bad it almost made you laugh.

almost.

but you didn’t.

because underneath the ridiculous excuse was something worse, fear. real fear, buried deep in his eyes, covered over quickly with that familiar easygoing smile he wore whenever he wanted you to stop asking questions.

and because you loved him, you let it go.

or at least, you pretended to.

the truth was, every time he left, your mind tortured you with possibilities.

every phone call after midnight made your stomach drop.

every siren in town made your chest tighten.

every time he came home bruised but smiling, acting like it was nothing, you smiled back and then laid awake for hours beside him, staring at the ceiling while your thoughts spiraled into places so dark they made you sick.

what if next time he doesn’t come back? what if next time it’s worse than bruises? what if next time someone calls me instead?

it ate at you quietly.

slowly.

and sometimes not so quietly.

there were fights, god, there were fights.

small ones, where irritation simmered just beneath the surface.

bigger ones, where voices got raised and tears got involved and steve stood there looking torn apart by things he refused to explain.

“just trust me,” he’d say, frustrated in that way that made his voice rough around the edges. “please. i just- i can’t tell you.”

“why not?” you’d snap back, tears burning hot in your eyes. “i’m your girlfriend, steve. i’m the one sitting here wondering if you’re alive every time you disappear.”

his whole face would crumble at that because he hated hurting you. you knew that much.

he’d pull you close afterward, forehead resting against yours, arms tight around your waist like he was scared you’d slip away if he loosened his grip even a little.

“i love you,” he’d whisper, voice cracked and exhausted. “you know that, right?” and every single time, your heart betrayed you.

because it was always him.

it would always be him.

so you stayed. you stopped prying. you became what he seemed to need. steady, patient, there.

even when it hurt.

even when loneliness started settling into the corners of your relationship, quiet and cold and impossible to ignore.

and then hawkins changed.

the so-called earthquakes hit, ripping fear through the town like wildfire, leaving everyone uneasy, suspicious, grieving things no one could fully explain.

and steve got worse.

gone more often.

harder to reach.

more distracted when he was with you, like half of him was always somewhere else.

you’d be talking and catch him staring off. not bored, not uninterested, just distant. tense. like his body sat beside you, but his mind was trapped somewhere darker.

somewhere you couldn’t follow.

and loneliness turned sharp. ugly. selfish thoughts started creeping in, thoughts you hated yourself for having but couldn’t stop.

nancy.

his ex, his first love.

she was there, woven into that strange little group of his he kept so fiercely protected. always somewhere in the background whenever he disappeared. always somehow involved.

you didn’t even know how the thought rooted itself so deep in your chest, only that once it was there, it poisoned everything.

first loves mattered, didn’t they?

people always said that.

first loves stayed with you.

what if that was where his heart went when he looked so far away?

what if the distance between you wasn’t because of secrets but because part of him was finding his way back to her?

you hated yourself for thinking it. hated the jealousy. hated the bitterness. hated how small it made you feel.

but late at night, alone in your bed while steve was somewhere you weren’t allowed to know about, your mind whispered cruel things into the silence.

he used to look at you like you were everything.

when was the last time he really looked at you at all?

and for the first time since loving steve harrington had become as natural as breathing, you found yourself wondering how much longer love alone could hold something together when everything else was quietly falling apart.

-

you didn’t bring it up that morning.

there had been a time when anniversaries meant something big to steve, not in some over-the-top, flowers-and-grand-gestures kind of way, but in the way that mattered. he remembered dates. remembered little details. remembered things you’d mentioned once in passing months ago and somehow tucked away in that head of his for later.

he remembered you.

so when you woke up that morning and he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before rushing out, distracted and halfway somewhere else already, you told yourself it was fine.

he was busy, his mind was crowded, the day was long.

he’d remember.

of course he’d remember.

and truthfully, you weren’t asking for much.

you weren’t expecting some fancy dinner, or gifts wrapped in ribbons, or anything worthy of a movie scene. that had never really been the two of you anyway. your favorite moments with steve had always been the quiet ones. the ordinary ones that somehow felt extraordinary simply because they were yours.

takeout spread across the coffee table. his socked feet kicked up on the couch until you told him off. stupid conversations that somehow turned deep at two in the morning. talking about everything and absolutely nothing until one of you fell asleep against the other.

that was what you wanted.

just him.

fully, completely there for one night.

so you waited.

you ordered food later than usual so it would still be warm when he got home. set out plates. lit the candle on the table, the one that smelled like vanilla and cedarwood because steve once offhandedly said the place always smelled nice when you burned it. you changed into one of his old sweaters, soft from years of wear and faintly carrying that familiar scent that made your chest ache in ways you didn’t like thinking about.

and you waited.

six o’clock passed.

then seven.

your food got cold.

by eight, you’d finally put it in the fridge. by nine, you stopped checking the window every time headlights passed. and by the time he was three hours late, something quiet inside you had started to crack.

not loudly just a soft little fracture in the place that kept believing he’ll come through. he always comes through.

because lately, he didn’t.

you stood by the front window for a long moment, staring out at the dark street, arms wrapped around yourself against a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

then, almost automatically, you flicked on the porch light, because steve hated coming home to a dark house.

said it made him feel strange. too quiet, too empty, like nobody was waiting for him.

the irony of that made something bitter settle in your throat.

still, you left it on.

because no matter how hurt you were, some part of you would always leave the light on for him.

you got into bed with a book, curling beneath the blankets with only your bedside lamp on. reading had always been your escape, an easy way to disappear into somebody else’s story when your own thoughts got too loud.

even if it only worked for a chapter at a time.

you were halfway through rereading the same paragraph for the fourth time when you finally heard the front door open downstairs.

your whole body went still.

then footsteps making their way up the stairs.

steve. home. late.

you set your book down in your lap and stared at the doorway, heart beating for reasons you didn’t want to unpack.

when he stepped into the room and saw you awake, his whole face softened instantly.

a smile spread across his mouth. that warm, crooked smile that had once made every bad thing disappear.

“hey, honey” he said quietly, voice rough with exhaustion. “you’re still up?”

like nothing was wrong. like tonight was just another night. like he hadn’t forgotten.

and in that awful, sharp little moment, you knew.

there was no excuse sitting on the tip of his tongue. no frantic apology already forming. no sheepish shit, baby, work ran late or i got caught up helping someone.

nothing.

because he simply hadn’t remembered.

he forgot.

forgot your anniversary.

forgot you sitting here waiting.

forgot the plans that were never really plans at all. just time together, which somehow hurt worse, because it was so simple. so easy. all he had to do was come home.

your chest tightened painfully.

it wasn’t anger that hit first it was heartbreak.

that quiet, sinking kind.

the kind that settles heavy in your ribs and makes you wonder if maybe one day, without meaning to, someone can slowly stop choosing you.

before he could notice the tears threatening behind your eyes, before he could ask what was wrong, you pulled the blankets tighter around yourself, offered him a small, tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach your eyes, and said softly,

“happy anniversary, steve.”

it was like watching a building collapse in real time.

his smile vanished instantly.

all color drained from his face.

his expression crumpled into something horrified, completely, utterly devastated.

“oh, fuck.”

barely louder than a whisper.

then,

“baby-”

he was moving before you could blink, crossing the room in a rush and dropping onto the bed beside you hard enough to shake the mattress.

“oh my god, i’m a fucking idiot” he breathed, hands immediately reaching for yours, clutching them tight like you might disappear. “shit- shit, i’m so sorry. i’m so, so sorry.”

the apologies came spilling out of him in a frantic mess.

he kept shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself.

“i forgot- jesus christ, i forgot- and there’s no excuse for that, there’s no fucking excuse-”

his voice cracked.

his eyes looked glassy in the dim light.

“you deserve so much better than this. than me acting like this.” he swallowed hard, squeezing your hands tighter. “i love you. you know i love you, right? more than anything. i would never- i never meant to make you feel forgotten.”

and that was what made your heart ache most because steve looked genuinely shattered.

because he’d never forgotten before. not once.

which only confirmed what you’d quietly feared for months now, something serious was happening.

something bigger than the lies, bigger than the bruises, bigger than your fights.

and for the first time, it seemed like steve was finally seeing it too. seeing how whatever held him so tightly was slowly pulling him away from you.

how it was slipping between the cracks of your relationship and making a home there.

he pulled you into him, arms wrapping around you tightly, his face buried in your hair while he whispered apology after apology against your skin. soft kisses pressed to your temple, your cheek, your forehead.

desperate little things.

like if he loved you hard enough in that moment, it might undo the hurt.

eventually, quietly, you let it go.

because what was the point in fighting?

another argument was just another brick in the wall growing between you. another step closer to losing him.

and losing steve-

you weren’t sure you could survive that yet.

he was your first love. your only love.

you didn’t have a nancy tucked somewhere in your past. a first love to fall back on, or compare him to, or use as proof that life kept moving after heartbreak.

for you, there was only steve.

always steve.

and sometimes, on your loneliest nights, you thought awful things.

like wishing there was somebody else.

just to see if it would make him nervous. just to see if he’d know what it felt like, this constant quiet ache, this gnawing insecurity, this fear that someone else had pieces of him you never would.

to wonder if he was drifting. to wonder if you were being left behind.

it made you feel cruel.

but loneliness could make ugly thoughts bloom where love used to sit untouched. or maybe that was just what your loneliness did.

so it became another night of whispered promises into the dark.

another night of steve murmuring i’m gonna make it up to you, i swear. i’ll fix this. i promise, baby.

another night of his arm draped over your waist as sleep took him quickly, too quickly, while you lay awake staring at the ceiling.

wondering what your life would look like in five years. wondering if steve would still be beside you for it. wondering if loving someone was enough to keep them.

and despite everything, despite the hurt, the distance, the fear, you still found yourself holding onto one quiet hope like it was something sacred.

you hoped he’d be there.

-

to his credit, steve did make it up to you.

or at least, he tried.

the next morning, he stayed.

no rushed kiss goodbye while his mind sat somewhere far away. no muttered excuse about needing to be somewhere. no distracted glances toward the clock like he was counting down the minutes until he had to leave again.

he stayed.

and somehow, with steve, that simple thing felt monumental.

it felt like breathing again after being underwater too long.

the two of you spent the day tangled up in each other’s company like nothing had changed. lazy, soft hours stretched out in that beautiful kind of ordinary that had once been the foundation of your relationship. he made breakfast, burnt toast and eggs that were somehow both runny and overcooked, and acted offended when you laughed at him for it. you stole bites off his plate anyway.

he complained dramatically, then kissed you with a smile still on his mouth.

you watched movies neither of you paid attention to, more focused on talking over them than whatever was happening onscreen. he laid with his head in your lap while you played with his hair, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his face looked relaxed.

really relaxed.

no tension in his jaw. no haunted distance in his eyes. just steve.

your steve.

the boy you fell in love with.

at one point, he looked up at you, sunlight spilling over his face, warming his skin gold, and gave you that crooked little smile that still made your stomach flip after all this time.

“missed this” he said quietly.

your fingers paused in his hair.

“me too.”

his eyes softened in that way that always made your chest ache.

“missed you.”

and god, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

one soft sentence from him and suddenly every wall you’d spent months carefully building around your heart crumbled like they were never there to begin with.

because loving steve had always been easy, it was waiting for him that hurt.

that day felt like being seventeen again.

like you were back at the beginning, when the world was small and simple and it was just the two of you against everything else. when loving him felt certain.

for a little while, you let yourself sink into it. let yourself believe maybe this was him coming back to you. maybe whatever had him slipping through your fingers was loosening its grip.

maybe things were finally going to be okay.

but you’d learned by now that good things in hawkins rarely lasted long.

the next morning, he was gone before you woke.

the space beside you was cold and somehow that felt worse than watching him leave.

there wasn’t even a note.

just silence.

you stared at the dent his body left in the mattress for a long time before finally dragging yourself out of bed.

and that night, because of course he came home late, if he came home at all, he returned with another cut splitting the skin high on his cheekbone, bruising already blooming purple beneath it.

you touched it gently, heart sinking.

“what happened?”

his answer came too quickly.

“walked into a shelf at work.”

you looked at him.

he looked away.

another lie. another bruise. another piece of him you couldn’t reach.

still, you waited for him. still left the porch light on. still made sure there was something in the fridge he liked. still checked the locks before bed because he always forgot.

still slept on your side, leaving room for him on the other half of the mattress even on nights he never came home.

because at least you still had him in some form.

that was what you told yourself.

some steve was better than no steve wasn’t it?

loneliness settled into routine, heartbreak made a home inside your daily life.

you stopped expecting him for dinner. stopped asking when he’d be back. stopped texting after midnight when worry started chewing holes through your chest.

you simply left the porch light on for him to switch off when he got home.

proof he’d been there. proof he came back. proof he was alive.

until one morning, you walked downstairs and found it still glowing. bright against the pale morning light filtering through the windows.

he hadn’t turned it off, he hadn’t come home.

your stomach dropped so hard it made you dizzy.

but then you told yourself not to panic.

maybe he got held up, maybe he stayed with a friend.

the next morning, it was still on again. and the morning after that.

you started dreading sunrise, because every trip downstairs became another quiet confirmation that your boyfriend wasn’t coming home.

and recently, you’d discovered there was almost no feeling worse than standing barefoot in your cold kitchen at seven in the morning, reaching over to switch off the porch light he should’ve turned off hours ago.

that had become your new least favorite thing.

worse than the lies. worse than the bruises. worse than the fights.

because this felt like absence.

real, tangible absence.

it got bad enough that you started calling the radio station just to make sure he was alive.

which was humiliating, heartbreaking, and somehow still not enough to stop you.

robin would answer sometimes, voice distracted and rushed, but kind enough.

“yeah, he’s here” she’d say.

or-

“he was here, ran out for something.”

or-

“he’s okay.”

always okay. always alive.

but frantic, always frantic.

and that word lodged itself somewhere deep in your chest.

frantic.

what kind of life was he living that frantic became a constant state?

when you did see him, it was brief.

passing kisses. half-finished conversations. a quick touch at your waist as he moved past you. sleep-heavy apologies whispered into your hair before he disappeared again.

ghosts of intimacy.

echoes of what you used to have.

sometimes he felt more like a memory than your boyfriend.

and eventually you started doing what felt necessary to survive it. you started trying to disconnect.

little things at first.

not waiting up. not checking the window. not letting your heart leap at every passing set of headlights.

trying not to build your whole day around whether or not steve harrington would come home.

trying to loosen your grip before life ripped him away from you entirely.

it hadn’t worked, not even slightly.

if anything, trying made you realise just how deeply rooted he was in every part of you.

every habit. every hope. every plan for the future.

the thought of untangling yourself from him felt like trying to tear skin from bone.

impossible.

and the fact you’d even thought about it even for a second hurt more than anything else. because you never thought it would come to this.

never once.

not when you were seventeen and kissing him in empty parking lots. not when he first whispered i love you against your lips. not when you pictured forever and every version of it had steve standing beside you.

never.

but now, lying awake in an empty bed more nights than not, staring at a ceiling that had become far too familiar you found yourself wondering something that made tears quietly slip into your hairline.

when does loving someone stop being enough?

-

one morning, it all just hit you at once.

there was no big moment, no fresh lie that finally snapped whatever thread had been keeping you tied together.

it was quieter than that.

almost cruel in how ordinary it felt.

you were standing in the kitchen, still half asleep, staring absently at the coffee pot while it brewed, when this heavy sort of clarity settled over you all at once.

you couldn’t keep doing this.

your chest tightened immediately, like even thinking it was some kind of betrayal.

but the thought stayed.

you couldn’t keep living in limbo, loving someone who felt like they were constantly halfway out the door. you couldn’t keep waking up with dread already curled in your stomach. couldn’t keep wondering every night if he was alive, if he was hurt, if he was with her, if he was simply somewhere he’d rather be.

you couldn’t keep leaving the porch light on like some sad little ritual of devotion while your own heart slowly wore itself thin.

it was too much now and admitting that to yourself made bile rise hot in your throat.

because if it was too much, what came next?

the end.

the thought was so awful you almost laughed.

the end? with steve?

ridiculous.

there had never been an ending in your mind, only steve, in every version of your future, woven so deeply into it that imagining life without him felt blank and shapeless.

but reality had started looking very different from what you imagined at seventeen.

so, quietly, you made a plan.

one final little bargain with yourself.

you’d wait, really wait. one last time.

you’d stay up as late as you could, and if he came home, if he walked through that front door at all, you’d stay. you’d hold on a little longer. keep trying. keep loving him through whatever this was.

but if he didn’t, that was it. or at least, it had to be something.

the thought made you feel sick.

still, you committed to it.

you stayed downstairs until midnight, curled up on the couch with the television humming quietly in the background, though you couldn’t have told anyone what was playing. every pair of headlights outside made your heart leap stupidly into your throat before sinking again.

twelve-thirty.

one.

one-fifteen.

by one-thirty, exhaustion finally settled heavy into your bones.

you stood, rubbed your tired eyes, and switched on the porch light.

the warm yellow glow spilled over the front garden like hope you weren’t ready to let go of.

then you went upstairs.

waited in bed.

told yourself you’d stay awake just for a little while longer.

somewhere between one thought and the next, sleep dragged you under without permission.

and when you woke the other side of the bed was untouched.

your heart sank before your feet even hit the floor.

still, some desperate little part of you rushed downstairs hoping, hoping for anything.

a jacket tossed over a chair. his boots by the door. proof he’d been there.

instead, the porch light still burned brightly in the pale morning sun.

waiting for someone who never came home.

you stood there for a long moment, staring at it then quietly switched it off. the click sounded louder than it should have.

something final about it.

you made coffee on autopilot, standing in your kitchen wrapped in silence, mug warming your hands while your mind replayed every moment from the last few months over and over again.

trying to find something hopeful buried in it.

some sign that this was temporary.

some proof that what you had was still there, untouched beneath all the distance and secrets.

some light in the situation, something that wasn’t just the damn porch light you kept leaving on for him.

but when you really looked at it, honestly looked, all you saw was yourself waiting.

waiting for explanations. waiting for him to come home. waiting for him to choose you. waiting for things to go back to how they were.

your whole life had quietly become waiting.

and that realisation hurt almost more than anything else.

so you came to a compromise. something gentler than ending it. something that still left a thread between you.

a break.

not breaking up.

god, no. even thinking those words made your stomach twist painfully.

just space.

a pause, time to breathe. time to think. time to stop waiting every second of every day for someone who wasn’t there.

it still made you feel sick.

but it felt survivable. barely.

at five that evening, you called the radio station. your hands shook the whole time. when steve answered, his voice was breathless and rushed, noise humming loudly in the background.

“family vide- uh- sorry, wsqk, steve speaking-”

“steve.”

he went quiet instantly.

the panic in his voice softened into concern.

“baby? you okay?”

your throat tightened painfully at the name.

“can you come home for a second?” you asked quietly. “it’s important. i… i need you here.”

something in your voice must have reached him, because there was no excuse.

no i’m busy. no later.

just “yeah. okay. i’m coming now.”

then silence. and waiting.

though somehow this waiting felt different.

heavier.

when steve finally got there, he looked like hell.

tired eyes. messy hair. fresh bruising dark against his jaw.

his shirt wrinkled like he’d thrown it on without thinking.

and underneath it all, that familiar frantic energy buzzing under his skin.

he looked nervous the second he saw your face. terrified, almost.

you sat him down on the couch, and before he could speak, before he could ask everything alright, baby? in that soft voice that would make your resolve crumble, you forced yourself to talk.

and once you started, it all came pouring out.

how strange it was that he disappeared constantly. how every lie felt worse than the last. how lonely you’d become while still technically being in a relationship.

how it felt like loving a ghost sometimes.

how you still loved him so much it physically hurt, but you didn’t know how much more of this version of loving him you could survive.

tears came somewhere in the middle.

then more.

quiet ones at first, then heavier.

steve looked completely shattered.

panic overtook his whole face.

“no- no, baby, please-”

his voice cracked hard.

you’d never seen him look so scared.

because for all the monsters he fought in secret losing you was what terrified him most.

he reached for your hands desperately, tears gathering in his own eyes.

“i can fix this,” he said quickly, voice breaking. “i swear to god, i can fix it. just give me time- please. i love you. you’re the best thing in my life, you know that- you know that-”

and god, he meant it.

every word.

that was the tragedy of it.

he loved you, you never doubted that. but love was starting to feel hollow when everything else around it kept breaking.

you listened. you really did.

but every promise felt empty, not because he was lying, but because he’d made them before and nothing changed.

so, through tears on both sides, shaking voices and broken hearts you settled on space. somewhat of a break. a thin, fragile line drawn where there had once only ever been certainty.

steve cried.

actually cried.

face buried against your shoulder while he held you like someone was tearing the ground out from under him.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he whispered desperately into your skin. “soon. i promise. i’ll fix this. please believe me.”

you held him.

kissed his cheek.

pretended you believed him.

maybe this was for the best.

maybe loving each other wasn’t enough right now.

maybe time apart would either save what you had or prove it was already gone.

and after that you didn’t see him.

which should have felt normal by now. but the unusual thing was, this time, you weren’t waiting for him to come back.

-

a few weeks passed in quiet.

not peaceful quiet, not healing quiet, just silence.

the kind that settled heavy over everything and made the house feel bigger than it was. emptier. colder somehow, even with summer pressing warm hands against the windows.

you kept yourself busy where you could. read more books than you could keep track of, spent evenings out when friends dragged you along, started leaving dishes in the sink overnight just because nobody was there to teasingly complain about it.

little rebellions against the life you’d built around waiting.

and still, somehow, steve was everywhere.

in the old sweatshirt hanging over the back of your bedroom chair. in the stupid mug he always used because he claimed coffee tasted better in it. in the porch light switch by the front door, the one you now passed every night without touching.

that part hurt most.

leaving it off.

because as sad as waiting had been, not waiting somehow felt worse.

like mourning something that wasn’t fully dead yet.

-

that night, when the knock came at your door, it was so late your brain barely registered it at first.

groggy and half asleep, you dragged yourself out of bed, rubbing at your eyes as you made your way downstairs. your house was dark except for moonlight spilling through the windows, silver and soft over the floorboards.

another knock, more frantic this time.

your stomach dropped.

you hurried to the door.

and when you opened it every sleepy thought vanished instantly.

steve stood there looking wrecked. absolutely wrecked.

dirty like he’d been dragged through mud and ash and hell itself. bruises blooming dark and ugly across his face, split skin high on his brow, dried blood smeared down the side of his neck disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. his clothes were torn. his hands were scraped raw.

and his eyes, god. his eyes were already spilling over with tears.

the second he saw you properly, he broke.

completely.

“baby-”

his voice cracked so hard it barely sounded like him.

then he was in your arms.

literally fell into them, wrapping himself around you like he’d collapse without something to hold onto.

“oh, baby,” he kept saying, voice broken and wet with tears. “my baby, i missed you. missed you so much. so fucking much.”

his whole body shook against yours you could feel it.

feel how exhausted he was. feel how terrified. feel something deep inside him unraveling now that he was here.

“i missed you,” he whispered again, clutching at your shirt like it was the only solid thing left in the world. “god, i missed you. i love you so much. so much.”

and despite everything, despite the hurt, the loneliness, the weeks of trying to pull yourself away, your heart cracked wide open for him all over again.

because this wasn’t the steve who’d been distant. this wasn’t the steve who forgot anniversaries or disappeared for nights.

this was your steve.

raw and hurting and standing at your door like coming here was the only thing keeping him upright.

eventually, reluctantly, he pulled back just enough to look at you.

his face was blotchy from crying.

eyes red. lip trembling.

he looked devastated.

then he gently guided you back inside, shut the door behind him, and all but pulled you onto the couch with him, like if he let too much space exist between you, he might lose his nerve.

his hands never left you.

one on your waist.

the other gripping your hand so tightly it almost hurt.

“i need you,” he said immediately, voice shaking. “i need you so much. every part of me needs you. every fucking part.”

you stared at him, overwhelmed.

he laughed once, small, broken, humourless.

“i got here tonight and the porch light was off.”

his voice cracked again.

“and it was the worst thing i’ve ever seen.”

your chest tightened painfully.

“steve-”

“no, let me say this- please,” he whispered desperately. “please.”

you nodded.

he swallowed hard, tears falling fresh down bruised cheeks.

“i know i hurt you. i know i left you alone. i know i made you wait and wonder and feel like shit, and i swear to god if i could take every second of that back, i would. i would in a heartbeat.”

his thumb stroked frantically over your knuckles.

“but it’s over now.”

you blinked.

“what?”

he looked you dead in the eyes.

and then he told you everything.

everything.

the upside down. eleven. demogorgons. mind flayers. vecna. the gates. dimension x.

every strange bruise. every missing night. every frantic phone call. every lie. every single thing he’d spent years carrying alone.

by the time he finished, your head was spinning so violently you genuinely thought you might pass out.

you just stared at him, mouth slightly open.

completely speechless.

because-

what. the. fuck.

there was silence for a long moment.

then the first thing that came out of your mouth was-

“…so i was sitting here being selfish because i wanted my boyfriend around while he was out fighting monsters from another dimension?”

steve’s face immediately crumpled.

“no- no, baby, no.”

he grabbed your face gently, forcing your eyes to his.

“don’t do that. don’t blame yourself. please don’t blame yourself.”

his voice broke again.

“i should’ve told you. i should’ve trusted you. i can’t even imagine how awful this must’ve looked. I disappeared, i lied, i came home bleeding half the time- jesus christ.” he shut his eyes hard. “i just… i couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

you let out a long breath.

your whole world had just tilted sideways.

and suddenly every fear, every insecurity, every awful thought you’d had over the last few months-

cheating, falling out of love, not caring, felt ridiculous.

steve broke down again, burying his face into your shoulder.

“i kept going because of you,” he admitted quietly. “even when i barely got to see you… you were still it for me. the only good thing. the only light i had in all that darkness was knowing i had you to come back to.”

your eyes stung. hard. and honestly you felt a little like an ass.

so, in an attempt to lighten the crushing heaviness in the room, you muttered softly-

“well… i thought you fell out of love with me.”

steve pulled back so fast it was almost comical.

he looked genuinely offended, like you’d slapped him across the face.

“that,” he said firmly, tearfully, pointing at you, “is the dumbest, worst, most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me.”

you blinked.

he shook his head in disbelief.

“you are so stupid for thinking that for even one second.”

then immediately threw himself back into your arms like he physically couldn’t stay away.

“i’m obsessed with you,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “completely. stupidly. disgustingly in love with you.”

despite everything, you laughed. a real laugh. the first in a while.

the two of you talked for hours after that.

about everything. about how knowing the truth didn’t magically fix the hurt that had already happened. how trust had to be rebuilt. how space had carved wounds in both of you.

how love was there, stronger than ever, somehow, but love alone didn’t erase damage overnight.

steve listened, really listened. and for once, there were no secrets sitting between you. just truth. messy, terrifying truth.

at some point, wrinkling your nose against his shoulder, you muttered—

“you stink, by the way.”

steve actually laughed.

full and warm and surprised.

“yeah,” he sniffed at himself. “fair.”

you smiled softly.

“you smell like smoke, blood, and wet dog.”

he grinned tiredly.

“hot.”

and later, you showered together, not for anything other than closeness.

steve stood beneath the warm water with his forehead resting against yours, arms around your waist the whole time like he physically couldn’t bear distance right now.

every few minutes he’d kiss your cheek. your temple. your shoulder.

just little reminders.

i’m here. i’m here. i’m here.

that night, wrapped around you in bed, his breathing finally evening out for the first time in god knows how long, steve pressed a kiss into your hair and whispered into the dark-

“i’ll fix this.”

his arms tightened around you.

“i swear to god, i’ll fix everything.”

another kiss.

soft. reverent.

“i’ll do anything to still be able to come home to you.”

his voice cracked on the last words.

“absolutely fucking anything.”

-

You were looking for a new vinyl in the rock section and had noticed him in the corner of your eye. But as usual, you pretended not to care and focused on your search instead, your eyes traveling across the myriad of discs and artists' names.

You reached for a particularly interesting vinyl when someone's hand accidentally brushed yours. You looked up, moving your hand away from the vinyl like it was about to bite you.

It was him, his blue eyes set on you, his hand still hovering near the vinyl you had both seemingly went for. He was slightly taller. Your body froze when a smile graced his lips, his eyes still set on you before he seemed to regain composure.

“Oh, sorry” he said, voice sounding both younger and firmer than you thought it would be.

“No- it's me, sorry” you dismissed, looking shyly to the floor, heartbeat quickening.

He was cute, cute. He wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt, looking casual yet something in his demeanor — the way he stood straight, the way he moved — felt like he was older than he looked.

“You've got good taste” he said, head motioning to the vinyl that had led to your conversation.

“Thanks, so do you” you finally looked up at him to see his eyes hadn't left your figure.

He moved his hand away from the culprit to present it to you.

“I'm Francis, by the way. What's your name?”

You introduced yourself and he repeated your name with an endearing dumb expression of awe on his face.

“I've never seen you before” he noted, eager to get the conversation going. “'Are you from 'round here?”

“I've recently moved” you explained, grateful he kept the conversation going. “With my parents”, you added reluctantly. “Have you always lived here?”

He told you he had, and had recently come back from military school (that explained why he looked more mature) but he was indeed 20, just like you. When the conversation died down and you looked around, assessing the store one last time before leaving, Francis' voice piped up once more, almost desperate.

“If you're free right now, I could show you around the mall?” he suggested, half expecting you to turn him down, trying to sound casual.

But you weren't eager to go back home so soon so you jumped on the occasion, your smile widening. The sight had Francis' heart making an olympic-level jump in his chest.

“Sure!”.

The two of you left the record store, the coveted vinyl long forgotten, and walked around the mall. Spring was right around the corner, meaning the sun was out, shining strong, warming bodies but it wasn't hot enough to air-condition the mall. When you passed by a store, Francis bought the two of you cola, your fingers brushing his as you reached for the can he offered you.

“Thanks” you smiled and Francis knew he wanted to be the reason you smiled for the rest of his life. “So, is that where you usually spend your Saturdays?”

“I used to, a lot, back in high school” he explained, as his steps matched yours, the two of you taking your sweet, sweet time ambling mindlessly. “Especially with my brothers.”

You nodded. You would've asked about his brothers and family but you knew this would be the gateway for him to return the questions and inquire about yours, which was the last thing you wanted to talk about. Little did you know neither did he.

“And what do you do, now that you've come back from military school?” you peered at him over your sip of cola.

“Uh… well, I'm looking for a job.” To move out as soon as possible, he was about to add but refrained to. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I see” you nodded in agreement. “I'm actually in college, now.”

“Oh, what do you study?” he inquired, surprised.

"Law”.

His eyebrows comically shot up, an intrigued smirk tugging at his lips. Beautiful and smart, he thought to himself. He could never, ever be up to your level.

You took in his smile, your heart making a leap, grateful for the crisp coke in your hand cooling you down. You both walked straight to the mall's exit, your stroll coming to a natural end, and your heart immediately sank at the idea of having to leave.

Once outside, Francis' blond hair shined bright under the sun and you felt as though you were in summer, his blue eyes reminiscent of the sea, his smile lingering like the afterthought of a joke he hadn't said yet. If love at first sight was a thing, then this was it, because you were down bad.

“I really enjoyed that, thank you for taking pity on me and showing me around” you said honestly, eyes flickering all over his face.

His mouth went dry under your scrutiny. The sun brought out your eye color so strongly he knew he wouldn't be able to think of anything else for a long, long time. He couldn't let you go. He wouldn't.

“We should do this again. How about next Saturday? I could take you to a movie” he shrugged, like it wasn't a full-on date he was proposing.

"Yes!” you immediately accepted. Whether he was being friendly or hitting on you, you didn't want to miss the chance of making a new friend in town. He gave you his home number and you both went your separate ways.

When you arrived home, you were faced with a dilemma.

When is the right time to call when a guy gives you a number? The same day? The day after? Or the day of your date meeting?

You decided not to call, partly because you didn't want your parents eavesdropping on your conversation, partly because you didn't want to seem desperate.

For the next five days, Francis asked Lois, Hal, and his brothers whether or not someone had asked for him on the phone. They all noticed the way his head perked up from his lounging position on the living room's couch each time the phone rang. But whenever they inquired about it, he would immediately become elusive, sometimes straight up mean.

Finally the next Friday rolled around and you decided to call to ensure you were still meeting at the mall the next morning.

You dialed the phone number when the living room was empty, your parents off who knows where, and waited.

It rang once. Twice. Thre-

“Hello?” it was a young man's voice, definitely not Francis'. Probably one of his brothers, you recalled.

“Hi, could I please speak with Francis?”

“Who are you?”

Ok, rude. A nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

“Tell him it's the girl from the ma-”

You heard a voice shout and a faint “give me that, idiot!” followed by a small "ow!” on the other side of the line and then-

“Hey!” it was Francis' voice. He said your name. “I'm glad you called, I was beginning to worry you'd lost the number”.

He immediately silently cursed himself when the words escaped his mouth. So not cool.

He sighed in relief when he heard your genuine laugh on the other side of the line.

“I didn't know when to call” you admitted, partly out of pity for his evident embarrassment. “Are we still, uh… meeting tomorrow?”

“Yeah sure, let's say 11am at the mall?”

“Perfect, see ya.”

“See ya, bye.”

You hung up and had to hold a happy scream in. You jumped in place in excitement before finally going back to your room. Ok, now, what should you wear for tomorrow?

Back at the Wilkersons', the smile looming on Francis' face could only be seen as sly from Lois' perspective.

“What're you doing at the mall tomorrow?” Lois' voice came out sharp, judgment ready to bounce off of anything he could say.

Francis sighed and turned around to face his mother.

“I got a job interview” the lie came out naturally as he rolled his eyes.

Lois' expression turned stunned.

“Francis, really? That's amazing… !” said Lois as she went back to her room, already telling Hal the happy news, shock evident in her voice.

Once out of earshot, Francis immediately turned to Malcolm who had been the one to pick up your call in the first place.

“If you say anything to anyone I'll personally make sure everyone knows you had started a journal after bounding with mom” he glared, ready to seal his promise with an ass-beating.

Malcolm's shit-eating grin immediately faltered.

“So unfair” he whispered to himself as he went back to his own room, leaving Francis with a ridiculous smile on his face and an erratic heartbeat at the idea of seeing you again.

You noticed the blonde man leaning against the wall from a few feet away. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, and you were relieved that you hadn’t over-dressed yourself (jeans, a tank top, and your favorite jacket). He also wore sunglasses which made him look way more intimidating than he actually was.

The second he saw you getting closer, his posture changed, as he held his shoulders back, pushed himself off of the wall and waved at you. Once you were standing at arms length, unsure how to greet him, he took the chance to give you a once over, an approving twinkle in his eyes when he removed his sunglasses.

“Hey, you look great!” he said, looking at your entire figure again.

“Thanks, so do you!” you tried to make it sound friendly and not as down bad as you felt deep down.

You both walked inside the mall, letting Francis guide you to the cinema. Your shoulders occasionally brushed as you ambled side by side, allowing you to get a whiff of his cologne. The two of you fell into easy conversation as he asked you about your favorite film genre, favorite artists, and your hobbies. It felt truly refreshing and almost foreign to talk with somebody who listened, truly listened to you.

Your ex boyfriend had the attention span of a fish, almost never letting you finish your thoughts and only listening to you when the subject matter was him. You had grown accustomed to feeling like you were talking to a wall the minute you talked for, god-forbid, longer than thirty seconds about something other than his person.

Now, you had the awful habit of tracking people's face to make sure you weren't oversharing or boring them. Francis noticed how you peeked discreet glances at him between sentences like you were worried he might not be truly listening. Except he was, and your heart ached in bittersweet surprise when you saw his attention was on you, full and undivided. He nodded, engaged with and reacted to everything you said.

Being with him felt so easy not even silence made you feel uncomfortable anymore. It quickly dawned on you that there was un underlying and silent understanding between the two of you yet you couldn't pinpoint how or why that was.

That's how you discovered you had very similar music tastes and that he was overall quite in tune with the current culture of your times. The two of you had gone from talking about music and films to politics and the state of the U.S within 10 minutes. Both of you had so much to say to one another, like you were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years, that it is almost reluctantly that you piped down for the film.

Sitting so close to each other in silence felt even better than walking side by side talking. Your shoulders definitely brushed all the time now, and your fingers accidentally intertwined more than once when you both reached for the popcorn. Each time, you wished for it to happen again, and each time a jolt of electricity coursed through you.

Francis could hardly take his eyes off of you. There was a time (just a few years ago, truthfully), when he wouldn't have waited until the next date to make a move or full-on sleep with girls. But it felt different with you, not because you deserved more 'respect' or whatever, but simply because the connection felt real and… deeper. He didn't want to screw this up.

When the film was over, the two of you length fully discussed it, sharing your opinions on the ending, on the plot and on the actors. Francis' opinion differed from your own but you could understand each other's points of view.

When you passed by a video games store, Francis chuckled. Eyebrows furrowing, you sent him a questioning look.

“What is it?” you asked, a smile slowly creeping up your own face.

God, his smile was so contagious.

“Nothin', I, uh… I once got arrested in that store” he shrugged, half-ashamed, half-amused by the anecdote. He tried to gauge your reaction from the corner of his eyes. Would you think less of him for this anecdote? And if it were the case, what would be of the three hundred other ones he had in store?

You chuckled, definitely amused, and Francis released a sigh he didn't know he withheld.

“Shit, why?” you laughed.

“Stole a game” he grimaced, still scanning your features.

“My, my, have you the makings of a bad boy, Francis?” you mused jokingly.

His heart stuttered at the sound of his name coming from your beautiful lips. He knew he would do anything you asked him to just to hear you say his name again.

“Actually… I was a real brat when I was younger. 'Ts why my parents sent me to military school.” he admitted, still testing the waters.

You nodded slowly, understanding the subtext — and trying to imagine of what it exactly consisted without sounding invading.

“So… a rebel?” you guessed.

“Eh… Something like that” he bobbed his head. “I think I just enjoyed giving them shit because I didn't really feel… seen.”

When he realized how deep this sounded, he quickly dismissed it with a shrug, not wanting to ruin the mood. But your eyes were set on him and they didn't convey contempt or shock but… understanding. He felt his embarrassment melt away, a sense of calm washing over him.

“I get it. I've felt this way too, in my family” your words finally came out, voice softer than he’d heard it yet and he could tell you were saying the truth.

Five minutes later, the two of you were cracking jokes together, Francis stealing glances to watch you laugh every single time.

Over lunch, he told you a few stories about his time at the military school, most of them being so insane you didn’t know whether you had to cry or laugh about the things he had endured over there.

A little while later, you walked into random stores to crack more jokes and comment on the things you saw — games, books, movie tapes. One second you were telling him about a particularly bad movie you’d seen, the next you were talking to a stranger. You looked around, any trace of Francis gone.

“Francis?” you called, eyes darting around the store.

“Sssh!!”

Something yanked you from your sleeve until you were crouching behind a shelf next to Francis.

“What-“

He brought his hand up to cover your mouth and your heart stuttered at the contact. The softness of your lips on his hand had him making a double take to look at you, the silliness of the situation fully dawning on him. He slowly removed his hand, mouthing a silent and incredibly hot “sorry”.

“I thought I saw my mom and brothers” he explained as he helped you stand back up next to him.

He knew it was silly and that you didn’t deserve to be hidden. But it was exactly because you were the picture of perfection that he could never introduce you to them. You’d probably run off and move cities if not countries if you did.

He couldn’t tell you felt the exact same way, especially with having a father unable to be stable or save money.

So the both of you were stuck in a half-lie, half-truth about your childhood and family situation.

For those few seconds during which you stood close to Francis after he’d helped you back up, his hand lingered over yours and your eyes locked. The proximity had you basking in his blue eyes, adrenaline coursing through you. You realized that maybe, all of this was only in your head. That probably, in fact, you were imagining things and that Francis was just a friendly guy. Then, a nearby kid dropped his toy on the floor, startling you and bursting the bubble you were in.

When Francis moved his hand away, yours felt immediately cold like it didn’t know it had needed his warmth during all the years before you met.

“Well…” you broke the awkward silence. “I’m actually meeting a friend in half an hour so I should probably…” you trailed off.

“Oh, yeah, sure, no, of course” he mumbled quickly, shaking his head vigorously. “I, uh… I had an amazing time with you, uh… I’ll call you”.

Was he blushing? He seemed so panicked you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. You did an awkward wave as a goodbye and exited the store.

Ten minutes later, Francis realized he couldn’t call you because he didn’t have your number. You had his. So you were going to spend the next few days waiting for a call that would never arrive.

“Fuck!” Francis whispered. Not only did he fumble you, he also had to come up with a lie as to why he didn’t get the job he was supposedly interviewing for today at the mall.

He was so screwed.

Obviously, you didn’t hear from him again. By Friday night, as you got ready to head to a party a friend had invited you to, you’d given up on your hopes altogether. Clearly, you had misread his whole demeanor. How could you ever think he was into you?

While you were a little bummed out by the situation, you were glad you could still fend for yourself, what with you getting invited to a party so soon after you moved here. You’d been invited by James, an old high-school friend who’d moved here as well and went to the same college as you. All in all, excitement overtook your disappointment when you arrived in front of his house.

The music boomed through the walls and the floor, as a complete stranger opened the door to greet you in.

“Where’s James?” you asked, hanging onto the only familiar person there was.

The stranger, a girl with an empty cup in her hand, motioned to the kitchen. You made your way through the crowd, a mixture of faces, alcohol and laughs, until you recognized his familiar black hair and back. When you stepped close enough for him to see you, he gave you a short friendly hug before introducing you to the two boys who stood next to him.

The first one was tall, also a brunette, and had gorgeous freckles all over his face. You didn't quite register his name with all the noise but when you turned to look at the second boy, you almost blacked out.

Blonde, tall, and very cute. Your blood ran cold.

“And this is Francis” said James, his hand still hovering near your shoulders for support.

Francis' heart did a jump in his chest at your familiar face but wasn't too fond of the way James had hugged you a few seconds ago. Was he missing something there? Were you guys together?

“Uh, yeah, we- we know each other” you managed to say, eyes still locked in his.

You didn't know whether or not he was happy to see you. Your breath hitched but you managed to fake a smile.

“Really? That's cool as fuck!” said James happily before he was called by someone else from the living room. He excused himself and the other brunette left with him, leaving you alone with Francis.

An awkward silence befell the two of you, as you pretended to take a sip of your drink while looking at the other party members.

Francis, on the other hand, racked his brain to come up with something cool to say, and not sound totally hopeless but when you caught his eyes on you and held the eye-contact, his mind short-circuited and he spluttered:

“I forgot I didn't have your number but you had mine and didn't know how to reach you, I'm sorry”.

You sighed in relief under his cool blue eyes that flickered all over your face and body.

“It's fine, y'know, you didn't have to feel obligated-” you started.

“No, no, I mean it!” he said with vehemence. The hug James gave you flashed suddenly in his mind and before he knew it, the words spilled out of his mouth: “I really like you”.

The cup you held stopped midway to your lips, your body freezing for a good second. The look of desperation on his face was so endearing.

“Really?” your said, disbelieving.

Before you could register anything, his lips crashed into yours with a suddenness neither of you had expected. The kiss was brief and sweet and you barely had time to melt into it that he already pulled away, an apologetic look on his face like his confidence wavered as quickly as it had overtook him.

“Sorry, I, uh…” his eyes darted to the floor then back up to your face.

You stood on your tip toes to kiss him again, silencing him once and for all, your mind saturated by the softness of his lips, the smell of his cologne and the aftertaste of alcohol. You felt his hands instinctively wrap around your waist, his hold firm and keeping you upright like he was the lighthouse in the sea of your life. The music, the people around, the fact you weren't in your own house, it all faded away like it was a distant memory. As you kissed, one of his hands moved to your upper back, drawing soothing circles that had you weak at the knees and wanting so much more.

At last, the two of you broke apart, his eyes rendered darker by whatever consuming desire had risen in him, yours deliciously taking in the sight of his face.

You hadn't been able to talk much about the kiss afterwards, though, because Francis' old friends came by and while he tried to include you as much as possible in the conversation, amid all the embarrassment of his friends recalling his old bratty and lowkey illegal younger years, you obviously couldn't benefit from any privacy now.

Eventually, you had to leave. Needless to say, Francis was grateful for his mom's car when you accepted to get a ride home.

The city streets were empty as you watched the street lights fade in and out of your view, sat on the passenger side, still as a statue, expression unreadable. The radio played faintly and your mind couldn't stop playing your earlier kiss on loop.

And Francis? Oh, he was over the moon. His hands fidgeted on the steering wheel, his face was hot (since when was it so hot in this car?!). He kept peeking glances to read your expression, on the corner of his eyes but you looked calm, pleased… and you were quiet. And while Francis had never minded being quiet with you, this time the air felt charged with something electric, unsaid and exciting.

This was his chance. His chance to make you his. His chance to claim you and declare his love. Yet every time he opened his mouth, he thought about how perfect you were, how beautiful, how talented and smart, and how lame his family was.

“Man, James was really wasted, wasn't he?” he finally said.

Your whirlwind of thoughts stilled as you turned to look at him. You'd been waiting for him to say something, you just didn't think he would come up with that. A chuckle escaped your lips nonetheless as you recalled your brunette friend.

“Yeah, totally. Don't even know where he ended up being when we left” your voice came out lower than he’d heard it yet, your words slower too.

You were tired, and frankly done with putting a strain on your voice all the time. It felt odd not having to force your voice to be louder than it naturally was. You’d always talked louder around people out of fear they would be dismissive of your words, like your volume could compensate for their lack of listening. It always felt like this with your friends, and your parents too. But it didn’t feel this way with Francis.

Francis looked at you. Saw you. Always listened intently.

Tonight wasn’t any different. You felt your shoulders relax, and any embarrassment related to your lack of certainty about where you stood with the blonde man smoothed into the simple joy of being next to him.

Maybe this was enough. Maybe just sitting next to him was good enough. Maybe you shouldn’t be greedy.

A surge of honesty overtook you.

When he didn't say anything else, you added: “Thanks, by the way, for the ride. You really didn't have to. I might…” you thought a second before you finally let go of (almost) all pretense, “My father’s gonna give me so much shit” you sighed, covering your eyes with your hands.

His brows knitted when he recognized that expression on your face: that ultimate despair at the idea of facing a parent. His curiosity got the best of his quiet promise that he would never bring families up.

“Why?”

The question hung in the air, curious, so quiet it was soft. His voice was soft. You liked his voice.

“Because I was supposed to leave that party like, two hours ago.”

You shook your head.

“I’m so tired of him always following my every move!” you couldn’t stop your complaining now. It felt so good letting it out, even if you had promised yourself you wouldn’t.

“Yeah I get that. My mom still does it although I’m a fucking adult now”.

Your head snapped in his direction. That tone of his voice, the exasperation…

“Yeah, exactly!” you agreed. Did he just put words on what you’ve been feeling for the last few years?

“I went to military school, I’m trying to find a job, I stopped hanging out with my loser friends and it’s still not enough. She’s never satisfied.” he added, feeling a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“Same here! I literally did my best in school, graduated valedictorian from high school, went to law school, and they still think I can't make good decisions on my own! I'm tired of being babied by parents I had to raise!”

A heavy silence followed your last sentence, the realization hitting you both like a slap in the face. Your chest heaved slightly in anger, as you got lost in Francis' eyes. The car stopped at a red-light, allowing him to take your features in, your words echoing in his mind as much as yours.

He kissed you.

And this time, the kiss didn't feel like any other kiss. This kiss was a way to say: I see you, I hear you, I feel for you. I understand you. I love you.

The door behind which you hid your family all these years cracked open. Just a slit, barely wide enough to see anything and yet… You knew there was no coming back from this. You knew you'd have to be honest and come clean (eventually) with Francis.

The both of you pulled away when the light turned green. Francis drove again, but not before taking a good look at you, his heart fluttering with something he wasn't really familiar with.

“I really like you” he finally said, a deer-caught-in-headlights look on his face. This was the second time he said that tonight. Did he mean to say something more?

You smiled, for real this time and shifted a little closer.

“Me too.”

“Will-can you be my girlfriend?” he spluttered.

The thing about Francis is, that man might be terrible with his words but god, was he good at taking action, you thought as you recalled the kiss(es).

“Yes”.

Lois was the first to notice Francis’ newfound happy mood. Then his brothers noticed too. And eventually, Hal did. Until one dinner Lois broke the ice when she noticed how quiet her eldest son was:

“Ok, who is she?”

Francis’ eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Who?” he asked, almost cheekily, chewing his food.

“Your girlfriend. You obviously have been seeing someone, that’s the only reason why you haven’t been mistreating your brothers lately!” she shrugged her shoulders, unimpressed.

Francis rolled his eyes but his heart fluttered at the thought of you. There was no way in hell he was going to tell his family about you, though. The last thing he wanted was for them to ruin it.

And so the two of you saw each other more and more, spending evenings at the cinema, weekends at the mall, and sunny afternoons in parks. For the first time in forever, you felt loved when together, and missed when separated.

Francis never hid how pathetic he truly was for you, or at least did a terrible job at it. But you liked it. You liked him. No, scratch that, you loved him. Because you'd come clean about how fucked up your upbringing had been, how bad your father had been as head of the family, and how little privacy you'd grown to have.

And he still loved you, even related to you, and what was once a source of shame was now understood and somehow made easier to live with, almost normal. Yes, dysfunctional families do exist. Yes, it's fine to be from one of them. And yes, you can break the cycle.

But soon enough, Francis' new habit of missing dinners, spending his weekends outside, and overt happiness confirmed his family's suspicion. Was it really a surprise his brothers decided to follow him to the park one weekend and saw a beautiful young girl by his side being all cuddly and-

“Ugh, gross” Reese spat, behind the tree from which he and Malcolm hid, when the two of you kissed.

“She's pretty!” said Malcolm, disbelieving his brother had successfully found a girl like you.

“Mom was right”.

“Of course she was, it was obvious” Malcolm rolled his eyes.

“He's gonna eat shit” said Reese with an evil smile.

When Francis came back home that night, and went to his brothers' room to annoy them, he was faced with two sly younger brothers.

“We saw her” said Reese. "She's really pretty. I wonder what mom's gonna think when she finds out you've been hiding us from her.”

“Hey, do you wanna catch these hands, for old-time's sake?” warned Francis, alluding to his old days of mistreating Malcolm and Reese.

“You won't do anything because you've changed, now. For your little girlfriend” mocked Malcolm with a grin that matched Reese's.

“Aha, so you do have a girlfriend!”

The three of them turned around. Lois had overheard, standing triumphantly by the door, arms crossed over her chest.

“Bring her over for dinner, Saturday, end of discussion.” she said as she turned around, leaving no room for arguing.

When Francis turned back to face Reese and Malcolm, the both of them knew better than to rub salt into the wound and immediately fled the premises. But he didn't run after them. Because a part of him wanted to bring you over. A part of him wanted you to officially see all of him, all of his life and show you off to his family.

Because he loved you.

Before you could even question it, you could hear a small gasp from Dewey who stood to your right. “Oh my god! The line for The Chinese Express is so long! How am I going to get my orange chicken..?!”

You smiled, letting out a quiet laugh as you sympathetically patted his shoulder. “It might go by fast, wait and line and see. If it takes too long, maybe Reese will let you have some of our pretzel bites we’re gonna order.”

Reese scoffed beside you, shaking his head as his grip on your hand firmed up slightly. “I don’t share my food.”

You don’t miss the way his grip lingered, your chest swelling up slightly. 

Dewey and Malcolm side-eyed him, before the youngest would straighten up slightly and firmly nodded his head. “You’re right. I’ll do that.” He quickly thanked you and rushed off to The Chinese Express line.

Now it was Malcolm’s turn to complain, saying there wasn’t anything sustainable. “Everything here is covered in a thick layer of grease.. There’s nothing here that’s even sustainable.”

Reese immediately rolled his eyes, “But that’s what makes the food here so good! It adds a whole ‘nother element of flavor!” Reese quickly defended, using his unoccupied hand to gesture around in the air as he spoke.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at the way he defended it so seriously, like it genuinely mattered.  

Malcolm sighed through his nose, but after a moment he seemed to have given up and made his way toward Mario’s Pizza. 

Once it was just you and Reese, he immediately began to tug at your hand and steer you toward the pretzel stand. “Okay. You picked the cinnamon bites last time, It’s my turn to pick."

Truthfully, you had no real complaints. There was no argument in his tone, there was no reason for it to be. You knew how Reese could be when it came to food, you were just glad that he let you choose half the time. It was a compromise in his own Reese-like way. You were just happy he wanted to share anything with you at all. 

When you approached the stall, Reese quickly ordered the shareable box of the pepperoni pretzel bites, with extra cheese sauce for the two of you. As you pulled out your wallet, Reese was already shoving some cash toward the worker as he sent a smug grin your way.

Muttering a small thank you, the two of you got your food rather quickly and walked to the table Dewey and Malcolm sat. You grinned to the two boys, just about to sit down before Reese rushed in front of you and pulled the seat out for you. 

“Sit down.” His voice came out assertive, automatic. But it didn’t feel demanding, it was habitual. You smiled toward him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Both Malcolm and Dewey stopped mid bite, staring at the scene before them. 

Reese moved like nothing odd happened, sitting beside you without another care in the world. Though, there was a slight fist in his expression, the way the corners of his lips twitched as if he was actively trying not to smile. 

To you, this wasn’t anything new. You were used to this treatment from Reese. The second you two had begun dating, his hand would immediately find its way around your waist without second thought, his head snapping toward anything that just even slightly involved you. You never questioned it, it was all natural.

Malcolm and Dewey slowly went back to eating, watching as Reese set down your shareable cup of the pretzel pepperoni bites. He nudged it just slightly closer to your side before realizing he had done it. 

“Dude.. that’s a lot.” Malcolm’s nose scrunched up, but only slightly. Dewey quickly would nod in agreement.

Reese scoffed, looking at his brothers and shaking his head. “I’m not eating it by myself.” 

What he said was so simple, but it seemed to have held a lot of weight for the two younger boys. The both of them froze again, this time Dewey’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as his jaw dropped. 

Malcolm set down his pizza on his plate, slowly narrowing his eyes. “Ok. What is happening right now?”

You had your own pretzel bite in your hand, dipping it into the cheese dip and tilting your head. “Huh?”

Reese kicked at Malcolm under the table, the sandy blonde glaring immediately in response.

Dewey spoke up, “He’s sharing food! He doesn’t do that at all!”

You chewed on your food thoughtfully before swallowing. “Uh.. He does with me?” You sounded genuinely confused at this. “I don’t even ask, he always offers.” You shrugged your shoulders and grabbed another pretzel bite.

Reese pushed the box just slightly toward you once more, almost declaring it once more it belonged to the two of you. 

Malcolm and Dewey seemed horrified, watching as Reese ate from the same cup as you.

“You guys are being annoying.” Reese simply stated, though his attention seemed to be drifting elsewhere. A group of guys walked past your table. They didn’t even glance your way, but Reese sat up slightly and glared at them as if he were a guard dog. His arm snaked around your waist, the moment tilting you slightly. Your hand caught onto the table and steadied yourself, yet you didn’t pull away. If anything, you leaned just slightly more into his touch. 

Malcolm whipped his head around, watching as the guys simply walked past. He turned back to Dewey, as if making sure he saw the same thing, and he sure did.

Dewey sighed, shaking his head slightly. “They weren’t doing anything wrong Reese..” 

Reese snapped his head toward his brothers once more before huffing and pushing himself up from the table. “I’m getting a drink.”

As he began to walk off, he stopped for a moment and turned to look at you. “Do you want a Dr. Pepper?” 

The question was casual, yet it made you happy to see how he remembered even the little things about you. You nodded in response, calling out another thank you as he walked off to get the drinks.

The second Reese was gone, Malcolm leaned forward and stared at you. “You know he’s not normal about you, right..?” 

Dewey quickly nodded. “He’s not normal about anything!!”

You went quiet for a moment, trying to process what they were saying. “I mean.. he’s my boyfriend. I'd hope he’d be a good one.” You laughed nervously, shifting awkwardly in your seat as Malcolm and Dewey stared you down.

Dewey let out another exasperated sigh, waving his hands around as he spoke. “He doesn’t even yell at you!!”

You let out a playful scoff at him, rolling your eyes. “He yells at everyone, I’m not sure what you both are getting at.”

“That’s exactly our point!” Malcolm retorted, his hands gripping onto the table. “He yells at everyone, but not you!”

You didn’t have an answer right away, hesitating slightly. “That’s not a bad thing…” Your voice was growing quiet.  

“He was never this way with Allison..” Malcolm’s expression softened, the volume in his voice growing softer as if he was realizing something. 

Reese had made his way back, but he only had one cup in hand. “I changed my mind, I don’t want anything.” He shrugged slightly, sitting down beside you and handing you your Dr. Pepper. 

You reached a hand up and affectionately squeezed his shoulder, Reese immediately flashing a smug smile. You had no clue, but for Reese, seeing you smile was like winning a trophy. 

Malcolm and Dewey seemed tired of this, their food half eaten as they both stood up at the same time. 

“God, this is disgusting.” Malcolm huffed, grabbing his plate and walking off. Dewey was quick to follow suit.

Reese watched as they walked away, before looking to you with a smug grin. “Soo.. are we going to walk around soon? Just us and away from them?” 

You hesitated for just a second, their words lingering. But when his fingers found yours again, it grounded you instantly. Sure, you knew how he acted up at school. God forbid you had a thing for “bad boys”… you were just thankful he treated you well as his girlfriend.

Reese leaned in, inspecting your face as he seemed to be calculating something. Sharing the silence between the two of you for a moment, Reese was the first one to speak. “Did they say something? What did they say?!” His tone raised slightly, standing up quickly and looking toward the direction they had walked off. 

You quickly were taken out of your confused daze, looking to the now standing and fuming Reese. “No! No, no.. they didn’t say anything!” You quickly defended Malcolm and Dewey, standing up at his side and linking your hand with his. “I think they were just confused…”

His face that previously showed anger had quickly shifted. He looked calm, his tone shifting as he was immediately soothed at your voice, looking at you as his expression quickly adjusted slightly. 

“… Oh.” He went quiet once more before changing the topic. “So? Where to first? I heard Zumiez had an entire restock and I need to get new shirts-“ You didn’t argue, your smile widening as you listened to your boyfriend, letting him pull you along.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Inside Zumiez, he drifted off toward the skateboards almost immediately, leaving you near the racks. You didn’t mind. Watching him from a distance, the way his attention lit up over something as simple as designs on wood… it made your chest feel oddly full.

With slow strides, you let your hand brush past different fabrics that hung on a rack. Zumiez didn’t really carry anything that was your style, but Reese swore up and down that this was the coolest place for him to get some new t-shirts.

So, you thought to yourself. Why not help him look? I mean, clearly he wasn’t doing so at the moment. A couple feet away stood your boyfriend, his eyes sparkling as he stared at the designs on the back of each skateboard. 

Rummaging through a new rack, you didn’t notice a taller male was trying to approach you. 

“You seem out of place here..” His voice was soft and kind, a hint of flirtation hidden behind his words.

You looked up hearing him, your eyes wide as you stared at him. He was an employee, probably a year or two older than you with a name tag that read ‘Zack’. Yup, typical skater dude name.

Offering a small, yet sticky polite smile, you spoke up. “Mhm.. just looking.”

He leaned his side against the wall, quickly eyeing you before a smirk grew on his lips. He was lingering longer than you expected. “What even brings you into a store like this? We don’t normally get pretty girls like you-“

“I brought her.” Reese’s voice cut in, his presence almost immediate. He made his way beside you, his hand settling against your waist like it had always been there. 

Zack deflated for a moment, before huffing and adjusting his posture. “What, you forced her to the mall with you?”

“She’s my girlfriend.” It was simple, straight to the point. He stated it like it was blatantly obvious, like it was a fact everyone in the world knew. 

Zack stiffened, before looking over his shoulder rather awkwardly. “Yea, well. I have to go back to work anyways.”

As he walked away, Malcolm and Dewey’s earlier words seemed to resonate in your mind. Reese wasn’t like this around others, but you were different. 

“Reese?” You spoke quietly, looking at him with a soft gaze.

Reese immediately looked to you, his scowl quickly disappearing. “Hm?”

You were quiet for a moment, just before speaking. “You didn’t have to do all that for me, you know?”

He shrugged as if it were nothing. “I know. I wanted to.”

You felt your heart melt, you could feel yourself falling more for the male. “I know but.. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I could’ve handled it.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Huh? Was I supposed to be casual about it? I’m not casual about you.”

Your chest tightened in a way you couldn’t explain, a soft smile gracing your lips. Stepping closer without thinking, your hands lifted up to cup his face and leaned in, pressing a lingering yet quick kiss to his lips.

It was enough to make him pause for a moment, his expression quieter as something seems to settle in his eyes. It was rare, Reese had nothing to say at that moment. All he could do was look at you with adoration.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Ready to wrap up the day, Reese had insisted you’d go to his home for dinner. You felt intimidated immediately.

You only knew Reese, Malcolm and Dewey. You met Lois in very brief passing when she picked up the boys after school, but that was the most interaction you had with any of his family outside of the 3 boys.

Walking up to the front door, Reese was giving you a quick rundown of how his family was. You could tell he was nervous, his eyes shifting anywhere but yours.

“I’m just.. serious you know? About us..” His voice was really quiet, as if admitting it out loud would scare you away.

Before you could even process what he had said, you could hear a loud crash from inside the house. It was already loud before you had stepped inside. You could hear Lois yelling from somewhere deep within the home, Reese then opened the door without much hesitation as before and walked in as this was his normal.

“It’s fine,” Reese briefly looked over his shoulder to you, “They do this all the time!” It didn’t exactly reassure you, but you simply smiled and nodded.

Still, you stepped inside after him, your hand brushing against his as he led you in. The house definitely looked lived in. Messy, chaotic, and warm. Exactly how you imagined it. It made your chest tighten slightly, it was exactly how Reese was. It felt oddly comforting to you.

“Mom!” Reese immediately yelled, your head snapping toward your boyfriend. “We’re home!”

There was yet another loud sound, followed by Lois’ voice cutting through the house. “If one of you broke something, I swear-“

Turning the corner, the woman stopped mid sentence. Her eyes had landed on you, then back to Reese. It was like she was confirming something. “This is her? Your girlfriend?”

You felt yourself stiffen, but Reese was quick to gently squeeze your hand. “Yup.” He said it so casually. It made your stomach flutter. 

Lois blinked, before looking back to you and offering a polite smile. “Welcome in."

Hal slowly appeared from behind his wife, peeking over his shoulder. His expression lit up at the sight of you. “Oh! Oh wow, hi! You’re the girlfriend!” He hurried toward you, sticking out his hand with such an enthusiasm you never expected. “I’m Hal, Reese’s father. That boy talks so much about you-“

“Hal.” Lois sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Quit embarrassing the two of them, you’re going to scare her off.”

You gulped, already having an overwhelming feeling in your chest but you forced it in. You gently accepted Hal’s hand, Reese’s father firmly shaking it before looking over to Lois with wide eyes. It was like they were surprised that Reese brought home a girl…

Hal turned back to the two of you, straightening out his posture and smiled once more. “How long have the two of you been together?”

You glanced at Reese, who was already looking at you. He looked like he was thinking, his eyes staring at your face. “Hm. I think over 7 months now-“

Lois gasped immediately, cutting him off.” That long..?! And you’re just now bringing her over?!”

“Yeah? I knew you’d have a loud reaction!” Reese defended his decision, looking back to you once more as if he was confirming you still, were in fact, real and present. His hand squeezed yours once more, the corners of his lips twitching slightly before looking back to his parents.

This definitely didn't go unnoticed. 

From the couch, Malcolm slowly leaned forward, staring as if he was watching something so unnatural.

Dewey, from beside him, looked between you and Reese as his eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s happening again.” The boy quietly murmured.

“Even worse,” Malcolm whispered back. “It’s happening in our house now.”

You shifted slightly under their attention, clearing your throat and offering another polite smile. “It’s really nice to meet you guys..” 

Lois’ sharp gaze shifted, her expressed softening. “Well, at least someone here has manners.”

Reese scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I have manners!”

Lois sent him a pointed glare, pointing to his shoes. “You just tracked in mud from outside, you didn’t even wipe your feet on the mat!”

Reese glanced down at his shoes, huffing and shrugging his shoulders. “That doesn’t count.” 

Hal clapped his hands together, laughing a bit too loud and uncomfortably. “So! Dinner! We’re having dinner.. Everyone loves dinner..!”

You glanced toward the table, tonight’s meal already set up. Plates and silverware set at each chair.. minus one. You watched as Lois went to the cupboard and pulled out another plate with one hand, the other digging in the dish rack to grab another set of silverware before setting it down at the empty seat.

“Didn’t expect another guest, please don’t mind the mess.” She quickly muttered, everyone rushing to the table to sit down.

Except Reese, who pulled out a chair just as he had at the mall. “Sit.” He spoke suddenly amongst the shuffling of the rest of his family.

It definitely broke the silence, the room going quiet. 

Malcolm froze halfway to his chair, Dewey’s jaw dropped once more. It was something they both had witnessed earlier, but it still baffled them to their core. Hal stared with wide eyes, and Lois simply blinked looking at the two of you.

You felt yourself shrink under their gaze for a half second, glancing at Reese with a small smile. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, staying next to you for a second longer than probably necessary, like he was making sure you were comfortable at the dining table before moving away to his own seat beside you.

Hal slowly leaned toward Lois, both their eyes still trained onto the two of you. “Did you see that?”

“I saw it.” She muttered back, eyes locked onto her son as if he might just start levitating toward the ceiling.

Dinner felt tense, but not because of you. Because everyone couldn’t stop watching how Reese was around you. 

Reese had scooted his chair closer to you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. You began to reach for some food, but Reese gently pushed your hand away and began to grab at it first.

Malcolm tried not to laugh, thinking Reese was already trying to get his first claim over food, but immediately stopped as Reese put the food on your plate.

“Here.” Reese said, plopping it onto your plate.

“Thank you, Reese, but you don’t have to-“

He shot you a look, making you quickly stop talking. “Do you want more?” He seemed eager, a smile prominent on his face.

“I’m okay, but-“

“You can eat as much as you want, there’s plenty. Eat more.” He added, already putting more food onto your plate.

With a small laugh, you couldn’t help but relax at his actions. “Okay, you're bossy.” You spoke sarcastically.

“I’m not bossy.” He huffed, but he didn’t take it back.

Across the table, Malcolm looked like he was going to combust. “He just served food to someone. Before himself.” His voice was low, but still full of intensity. He looked over to Dewey, “Do you even know what that means?”

Dewey hadn’t looked away, “I think we should be scared. I am scared. I am terrified-“

Hal, meanwhile, had been clutching onto Lois’ upper arm. There was a faint smile on his lips, “He’s.. growing.”

Lois didn’t have a smile, she was studying. Watching every interaction between the two of you, the way Reese’s hand briefly would touch your back when he shifted, how his attention snapped toward you whenever you spoke, how his tone would soften without him realizing it.

She wanted to test it. She had to know.

“…Reese.” She spoke suddenly, everyone looking at her. Malcolm and Dewey seemed excited, leaning forward slightly as if a show was about to be displayed in front of them.

You had no clue what was going on.

“What.” Reese spoke defensively.

“… Pass me the salt.” The corner of her lips twitched slightly, as if challenging the male to do something.

There was a long, quiet pause. Reese stared at her, normally he'd tell her to do it herself. But then, without a complaint, Reese grabbed it and handed it over.

Another pause. Malcolm had dropped his fork, Dewey leaned back in his chair, his eyes wide. Hal clutched his chest, “Oh my god…”

You blinked, glancing between everyone in the family with pure confusion. They were acting like he did something unusual. 

Reese noticed you, his attention snapping toward you. “Ignore them, they’re being weird.” He had sent a sharp glance toward his family, as if he was asking them not to embarrass him.

Dewey spoke up, “We’re being weird..?!”

You softly smiled, looking at Reese. “I don’t mind weird.” 

Reese’s expression softened, something quiet and almost proud.

And that’s when Lois saw it, really saw it. Not just the strange behavior, but the way he looked at you. Like you were something steady in the middle of all his chaos. 

She began to lean back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “… Huh.”

Hal looked to his wife, “What?”

“Nothing.” Her lips had a small, faint smile apparent. Her eyes hadn’t left Reese. But this time, there was no confusion, no anger. It was understanding. 

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Dinner eventually came to an end, falling apart in a way that seemed to be normal in the Wilkerson household. 

Hal had gotten distracted halfway through clearing the table, disappearing into the living room to do something no one could even identify. Dewey had slipped off quietly, with Malcolm muttering something under his breath as he followed. He seemed still visibly distressed.

Reese lingered for a moment next to you, like he wasn’t sure if he should leave or stay. 

“I’m…- Uh. Ok. I’ll be right back-“ He gestured vaguely down the hall. “Don’t go anywhere.” He pointed at you firmly, his eyes sharp as he looked at you.

You laughed gently, shaking your head. “I won’t.”

He hesitated for a half second, his hand brushing past your shoulder as he almost leaned in to kiss your head, but he turned over his shoulder and saw Lois staring at him. He sighed through his nose, before walking off.

And then it was quiet, well. A little less quieter than before, it was the Wilkerson family house after all.

You stood awkwardly near the table, still unknowing of Lois’ presence. She leaned against the wall, arms still crossed over her chest as she looked at you. I mean, really looked at you.

Unsure what to do with yourself, you felt yourself begin to pick up a couple plays, more so out of habit than obligation.

“You don’t have to do that.” Lois’ voice had made you pause, you glance dip quickly and adjusted your posture.

“Oh…! Sorry, I just thought-“

Lois cut you off, but her tone was soft. “Don’t worry about it.. you can just leave it.”

There was a beat of silence as you slowly placed the plates back down, patting them against your thighs awkwardly as you glanced toward the ground.

Lois watched you for another second. Not harshly, not in a critical way. “You’re good for him.” She spoke up.

Your eyes widened, looking at her in slight confusion. “Uh.. I’m sorry? What?”

Lois didn’t repeat herself, her smile gentle as she pushed herself off the wall. “I’ve never seen that boy like this,” She continued. “Not with anyone.”

You felt yourself shift under her gaze, unsure of how you should reply. “He uh.. He’s always been like this with me. I’ve never had to tell him-“

“That’s the point.” Her tone wasn’t sharp, nor condescending. It was sharp, with a hint of firmness in them.

You didn’t know how to respond, glancing down once again before looking back up. “Is this a good thing..?”

Lois paused at this, before sighing. “It’s new, that’s all.” There was another bit of silence between you two, before she spoke once more. “He’s not easy. But I’m sure you know that.”

You chuckled quietly under your breath, a knowing smile on both your faces now. “Yeah… a little.”

“But he’s trying.” Lois’ voice was softer than she expected. “Whether he realizes that or not.” This made your chest tighten, butterflies lingering in your stomach. 

“I can tell…” You admitted quietly, watching as Lois watched you for a second longer. She seemed to be searching for something in you, something specific.

Whatever it seemed to be, she found it. Her smile widening just slightly. “Alright…” She spoke finally, giving a small nod of approval.

You weren’t quite sure what to say or do after that, standing there awkwardly as you fidgeted with your hands. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to do anything.

“I’m back.” Reese’s voice cut in as he reappeared,

cautiously looking between you and his mother. “… What's going on?” He stiffened slightly, looking at you as if you held all the answers, then back to Lois.

“Nothing.” Lois said, already turning away like there was never a conversation in the first place. “Now go do something productive.”

Reese frowned a bit, his eyebrows furrowing together. “That didn’t answer my question-“

“It wasn’t meant to.” She looked over her shoulder, giving you a brief, knowing look before walking away.

Reese looked back to you quickly, “Did she say something?!”

You shook your head, taking a step toward him and letting your hand rest on his upper arm. “No, it’s okay.”

He didn’t seem convinced, his eyes staring into yours for a moment before sighing and letting it go. “Cmon, my room is this way.” He jerked his head toward the hallway.

The noise of the house seemed to fade slightly as you stepped further in, but in the short distance you could hear Lois. “Keep that damn door open, Reese!”

He groaned, almost as if he was embarrassed but he didn’t defy her. His room wasn’t as different as you expected. It was messy, but undeniably him. He had told you about having to share a room with his brothers, there was no way 3 boys could keep a room spotless.

Reese hovered near the doorway for a second, like he wasn’t all that sure of what to do now that you were here. “You can sit,” He gestured toward his single bed.

And you did just that, brushing the fabric as he lingered a few steps away. It was quiet between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, but noticeable.

You looked up to him, your gaze softening slightly as you studied him. His brows were still furrowed, like he was deep in thought about something.

“Hey, Reese..?” You spoke up, taking him out of his trance.

“Hm?” He looked to you, waiting for you to speak again.

You hesitated for a moment, just for a second before speaking. “Why do you look at me like I'm the most important thing ever? And treat me so differently?”

The question caught him completely off guard, like he hadn’t expected it at all. “… Huh?” He was much more quiet this time.

You had a faint smile on your lips, your voice gentle. “You’ve been doing it all day, your family seemed to look at you like you were an alien..”

He didn’t answer, not yet. For a rare moment, he didn’t have anything to say. No comeback, no deflection. He just stood there, looking at you like he was trying to form words for his thoughts. It didn’t come easily for him. The silence seemed to stretch out longer than you thought, just enough for it to feel real. 

“… Because you are.” It was simple, honest. Your breath caught in your throat, your expression softening in a way that was way too noticeable for your own good. Reese shifted under your gaze, he felt entirely exposed.

“I mean..-“ He started to speak, trying to recover. “It’s not a big deal or anything. It’s just—“

You stood up before he could ramble himself out of the situation, closing the distance between the two of you. Pressing yourself into him, your hands found his shirt as if to ground yourself.

You leaned in, pressing a soft and lingering kiss to his lips. This one wasn’t quick, it was slower, intentional.

Pulling back, you used one hand to brush your thumb over his warm cheekbone, his eyes wide as he stared down at you, seemingly out of breath from shock.

“It’s important to me. At least… I think it is.” You spoke softly, looking into his eyes.

He didn’t argue this time, stunned beyond belief. He had no words, his hand slowly creeping up your waist. His touch was gentle, as if he was scared he’d ruin the moment. And for once, he didn’t speak. 

He leaned back down, closing his eyes as he kissed you. Pulling you closer by your waist, you could feel him smile gently into the kiss, making you laugh in between soft pecks.

Trying to find Gregory’s gaze was a hardship. The awkwardness since emerging from the waters had not left. His sister had not said much, but you could tell she was displeased. Perhaps finding it too childish or too risky with what could’ve happened.

You didn’t think much of it. It was nice to laugh. Gregory Bridgerton made you laugh. Something you started to pick up within yourself. Perhaps there was little effort on his part, but you easily caught the laughing bug. 

Your gaze tightened a bit upon arriving at the picnic. Seeing their curious gaze. Swiftly all doing a double-take to be sure it was true what their eyes presented. Violet Bridgerton gasped loud, nearly dropping her cup whilst jumping up. “Gregory!” She called out.

Gregory pressed his lips together, averting his gaze nervously. Perhaps fearing a proper scolding. You barely dared to look upon her majesty. Violet had left her chair, running over to her son. “Mother.” Gregory groaned out when she cuddled and soothed him like a child. 

Pressing him close to her chest. Wiping some residents of water off his face. Ruffling the blanket through his hair. “Mother.” Gregory repeated, trying to push her off. “What happened?” Violet asked, turning her attention to Eloise.

Her daughter that was supposed to chaperone. Seeing her as dry as a fiddle. Eloise scratched the back of her head, nervously. Looking purposely anywhere but her mother. “We fell.” You informed. Giving as little detail as they needed. 

Your gaze catching that of her majesty. Her brow quirked curiously up. “The boat tip-sided and we fell…” You gave a bit more intel, but that was all you were going to tell. On your accord. Her majesty kept staring at you. Slightly nervous, you tried to suppress a smile.

Hearing yourself, you could tell she knew you were leaving a great deal of information out of it. Yet the tiniest smile appeared in the corner of your lips. Her majesty caught the eye of it. Astonishing everyone with her giggle. Giddy and playful. Everyone’s attention on her. 

Different expressions upon the queen’s laughter. Hearing her laugh made you look shyly down. Hiding a smile of your own. “It has been a pleasure, your majesty.” Violet began, eying her daughter Hyacinth who was still at the queen’s side.

Violet quickly dipped into a curtsy. “We must be returning home, before my son might catch a cold.” Pushing him closer to her. “Mother.” Gregory groaned out annoyed. “The picnic has been lovely.” Violet continued, gesturing at Hyacinth. She slowly got up, joining her mothers side. 

Gregory wanted to move towards you, but was pulled back by his mother. “At least let me say goodbye.” He mumbled to her. Violet kept her hands on his shoulders. Gregory sighed softly, taking a bow. You dipped into a curtsy. The Bridgertons took their leave.

Brimsley showing them the way. Queen Charlotte patted the seat beside her. You came joining her. “Now tell me all.” Leaning in, her voice was husky with curiosity. Curling up a smile, you let her in on the secret. Telling her about the unfortunate but happy accident in the waters. 

Queen Charlotte smiled, booping your nose gently. Pulling you close, she rubbed her hand over your back. Brimsley returned, making her call him over. Queen Charlotte left you in the care of Brimsley to warm up inside.

Sitting by the fireplace, a new set of clothing had been laid out for you. Some of the queen’s dogs gave you company. Rubbing your hands together, slowly your body began to find its warmth once more. 

Violet pushed Gregory inside the house after he had explained the situation to her in the carriage. She needed answers and one scowl from her was enough for him to spill. “How are you so childish.” Hyacinth sighed out with a shake of her head. “She liked it!” Gregory replied with slight annoyance.

Feeling as if everyone around him was disappointed in his actions. Violet rubbed her fingers against her forehead. “That might be so, but Gregory, what if she catches a cold?” She spoke with concern. Gregory’s eyes briefly widened. He hadn’t thought of that. “I…I…will she get a cold mama?” Asking her with a plea. Hoping his mother would have the answers. “I don’t know.” She answered. 

By nightfall, the parlor was quiet. Bridgertons enjoying some solitude before sleep. Hyacinth occupied with a novel. Having taken on the advice of Penelope this was a rather good book. Her eyes lifted from the pages at the sound.

At first it was subtle, but the more she started to focus on it, the more it annoyed her. Soft sniffling. Anyone too lazy to use a tissue. Trying to settle back in her book, it was quiet for a moment. Then the sniffling returned. Irritating her on a level, she lost her nerves. “Gregory!” She called out, slapping her book down. “What?” He called out confused. 

Violet pausing her needle work. “Will you please stop sniffling. It is rather annoying.” Hyacinth let out. “I am not.” Gregory responded. Sniffling loud afterwards, making Hyacinth’s eyes grow wider. Pointing at her brother that he was incorrect. “Yes, you are.” Hyacinth responded.

“I am not!” Gregory repeated in a louder tone. “Yes, you are! You got yourself cold and wet and here you are now lying that you are not getting a cold.” She had moved her novel aside, jumping up. “Children…children…” Violet called out, trying to settle the situation. Gregory moved to the front of the armchair. “I don’t have a cold.” Answering in a thicker voice. 

Hyacinth gasped, turning to mother with a firm point at his brother. Violet sighed softly, getting up. “Gregory, you are speaking through your nose, darling.” She informed that he might be getting ill. “I think it is best if you head for bed.” Finishing with concern. Gregory scoffed loud, agitated that he got sent off to bed this early in the night.

Violet kept her gaze firm on him. Groaning loud, he got up, leaving the parlor. Violet needed to only eye her for Mrs. Wilson approached. “The necessary, please.” She told her. Mrs. Wilson nodded, knowing enough. Giving orders to some maids, before following young mister Bridgerton to his quarters. 

Gregory had already stripped down most of his attire. Leaving him in a white breathy shirt and trousers when Mrs. Wilson entered. He rolled his eyes at her. “You must take care of your health, mister Bridgerton.” She said, signalling to the maids to enter. Footman John somewhere along with them.

Gregory crawled in his bed. John nearing his side. Taking a few pillows to puff up. “Laying a bit higher will help with the breathing.” He quietly said to the young lordling. John helped Gregory lay carefully back on the pile of stuffed pillows. “Do you think she has a cold too?” Gregory asked John. John looked with pity back at him. 

“I do not know, mister Bridgerton. But perhaps you can write her a letter in the morning.” John suggested. Gregory nodded. John moved away so that a maid could feel for his temperature. “You are burning up, my lord.” She spoke.

“Am not.” Gregory responded, refusing to believe he was getting ill. The maid looked back at Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Wilson urged her to continue the care despite his protest and lying. Gregory groaned when she placed a cold cloth over his forehead. 

“Is that necessary?” Gregory asked, pushing himself back up. The wet cloth falling down on his lap. The maid batting her eyes to the ceiling for a moment. “Yes.” Mrs. Wilson spoke, gesturing at the maids opening his windows. “Fresh air helps cool the body down.” Finishing up her words.

Gregory sighed loud, letting himself fall back. Receiving the cold cloth once more. Mrs. Wilson clapped softly, calling her ladies over. “If there is anything you need, simply ring the bell.” She told him. Moving backwards, leaving the room. Gregory exhaled loud, staring at the ceiling of his bed. Coughing gently. 

He hated to admit that they were all right. That he was indeed getting ill from his stupid actions in the lake. He thought it would be harmless. Rolling over his side, the cold cloth fell down. Arms crossed, he continued to mope. Till his mind went towards the girl in the palace.

Despair falling on his face. Hoping you wouldn’t be in the same predicaments as him. Slowly getting ill in bed. John’s suggestion lingering on his mind. Sighing again, he rolled to his back. Lifting his upper body up. Biting his lip for a moment before opening the drawer. Taking out what he needed, for he couldn’t wait till morning for his letter. 

You were coughing, laying all bundled up in bed. Queen Charlotte, sitting on the bed with you. Stroking your cheek with the back of her fingers. “Brimsley will remain just outside your door.” She told you. Your gaze went to Brimsley by the door, who nodded with watery eyes your way. “If you need anything, he’ll provide it.” Her majesty said, tucking you in.

“Godmother…” You said when she was about to get up and leave. Her majesty hummed in return. “Are…are you cross with us…for what happened at the lake?” Nervous she might be. Certainly to what it had led. “No…” She answered, shaking her head. Cupping your cheeks, she smiled upon you. “Do you regret it?” She asked. 

Shaking your head, your answer was enough for her. Bringing your head closer to her, she kissed your forehead. Getting up, she took her leave. You smiled at her departure, knowing Brimsley would be close if you ever needed anything. Laying yourself down, you exhaled deep.

Staring up to the ceiling. Turning your head, staring at the open windows. Wondering if Gregory got into any trouble. Those were never your intentions. It was a shared act. So half should be your blame. Sitting up, you took out what you needed from the drawers. Hoping he would be alright. 

“Morning, mister...” The rest of John’s words faded away. Blinking surprised seeing young mister Bridgerton was already awake. Coughing with a hand against his chest. Sniffling loud as he waved a letter around. “Could…could you do me a favor…” He asked in a hoarse voice.

John bowed his head, before approaching. “This is for Miss Y/n. She is staying at the palace. Could you deliver this with urgency?” Gregory asked, holding the letter out. John accepted it with a cheeky smile. “I will do so with upmost importance.” Clicking his heels together. John bowed his head. Taking his leave. Gregory exhaled deep, letting himself fall back. 

Once Gregory felt like truly dozing off, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Apologies, mister Bridgerton.” Hazel spoke upon entering. Balancing a silver tray on her arm. Gregory hazily sat up, waving to her it was alright. “The misses thought you’d like some breakfast.” She set the tray down on the nightstand.

Moving around to fetch the stand. Gregory’s gaze fell on the plate, seeing a letter half under the plate. Hazel returned, placing the stand over him so he had something to balance the tray on in bed. She placed the tray on the stand. “Oh and you’ve got an eager letter this morning. With great importance.” She said, casting a wink at him. 

Gregory waited for her to leave. Leaving the breakfast aside, grabbing immediately for the letter. Ripping it open. First reading who signed it. Yours truly Y/n. Grinning from ear to ear, he pressed the letter to his chest. Seating himself better, reading every word you had written. 

You blinked surprised when Brimsley delivered the letter. At first you thought it was your own, he had delivered back. Yet upon seeing a different hand-writing, you were stunned. It felt as if you had only sent your letter half an hour ago, for already receiving a letter yourself.

Brimsley took his leave. Quickly you opened the letter. Finding not one but two pages fully written. Biting cheekily at your thumb, you couldn’t stop smiling. Flattered by his concern for you. At least twenty apologies if he had made you sick as well. Something he did not intend to. Grinning from ear to ear as your own letter might have sounded exactly the same as his.

Ink touched paper once more. Vigorous scribbling. Letter after letter. Word after word. Staff members entered quickly with the upmost duties of delivering. Footman John found his way at a side-door of the palace. Handing over the letter.

Quirking up his eyebrows when he received one in return. Tugging it away in his inner pocket, he went back to the carriage. Taking the journey back. Surprising Gregory with a new letter. 

Gregory was pacing around in his night wear. Re-reading the letter over and over as it contained more pages. Laying on your stomach in bed, you couldn’t stop reading them. Bed-bound but finding comfort in words.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Gregory was about to comment on it, but kept quiet upon seeing the smirk on his sister's face. Knowing her well enough, she was teasing him once more. Slightly annoyed, he turned his posture away. Staring out of the window with grumpy mumbling. Eloise and Hyacinth snickering quietly.

“Hush.” Violet said, slapping her fan down near them. Putting a stop to their childish behavior. “I will see no such manners with the Queen. I only want to see your best manners first.” Violet made clear, looking at each of her children. 

“Then you must first have them.” Gregory spoke with a sneer at his younger sister. Hyacinth gawking at his remark. Seeing how Violet let it slip. Shocked and annoyed, he received special treatment, she crossed her arms. Falling back into the seat.

Sitting un-lady-like, practically laying down. Violet gave her about a minute to soak in her own grumpy fit before casting one motherly scowl at her. Enough to make her straighten her posture and throw her irritations out of the window. 

The horse and carriage throttled on cobble stone. Leaving the busy streets of Mayfair for the outskirts. Peaceful fields and meadows as far as the eye stretched. Hyacinth’s mood seemed to have completely changed.

Glued to the scenery of flowery fields. Whispering quietly all the flowers she recognized. Eloise retired to her novel, enjoying the bits of peace and quiet. Gregory dozed a bit off, feeling the soft breeze tickle his face. 

He shot wide awake, spotting the palace at the horizon. Growing taller with each approach. Quickly he nudged Hyacinth who sat diagonally from him. She gasped loud, sticking her head out of the window. “Do be careful!” Violet called out with a sigh.

In wonder, Hyacinth admired the sun shining just above the highest tops. Leaving a warm glow on the stone walls. Even Eloise was tempted to look. Knowing if Benedict was here, he would’ve stopped the carriage just to paint it. 

Excitement grew when the carriage rode up the pathway. Riding up to the front doors. Brimsley came down the few steps to greet them. Footman opening the carriage door. Violet got off first. Followed by her daughters, then Gregory. Brimsley bowed to him.

“I welcome you to the palace on behalf of the queen. She is very pleased you could come, Lady Bridgerton.” He spoke, keeping his hands neatly beside his body. “Well, it was a pleasure receiving her invitation.” Violet responded.

She had been rather surprised when receiving the invitation. Perhaps the queen wished for a familiar face with Lady Danbury’s departure. A close confident to gossip around like the older days. “And I am also honoured that my children were invited.” Violet quickly added.

Brimsley bowed his head at them. Gesturing for them to follow.  Violet couldn’t stop herself but take a glorious glance at the interior. Clearing her throat, she quickly recollected herself. Children followed right behind her. 

Brimsley led them into the meeting room where the queen was already seated. Her ladies in waiting standing by the side. A pomeranian sitting on the queen’s lap. “Lady Bridgerton and her children, your majesty.” Brimsley stopped before her with a bow. Moving aside for Lady Bridgerton and her children to bow or curtsy for her.

The queen raised her eyebrow at Eloise. “Heard anything interesting from your friend?” She asked. Eloise swallowed softly, knowing she was referring to Penelope. “I…I…I” Eloise started, looking nervously around. The queen’s brow only raising more in anticipation of hearing actual proper words. 

“I’ve seen Gwen’s chaperone have quite the conversation with Theodore’s chaperone.” Hyacinth blurted out. Not taking much thought of it. The queen furrowed her brows at her. “Lady Woodhouse and Lord Dawe.” Hyacinth filled in. The queen’s expression subtly changed. Eloise and Violet shared a shocking glance when the queen patted the seat beside her.

Hyacinth ran over to it, sitting down. “Where did you see this?” The queen asked. “At my recital.” Hyacinth informed, looking lovingly at the dog. “Is Lord Dawe not a married man?” The queen tried to recall. Hyacinth hummed loud. “May I pet your dog?” Asking between the conversation. To everyone’s surprise, the queen offered her the pomeranian. 

“Tell me all about it.”  The queen let out with an amusing chuckle. Hyacinth began to flood the queen with her tales. Petting the dog whilst doing so. Violet and Eloise had joined. Receiving tea from Brimsley. Gregory remained standing up straight.

Taking a glance at the tower of pastries and desserts. Knowing the queen was occupied with his sister’s gossip. He glanced at Brimsley, pointing if it was alright. Brimsley nodded. Gregory rubbed his hands excitingly together before choosing some macrons. 

Putting some quickly in his mouth, in case he shouldn’t have. He felt rather out of place what was allowed and what not. Going a bit around the table, he looked thoughtfully around what next pasty he was going to eat. His gaze went briefly upwards.

Eyes widening, staring back at a girl by the door. A girl trying to have a peek of the room. Upon seeing him, she darted away. Gregory stuffed the chocolate in his hand quickly in his mouth. Wiping his hands down his vest. Glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention to him. 

When no one was, he subtly slipped out of the room, through the partly open door. Looking left and right to where the mystery girl could’ve gone. Exhaling loud when he saw her by the end of the hall, going into another room. Gregory went in pursuit.

Huffing and puffing quietly. “Wait…wait…” Gregory called out in a low tone. Not wanting to draw attention by shouting. Waving his hand out, he hoped to stop her. “Wait… please…” Begging with pants. 

Hands gripping onto your skirt, it was lifted up for more running room. Gasping loud, you glanced over your shoulder. Eyes meeting up with the boy for a moment. Seeing him practically swoon in that split-second. Darting into another room, you hoped he would give up on his pursuit.

You merely wanted to look out of curiosity. You never imagined a chase. Glancing briefly to the side, you had to admit it was kind of exciting. In your distraction, you ran into a secluded room with no other escape way. Gasping loud as you had trapped yourself. “Wait!” Hearing loud on your tail. 

Rushing up to the window, you pulled the curtain before you. Taking in hiding. Covering up your mouth to deafen out your loud breathing trying to steady once more. Entering footsteps made you squint your eyes closed for a moment. Gregory entered the room, catching his breath. Taking a quick sweep of the room. Snickering soft when he saw a pair of shoes come from underneath the curtains.

“I swore she came in here.” He said, scratching the back of his head. “I guess I must have lost her.” Speaking loudly. Quietly approaching the curtains. “A shame for I could’ve shared the macrons.” He went on. Hearing soft snickering come from behind the curtains. “I guess I must return.” He called out, pretending to walk away.

Stomping his feet in place. Staying quiet till it was your move. Anxiously you waited behind the curtain. Counting to ten to make sure he was far enough. Exhaling softly, you moved the curtain back. Only to gasp in shock at the presence before you.

"Hello, miss." Gregory spoke with a bow. “I thought you left.” You answered. “Tricked you.” He chuckled out. Softly bloating your cheeks, you didn’t like how he out-smarted you. “Gregory Bridgerton.” Introducing himself with a shyful smile. Taking a soft breath, you curtsied at him. “Y/n Y/l/n.” 

“Were you invited by the queen as well?” Gregory asked. “My mother was with my sisters.” Adding. You started to move around the room as Gregory followed in step. “Why were you not with us in the room? Did you have to wait for the queen till our conversation was over?” Asking curiously as he had no idea how the queen managed her visitors.

“No.” You laughed out loud. “I do not require an invitation to see her majesty.” Replying to him. Fidgeting a bit with the fabric of your skirt. “You don’t?” Gregory exclaimed with curiosity. 

Humming loud, you left the room. Gregory joined you on your stroll back to the meeting room. “I’m her goddaughter.” You informed him. Chuckling how he was gawking in disbelief at you. “From her majesty?” He blurted out. “Yes silly.” Replying with a soft tease.

“Why weren’t you with her?” Questioning why you were not joining, but sneakily taking a peek. “I…I…” Cheeks flushing with bashfulness, making you turn your head away. Gregory seemed to understand your struggles. Seeing the fidgeting and bashfulness. You were shy. 

“My sister seems to be getting in favor with her majesty.” He spoke to change the subject. You breathed with ease, feeling a bit of the tension leave your shoulders now that the attention wasn’t focused on you anymore. “My godmother loves a good gossip. From what I heard, your sister can tell a few good one’s.” You responded.

Glancing from time to time at the passing paintings by the wall. The two of you neared the meeting room. Nervously you glanced inside, seeing how your godmother was still listening with eagerness at his sister’s tales. 

Gregory came standing before you. Glancing from you to the room visible through the small gap. “I could take a few pastries for you if you like?” Gregory suggested. Getting your attention again with a raised eyebrow.

“Tell me what you adore and I’ll fetch it for you, miss Y/n.” Unable to keep his eyes from you. You laughed softly. Gregory chuckling along, wanting to bottle up your smile for eternity. “What do you like, Gregory?” You asked. His lips parted with a soft smile. “You.” Whispering quietly. 

Queen Charlotte’s attention got briefly drawn away. Narrowing her eyes at the gap by the doors. Seeing you and mister Bridgerton laugh. A smile settled on her lips. Leaning back with comfort and a curious hum.

-----------------------------------------------

“Jesus, you scared me.” You whispered.

“I scared you?” Your mom whispered incredulously.

“I know, we should’ve called.” You tried to placate her before she could get angry.

“Nancy, go to your mom.” Your mom said.

“Mom, come on.” Nancy tried to argue, but your mom wasn’t having it.

“Go to your room.” Your mom said again, sternly. Nancy shared a quick look with you before retreating up the stairs. “Where have you been?” Your mom asked, loudly, and then she quickly lowered her voice. “We agreed on ten.”

You shrugged. “After the assembly, some people wanted to get something to eat. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.

“You didn’t think to call and let me know?” Your mom said shakily. “With everything that’s been going on?”

“I didn’t realize how late it was, okay?” You apologized. “I’m sorry, mom. What more do you want?” You started up the stairs when your mom reached out a hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait…” Your mom said as you stopped and turned back to her. “Whose sweatshirt is that?”

“Steve’s.” You stated nonchalantly, but you could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“Steve’s.” Your mom echoed. “So is Steve Nancy’s boyfriend now?”

“What?” You said and then let out a small laugh to help sell it. “No.”

“Then why are you wearing his sweatshirt?” Your mom asked, her eyes searching yours.

“It was just cold.” You lied. “So I borrowed his sweatshirt. It’s not a big deal.” You started making your way up the stairs again and only made it to the landing before your mom stopped you again.

“Hey.” Your mom called out.

“What?” You whispered, annoyed, but you were still freaking out.

“You can talk to me.” Your mom said gently. “You can talk to me. Whatever happened.”

“Nothing happened.” You said slowly.

Your mom hardened her gaze just slightly as she tilted her head. “Come on.”

“Nothing happened.” You repeated, a few tears starting to well in your eyes as your heart continued to hammer away. “Can I please go?”

Your mom looked back at you sadly, tears starting to form in her own eyes and you took that as your cue to leave, silently making your way upstairs and into your bedroom. It felt like your mom was insinuating something, and you didn’t know what to think of that. You honestly couldn’t imagine your mom not loving you no matter what you told her. But it was the prospect of actually telling her that freaked you out. You couldn’t do it.

~~~~~

Nancy had been worried all morning, Barb never showing up at school. You were worried too, it wasn’t like her to not show up. At least, not without some warning. But you figured she was probably upset after last night, maybe just needed a day to cool off.

During first period your head was starting to hurt again, and as soon as the bell rang you hightailed it to the bathroom to take your Tylenol. It seemed like your headaches were becoming more frequent recently, and you didn’t know if it was something to really worry about, or if it was just stress from everything going on.

You quickly downed two of the pills, but the movement of throwing your head back made the world swim in your vision slightly, throwing you off balance. You quickly grabbed onto the sink to steady yourself when you heard the door open.

“Whoa.” Steve announced worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You breathed, not wanting to turn to him and risk another dizzy spell. “It’s just a headache, I got a bit dizzy. It happens.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Steve asked. “This isn’t serious, is it?”

“No.” You said. “It’s just side effects. I’ll be fine.”

You could see in the mirror as Steve glanced around the room, checking the stalls before turning towards the door and quickly turning the lock. He then stepped over to you and placed a comforting hand on your back and you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face.

“What?” Steve asked when he noticed the smile.

“Nothing.” You smiled harder as you glanced at him in the mirror. “You’re just really sweet, you know that?”

“Really?” Steve took a small step closer, his thumb rubbing against your back as the heat started to rise in his cheeks.

“Really, Harrington.” You mused. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were just a big sap.”

“I am not.” He argued weakly.

“Don’t try and deny it.” You slowly let go of the sink and turned around to face him. “It’s the reason I like you so much.”

“You like me so much?” He echoed, his hands landing on your arms as he held you in place.

“Do I need to repeat it?” You joked.

“Well, it is nice to hear.” He mused, leaning in just a little bit.

You just smiled at him and closed the gap, connecting your lips with his for a brief moment before pulling away. But he really was a sap, and that wasn’t enough for him, so he leaned back in, his lips soft and tender against yours.

Briiiing!

You winced slightly as the sound of the bell grated against your skull. Steve pulled away slowly, the worried look returning to his face as his hands rubbed soothingly on your arms.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed. “I just gotta wait for the Tylenol to kick in.”

“All right.” He smiled sadly at you. “If it gets worse you can tell me, you know.”

“I know.” You didn’t know, but it was so sweet to hear. Steve really was a big sap. “I gotta go.” You said as you retracted yourself from him.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” Steve called out and you spun back around to him.

“Yes, Harrington.” You smiled and gave a quick peck to the moles on his cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Steve started blushing bright red from the kiss and you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the look. He was such a dork. But he was a cute dork. And you were starting to really, really like him.

~~~~~

Your headache had luckily subsided by the end of second period and by the time lunch had rolled around it was gone completely. You were grateful for that cause you really didn’t feel like having to get picked up due to a migraine.

“That’s why science doesn’t make any damn sense to me.” Tommy said as Carol placed her foot on the table.

“No, I swear.” Carol complained. “Look at this. It’s totally frostbite.”

The thing on her ankle was totally not frostbite, but you didn’t say anything. You really didn’t care about Carol’s little personal problems right now. Nancy had found you earlier and told you that Barb still wasn’t at school. She was starting to get worried, really worried, and so were you. You thought Barb might’ve just skipped to blow off some steam, but it really wasn’t like her to do that.

“It’s a heated pool.” Tommy pointed out as Nancy came over and took a seat on Steve’s other side.

“Well, if it’s not frostbite, then what is it?” Carol questioned.

“Ugh, I don’t care what it is, it’s disgusting.” Steve complained through a mouthful of food. “Just get it off the table. We’re eating here.”

Tommy reached out with his spoon, prepared to poke Carol’s ankle with it when she slapped his hand away.

“Hey, Tommy.” Nancy said. “When you left, did you see Barb?”

“What?” Tommy said, the uncaring tone evident.

“Barbara.” Nancy explained. “She’s not here today.”

“I seriously have no idea who you’re talking about.” Tommy said and then he started laughing.

“Come on, don’t be an ass, man.” Steve said sternly. “Did you see her leave last night or not?”

Tommy stopped laughing and fixed Steve with a quick look before answering. “No, she was gone when we left.”

“Probably couldn’t stand listening to all that moaning.” Carol joked, sending a quick glance your way before her and Tommy started making lewd noises, Tommy even slapping the table.

They both knew you and Steve didn’t do anything last night. There were no noises coming from his room. And you just wanted to punch the two of them for making such a stupid joke. You suddenly felt Steve’s foot pushing against yours and you calmed down a little bit, and then another foot, Tommy’s foot, flew out and kicked you in the other shin as he continued slapping the table.

“Listen…” Steve said, turning to Nancy once the dumb joke had died down. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just… she’s probably just, like, skipping or something.”

“Yeah.” Nancy said, unconvinced. “Yeah, probably.”

You weren’t convinced either, and now you were starting to hate Tommy even more after that joke and the kick. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t even give you a look. You were sort of starting to think that he had done it on purpose.

~~~~~

You and Nancy made your way out to the parking, looking for Steve as you were supposed to be staying after to watch the game. You spotted him, Tommy, Carol, and Nicole all huddled around Jonathan’s car.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you and Nancy approached them.

“Here’s the starring man.” Tommy mused as he smirked at you.

“What?”

“This creep was spying on us last night.” Carol provided as she fixed Jonathan with a look, a stack of photos in her hands. “He was probably gonna save this one for later.” She held out a photo to you, eyes never leaving Jonathan.

You slowly took the photo from her as you and Nancy looked at it. It was a picture of you standing at Steve’s bedroom window, back turned to the camera as you took your shirt off. You glanced up at Jonathan slowly, your breath caught in your throat as your heart started to hammer in your chest. It wasn’t even the fact that it was a picture of you undressing that scared you, it was the fact that you were undressing with another boy. But Jonathan just looked ashamed, shoulders hunched in as he could barely hold eye contact with you for more than a second.

Just because your brothers were close didn’t mean that you and Jonathan ever were. But you were just praying that he didn’t go and say anything. Not that anyone would really ever believe him, but the thought still terrified you.

“See.” Steve said. “You can tell that he knows it was wrong, but… man, that’s the thing about perverts… it’s hardwired into them.” He mockingly adjusted Jonathan’s shirt. “You know, they just can’t help themselves.” Steve ripped up the photos in his hands and tossed them into the air. “So… we’ll just have to take away his toy.”

“Steve…” Nancy said quietly, trying to deescalate the situation, but it didn’t work. And you just couldn’t find it in yourself to say anything.

“No, please, not the camera.” Jonathan spoke up for the first time as Steve stepped back over to the car and took the camera out of his bag. Jonathan tried to step forward and grab it back when Tommy got right in front of it.

“No, no, wait, wait… Tommy, Tommy.” Steve called out. “It’s okay.” Steve stepped back over and held the camera out. “Here you go, man.” Jonathan reached out for the camera when Steve let go of it a second too soon, sending it crashing into the ground, broken. “Come on, let’s go. The game’s about to start.”

Steve started walking off when Tommy leaned in close to Jonathan. “Boo.” He whispered.

Carol ripped up the last of the photos and dropped them on the ground. “Bye.”

You started slowly walking away, just wanting to get away from the whole thing. Your breathing had righted itself, but your heart was still hammering away. Nancy hung back for a second and you watched as she suddenly knelt down on the ground and started picking up some of the ripped up photos.

“Hey, Nance!” Steve called out as he turned around and saw her lingering. “Come on.”

Nancy quickly shoved the photos into her bag and jogged over to you. You gave her a questioning look and she returned it with her own unsure one. You knew that look. It was the face she always made when there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t in front of other people. You wondered what the hell was in those photos she picked up.

By the time you got back into the school Tommy and Carol were already sitting on the bench in the hallway. Well, Tommy was sitting, and Carol was sprawled out with her head in his lap. You and Nancy simply leaned back against the lockers as Steve took a seat on the floor.

“So, I told Mr. Mundy…” Carol chuckled as she finished her story. “The solution of ten plus Y equals… blow me.”

“Bull.” Steve laughed. “If you did that, you’d be in detention right now.”

“Saturday.” Carol smirked.

“I bet Mr. Mundy’s still a virgin.” Tommy said.

“Oh, he’s so a virgin.” Carol agreed.

“Maybe you should blow him, Carol.” Tommy joked. “Help your grades a bit.”

“What the hell?” Carol slapped Tommy in the chest.

Nancy glanced over at you, a worried look on her face and the two of you pushed yourself off the lockers and started walking away.

“Whoa, hey, where are you going?” Steve called out.

“I totally forgot.” You stammered. “We told our mom we would, um… we would do something with her.”

“Well, what do you mean?” Steve asked as he hastily pushed himself to his feet. “The game’s about to start.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized as you and Nancy continued walking away.

~~~~~

You and Nancy walked up to where Barb had parked her car last night and you found it still sitting there. Nancy had shown you the torn up photo she had seen earlier, a picture of Barb sitting on the edge of the diving board. You were really starting to worry now. If Barb hadn’t gone home last night and her car was still here you were starting to fear that whatever had happened to Will had happened to her as well.

“Barb?” You called out.

“Barb!” Nancy yelled.

You and Nancy started making your way to Steve’s house, planning to look around his backyard a bit and see if there was any evidence or anything. Just something that could help tell you where Barb was.

“What happened last night?” You asked. “I know you stayed and all, but how did you know that Barb hadn’t left?”

“After you went upstairs me and Barb had went back outside.” Nancy explained. “I got cold and had to use the bathroom, so I went back in. I told her she didn’t have to stay if she didn’t want to, that I would stick around. She didn’t really say anything, just said she couldn’t stand being in that house. By the time I went back out she was gone and I assumed she left.”

You nodded along. “I didn’t sleep with him, by the way.” You muttered. “We only talked.”

“Then what was with that photo?” Nancy asked.

“Well, we may have made out a little bit.” You said with a sheepish grin. “And I was trying to change out of my wet clothes.”

“Why didn’t you?” She shoved you lightly.

“What?” You laughed.

“Come on.” She teased. “Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “It was just too early. I mean, a week, seriously?”

“I guess so.” She said and then she shoved you again. “So you really like him then, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” You mumbled as you shoved Nancy back, earning a laugh from her. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Just shut up.”

Nancy rolled her eyes, her laughter dying down as you made it to Steve’s house. You crossed over to the back gate and pushed it open, taking a look around. But you didn’t see anything.

“Barb?” Nancy called out.

You suddenly heard some rustling over in the woods and shared a quick look with Nancy before walking over. The two of you looked around, trying to find something out of place.

“Barb?” You called out.

“Barb?” Nancy tried again.

You continued looking around when you heard more rustling and then something large moved out of the corner of your eye. Nancy spun back around quickly, trying to rush out of there when she tripped on a root. You grabbed her and quickly pulled her back to her feet, keeping your hands on her as the two of you hightailed it out of there.

~~~~~

You threw open the back door and shoved Nancy inside first, her on the verge of tears for a few blocks now. You didn’t know what the hell you saw out there in the woods, but you knew that it couldn’t be good.

“Hey.” Your mom called out from the kitchen. “You guys are home early. How was the game?” You and Nancy didn’t say anything, just walked forward, too freaked out. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Barb.” You said shakily.

“I think something happened.” Nancy said, the tears slowly falling now. “Something terrible.”

Your mom’s face dropped and then she came rushing over, wrapping you and Nancy up in her arms.

~~~~~

Your mom had called Barb’s parents after Nancy had finally gotten all of her tears out. They had rushed over to the house and had been there for about the past hour as Nancy explained what you and her had seen. You were just sitting quietly, staring at your hands as you worried the cuffs of your sleeves when the back door burst open and Mike walked in.

“Michael?” Your mom said worriedly as she stood up and rushed over to him. “What’s wrong?”

Mike just started crying and your mom immediately wrapped her arms around him as he cried into her.

~~~~~

You knocked on the door, not even quite sure why you came here, but just wanting to get out of the house. None of it made any sense. How could Barb just go missing like that? And how could Will have drowned in the quarry? Something felt off about the whole thing.

The door flew open and Steve stared at you, his face dropping the moment he took in your disheveled form. You didn’t even spare him a word as you pushed your way inside, not wanting to stand out there any longer after what you and Nancy had seen in the woods earlier.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as he followed you into the living room.

“They found Will’s body.” You said shakily. “In the quarry.”

“Holy shit.” Steve breathed, taking a small step forward, clearly prepared to comfort you. But that wasn’t why you were here.

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” You said as you stepped back and started pacing around the room. “How can that be him? Why would he be at the quarry? He’s a smart kid. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t think things like this usually do.” Steve stammered.

“I know, but… I’ve got this terrible feeling, like… I don’t know… like it’s not him. I just can’t believe that. And, even if it was, then what about Barb? Where did she go? She didn’t skip, and she wouldn’t have run away. That’s not like her. And run away from here?” You gestured wildly to the house. “What the hell would be the point of that? And, even if she didn’t run away, she would’ve told Nance she was leaving. They tell each other everything. It just… it doesn’t make any sense. I just can’t believe it. I—I can’t. I don’t. I… I don’t believe it.”

You took a deep breath and stopped pacing once you had finished your rant. Steve was just staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he disgusted your words. You suddenly thought it might’ve been a bad idea showing up like that and just spewing all of your problems to him. But you didn’t know where else to go.

“Okay…” Steve said slowly. “Why do you think this?”

“I…” Why did you think that? The only evidence you had was something moving in the woods earlier that day. “I don’t know. It just… something about this doesn’t feel right.”

“What exactly doesn’t feel right?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Something.”

“Are you sure you’re not just stressed?”

“No. I mean, I am, but that’s not the—“

Ding! Ding! Ding!

A sharp pain shot through your skull as the clock on the wall chimed loudly. It felt like a nail had just been driven straight through your skull and sunk into your brain.

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Steve said worriedly as he rushed forward, hands flying to your arms as he lead you to the couch. “Why don’t you sit down, all right? I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

You willingly let him sit you on the couch before he ran from the room. You had never had a pain like that come on so suddenly. It was usually just a dull ache that would steadily get worse if you didn’t treat it.

Steve came back with the pills and a glass of water and you gratefully accepted it as he sat down next to you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Does your mom even know you’re here?” Steve asked.

“No.” You said. “I sort of snuck out of my window.”

“Okay.” Steve said as he squeezed you tighter and rested his head on top of yours. “I’ll drive you back, all right?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t want to go back. Not tonight.”

“Won’t she notice you’re not there in the morning?”

“Probably.”

“Do you, um…” Steve stammered. “You can stay here. If you want to, that is.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Steve shrugged. “I mean, my parents are still out of town, so no one will know.”

“Thanks.” You whispered, a small smile forming on your face.

You reached over and grabbed Steve’s free hand, bringing it into his lap as you tried to lace your fingers together. But he just started playing with them, just like he did last night. You liked it, the way he was always fiddling around. It was comforting to know he wanted to touch you just to touch you. To be close in whatever way he could. You were never one to explicitly seek out someone else’s touch, but with Steve you wanted to. You just wanted to be close to him.

Because of the strain that the tumor had put on your life as a whole you hadn’t been able to keep up your grades. You passed, just barely, just enough to move up a grade. But you had failed chemistry, meaning you were stuck taking it again. But you still couldn’t wrap your head around the subject.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You gratefully set aside your homework and reached over to throw the door open. And you were even more grateful to see Dustin standing on the other side, his wide, toothless grin beaming at you.

You wouldn’t admit it, you couldn’t, that would just be blasphemy. But Dustin had always had a cuter smile than Mike. It was just a fact, nothing harsh. But damn did that kid have the cutest smile you had ever seen. You liked Steve’s smile too, had only been graced with it very recently. But nobody could rival Dustin in that arena.

“Hey. There’s a slice left if you want it.” Dustin held up the pizza box. “Sausage and pepperoni. Nancy already said no.”

“Good.” You smiled. “Cause I want it.” You snatched up the slice and Dustin’s smile got even wider, if that was even possible. “Did you guys win?”

“Not technically.” Dustin said.

“Not technically?” You echoed.

“Well, Will only rolled a seven. But Mike didn’t see it so we didn’t tell me.” Dustin smiled. “He thinks we won.”

“Well, if he didn’t see it, it doesn’t count.” You ruffled his head and then pushed him back out into the hallway. “Now go home. It’s a school night.”

“Okay, dad.” Dustin mocked as he closed the door, his small footsteps echoing down the stairs.

You started eating the slice of pizza, your eyes trained on your chemistry homework, but definitely not retaining any information. All you needed to do was pass the class. If you did that then next year would be a breeze.

~~~~~

You were picking away at your breakfast, your dad blocking everything out as he read the newspaper, as per usual. Mike then grabbed the syrup and started pouring it over his eggs, earning a disgusted look from Nancy.

“That’s disguising.” Nancy complained.

“You’re disgusting!” Mike shot back.

You bit your tongue to hide your laugh as to not draw their attention onto you and get syrup all over your own eggs.

Briiiing!

You glanced over to the phone to see your mom, Holly on her hip, pick it up.

“Hello?” Your mom said. “Oh, Joyce, hi.”

“What the hell, Mike?” Nancy exclaimed and you turned back around to see Mike pouring the syrup all over her plate.

“Language!” Your dad complained halfheartedly.

“Quiet!” Your mom yelled over her shoulder.

“Will?” Your mom said into the phone and your attention was drawn back to her. “No, no, no, it’s just Mike….. No, he left here a little bit after eight. Why? He’s not home?….. Okay. Bye.” Your mom hung up the phone and went back to make a plate for Holly.

“What was that about?” You asked.

“Nothing.” Your mom waved you off. “Just hurry up and finish your breakfast.”

You looked down at your plate, but you didn’t have an appetite anymore. Your mom said something about Will and not being home. How were you supposed to eat after hearing that? The least she could’ve done was lie and say everything was fine. That’s what she had done when you were in the hospital. It was always more to calm herself than it was for you, but it always made you feel better.

~~~~~

“So, did you get a call?” Barb asked as she huddled up beside your locker next to you and Nancy.

“Keep your voice down.” You chided, but you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face.

“Did you?” Barb whispered, making sure she didn’t say ‘he.’

“I told you, it’s not like that.” You said. “Okay, I mean, yes, they like me, but not like that. We just… made out a couple times.”

“We just… made out a couple times.” Nancy mocked lightly.

“Seriously.” Barb said. “You guys are gonna be so cool now, it’s ridiculous.”

“No, we’re not.” You argued as you started putting in the combination.

“You guys better still hang out with me, that’s all I’m saying.” Barb said. “If you become friends with Tommy H or Carol—“

“Oh, that’s gross!” Nancy complained.

“I’m telling you.” You said as you opened your locker. “It was a one time… two time thing.” You looked back at your locker and saw a piece of paper in it. You opened it carefully and it read: Meet Me. Bathroom. S.

“You were saying?” Barb joked and you had to fight hard not to let your smile show.

You quickly grabbed the books that you needed and made your way to the bathroom. Nancy and Barb had known that you liked guys for years. The cover story was that Steve was actually dating Nancy. And Nancy had agreed to it, with a little bit of coaxing. You had to agree to do her laundry for a month, but she still would’ve said yes anyway.

You were a little scared when you got to the bathroom, afraid someone would already be in there or that they would come walking through the door. But the second you entered Steve clicked the lock shut.

“There’s no one in here.” Steve reassured. “No one ever comes in here during this period.”

“And if they try to?” You asked and Steve stepped forward, grabbing your bag and tossing it aside.

“We’ll just say it was jammed.” He shrugged and then his hand cupped your face and he pulled you into him.

Steve’s free hand flew to your waist as he walked you backwards, trapping you between him as the wall as he continued to kiss you. Steve was a really good kisser, and the first time he had kissed you you had laughed a little when you tasted cherry flavored chapstick on him.

Your right hand reached up and around to the back of his neck, lightly carding through the hair there. You were surprised the first time he had let you touch it, never giving a single complaint when you ran your fingers through it. And it was surprisingly soft even with the obvious use of hairspray.

You pushed back harder against Steve’s lips, wanting them to just stay put. But he kept breaking away every few seconds and then reconnecting. You reached your left hand up to grab the arm holding your waist, using that and the hand in his hair to pull him a little closer, and his lips finally stayed put for longer than five seconds.

“Steve…” You said, trying to break away after finally getting him to slow down, but now he was back to repeatedly kissing you. “I have to go.”

“In a minute.” Steve mumbled as his lips trailed over to your cheek and then down to your neck.

Briiiing!

“Steve.” You tried to pull away, only halfheartedly doing so cause you really did like the feel of his lips on your skin. “I really, like…” His lips cut you off for a second. “Seriously, I have to go.” You managed to break away for good and reached down to grab your bag when Steve snatched it up first.

“Wait, wait, wait. Let’s…” Steve backed away a few steps, your bag in his hands. “Come on, let’s do something tonight, yeah?”

“No, I can’t.” You shook your head. “I have to study for Kaminsky’s test.”

“Oh, come on.” Steve said. “What’s your GPA again? 3.999…”

“Kaminsky’s tests are impossible.” You laughed, trying to snatch your bag back from him when he yanked it out of the way.

“Well, then, just let me help.” Steve said, a little sadness in his tone.

“You failed chem.” You pointed out.

“C-minus.” Steve shrugged.

“Well, in that case…” You joked, reaching out for the bag again when he moved it behind his back.

“So I’ll be over around, say, like, eight?”

“Are you crazy?” You laughed and you finally managed to take your bag back. “You can’t just—“

“I’ll climb through your window.” Steve cut you off. “No one will even know I’m there. I’m stealthy, like a ninja.”

“You are crazy.” You smiled as you headed for the door, but his hand grabbed your arm and spun you back around.

“Wait, wait, wait. Just… Okay, forget about that. We can just…” Steve put his free hand on your other arm, his soft eyes looking into yours hopefully. “We can just, like, chill in my car. We can find a nice quiet place to park, and…”

“Steve.” You said sternly, actually wanting to go out with him but knowing you really did have to study. “I have to study. I’m not kidding.”

“Well, why do you think I want it to be nice and quiet?”

You tried not to smile at the comment, but you found it impossible not to smile around him. “You’re an idiot, Harrington.” You lightly pushed his arms off as you made your way to the door, but then you stopped, thought for a second, and turned back around. “Meet me at Dearborn and Maple at eight.” You could see the hint of a smile forming on his face. “To study.” You added and he just nodded along.

You turned around and look a deep breath to school your face before you unlocked the door and walked out. One night out of the house probably wouldn’t kill you. Then again, maybe it would. But as long as you didn’t fail that test then you would be in the clear.

~~~~~

“We should be out there right now.” Mike complained as the six of you were eating dinner. “We should be helping look for him.”

“We’ve been over this, Mike.” Your mom said sternly. “The chief says—“

“I don’t care what the chief said.”

“Michael!”

“We have to do something. Will can be in danger.”

“More reason to stay put.”

“Mom!” Mike exclaimed

“End of discussion.” Your mom aaid and everyone went silent, not wanting to argue.

“So…” You said after a few seconds. “Me and Nance are gonna study at Barb’s house tonight. That’s cool, right?”

“No, not cool.” Your mom shook her head, eyes trained on her plate as she pushed her chicken around.

“What?” Nancy asked. “Why not?”

Since Nancy was a part of the cover story, well, the entire covert story, she was gonna go with you to meet Steve, and then you would drop her off at Barb’s while you and Steve went out. You also knew that, despite her small protests, she actually liked you being with Steve.

“Why do you think?” Your mom asked incredulously. “Am I speaking Chinese in this house? Until we know Will is okay, no one leaves.”

“This is such bullshit.” Nancy exclaimed.

“Language.” Your dad piped up monotonously.

“So we’re under house arrest?” Nancy continued, completely ignoring him. But you kept your own mouth shut, the only one there who never argued with your mom, and you could already feel a headache forming. “Just because Mike’s friend got lost on the way home from—“

“Wait, this is Will’s fault?” Mike cut off.

“Nancy, take that back.” Your mom said sternly.

“No!” Nancy argued.

“You’re just pissed off cause you wanna hang out with Steve.” Mike fired at her and your face dropped. Nancy turned and gave Mike a quick look, trying to tell him to shut up.

“Steve?” Your dad echoed.

“Who is Steve?” Your mom asked.

“Her new boyfriend.” Mike exclaimed.

“You are such a douchebag, Mike!” Nancy yelled back.

You abruptly stood up from the table and took off for the stairs, leaving your plate where it sat. You just wanted to get away from the argument, and your head was really starting to hurt. You really didn’t want to get a migraine right now.

“Where are you going?” Your mom called after you.

“I have a headache.” You replied, already halfway up the stairs.

You threw open your bedroom door and quietly shut it behind you, both to keep the noise from worsening your headache and to keep everyone downstairs from hearing you. You grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and quickly downed two of them.

You had been getting constant headaches since the surgery, an unfortunate side effect. You were able to treat it with just some painkillers, but if you let it go too far then it would turn into a migraine, and you did not need that right now.

You crossed over to your bed, preparing to pick up the phone and call Steve, tell him that you weren’t able to go out tonight. But you hadn’t called Steve first before, and you were honestly scared he would think you were rejecting him when you really weren’t. You really liked Steve, and you wanted to try and make it last with him.

Briiiing!

You snatched up the phone instantly, and then instantly regretted it. You should’ve let it ring for a second, not look too eager. But you were eager. You knew it was Steve on the other end.

“Hey.” You said.

Hey. Steve’s happy voice sounded through the speaker. We’re still on for tonight, right?

“Um… about that. I’m kind of on house arrest right now. All of us are.”

House arrest?

“Yeah. Sorry. It kinda just happened, so… you know.”

Well, why don’t you just sneak out?

“My mom would kill me if she knew I snuck out. I’ll just see you at school tomorrow. Okay?”

Uh, yeah, okay. Steve said sadly. Tomorrow. Bye.

“Bye.”

You hung up the phone and then closed your eyes as you laid back in your bed. You were really looking forward to seeing Steve, but maybe it was for the better that you were under house arrest with the stupid headache pounding away.

~~~~~

Tap, tap, tap.

Your eyes shot open at a noise coming from your window. You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep. But, luckily, the small nap had been able to clear up your head.

Tap, tap, tap.

You sat up and looked over at the window and you could see someone’s silhouette behind the curtains. It had to be Steve. Who else would go tapping at your window after dark? You quickly crossed over and pushed the window open before he could make any more noise and alert someone in the house.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered harshly. “I told you on the phone, I’m under house arrest now.”

“I figured we’d just study here.” Steve said innocently.

“No.” You shook your head. “No way.”

“Oh, come on.” Steve whispered as he started unceremoniously clambering his way through the window. “I can’t have you failing this test. So just… bear with me” One of his feet got stuck on the ledge as he tried to get his footing inside. He managed to get it free and half fell into the room before righting himself. “What’d I tell you? Ninja.” He pointed two thumbs at himself, very pleased with himself.

You scoffed at him and closed the window back down and you just now realized that you hadn’t actually been studying. If he saw that you hadn’t been doing any work after insisting with him this morning that you needed to, then that might definitely come off as a rejection.

“So, uh, where’s your stuff?” Steve asked as he looked around your room.

“It’s in my bag.” You said.

“And where’s your bag?”

You fixed him with a ‘seriously’ look as you bent down and picked up the bag from where it was sitting on the floor right between you two. He smiled sheepishly at you and you couldn’t help but smile at the look. It was adorable.

“If you want to help me study.” You said as you sat on your bed, Steve following suit as you pulled out your flashcards and handed them to him. “Then help me study.”

“All right.” Steve started flipping through the cards. “Which polymers occur naturally?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Starch and cellulose.”

Steve hummed lightly in surprise as he flipped to the next card. “In a molecule of CH4, the hydrogen atoms are spatially oriented towards the centers of—“

“Tetrahedrons.” You cut him off, remembering what you had written down last night.

“Wow.” Steve mused as he checked the answer. “Jesus, how many of these did you make?”

“You said you wanted to help.” You joked.

Steve looked up and smiled at you for a moment. “How about this? How about… How about every time that you get something right, I have to take off an item of clothing. But every time that you get something wrong—“

“Uh, pass.” You laughed, not fully against the idea, but still not exactly wanting to do it.

“Oh, come on. Come on.”

“No.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” Steve scooted closer, getting right up next to you.

“No.”

“During fractional distillation, hydrocarbons are separated according to their—“

“Melting point.” You provided.

Steve flipped the card over and frowned. “Ooh, it’s boiling points.”

“That’s what I meant.” You said, slightly flustered at getting it wrong.

“Yeah, that’s not what you said.” Steve shook his head. He then grabbed at the collar of his own shirt and gestured to it.

“No.” You said sternly.

“No?” Steve echoed. “Oh, do you need…” He sat up, one arm reaching around your back. “Do you need help, or…” His face was only a few inches from yours, his hand landing on your back and pulling you in slightly. You were tempted to lean the rest of the way in, but you really did need to study.

“Steve.” You placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. “I really need to pass this test, okay? You do realize that I’m retaking chemistry because I failed last year.”

“You failed a test?” Steve asked incredulously.

“I… had a lot going on at the time, okay?” You deflected.

“You had a lot going on during an entire school year?” He asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business.” You said. “But yeah, okay? I did.”

“Do you still have a lot going on?” He asked, sitting back up into a normal position. “Or did you, like, get that all handled?”

“Get that all handled?” You echoed.

“You know…” Steve trailed off. “Okay, well, I can’t find the right word, but you know what I mean.”

“What?” You scoffed. “You gonna spew some motivational bullshit at me?”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I mean, I’m not very good at that kind of thing.”

“Then why do you care?” You sighed, really not wanting to tell him the truth, especially not after only a week together.

“Because you’re my boyfriend.” Steve said, like it was obvious. “And I’m supposed to care about what goes on in your life.”

“Supposed to care?” You joked.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to care.” Steve said seriously. “And I do. I do care about what’s going on in your life.”

“If you really care.” You smiled. “Then you’ll help me study.”

Steve frowned. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Steve.” You sighed. “It doesn’t matter, okay?”

“Was it something bad?” He asked worriedly, scooting himself a few inches closer.

“Steve, either shut up and help me study or just leave.” You said sternly, not appreciating the prying he was trying to do.

“Sorry.” He apologized. “I was just curious.”

“I know.” You sighed, feeling bad about being mean to him when his reaction was perfectly normal. “Everybody’s always curious and they always think they’re entitled to answers.”

“Sorry.” Steve frowned. “I guess I was coming off that way.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“Sorry.”

“And stop saying sorry.”

“Sor—my bad.” He said sheepishly and you let out a small laugh. You bit your lip and looked down, trying to hide it and not let him think that he was completely off the hook, but it didn’t work. “You’re cute when you try to hide your laugh.”

“And you’re cute when you’re saying sorry.” You laughed, openly, letting him see.

Steve smirked at you. “Sorry.”

You fixed him with a playfully stern look and grabbed your pillow, lightly hitting him in the side of the head.

“My hair.” Steve exclaimed.

“Oh, stop being so superficial.” You waved him off.

“It’s my best feature.” He argued.

You shrugged, a look of feigned innocence on your face. “I like your moles.”

Steve froze for a moment, a small look of shock gracing his face. “You like my moles?” He asked quietly, hesitantly. You hummed in response, but he continued to just stare at you.

“What?” You asked. “Has no one ever said they’ve liked your moles before?”

“No.” He said sheepishly. “They usually think they’re weird.”

You felt your heart break at that. You loved Steve’s moles, they were adorable. It was one of the first things you noticed about him back when you were kids, way before he ever cared about his hair. How could people not like them?

Steve looked so small right now, like his own heart was breaking. You wanted to lean over and kiss his moles right there and then to get your point across. But you were scared of his reaction. What if it was too weird or too far? But he had already seemed to like the fact that you liked his moles. And he had already tried to kiss you. You had to stop being so scared.

“Well, I think they’re adorable.” You said before you had a chance to second guess yourself and you leaned over and landed a quick kiss against the moles on his neck.

Steve smiled at you softly, heat quickly rising in his cheeks. His eyes flickered down to your lips and then his own were against them. You melted instantly, this kiss unlike the one from the bathroom. It was softer, more intimate.

You lightly pushed back against Steve’s lips, getting a bit lost in them as he gently guided you down to the bed. And then you realized you were laying on the bed when you had been so stern about needing to study.

“Steve.” You said as you broke the kiss. “I have to study.”

“Sorry.” Steve apologized and then he was blushing again as you sat back up, him picking up the discarded flashcards and flipping through them. And then his eyes landed on your dresser. “Is that a video camera?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.” You laughed. “You can’t sit still for two seconds.”

“But you have a video camera.” Steve argued, an amazed look on his face.

You smiled at the childlike wonder in his eyes. “Do you not have one?”

“No.” Steve shook his head, eyes still trained on the camera.

“With all that money, you don’t have a video camera?” You asked, not quite believing that a family as rich as Steve’s wouldn’t had a video camera.

“No.” He said again and then he turned to you with a pleading look. “Can I use it?”

You thought about it for a moment, but what harm could it do? And how could you say no to such a pretty face? “Okay, okay. Just be careful with it.” You said sternly, Steve already jumping from the bed and picking the thing up. “I had to mow a lot of lawns to help pay for that.”

“I’ll be careful.” Steve smiled. “I promise.” He fiddled with the camera for a moment, earning a small wince from you before he eventually figured out how it worked. “Look at that.” Steve mused as he started recording you. “And what do we have here? Wheeler here is trying to study for his chemistry test. You know, if you really need help, you can just cheat off of me.”

“You’re not even in the class.” You laughed.

“I was last year.” He shot back.

“Not anymore.” You shook your head with a smile. “And with that C-minus? Really?”

“Oh, wow, look at that.” Steve laughed, not even listening to you. “It zooms.”

You started laughing again, not quite believing that a video camera of all things could make Steve Harrington act like such a dork. “You’re an idiot, Harrington.”

Steve lowered the camera and smiled at you. “And you’re beautiful, Wheeler.”

Tewkesbury cleared his throat, bouncing on his feet nervously. – “Miss Y/n… I have a question I have been meaning to ask ever since I became serious about you.” – he started pouring his heart out. You chuckled softly. – “As long as it isn’t a proposal.” – you teased jokingly. You kept chuckling till you noticed Tewkesbury looking saddened back at you. Making it clear in his eyes, it was in fact like that.

You stopped chuckling becoming aware of it. – “Dear lord is it?” – you let out with wide eyes. Tewkesbury looked away with a shy smile. – “Well I am not going to say it now.” – he answered. – “The moment’s ruined miss Y/n.” – he scratched his hair looking nervously away. You pulled your hands back, up to your mouth as you gasped loud. – “Is it a proposal?” – you asked lowering your hands.

“It is isn’t it?” – you called out making Tewkesbury chuckle a bit at your innocence. – “The moment’s gone miss Y/n.” – Tewkesbury said taking a small step back, looking at the ground. – “No!” – you blurted out, startling Tewkesbury. – “No, no, no, no wait!” – you shouted desperately with your hands. – “Wait.” – you spoke making Tewkesbury supress a laugh at how hard you were trying to fix this.

You turned around, taking a few paces away from him. – “Begin once more.” – you called out. – “Miss Y/n I am not…” – he began as you cut him off. – “Begin once more!” – shouting at him as you turned back to him. – “Miss Y/n I’m not just going to begin again.” – he answered feeling a bit foolish. – “You simply take my hands again, you say that you have a question to ask me and I keep my foolish mouth shut!” – you let out making Tewkesbury laugh. – “Please..” – you begged.

“Miss Y/n I…” – Tewkesbury started to laugh again, knowing how silly this was. Too played out and orchestrated. – “Fine!” – you said loudly with determination. – “Then I shall ask you a question.”  - you continued approaching him. – “My lord…” – you said looking down at his hands. Reaching for it, you took it. – “I’ve been a girl with her heads in the clouds, but you kept me grounded. My heart only yearns for you. It is yours to have and hold. I love you Tewkesbury. Will you make me your wife?” – you asked with a sweet smile.

Tewkesbury’s eyes widened. – “You love me too?” – he replied needing to be sure his hearing wasn’t deceiving him. You shyly nodded, twirling your hips a bit around. Tewkesbury’s eyes lit up, smiling purely out of excitement at you. He threw his arms around you, hugging you tight. – “You’ll marry me.” – he told you, squeezing you tighter in his embrace. He then pulled away, taking your hands, to leave a kiss on your knuckles.

Flustered you waved yourself some cool. Suddenly it felt so real till your eyes widened. – “Dear lord my brothers.” – you gasped out. Tewkesbury laughing at that. – “You fear they might skin me alive for proposing?” – he joked out. Seeing the nervous chuckle from you made him gulp. – “I’m sure it will be alright.” – you patted him on the hand, hoping you were right.

“That didn’t sound reassuring.” – Tewkesbury yelped out, breaking out a sweat. He could already imagine your brothers or the Duke stabbing him for proposing to their beloved sister or in law. Tewkesbury felt a fantom stab in this stomach making him winch. – “They aren’t that bad. It should be I who needs to be terrified of your grandmama. Her look alone will turn me to stone.” – you said with a shiver.

Tewkesbury and you shared a look before bursting out in laughter. Tewkesbury offered you his arm. – “Shall we?” – he asked as you accepted his arm. – “We shall, soon to be husband.” – you teased him. Tewkesbury placed his hand against his chest, gasping dramatically at how adorable he found that.

Tewkesbury removed your hand from his arm, holding it in his hand instead as you had found your way back inside. It wasn’t that hard to spot your siblings. He tugged gently on you, pulling you along with him towards them. Anthony and Benedict were in a deep conversation. Francesca beside them with a drink in her hand. She was the first one to notice you. – “I think we’ve found our lost sheep.” – she said with a smile. It made your brothers turn their heads at you. Benedict’s gaze went down, seeing your hand in Tewkesbury’s.

“He’s holding her hand.” – he said sweaty. – “What?” – Anthony replied looking as well. – “They are holding hands.” – Benedict blurted out stunned. Francesca clapped proudly as you neared. – “Sister!” – Anthony hissed out grabbing you by the shoulder. Benedict grabbed Francesca’s drink needing to cool himself. – “I warned you from the beginning it would be my soul purpose to marry him.” – you told your brother.

“What are you talking about?” – Anthony blinked overwhelmed with many emotions. You smiled, patting your brother against his cheek. – “You…” – Anthony said baffled, then looking at Tewkesbury with a point. – “You.” – he repeated as Tewkesbury nodded his head just a tat too amusingly. Benedict nearly fainted as Francesca had to grab him.

Anthony shoved you a bit aside to get to Tewkesbury. – “You asked my sister to marry her without consulting us first!” – Antony called out trying to keep his temper down. – “Actually my lord, she asked me.” – Tewkesbury answered giving Benedict another heart attack. He had just recovered as his knees became weak again. Francesca tried to hold him up right, fanning him. Anthony turned to you as you gave him one of your innocently sweet smiles.

He pointed fiercely at you, trying so hard to be angry at you, but that smile you flashed at him was doing it’s work. – “I’m proud of you sister.” – Francesca said. You curtsied to her. – “Don’t encourage this.” – Anthony said rubbing his forehead feeling it had become sweaty. Mama and Colin returned. – “What happened to him?” – Colin asked gesturing at Benedict. – “My little sister…” – Benedict sobbed out. It made Anthony roll his eyes dramatically at him. – “Oh please, pull yourself together.” – he said between a clenched jaw, pulling him up straight. Dusting his vest a bit off.

“Y/n and Tewkesbury are engaged.” – Francesca informed Colin and mama. – “What?” – Colin shouted a tat too loud, drawing the attention of almost the entire ton. Seeing everyone was focused on him, he cleared his throat. – “Carry on.” – he said waving them away.

The ton proceeded to do what they had been doing before, paying no attention anymore to them. – “What?” – Colin repeated in a lower tone, closer to you. – “Well this is a surprise.” – mama said touching her stomach nervously. – “Do not worry mama, I’ll have him ask me again properly.” – you assured her with a wink. – “Well he better.” – mama answered waving her handkerchief playfully at him. Tewkesbury excused himself with you from your family.

“Where are we going?” – you asked curious. Tewkesbury chuckled nervously as your eyes fell upon his grandmother sitting at a table. – “Dear lord no!” – you blurted out, pulling hard at his arm, coming to a stop. – “It will be alright.” – Tewkesbury reassure you. – “She’ll eat me alive.” – you told him, not wanting to be introduced as his soon to be wife now. – “She already ate diner Y/n.” – he joked. – “This isn’t funny.” – you gave him a slap against his shoulder.

“You want to throw a scandal at the ton?” – you whispered to him anxiously. He placed his hands on your shoulder. – “It will be alright, she won’t cause a scene in public. It is bad for her reputation.” – he responded with a warm smile. Taking a deep breath, you weren’t sure about this, but you couldn’t avoid her forever.

Tewkesbury took your hand, placing it on his arm as he guided you towards her. He cleared his throat near her. – “Tewkesbury?” – his grandmother said looking questionable at him. She then gave you a glare as it made you gulp soft. – “Grandmother.” – he started placing his hand on yours on his arm. – “You’ve met miss Y/n Bridgerton before.” – he went on with shaking legs. – “Yes, the girl you’ve stolen her dance card.” – she recalled making Tewkesbury chuckle nervously.

You gave Tewkesbury a little nudge for encouragement. – “Yes, well.” – he began trying to find a way out of his words. – “Well out with it boy!” – she called out impatient at the lack of information he was giving her. – “I am to marry her.” – he popped out. – “What?” – his grandmother spoke setting her hands on the table as she was about to rise from her seat. Tewkesbury took a save step back, not sure what she would to next.

His grandmother than laughed loud. – “I am to marry her!” – Tewkesbury repeated more confident now. – “Laugh all you want, there is nothing you can do about it. I will marry her. The estate will be mine, so be mindful I don’t see you out grandmama.” – Tewkesbury spoke with seriousness. His grandmother stopped laughing. – “You wouldn’t…” – she replied.

“Watch me.” – he answered as you took a hold of his upper arm. A calm gesture to him to not loose himself in emotions. His grandmother stood up straight. – “How dare you threaten me like that. If it wasn’t for me you’d be a waste. Was it not I who had picked you up after the death of your parents!” – she called out. You could tell Tewkesbury was getting emotional. – “That is enough!” – you made clear silencing her.

“You will always have a home with us if you wish, but you do not disrespect the Viscount!” – your words made her swallow loud. You curtsied at her, not wanting to lose any more words to her. You pulled Tewkesbury with you away from his grandmother. You brought him to a secluded area rubbing your hand up his arm. – “Are you alright?” – you asked. – “I am now.” – he responded leaving a kiss against your cheek.

His touch flustered you, sweeping you up in the moment. You jumped at him, throwing your arms around him as you pressed your lips against his. Your feet found ground again as your lips retracted from his. – “Miss Y/n what a scandal.” – Tewkesbury teased goofily with a blush on his cheeks. – “Good thing I already am to marry you.” – you responded. Tewkesbury grabbed you to kiss you again.

Tewkesbury had proposed properly at your house. Sending a wave of emotions over your family once again. Benedict crying for he didn’t want to loose his younger sister yet. You reassured him you would always be close, visiting the house every day. Tewkesbury and you married by the end of the season. You moved into the estate with him.

His grandmother having settled in the manor up on the country side. It seemed your little counter response tasted bitter in her mouth. She didn’t like getting stepped on her toes. You send word to the girls you knew from your year away. Enlisting them as you had promised. Giving them a good house and a good household to work for. Your siblings would visit almost every day with the smallest thing wanting to share or just spend time with you for they couldn’t stay away. The dream of becoming a princess died out. For what is a princess, when one has a Viscount as Tewkesbury.

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Crossing over towards the parlor. Knocking gently to announce his arrival before walking in. Eying the elderly lady with a brief glance. Knitting with her dog on her lap. Manoeuvring around the furniture, he made his way over to the lord of the house. “My lord.” Speaking, bending down so the young lord could retrieve his letters. 

The young lord’s eyes widened briefly, shooting to the edge of his seat. Having set his book aside. Moving his fingers above the letters till his gaze fell on the letter he wanted. Taking it from between it. Seeing the old lady quirk her eyebrow up from her knitting, he grabbed the other letters as well. Personnel bowing, taking their leave. “I will be in my study.” He said, getting up. 

Swallowing nervously at the stern gaze of his grandmother from above her glasses. “Many affairs to deal with.” He responded, flapping the letters against his palm. “Pen writing you mean.” His grandmother responded with a huffing sneer. Tewkesbury swallowed nervously. “No, grandmother.” Lying straight to her face. “Such nonsense, you should know better!” Her voice rose in volume at her grandson’s quick departure .

Tewkesbury hastened to father’s study. Now his. Taking the one important letter from between the others. The others discarded mindlessly to the side. Letting his thumbs brush over the letter, he took a soft smell at the Wisteria’s scent perfumed on the letter. Always finding its way through. Breaking the wax seal, his hands shook with excitement. Instantly curling up a smile that his pen-pal had written once more. 

Dearest pen-pal. 

Social season is upon us…me and I do have to admit it is rather frightening. These past few days I have been nauseous. Is that normal? I do hope so? My family tells me it’s from excitement. If it turns out to be something medical, then this will probably be my last letter.

In case so, proper goodbye’s are in order. Farewell my dearest pen-pal. You have been my most possessed treasure. … If in any case my nauseous feeling isn’t medical, please disregard the previous lines. 

Tewkesbury chuckled, settling himself against his desk. 

This shall not be my last letter than. Unless I get into an unfortunate accident…then this shall indeed be my last…. Probably not…right? Gosh, I…I am ruining a perfect good letter with a tellings of misfortune. Please write something to distract me. 

Your pen-pal. 

Tewkesbury couldn’t stop snickering. Folding the letter with a soft exhale. Tugging it in his pocket. Hastening himself to his chair, dropping down on it. Reaching for a piece of paper, collecting rather a few than one. Groaning softly, trying to clear the others away. Dipping his pen in the ink. Letting ink touch with paper. Dearest pen-pal. 

Bridgerton house was buzzing. Your room busier than ever. Hyacinth whining loudly about when her debut will come. Violet waving her hand at her, trying to focus on the maid doing your hair. “Let her wait a few years more.” Gregory teased, looking back at you through the mirror. Hyacinth slapped a glove his way. Which he easily deflected. 

“Why are you even here?” She called out with a bossy frown. “I…I am here to support my sister.” He answered, gesturing at you. Hyacinth laughed loud.

“You don’t actually think mama is allowing you to escort Y/n, while you still look like a little boy.” Hyacinth commented sarcastically back at him. Gregory got up, standing before her. “I am taller than you.” Smirking charmingly at her. 

Hyacinth humming un-houmerously. “But lack in brain.” Patting him patronizingly on his head. “Mom!” Gregory called out. “Oh, cry for mother now, real mature.” Hyacinth mocking back. “Children!” Violet lashed out, nearly losing her patience.

Sighing loud with her fingers pressed against her forehead. The door opened, Mrs. Wilson entered. Violet exhaled relieved at the sight of her. “Please escort my children out.” Begging at Mrs. Wilson to grant her some peace of mind. Mrs. Wilson nodded, motioning her arm out to the youngest. “Come, let your sister prepare.” 

Grumpily they both walked over to Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Wilson turned on her heel, startled as she nearly bumped into John. John had slipped through the open door. “A letter for Miss Y/n.” He addressed holding it up. Gasping loud, you turned in your chair.

The maid’s grip released on your hair. “Y/n! Your hair!” Violet cried out. “Is it from?” You asked, seeing him nod. With grabby hands, you wanted the letter urgently. John cleared his throat, avoiding Lady Bridgerton’s stern gaze. Wishing he had chosen a better time to barge in. Taking the letter from him, you pressed it against your chest. 

“Y/n may we please continue your hair?” Violet asked with a sigh. Humming loud, you could care less what they did. Only thinking back about the letter in your hand. You broke the seal, unfolding the letter. Smiling as you silently read it. Violet gestured at the maid, nudging your way.

The maid got on the tips of her toes, trying to read along over your shoulder. Violet waited eagerly to know more. Noticing the extra pair of eyes, you shielded your letter against your chest. “Mama that is private.” Calling out to her. “I…I…” Violet stuttered, moving around nervously. Bringing a hand to the back of her hair. “I…” Breathing out a laugh.

You couldn’t laugh as it was private. Something important to you. Something that only belonged to you. “I am sorry, my dear.” She quickly apologized. Trying to turn to other matters, she gestured at the maid to continue. Turning her head away to swallow hard. Smiling at the maid once she presented your hair to her for approval.

Standing up, you moved away from the vanity. Keeping your nail between your teeth whilst reading. Reading your pen-pal’s response. What started as a silly idea, fully wrapped itself in dedication. Writing a letter fully anonymous to an unknown household. Unknown if the receiver would even respond. So they did, leading to pages of letters. 

Corresponding back and forth. Sharing dreams and fears no one dared to say out loud. Never revealing much. Your pen-pal could be anyone. You did figure out they must be around your age.

The subtle hints and humour weren’t that of an elderly or married person. Yet that still could leave the possibility it could be anyone. Higher status or lower class. Not that it really mattered. Whoever wrote back to you, had a place in your heart. 

Gregory came knocking on the door once more. Folding the letter, you hid it away for later to hide. Never wanting anyone else to find them. “Are you certain I should not come? Y/n needs a brother who can escort her.” Gregory pleaded coming after you in the hallway.

“Gregory.” Violet sighed out. “Anthony is out with Kate, surely she needs one.” He kept begging for her to let him join. “No Gregory. She still has her mama. Besides, Anthony will join us later.” Violet made clear. Gregory groaned disappointed. Violet’s sharp gaze being her final word of it. 

Violet dismissed him back upstairs. Going with you towards the ballroom. As hostess of the first ball, having taken over the duty of Lady Danbury, she needed to attend the guests before they would arrive. You came to join your sister’s side.

Waiting for the room to be filled. Once the first group of people entered, Eloise took her escape. Wanting to disappear into the background. Sighing soft, you were alone. Smiling politely at the entering guests. 

Carriage came to a wobbling stop. The viscount moved a bit closer to the open view of the carriage door. The smell hit him first before the sight. Wisteria’s. Draping from the walls. Surprised and stunned, he looked down at his pocket where the last letter hid.

Back up to the flowers. Startled, he jumped a bit back when the carriage door opened. Footman waiting for him to get off. Tewkesbury walked out, followed by his grandmother. Giving him a little shove with her cane to clear the way for her. Tewkesbury stumbled forwards, shooting her a glare. 

Taking his grandmother’s arm, he followed a group towards the estate. Taking in a deep breath at the flowers. Perhaps the letters came from this household. The Bridgerton household. Inside he was greeted by Lady Bridgerton. “Viscount Basilwether and Lady Basilwether.” Violet spoke with a curtsy.

“A pleasure to welcome you and your grandson to his first ball, is it not?” Giving him a cheeky smile. “It is.” Tewkesbury responded. Violet gestured towards the doors leading up to the ballroom. Tewkesbury gasped in wonder at the sight of the ballroom. Gawking at the lights. A nudge from his grandmother made him move forwards.

His gaze wandered about at every person he came across. Astonished and taken back by their regal appearances. Swallowing nervously at a group of ladies, smiling and fanning shyly his way. Clearing his throat, he quickly averted his gaze. Walking by the side of the dancers, he made his way around.

Suddenly stopping at the smell of familiar flowers. Wisteria’s once again. Smelling the air, he tried to distinguish where it came from. Perhaps his beloved pen-pal was here? The scent was subtle. Closing his eyes to pin-point a direction. The scent suddenly became thicker. Vibrant. Pulling him away in a dream. 

Quickly opening his eyes, he caught himself leaning back. Nearly falling over, yet catching himself quickly. Eyes widening at the back of a girl disappearing into the crowd. Removing his arm from his grandmother, he went in pursuit.

Brushing past people, clearing a way for himself. Keeping a close eye on the departing girl that never seemed to stand still. Breathing quickening for he desperately wanted to reach her. Fearing she might disappear on him in the crowd, he became restless.

Desperate. “Pen-pal!” He blurted out with a loud breath. Chest rising and falling with his deepened breaths. Swallowing softly when the Whisteria girl Slowly turned around. “What…what did you say?” You asked, stunned by the word you had heard. 

Tewkesbury shoved a passing man aside, not wanting him to block his view of you. Hastening himself over to you. Nearing you as the smell of Whisteria’s were clear. “Pen-pal.” He said with a smile. Seeing you stare with wide eyes back at him, made him rub the back of his head.

“I am not mistaken. It is you, is it not, dearest pen-pal.” His words made you gasp loud. “Pen…pen-pal?” You replied. Tewkesbury chuckled shyly. “Tewkesbury to be precise.” Bouncing once on his heels with a cheeky smile. “Y/n.” You answered with a curtsy. “I see you have not perished yet.” He added making you laugh loud. “What is not yet to come, can still come.” You spoke back. 

“Please don’t.” He whispered to you. “At least grant me a dance first, my lady.” Nearing your head with a tease. Nodding, you accepted his hand. Tewkesbury led you to the dance floor.

Kissing the back of your hand. Taking a step back, he bowed as you curtsied. Taking his hands, you slowly turned. Unable to keep your eyes off him. Of all the possibilities your pen-pal was a boy. A handsome boy. Whoever wrote you already felt dear to you.

Now it only seemed even better. Twirling underneath his hand, you let the music whisk you away. No longer feeling frightened or nauseous. For your pen-pal was someone you could love.

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