honey

He had, at first, made an effort to disregard you. This proved difficult. It wasn’t just because you were gorgeous. While Obi-Wan had no doubts that you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen in all his intergalactic travels, from his years as a Jedi he was well accustomed to ignoring such temptations. No, it was not just your beauty, but the sense of life that came from within you. In a place such as this, the air reeked of death, from the deceased tibidon whale to the forgotten hopes of his colleagues. The endless, drifting sand seemed to soak up any sense of joy. But even the desert could not dampen you.

Unfortunately, he had failed. Just as everyone else had, when you had shyly approached the transport in the morning, he was unable to tear his eyes away. A sense of confusion fell over them as you boarded the shuttle; girls like you did not belong with people like them. Your skirt, embroidered with floral details, swished around your ankles as you clambered aboard. Your maroon tunic fit well, the bodice wrapping around your waist, the belled out sleeves caught in the wind and made you look like a deity.

You had smiled softly as you surveyed the broken down old thing, and for one foolish moment, Obi-Wan felt himself hoping you would settle next to him. You didn’t. You sat with some of the older women who then fussed over you for the entire ride. He was sure that it had been the loudest the transport had ever been.

As he once again found his eyes straying to you, he watched you struggle to slice through the meat. There was a strange, tugging sensation in his gut, and before he could stop himself, he was moving closer. His large hand wrapped around yours as you gripped the knife.

“Let me help you.”

“Oh, thank you so much. Everyone else seems to find it much easier, and I-” You began, before cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I’m not quite sure what I’m doing wrong.”

He shook his head. “You’re not doing anything *wrong*, it’s just your grip.”

He used his hand to move your fingers further down the handle, shifting your thumb until it was nearly atop of the blade. You ignored the thrill that ran through you as his body came up behind you. His voice reverberated in your ear as he spoke lowly.

“It will become much easier with practise.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped as he realised what he was doing. He’d barely realised until he felt your form across his, and he stepped back immediately. *Stars, what is wrong with me?*

“Thank you so much!” You turned to him, your gorgeous face sporting a brilliant smile. You falter for a moment, taking in the stormy look in his eyes. You shift your feet, before offering him your name.

He should’ve known that it would be just as beautiful as you are.

“I’m Ben Kenobi.” He tells you, though he’d much rather hear you call him his true name. After that, he doesn’t allow himself another moment of speaking to you, because he is truly worried of what you are doing to him, and turns back to his work.

When the bell rings for lunch, he finds himself regretting never sitting with the other workers before, as he’s sure joining them on the one day *you* are there would certainly raise some suspicion. It isn’t like *that*, he tells himself. Something about you just makes it impossible to look away. Perhaps, if he was still on Coruscant, he would have said you were like the sun; the galaxy seems to teeter on your axis as you bring warmth and light. In a place like Tatooine, they could do with less sun. Here, he can only compare you to a gentle rain; rare, refreshing and seemingly able to awaken something in him he’d assumed to be long dead.

Obi-Wan watched as others crowded around you. Many still wandered off to sit on solitude, him included. He watched you talk to them. For a moment, you seemed to look up at him, and an inexplicable bolt of electricity zapped inside of his chest. He doubted that was really the case - he was a cave-dwelling hermit who rarely did anything but watch out for the child of the brother he had failed. And he was a Jedi, he reminded himself, and the fall of the Order did not mean that he was now allowed to go about disregarding his vows and developing juvenile crushes on women he barely knew.

After a criminally short break, the boss ordered everyone back to their stations. For a while, he worked in silence, occasionally stealing a glance over at you. When you leant over to talk to him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Did you have a nice lunch?”

To his utter delight, or perhaps terror, you had started a conversation with him. He knew that he shouldn’t entertain this infatuation, but his restraint wavered at the sound of your beautiful voice. He didn’t trust himself to speak, instead offering you a slight nod.

“I wanted to speak with you at lunch, but I was roped into sitting with everybody else.”

He didn’t quite blush, but the tips of his ears burnt red at your confession.

“They can be… a lot.” He mused.

You quickly fell into a steady rhythm of conversation. Obi-Wan could not remember a moment out of his time on Tatooine where he had felt so comfortable.

-

The days became weeks, and then a month of working together. Obi-Wan felt a strange sensation when he was around you and it lingered in the moments after you had left, and it could only be described as purity. Every moment with you seemed to melt away years of solitude and anguish, desert sand scooped from each pore until he felt slivers of Obi-Wan cracking through the walls he had so desperately built to separate *Obi-Wan* from *Ben*.

He had never been so terrified.

You sit with him on the transport now. Occasionally, you sit with the others at lunch, but when you do, you drag him over with you. Obi-Wan shouldn’t, but he revels in the envious looks that he receives as you dote and send smiles only meant for him. This afternoon, as you sit next to him on the transport, you are particularly inquisitive.

“I’ve seen you with a little boy before.” You tell him, before lowering your voice. “Is he… yours?”

It takes him a moment to process your words, before he realises you must be talking about Luke. Sometimes, Beru lets him look after Luke on days when Owen is too busy to realise. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if that truly is disappointment simmering in your eyes or if he finally is losing it.

“No, he isn’t mine. He- I’m just a family friend.” He tells himself that the way your eyes light up again is nothing to do with that. He unnecessarily adds “I’m not married.” as if you would ever remotely care.

“He’s adorable.” You say, and Obi-Wan wonders if it is an exaggeration to think that the look in your eyes is more beautiful than anything he has ever seen in all his travels across the galaxy. *It isn’t.*

“I am fond of the boy.” He admits nonchalantly, as if his heart does not simultaneously break and overflow with joy every time he meets the almost clone of his former Padawan.

“I hope my children will be as cute as he is.”

Of course you do, because you are young and carry a heart unblemished and unburdened by war. And, you desire children because the idea of raising a child has not been forever tainted by an irrevocable failure.

“I’m sure they will be.” Is the only thing he can manage to get out.

“Do you live anywhere near Anchorhead?” You ask, after a moment of quietness.

“No, but that is where I leave my eopie when I ride her towards the pick up area.”

“Ah.” You nod your head in understanding. “I just thought that maybe we could walk together. I thought I saw you this morning, coming from the same direction as me.”

“I… Well, I suppose I could…” Obi-Wan internally scolded himself for stammering. “I suppose I could give you a ride. Akkani is certainly big enough for both of us.”

He regrets it the moment the words fall from his mouth. What is he *doing*?

“You’d really do that?” You ask, brows drawn together in slight confusion. Kindness seemed to be in limited supply on Tatooine.

He can only nod.

-

He should have been able to sense them coming. But it seemed that whenever he was with you, his ears only listened to your voice, his eyes only found your face and his mind could only think of you. Although, it seemed as if the latter was becoming true even when he was alone.

“Sand people.” He heard the hushed words tumble from your trembling lips, feeling your hands gripping his biceps harder.

He had a choice to make.

He was sure that you were to be trusted. It felt as if the force had guided him to you, bonded you together. He felt your fear, creeping out from beneath your shawl, breathing growing shallow. He could fix this so easily, a simple manoeuvre and a flick of his ‘saber and you’d be *safe*. He is torn, arm frozen midair above his waistband.

“Oh, Ben, what are we going to do?” You whimper.

He murmurs your name, turning to face you, a large, calloused hand holding your cheek as he begins to speak in earnest.

“I am going to do something that you must not ever speak of again. If you do so, you will put us both at risk. However, if I do not do this, the situation we are in currently will result in almost certain death.”

You nod along with his words, hand wrapping around his as he holds you in a way that makes his heart soar. Your wide eyes are full of confusion, brows furrowed and lips fallen open, but you promise to keep his secret. Obi-Wan slides from Akkani with ease, before sending her off with a gentle nudge to the eopies back. You gasp in indignation, scowling as Obi-Wan could only send a sheepish grimace back. Your frown quickly melts into something else - confusion, awe, or something in between - as Obi-Wan unsheathes his lightsaber. Akkani furiously paces in the other direction, and you long to be able to tell her to slow down as you feel her muscles working desperately. The Tusken Raiders seem to fade away, all you can see is the blue glowing figure of Obi-Wan as he slices through the darkness.

One by one, the raiders fall. Not that you watch. Akkani does not allow you to stay, and any attempt from you to clamber off results in her bucking you forwards. You get the strange, calming sense that she knows her master will return. The minutes bleed into each other as the sky grows impossibly darker. You give up on trying to turn back to him, instead, laying forwards to rest against Akkani, wrapping your arms around her as you attempt to still your rapid heart.

“He’ll be ok. Won’t he, Akkani? He’s a… Jedi.” You allow the word to fall in a soft whisper. You suppose it makes sense; a man so calm, so kind. You knew that there must be something special about him.

When you see a shadowy figure approaching over the horizon, you fear the worst.

“Ben?”

The figure calls out your name. “It’s alright. It’s me.”

You slide off of Akkanis back, sprinting towards him, scolding him all the way.

“I thought you were going to *die*.”

“They were no match for me.” He brushes away your concern with a practised ease. He looks younger than he ever has, eyes twinkling and hair tousled by the fighting. You are so overwhelmed with emotion: relief, confusion and something else you do not want to name yet, that all you can do is collapse into him. Holding you tightly, Obi-Wan lets himself fall into the dunes, soft sand catching his fall. You lay across his chest as he attempts to prop himself up. When he catches sight of your beautiful, glossy eyes shimmering with tears.

“Oh, darling.” Tenderly, with a softness in his eyes that was almost painful to look at, he gathered your tears with two gentle swipes of his thumbs. Before he could stop himself, he planted a kiss to your forehead.

“I was so worried about you, Ben.”

“It’s Obi-Wan. My real name.” You may as well know the rest, now.

You hum, silently rolling the words around your mouth, until they became an almost chant. *Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan.*

“Obi-Wan.” You try it aloud, and ignore the way he tenses beneath you. You focus on his lovely hands instead as you attempt to process the evening, fidgeting with his fingers between yours. He simply states your name in return.

“It may take some getting used to.” You admit.

You started working in Asterids apothecary as an assistant healer. It took your mind of off what you had lost. But the tide could turn quickly and the clouds came rushing in, cold and dark and angry, drowning you in guilt or pity and, on the really bad days, fury. Rage that you didn’t know where to place.

At first, you wanted to put it with Haymitch. Leave it with him and then avoid him like the plague. But you knew that you couldn’t. The boy who sent to fight alongside your Wyatt was no enemy. Not when he came home to nothing but a charred porch. The riches of Victor’s Village meant nothing to him without his Ma and Sid.

The months after the games, you often found yourself walking in the direction of the Victor’s Village. You had questions, questions that weren’t answered by Capitol screens and interviews. Questions that only Haymitch would know the answer too.

You also knew that Haymitch was alone. He’d pushed away his friends, his family had been stolen… While Wyatt wasn’t family, he certainly came close, and some part of you screamed for the comfort of somebody who’d been taken from too.

Somehow, one day after work, you found yourself not walking home but outside the Victor’s Village. The last few warm winds of summer were blowing through District 12, and the sun had began to set over the horizon, setting the town into a deep, reddish glow.

You realised, quite abruptly, that even if you were to try and find Haymitch, you had no idea which house was his. They all looked the same, inhabited and cold with darkened windows.

It was almost peaceful.

Until you heard a pathetically quiet groan escape from the darkened alleyway between the two houses on the corner.

Cautiously, you crept over to the source of the noise, brows furrowed and fist curled defensively.

“Haymitch?” You gasp. He was barely recognisable. Threadbare linens hanging from his large frame, a bottle of something - white liquor perhaps - clutched in his grasp as he lay face down in the patchy grass.

He flopped over onto his back, revealing a deep gash across his forehead and little scratches dotting his cheeks. Fresh, by the looks of them: bright red in colour and little to no scabbing.

“(y/n)?” He slurred, voice thick with slee and drunkenness.

Immediately, you dropped to your knees beside him, removing your outer layers and putting his head to rest on top of the folded pile.

“What have you done?” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth anxiously.

Haymitch barely opens his eyes, and mumbles something incoherently.

“Are you able to get inside?” You ask.

He doesn’t respond right away, but after a moment, gives a slight nod of his head. You offer a hand - one that seems small in his large, calloused ones - and allow him to pull himself up, grasping the wall to avoid you toppling down with him.

He’s wobbly, but seemingly able to walk. He doesn’t let go of your hand, instead choosing to drag you along behind him as he kicks open the unlocked door. Haymitch collapses into the large brown sofa, letting go of your hand in the process. He swings his arm to cover is eyes and you take the chance to look around his house.

Bottles of every shade, most empty, some broken, were strewn across the scuffed, wooden floor. Stairs led up to what you assumed to be his bedroom, but the pathway was blocked by crumpled piles of discarded clothing.

“What are you doing in here?” Haymitch asked roughly, pulling himself into a sitting position.

“You, er, sort of pulled me in here?” You explained, cheeks warming at the accusation.

“Oh.” He looked down at the floor around you, suddenly shy. “Sorry ‘bout the mess.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s fine.”

He locks eyes with you, something unfamiliar flashing through them, and it’s silent for a moment. Then, your eyes find the bloody cut on his forehead and you remember why you followed him in here at all.

“Haymitch…“ You begin, slowly moving towards him. He shifts uncomfortably. “Would you mind if I take care of that cut?”

He avoids meeting your eyes, and for a moment you doubt he’s going to say anything at all until-

“Okay.” He grunts.

Thankfully, Haymitch has white liquor in high supply, and as an apprentice healer, you always carried a selection of bandages and a salve or two in your pack.

Where Haymitch sits on the sofa, you kneel beside him, legs sinking into the plush material that nobody else in district 12 could afford. You soak a cotton ball in the white liquor and ignore Haymitch’s muttering of wasted drink.

“How did you get it? The cut.” You ask, brows furrowed unconsciously with concern. He locks his eyes onto something that you can’t see.

“Glass or something. Threw the bottle and…” He trails off as his eyes moved over to you. His eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, but you notice it. It’s the same look the miners get, especially those with little to no family, when you gently ease their ailments. It’s a look of realisation that somebody does care.

Haymitch blinks, shakes his head lightly, and forces his eyes away from yours. “Well, I guess it broke or something, and the pieces came back to get me.”

You nod, not that he can see, and use light fingers to brush the loose strands of hair out of his face. His skin is cold to the touch.

“This is going to sting, but it will kill most of the bacteria that may have gotten in there.” You explain. You begin with the biggest gash, dotting the soaked cotton along and cleaning up what blood you could, until Haymitch lets out a hiss. His hands are clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles are losing colour, and his eyes are squeezed shut.

“You- Well, sometimes the guys we have come in like to hold someone’s hand. It helps with the pain, apparently.” You offer, stomach fluttering in a way that was definitely not professional.

Wordlessly, Haymitch slips his hand into yours. When you continue to clean the cut, his grip becomes tighter, but not painful, and he doesn’t hiss again. You move onto the smaller cuts, gently wiping away the blood until you are satisfied.

“All done, Haymitch.” You inform him, voice soft from not speaking and heavy with sympathy. “I just want to put a salve on the biggest one, and maybe bandage it up.”

He nods. You wait for him to let go of your hand, but he doesn’t. You suppose you could do it with one hand?

You unscrew the lid of the calming salve with some clever manoeuvring involving your knees, elbow and teeth, glad that Haymitch’s eyes still seem to be glued to the ceiling. You apply the salve and watch him visibly relax from the relief. But you cannot see a way that you could bandage him up without both hands.

“Haymitch, I, er, sort of need both hands for this bit.” You admit. His eyes dart to yours and he immediately lets go. You pretend you don’t see him flexing his fingers and start to unwrap the bandage. Haymitch no longer stares at the ceiling, instead he watches you. He’s transfixed as you measure out the cloth, face so close to his he swore he could feel your breath against his skin. You wrap the soft material around his head, tight but not uncomfortable, and sit back to admire your handiwork.

“Thank you, (y/n).” He mutters.

You’re glad that he seems to have sobered up, until a strange look takes over his face as he frowns. “Why were you here in the first place?”

You look down at your lap, fingers locked together.

“I was a friend of Wyatt’s. More than a friend, really. He was, um, practically a brother.” You admit, eyes burning as you fight the tears from appearing. “I s’pose I just wanted closure.”

Haymitch fights the urge to pour himself another drink. Drinking was supposed to help him to forget those days his spent in the arena, to forget what he had lost, and all it had done was brought him some girl who wanted him to remember.

He couldn’t help the pang of sympathy, watching her eyes grow wet with tears as she desperately tries to hold them back.

(y/n). He barely knew her before the games, and now she was the first person he had let into his home since his arrival. The first person he had let touch him, which she had done so gently and with such care that he was almost tricked into believing that it could be okay to let somebody in again.

He supposed he could remember. Just for tonight. Just for her.

“Wyatt was so smart, (y/n), but I’m sure you know that. The oddsmaker. He beat them all, really.” Haymitch avoided your eyes as you nodded along eagerly. “And- and he was so brave. I’m not sure what the Capitol showed you, but he sacrificed himself for Lou L-Louella. Right at the start.”

You let a small smile grace your lips, of course he had. You wondered how close he and Haymitch got over training week. You hoped Wyatt had a friend.

“People look down on his family, but Wyatt wasn’t like that.” You murmur. Haymitch’s eyes snap up to meet yours.

“I know, (y/n).”

Something in the way he spoke, maybe it was the strange softness which overtook his voice or the way he looked at you- like you were the only person in the world who could understand his pain, just for that second- took over your better judgement and you shuffled closer to him on the sofa.

“It wasn’t your fault, Haymitch. I hope you don’t blame yourself for any of them.” Your voice is quieter now, soothing. You wonder whether you should pretend not to notice the tears pooling in the corner of his bloodshot eyes, but when they begin to stream down his face you cannot help yourself.

“It’s not your fault.” You repeat, dabbing at his sodden cheeks with the soft cloth of your sleeve. “I promise. The Capitol- the capitol is sick but we don’t need to talk about that right now. You just have to know that you couldn’t have done anything to help them.”

His hand that held yours before lays open on his leg, and without thinking you wrap yours around it.

“I know that it might feel like no one can understand, but if you ever want to talk about it, you come find me.” You tell him firmly. “And lay off the booze. You’re nearly 17. You don’t need to corrupt your liver just yet.”

“Sorry, it’s jus’… just hard.” He looks around, a wave of shame crossing his face, before you place a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I get it. You want to forget. But Haymitch, there’s so many things that one day you may want to remember.”

He stares at you for a moment, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and feel the tufts of spiky stubble beginning to grow across his jaw and all you can do is look at him back. You move your hand slowly, wiping a few stray tears as you you, and settle it back in your lap.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you worry he’s about to shout or kick you out, but instead his eyes soften and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, offering you a small smile. “Thank you, (y/n). For coming to find me. I think everyone else has given up- not that I blame them. And for cleaning me up.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You shake your head defiantly. “But please come by the apothecary for a new wrapping whenever you need one.”

“Would you mind if I came by, just to see y- Well, just to talk?” He asked, suddenly far more interested in the ceiling.

“Y-yes, (y/n)?” He stumbled, walking closer towards you. He was your partner in Potions, and you were ill last lesson.

“I was wondering if you had the notes from Tuesday, I was si-“ You began, only for him to interrupt.

“Oh, yes, yeah, I do. Erm, do you want them now? We could go to the library and I can help you with them?” He offered hopefully. Your heart dropped, knowing that you had promised your friend that you would help tutor her little sister.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Remus, but I’ve already promised to help out my friend later.”

“Oh, well, in that case I’ll just copy them out for you.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t let you do that. We could go through them tomorrow?” You suggested.

“Yes. I’d like that.” He grinned.

“Remus, you have to sit in the library on a Saturday and help me out. Are you sure you’d really like to do that?” You laughed.

“Yeah. Everything’s fun with you.” He seemed to catch what he said only after it had passed his lips, as blood rushed up to his cheeks which burnt scarlet.

“Thank you. You… Erm, you have somehow made Potions much more bearable.” You found yourself blushing now. You slowly walked away, unable to hear the loud chatter the marauders had exploded into.

“Everything’s fun with you? Come on, Moony, way to make it obvious.” James laughed.

“Just ask her out already, instead of giving up your weekend to tutor her.” Sirius nudged Remus as they climbed through the portrait.

It felt strange, watching the Polyjuce potion do it’s magic. Harry had begged Ron to cover for him for a day, and after he promised some big favours, Ron couldn’t turn the offer down.

The day had dragged on, and Ron wasn’t the most academic anyway. He almost couldn’t remember why he agreed to do an extra day of school. The worst was potions by far. He got bullied enough by Snape as himself, and it only got worse as Harry. Looking back, though, he supposed it was all worth it. Because he met her.

He already knew of her, of course. She was (y/n) (l/n). She was a Hufflepuff, known for how sweet and kind she was. She was also drop-dead-gorgeous, so obviously Ron had never spoken a word to her.

Ron arrived late to Charms, mentally apologising to Harry as he walked in. Apparently, the seating arrangements had been changed, and (y/n) was now sat next to Harry. Lucky git.

She smiled at him as he sat down, and Ron had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Of course she was into the whole ‘boy who lived thing’. Who bloody wasn’t!

“Hello.” She whispered, smiling cutely. “I’m (y/n).”

“I’m R-Harry.” Merlin, she was making him nervous. He tried to avoid making eye contact with her after noticing that she has very pretty eyes.

“I know.” Of course she did. “Because you’re Ron Weasleys friend, aren’t you? He used to sit next to my friend in Potions. She always said he was so funny. I always hoped I’d get to talk to him one day.”

Ron felt himself blush. She knew Harry because of him? No way. Maybe she was a muggle, that would explain it. (y/n) wanted to talk to him! Merlin, how he wished he didn’t look like his best friend right now. No one ever thought of Harry as Ron’s best friend, it was always the other way around.

“I- uh- I guess I could arrange… that. You two, y’know, meeting.” Ron fumbled with his words, feeling the tips of his ears growing red.

“Oh, would you! Thank you, Harry. That’s so nice.” She grinned, and Ron felt winded. She really was beautiful.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” Her face dropped, and she looked nervous.

“Tell him what?” Ron was confused. Girls are so weird. Why wouldn’t Harry tell him? How are they supposed to meet if Harry didn’t tell him.

“That- you know… well, maybe next time I see you talking, I’ll come over and talk to you and then you can introduce us?” She nibbled at her lip nervously. Ron tried not to stare.

“Can’t you just, like, go and introduce yourself after class?” His confusion overtook however flustered he might feel.

“No! He might think I’m weird.” She leant a little closer and lowered her voice. “I need to make a good impression.” Ron felt his heartbeat quicken as she drew closer.

“I-I don’t think he will, (y/n).” He mumbled, sure that if he was in his usual body he would be bright red by now.

“Just introduce us next time you see us, okay?” She looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Sure.” He smiled to himself.

They talked more throughout the lesson, and Ron weirdly felt himself getting jealous. She was laughing at his jokes, and even though it was actually Ron dressed up, she thought she was talking to Harry. The whole thing made his head hurt.

As they left the classroom, (y/n) stopped him with a soft hand on his arm that sent tingles throughout his body.

“Remember to introduce us, okay!”

Merlin, she really wanted to meet him. Why on earth would she want to that badly? She just spoke to the boy who lived, and all she could talk about was his best friend. Maybe he shouldn’t introduce himself. She obviously had something wrong with her.

“Why do you want to meet him so bad?” He mumbled, only half expecting her to hear.

“You haven’t guessed? If you promise not to tell him…” She spoke quietly, with a conniving smirk that still somehow made her look sweet, and Ron nodded eagerly.

“I think he’s cute.” She giggled.

He was sure that his entire face was purple by now, and his palms grew sweaty. There’s no way a girl as pretty and nice as (y/n) would like him!

“Hey, Harry. Your hair… it’s starting to get really light. I didn’t notice that before. Some parts are almost ginger.” She looked confused.

“Oh! Yep, let Neville try out a new spell and it didn’t really work, so- you know, uh, I’ve really gotta go now.” Ron panicked, if she realised, she would never want to go out with him.

He sped off, cheeks flushed and heart racing for more reasons than one. As he watched his features come back in the mirror of his dorm, he smiled slightly.

“You thought about what favour you want from me yet?” Harry asked, watching Ron turn back to normal.

But everything was in order, and it was nearly nine. Breakfast wasn’t even served until half-past on weekends, and anyway, you would always be late on birthdays, spending time thanking each other before you even started to head out.

Sighing, you dragged yourself out of bed, hesitating in front of the bathroom mirror. You smoothed out your hair, washed your face and threw on your robes. As you headed out the dormitory, you expected to see the boys waiting for you. Maybe the girls had forgotten, the boys wouldn’t, would they?

★

“Guys, I feel so bad. She’s going to be so upset when she wakes up.” Mary sighed, sinking onto the end of Remus’ bed.

“I promise it will all be worth it, Mary. She will love it!" James grinned, excitably pacing across the boy's dorm, before pausing at the window where Lily had settled on the indoor ledge.

“You’re just hoping that she’ll love you, after all of this.” She sighed, flicking James’ forehead as his skin grew warm at the accusation.

“No…” He hesitated. “I’m doing this because (y/n) is my best friend and I want her to have the best 16th.”

“Hey, I thought I was your best friend.” Sirius sent a mock-glare at James from where he sat on the floor, leant against the wooden frame of Remus’ bed.

“Sorry, you are.” James nodded, before clarifying. “She’s my best girl-friend.”

“She’s your girlfriend?” Peter snickered.

“Shut up, Pete, that is not what I said.” James frowned, continuing his walk around the dorm, fuelled by a new wave of nervous energy.

“It kinda is, mate.” Remus looked up from the book he was studying. “And you know that (y/n) doesn’t like surprises, right?”

“What? Psh, yes she does. I think that I would know. She called me her boy best friend the other day.” James puffed out her chest proudly, leaning against the shared wooden dresser.

“No, she said that we are ‘the best boy mates anyone could ask for’ after we helped her get Pumpkin out of a tree last week.” Sirius frowned. Pumpkin was (y/n)’s orange-and-white striped cat that James has gotten her three birthdays ago.

“Okay, well, we all know that I know (y/n) the best- well, maybe second to Lily-“

“Sorry James, but I’m pretty sure me and Mary know her better than you.” Marlene laughed.

“What? What do you know that she hasn’t told me?” James demanded, walking over to where Mary sat at the end of Remus’s bed. The girls shared a look.

“We can’t tell you.” Marlene shrugged, while James narrowed his eyes at the group.

“Hm. I’m sure she’ll tell me after the party tonight. She’ll see how much I do for her, and then she’ll-” He trailed off.

“She’ll…?” Lily prompted.

“I need to tell you something.” He suddenly spoke seriously, looking at the ground. James sighed, running his fingers through his dark, dishevelled hair. “You know how you guys always joke that I like her… even though you know that I don’t actually.”

Lily and Mary shared a look, while Remus let out a slight chuckle.

“Right. Because we definitely believe you.” Sirius spoke slowly and sarcastically.

“Exactly!” James replied, purposefully ignoring his tone. “Well, it could be possible that I might have a tiny crush on her.”

“How could we ever have guessed!” Lily rolled her eyes.

“I’m so glad you finally feel brave enough to tell us!” Mary grinned.

“I’m sensing an insincere tone.” James narrowed his eyes. “Anyway, that’s why tonight has to be perfect. So then I’ll take credit for it all, and she’ll fall in love with me. It’s foolproof.”

The boys, excluding Remus, nodded enthusiastically.

“Why don’t you just… tell her?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, (y/n) isn’t going to confess her love for you just because you threw her a party. You might have to give her a couple… signals.” Mary gently suggested.

“Nah, I think I’m good.” James flashed a grin. “Anyway, who’s hungry? Let’s go get breakfast and find (y/n).” Sirius, Peter and James trailed out the room, satisfied with their plan. There was a pause, the girls and Remus sharing a look as the dormitory door swung closed.

“Right, so we all know that James’ plan is utter shit, right?” Remus sighed, leaning his back onto the headboard.

“And we also all know that (y/n) definitely has a crush on James too?” Lily continued.

“I honestly don’t understand how some people can be so clueless.” Marlene knocks her head against the bed post exasperatedly.

“I’m a little bit sick of watching them dance around each other, wouldn’t you guys agree?” Lily says, slyly, while the rest of the group nod in agreement.

“I think it’s time to play matchmaker.” Mary grins.

★

The boys weren’t there. Everyone has forgotten. Shrugging it off, you had settled in the common room, content to read for a while before you headed to breakfast. Until you heard a collection of voices coming from the boys dormitory.

You frowned, putting your book down and storming up the steps. You hesitated at the door, hans resting on the doorknob, before pressing your ear to the dark wood.

~ it could be possible that I might have a tiny crush on her ~ That was definitely James’ voice leaking through the door.

~ how could we ever have guessed! ~ And that was Lily.

So they were talking about James liking a girl. That was more important than your birthday? And Lily, Mary and Marlene? They knew about your long term crush on James. Why would they encourage this? Something must’ve happened over the summer. You had no idea what you’d done, but your friends obviously didn’t like you anymore.

You quickly wiped your eyes, and strode off. It was their loss, you tried to tell yourself, as you headed to breakfast. You settled on the Gryffindor benches, next to a boy you had spoken to a few times, explaining to him in a quick lie that your friends were too tired to come to breakfast.

Usually, Hogwarts breakfast would be enough to cheer anyone up, but this morning it didn’t seem to work. You stared down your plate, a multitude of pastries and fruit, but you had lost your appetite. In one morning, you’d lost all your friends, the boy you’d had a crush on for two years, and it all happened on your birthday.

“Oh, (y/n). Look, James and stuff are here.” The boy nudged her, pointing in the direction of her boys.

“Oh. I think I might stay here, if that’s alright.”

“Erm, yeah, I guess.” He seemed confused, but continued eating.

James spotted (y/n), and grinned, wildly gesturing for you to join him where they were sitting. You pretended not to see him. He frowned, feeling a pang of hurt as his crush best girl-friend blatantly ignored him.

You quickly finished your breakfast, and got up. You took a longer route out of the hall, to avoid walking past the boys. As you left, Lily, Mary, Marlene and Remus entered. You avoided eye contact, and headed straight to the library. You had some homework anyway, and they would find you in the dorm. You grabbed a couple books and settled into the plush blue chair in the corner and got to work.

★

"Are you sure I shouldn't go looking for her?" Marlene was frowning as James and Sirius hoisted the sparkling (y/f/c) banner.

"Erm. Nope! I'm sure she's fine. (y/n) always liked reading. Get her in like... fifteen." James nodded self-assuringly.

The common room had been transformed. James had somehow managed to threaten convince every Gryffindor that it was a good idea to decorate it full of (y/n)-themed things. He'd sprung up banners in her favourite colours, and fireworks (something (y/n) found herself entranced by) exploded in one corner while her favourite songs played. Not to mention the abhorrent stash of alcohol he'd managed to dig up. It was nearly six pm, the time James had planned for the party to start. He felt around in his pocket, ensuring the small, black box was secure.

"I'm going to get her now. I can't let this go on any longer, she probably thinks we all forgot her birthday." Remus got up from where he had sunk into the leather sofa.

"It's probably good timing anyway." James shrugged.

★

"Hey... (y/n)?" Remus whisper-yelled into the library.

"Finally remembered I existed, did you?" (y/n) snarled. You were not very happy, after spending the entire day, your birthday, in the library.

"I'm sorry mate, I promise we remembered- just please come with me." He attempted to speak soothingly.

"I was going up soon anyway." You sighed, snapping your book shut.

The walk back to the common room was a silent affair. He could feel the awkwardness as you shot him sporadic glares. When you finally reached the portrait, Remus paused.

"I was supposed to blindfold you, but I don't think James realised how pissed you would be." He held out a thin stripe of dark red material.

"Why on earth would you blindfold me?" You tried to sound angry but confusion still laced your voice. You shook your head and muttered the password.

The painting swung open, and to your surprise James, Peter, Mary, Sirius, Lily and Marlene, with a few others in your year, leapt out from behind various objects.

"SURPRISE!" They collectively roared. You felt tears brewing, they hadn't forgotten, they were just busy planning a surprise birthday party.

"Guys! Oh, Merlin, I thought you forgot! You lot are such pricks, how could you let me think you forgot- Oh, I love you all!" Your head swirled, emotions flooding you. Your friends were so stupid, and so were you, thinking that they'd just decided that they hated you. It still didn't explain James and his crush, but you couldn't have everything.

Wishing five minutes, you had had shots thrust into your hands as well as a flask from Sirius containing Merlin-knows-what. Half an hour later you were as good as drunk.

"Guys, let's play spin the bottle!" Lily giggled, receiving a knowing nod from Remus, and sliding down the sofa until she was on the floor. You sat next to her, and a couple others joined until a small circle formed.

"Woah, (y/n), are you sure that you wanna play?" James bit his lip, a hand on your shoulder as he crouched behind you.

"Come on, Jamie, it'll be fun, I promise." You laughed, pulling him downwards by his arm, which was easy as his knees had already gone weak from the nickname.

"Birthday girl goes first! It's the law." Marlene slurred, her head leant against the brunette sat next to her.

You rolled your eyes, but ultimately agreed, and picked up the empty fire whiskey bottle. Remus got his wand ready, hoping that everyone was too far gone to notice his manipulation of the spin. You released the glass bottle with a sharp twist of your hand, and watched as it spun, round, and round, and round, until it landed on your victim.

James.

You felt your heart race and blood rush to your cheeks. James had his own flustered expression.

"We don't have to, I'll just spin again." You sighed, remembering his crush.

"NO!" He suddenly looked sheepish. "Erm, no, I mean, it's fine... Yeah. Let's do it." He stumbled over his words, and as he struggled to find more, you decided to get it over with. You leant forward, fighting off the butterflies that swirled in your stomach and thanked the fire whiskey for the liquid confidence.

You pressed your mouth to his, letting your lips part slightly. You were pretty sure that Spin the Bottle only required a peck, but once you had started, it was like you couldn't stop. James moved his mouth slightly and a new wave of butterflies flooded your system. It was like you were suddenly aware of every slight feeling, and your fingers buzzed with electricity. Everyone seemed to melt away as your 'peck' escalated into a full-on make-out with your (boy) best friend. He hesitantly lifted a hand to the back of your head, scooping a handful of your hair. Finally, you parted, gasping for air.

"Uhm." You stared at him, mouth agape as he mirrored your expression.

"That was... Nice." He looked away. You turned to see what he was looking only to see the circle staring back at you.

"Can we have the bottle please?" Someone asked, and you became aware of the cool glass in your palm. You rolled it towards them.

"(y/n)... Can we talk?" James murmured, standing up. You nodded, allowing him to pull you by the hand.

"I know, I'm sorry, I heard you talking about liking a girl earlier, and you probably just didn't want to embarrass me-" The words began to tumble from your mouth as soon as the two of you had some privacy.

"What? No, (y/n)... Er, I need to tell you something." James avoided your eyes, fumbling with something in his pocket, before pulling out a small, black box and handing it to you.

"Oh, James, it's so beautiful." You lifted the lid and saw a sleek gold necklace with a small heart charm.

"You're the girl that I like, (y/n). I've had a crush on you since like, second year. But I never thought that you might feel the same way until... that."

"I have had the biggest crush on you for the past two years, James Potter. I can't believe it took us this long to figure it out."

"We can't either!" Sirius laughed, causing the two of you to look over to see your friends watching. "We'll fuck off now, don't worry. Let you get back to your snogging."

"Fuck you, Black. I can kiss my girlfriend whenever I want to." James shouted, but the grin on his face showed that there was no anger, and you smiled as you realised the implication.

"Girlfriend?" You ask.

(y/n) (l/n) and Steve Harrington were keeping secrets from each other. This was strange, considering their 16 years of strong companionship. Best friends tell each other everything, except maybe the fact that they are madly in love with the other.

When you were younger, you hated it when people told you that ‘girls and boys can’t be just friends’. You didn’t believe it. You and Steve Harrington were best friends, nothing more and definitely nothing less.

But as you got older, you realised that the way Steve so relentlessly captured your thoughts and the way he creeped into your daydreams was not platonic. The odd sort of sickness you felt when he talked about a girl wasn’t because you thought he deserved better because those girls were stunning. You just couldn’t stand the thought of him loving anyone that wasn’t you.

You truly believed that the phrase ‘nobody is perfect’ had obviously been created before the year 1966. While the population of Hawkins may not be in entire consensus, you believed that Steve Harrington was perfect. Not a single flaw, from his unfairly gorgeous locks to his scuffed sneakers.

For Steve, he fell in love with you somewhere inbetween the sarcastic flirting and drunk kisses when you were fifteen.

Tepid summer air coated your skin like wax, seemingly impossible to shake. The fan Steve had set up by the window did practically nothing except drag more humid air across your skin.

Your legs kicked back and forth as you rested your head in your palms. You lay on the blue sheets of Steve’s bed, while he sat at his desk.

“It’s so hot, Stevie.” You moaned, rolling onto your back. “And I think that fan of yours is broken.”

You missed the blush that came from his nickname.

“The heat sucks. Personally, I can’t wait for this heatwave to be over.” He leaned back into his chair.

“Do you wanna go to the pool?” You sat up. “It would be nice to help cool off.” And you would get to see Steve shirtless, but it was so hot you almost couldn’t care.

“Fuck no. Billy works there now, right?” Steve frowned.

“Please, it’s so hot! Come on Stevie!” You whined, standing up as if you were preparing to leave. “I’ll go without you.”

He attempted to appear to contemplate it, but you already had him wrapped around your finger.

“Mhm. And then you’ll hang out with who?” He rolled his eyes.

“… Billy.” You stared into Steve’s eyes, poker faced.

His face dropped, and he opened his mouth to protest. Unable to contain your laughter, you released a stream of giggles that interrupted whatever he was about to say.

“Please, you actually looked upset. Why did you believe me?” You attempted to calm your breathing.

“Shut up, man.” He mumbled, looking away. “Let’s go, then.” He stood up, dug around in his closet for a moment and then turned to look at you.

“What are you gonna wear?” He looked confused. “I can drive you to your house, but it’s ages away.”

“Relax, Stevie. I’m always prepared.” You jokingly bit your bottom lip, a sarcastic smirk playing at your smile as you slowly lifted your tank top to reveal a bikini.

Steve’s eyes widened, watching you slowly drag the fabric across your stomach. His face darkened multiple shades, blooming in flowers of pink and red. He felt his jaw drop slightly as he watched your perfect teeth sink into your fleshy lower lip. He knew you were joking, and he knew that you were his best friend, and it was wrong but-

“-right?” You smiled.

He snapped out of his gaze, and began nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s right.”

You looked confused for a moment, before understanding the Steve wasn’t listening.

“Let’s go?” He smiled.

***

Splashes and screams filled your ears as you and Steve walked into the pool area. The lifeguard seat was taken by a some girl, so Steve seemed relatively calm.

You knew that he didn’t like Billy. And Billy didn’t like him. You didn’t particularly like Billy either, it was sort of a best friend rule, but Billy didn’t seem to mind you.

As you headed towards the pool, you heard a whistle from somewhere behind you. Not the lifeguard kind, a wolf-whistle. Steve turned around faster than you did, and you saw the clench of his fists.

Steve felt his nails dig into his palms as Billy Hargrove came into view. Not only was he there, he was cat-calling his girl.

“Shut up, Billy.” You laughed, playfully telling him off. Steve really thought he might draw blood.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.” He spat. You saw how tense Steve was, so you place a warm hand on his chest.

“It’s ok, Stevie.” While his breath slowed, you felt his heartbeat speed up. “Come on.”

You guided him away to an empty pair of sun beds, to dump your stuff on.

“I really hate him.” Steve spat.

“I know. It’s ok, we can just avoid him.” You tried to comfort him. “Look, let’s just do what we came for and get in the pool!”

The cool water was inviting, a quick relief from the suns violent heat beating down on you. Steve splashed you, and you squealed at the temperature. He was turned around, watching something, so you swam towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck to help you stay afloat. You hugged onto his back, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Whatcha lookin’ at Stevie?” You giggled.

Steve smirked slightly, he had been midway through a glaring contest with Billy when your smooth, wet arms slid over his shoulders. He watched in glee as Billy clenched his jaw at the sight, shooting Steve a final glare before looking away.

Steve sunk under the water, dragging you down with him. Bubbles escaped your mouth as you laughed, sliding off of Steve’s back to face him. He reached forwards, tickling you at your ribs. You erupted out of the water, gasping for air.

“Stevie! I hate you.” You frowned at him, feigning anger.

“You know you love me.” He laughed, and you lunged for him again.

***

Steve watched intently as you gracefully dived through the water, pupils dilated with admiration.

He chilled for a bit, attempting to read the book left on your table. Something about a guy falling in love with his best friend, although she is dating someone else. Ironic.

“Yo, Harrington.” Billy was standing in front of his sun bed, blocking out the light.

“If you don’t stop being a pussy and not ask (y/n) out, I will literally fuck her. The only reason she hasn’t yet is cuz of you.” Billy spat.

Steve stood up, fists clenched.

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve edged towards him.

“Mhm, or what? Gonna send your eighth grader pals after me?” Billy stepped forward, they were inches apart.

Steve swung at him, all the anger and frustration he felt with himself to further the punch. Billy instantly responded, attempting to block the swing but missing. Steve’s clenched fist landed squarely on Billy’s nose. He felt himself be knocked backwards, flying into the table as Billy pushed him. They continued on like this, fists flying and a crowd gathering around them.

Steve could feel the wet blood dripping from his nose, but he kept on punching.

“Steve- What the fuck!” You screeched. You pushed through the crowd, reaching for Steve. You pulled him away from Billy, standing in between both of them. Ignoring Billy for the time being, you turned to Steve.

“What the hell? Are you ok? What happened?” You brushed his still damp hair out of his face so that you could see the damage better. There were a few bruises forming and his nose was gushing.

“Billy- what the fuck did you do?” You yelled, finally turning to the boy.

“He started it!” Billy stated indignantly.

“What are you, five? I don’t care.” you rolled your eyes.

Billy was quiet for a moment, studying your face.

“What.” You glared.

“You free Friday night?”

“Why?”

“Lacey’s having a party. Wanna go together?”

“Fuck off Hargrove. Go away.”

Billy rolled his eyes before leaving. You turned to Steve who was holding a tissue up to his nose.

“You alright, Stevie?” You asked, sitting down next to him.

“Mhm.” Steve couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“What we’re you guys fightin’ about?” You spoke quietly, looking into his eyes. They shone with fear and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“Doesn’t matter. Stupid.” He muttered, picking at his fingers.

“Come on, Stevie. You tell me everything.”

He was just quiet. Not meeting your eyes. Nothing like your Steve.

“Let’s just go.” He finally mumbled.

***

The car ride home was a silent one. Not awkward, you were both just lost in the endless maze that was your very own thoughts.

You snapped out of your daze as Steve pulled up to your house.

“I don’t feel like going home.” You stared at the yellow lit windows.

“I don’t want you to go.” Steve responded.

“The lake?”

The lake was your special spot, you were sure that at least a few others knew of it, but you and Steve had been going for years.

When you were younger, you would bike out there, backpacks stuffed with snacks and a polaroid camera hanging from your neck. It evolved into a place of solitude, even though you were never alone. It felt as if when you were there, you were isolated from the outside world, in a bubble of just you and Steve.

The drive was short and you soon were sitting in the sand, tracing shapes into the grains.

“Steve.. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what you guys were fighting about?”

“It was…” He didn’t want to tell you. He was perfectly content never telling you, as long as you stayed his friend. He doesn’t know why it just slipped out his mouth, a small whisper that unfortunately caught on the wind and was carried to her ears.

“You.”

“Me?”

“No, the girl sitting behind you. Yes, it was about you, (y/n).” You opened your mouth to speak. “No, stop. I need to say this or I will quite literally explode. You, (y/n) (l/n) are the most beautiful and amazing girl I know, and that’s why me and Billy are arguing, because everyone in this world sees you like I do and love you like I do, and I know we’re best friends so please don’t hate me but I love you and I can’t stop talking now and I’m sor-“

It took a moment for what he was saying to set in. He loved you? You cut his ramblings short with a finger to his lips, something strangely intimate.

“You love me?” You grinned, still not sure if this surreal situation was a dream or not.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

There wasn’t much space between you, Steve had closed the gap during his messy confession, but there was still a good few inches.

You leaned forwards, pressing your soft lips to his.