WHO’S YOUR BOYFRIEND? ── megan skiendiel
synopsis — you tell yourself you're in over your head and that you're reading into everything too deeplyr. you want to believe that you're making it all up and that she definitely doesn’t feel that way.
warnings— toxic behaviors, micro cheating?
tags — wlw, katseye, megan skiendiel
a/n — so i wrote this on july 31st before the pictures and stuff came out recently… anyway, enjoy!
this was also gonna be a smut but i was scared to put one out as my first fic. i still have it drafted though!
every time megan was seeing a new guy, you knew not to bother hitting her up after ten. she never told you to stop texting her, you just knew. she would always be out partying or doing something to impress a guy she’s getting with. of course, you can’t blame her. you’d do the same if you were infatuated with someone.
megan’s your best friend. you’d think you two are inseparable. especially when she sends you blurry mirror selfies straight from rehearsal, whatever erewhon smoothie she bought today, opinions on instagram posts before she posts them, random calls at five a.m., anything and everything. but then she’d meet someone new. and conversations over the phone would start shortening.
can’t come over. maybe tomorrow?
tomorrow would usually turn into next week. and sometimes, if you were super unlucky, tomorrow would turn into two weeks.
that would keep building. but its a familiar rhythm (unfortunately). because she’d be with these random guys off-and-on. she’d get with them for roughly 2-3 months, hook up, party, get bored, take a few weeks off, and start over again.
and that’s what kind of makes her breakups… exciting?
not because you want her to get hurt — but because you know what comes after each one. megan comes back. she starts spending hours and days with you, starts stealing your clothes, posts you, smothers you in closeness and proximity, rests her head on your shoulder during movie nights, takes you out more with her friends, parties with you, sends more selfies for your eyes only, laughs harder at your stupid jokes that aren’t even funny, wants you over night-after-night, and everything you could ever dream of.and you start to get familiar with it all over again.
you believe that each time it’s different.
but that’s entirely your fault. especially when you’re at a party with a bunch of your friends. mutuals of megan too. its the kind of party where nobody actually knows who’s invited anymore — there’s too big of a crowd to check. there’s drinks and plastic coating the wooden flooring, some shoes piled at the door in mixed pairs, and everyone was yelling over each other to try and hear over the thumping bass, capturing the entire house in a dome of 808 mixes. left and right, you’re cornered with bodies musk of sweat, dancing and drinking like tonight is the last night they’ll be alive.
and you just look around from the kitchen counter with a drink in hand, catching a vibe with your friends while you occasionally take a sip — not to get drunk nor tipsy. just to blend in.
you were laughing with a soft smile when your friend, claire, brought it up. “is she coming tonight?” she asked, voice carrying above the music to reach you and your mutuals.
the name rings familiar in your veins, so, of course, you look up first. “megan?” you answer with a wrinkle in your forehead, in case you misread her idea.
“yeah,” claire responds, using a sip of her drink as a pause. “i thought she was coming with that guy.”
the other two girls you guys were with nodded. and you instantly felt left out.
what have you been missing?“guy?” you ask as if you truly are deaf over this music. the music is loud, but its not deafening. “what guy?”
the girls kind of go quiet, the room feeling slightly stiff around you.
you’re closest to megan out of all of them. you not knowing something in her personal life is… different. that’s news to them. “you don’t know?” rachel asks, looking at you first before looking at the others.
you saw it in that second — the way all their eyes glanced at each other. they’re not judging you — far from it. but they’re somewhat surprised. they assumed you knew everything already.
and when rachel said that, it’s like you could already tell.
you think back to the shorter responses, the time she showed up late to plans you made a week in advance, and the missed calls she never answered.
it all clicks. the signs you should’ve picked up on quicker due to it occurring so often.
you exhale, already rolling your head back due to the perpetual curse you’ve come across.
“who’s her boyfriend now?”
it felt like ever since that day, he was all she cared about. it got to the point where social media started picking up on it: the way they’d go to in-n-out for lunch, when he’d watch her shows at festivals, when she’d take him to one of her friend’s opening act, and even to what she was wearing — his sweaters.
that’s what impacted you the most.
it wasn’t your clothes over her shoulders anymore.
when she somehow could manage to free up her schedule to see her close friend of five years for just a couple hours, you could tell that he was the only thing on her mind. everyone saw how she kept checking her phone between conversations and how her attention span went beyond the room whenever his name appeared across her screen. even when she was sitting right in front of you, laughing at something you said, she didn’t really feel there.
eventually, he started becoming the only thing on your mind too. how could he not? she was always wearing his clothes. his sweaters would hand loose off of her slim shoulders, his cologne lingering on the fabric.
at that point, you stop seeing megan entirely. you only see him when you look at her face.
what’s also bad about being friends with someone for half a decade is that they still pick up on your little flaws — even when their judgment, and apparently their entire brain, seems to be fogged with boy-fever.
and there you were, heart pounding under your ribs when you were on your way home from a hangout with megan and all your friends. the roads were dark and familiar, little shops illuminating the area with comfort.
the drive was quiet with soft music until your phone buzzes, and your carplay gets a small banner at the bottom of the screen, lighting up the dashboard.
at a red light, you debated checking it.
your eyes flickered from the road to the little banner on your screen — bright and tempting within the dark interior of your vehicle.
you decided that you didn’t want the rest of the ride home wondering what megan wanted, so you let it go momentarily.
instead, you waited until you were fully seated on the couch within the comfort of your own apartment — shoes off near the door, sweatpants and a hoodie, and your lethargic body sinking into the plush cushions. you pulled over a nearby blanket that was so incredibly soft it looked as though someone harvested a handful of clouds and managed to make a cream-colored blanket out of it.
and that’s when you finally took a look at your phone.
the texts kind of went cold. neither of you knew how to salvage this where one person was clearly infatuated to the point where you both knew it.
you only apologized in a way that only felt as a reflection of megan’s own actions — not because you were in the wrong, but because you somehow fell back into this cycle when you should have known better. you understood the game now, this shouldn’t have happened again.
megan knew exactly what you were apologizing for.
and that’s why she couldn’t respond.
that night, the sheets just felt colder — and not in a comfortable way. you were already covered head to toe, buried beneath a mountain of blankets that showed the tiniest sliver of your face only to access air. and yet the temperature still didn’t increase. last night was uncomfortable, and not solely because of the bedsheets, either.
the weight of everything from last night lingered heavily in the back of your mind, refusing to let you sleep properly. not just conversations from dinner — little quirks in conversations that made you cringe now — but from he messages.
you woke up with a pounding headache your thoughts already going a million mph per minute before you could even fully open your eyes.
coffee was non-negotiable. everything still felt freezing despite the warmth outside. the apartment was so chilled to the point where you had to hold your hoodie by the sleeves.
the coffee beans grinding only added to the ache in your head, but as soon as it brewed you’d be sure it would relieve everything — even your overbearing thoughts.
by noon, you had almost managed to stop thinking about it.
a little further past noon, you felt as though it was gone completely.
until there was a knock at the door. a few, actually. familiar knuckles against familiar wood echoed throughout your chilled apartment.its not like you were expecting anyone. nothing can directly be delivered to your apartment; everything had to be retrieved in the lobby. packages, food, mail, etc. this wasn’t any of those. so this must be someone you know.
by the time you cracked open the door, you already saw her standing there — megan.
she was breathing a little heavier than usual, as if she took the stairs up here. she obviously hadn’t because she still looked too put-together for that — casually effortless in a way she can only manage.
her breaths clearly weren’t due to exhaustion. they come with nerves.
“hi.” she said flatly, followed by a quick swallow. her eyes locked dead into yours as if they couldn’t look elsewhere besides your irises.
you just stared at her, confused as ever. “…what are you doing here?” you ask after a beat, the furrow between your brows deepening. there was already an edge in your tone that you didn’t bother to mask. you were unable to mask the attitude you could carry if you were pushed the wrong way.
she swallowed once more before speaking. “can i come in?” she asks nervously as if this was her first time standing before you.
you hesitated. but you couldn’t refuse her. you opened the door fully, stepping off to the side to give her enough room to enter.
she walked past you like she’d done it billions of times before. she had. and your heart stuttered a little bit at that — the normalcy, the rhythm.
you shut the door behind her, the lock clicking softly in the silence before you followed her inside as if she’s the one who owned the place.
she walked through the familiar setting with ease, taking in the warm lighting and warm-modern tones you had all throughout your apartment. everything was either cream, brown, orange, tan, with some accents of deep color — anything besides neutrals that you’d always dread because they’d make you depressed.
megan dropped her bag near the coffee table before she turned around to face you.
for a moment, nobody said anything. it was too quiet. quiet enough where you can hear the faint rush of water from the neighbors next door.
then, to break the tension between you while holding onto such a fixed gaze, she exhales. “i broke up with him.”
you paused. you can’t say that you were entirely shocked. this is all so familiar. but hearing it out loud? it just came from left field. you two just discussed this the night prior, the news arrived too suddenly.
you didn’t answer her. you just looked at her. and that made the quietness feel worse.
megan’s chest began rising and falling quicker, like each breath started to become more uneven than the last. her face was plastered with nerves — so obviously there that you’d probably be able to count every single inhale if you focused.
she had looked more nervous now than she did when she first got here. and that alone told you something.
megan had been nervous around you before, of course.
its that different type of nervous you knew all-too-well.
your heart hammered. “why?” you rasped, your voice coming out softer than intended. megan looked at the floor for the first time she’d started talking. she only does that when she’s really shy or ashamed. her fingernails found the back of her neck, scratching lightly at skin that didn’t even itch. its a nervous habit. “because you were right.”
you almost scoff a laugh even when nothing is funny. “about which part?”“about me.” she admitted too quickly, her eyes meeting yours for full self-confrontation.
your mind sort of stilled. and the whole room went quiet. hell, maybe your whole complex.
megan took another breath as if to fully collect herself, to try and muster up whatever courage that had brought her here in the first place.
“i keep doing this… thing — where every time i get with someone, i’m like a whole different person,” she said. “and then i come back around like nothing ever happened.”
you didn’t say anything, but your stomach twisted anyway as you watch the guilt settle within her expression.
“meg-“ you started. but she didn’t let you finish.
“i know.” she said quietly. “i know i keep doing it. i’m aware. we’ve subtly talked about this multiple times before.”
you paused and looked at her. not exactly her eyes, but almost everything else about her face. every little detail you’d memorized over the years.“we’ve talked about a lot of things before,” you said quietly, like you’re tired of the same occurrence. “and they keep happening.”
the words nearly hurt to let out due to the honesty and truth behind them. you hated bringing up the same thing all over again.
megan swallowed again, taking a small step toward you that closed the very obvious space between the two of you. this distance used to feel so natural, but in moments like these, it felt so foreign.
“i promise this time is different.” she says quietly, almost trying to manifest it into the air itself.
“you said that last time,” you croaked, eyes staying on hers, but feeling slightly more weighted. “and the time before that,” a pause. “and the time before that, too.” you both knew this cycle — its rhythm. the same heart kept beating, leading you right back to the beginning.
neither of you said anything for a while. you both just stood there, nearly idle. nobody was willing enough to move first. the spacing between the two of you felt oddly intentional — something feeling natural. it wasn’t invasive. yet.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you asked quietly, almost afraid to put the question out there.
her eyes lifted to yours yet again. they never left your face, but she wasn’t looking directly in your retinas either. her gaze was wandering over every familiar detail of you, like she was trying to remember a face she’s known for years.
“…because you know,” she finally spoke. “you know it every time.” her expression became impossibly softer, but not weak. “and you’re always right.”
your heart stumbled softly. maybe a few beats at once.
then came the same look, paired with the same unbearable silence you’ve seen so much before — suppression. neither of you had ever been good at it.
you swallowed once more, your lips parting slightly as though you finally figured out what to say.
and megan took that little sign as instant invitation — as an answer.
she quickly stepped forward, closing the distance before either of you had the chance to second-guess what was happening.
all the months of distance, unfinished conversations, and all the talks about boys completely went away within the second her mouth moved against yours, lips latching with fervor and longing. her hands came up in that second too, holding your jaw in place so you couldn’t escape it either — probably for her ego.
her breath was hot, uneven and desperate as if she were trying to steal every moment she had left on this earth with you. her plush, pink lips moved fast and feverishly as they pressed against yours.
your consciousness felt like it was blurring. the familiar warmth of her mouth nearly putting you into a trance. her lips tasted faintly of cherry balm, making you nearly surrender to her every push. her tongue slowly slipped in, testing before growing bolder. a slick feeling of her salvia that wasn’t yours came past your lips.
you didn’t want to pull away at first — the trance nearly had you…. until you snapped back to reality and the weight of everything came crashing all at once.
on instinct, you placed both palms on her shoulders to gently push her back, putting distance between you two.
“megan-” you pant with guilt plastered all over your face. “we can’t… not again.”
she looked helpless, like you just kicked a puppy to the curb. her eyes went wide, panic pooling deep within her gut. her lips were a little pinker, a little wet, but not yet puffed to the point where it was obvious.
“i said it would be different.” she mutters quickly in defense. “it’s not gonna be like last time.” her chest starts visibly rising and falling again. “and the times before that.” she adds. “i won’t get with another guy after tonight. i promise you.”
her words rang out in your head.
could you actually trust her this time — enough to stick around? could you trust her to spend at least a month of this with you without it just stopping randomly?
or would the second a new guy looks her way, would it all disappear again?
but god, she gave that look. those big, glassy, needy doe eyes. they’d always make your stomach flip.
you can tell she needs this. she needs you. maybe just for the moment, maybe not.
ultimately, you give in. how could anyone ever resist? “okay…”
her eyes go wide — not with shock, but just understanding with hopefulness. “okay?” she asks, just for confirmation.
a small smile plays at the corners of your lips.
she couldn’t provide a verbal expression. instead, she crashed her lips back onto yours immediately without any hesitation.
and now, the kiss felt as though it were stuffed with desperation. three months of pent-up tension all crumbled in the space between two lips joining.
hope you guys liked this!
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