you weren’t supposed to be home.

but the crew caught ahead of schedule, and you caught the 6 p.m. train back into the city, thinking maybe it’d be nice to come home to him. surprise him.

you used to do that all the time. back when love felt easy.

back when his voice didn’t sound far away even when he was lying next to you.

the sky turns darker as you step off the platform, clouds hanging low like they know something you don’t.

you don’t tell him you’re coming.

just want to walk through the door and kiss him. maybe sleep in his arms for the first time in weeks without feeling like you forced him

you unlock the front door. the hallway light is on.

and then

you hear it.

a laugh.

not his.

hers.

soft, too familiar, like it belongs here now.

like you don’t.

you don’t call his name.

your footsteps are too loud on the wood floor.

you see the couch first—blankets you folded yesterday now half on the floor.

candles lit.

his hoodie on the chair.

his voice—gentle, warm, the version of him you haven’t heard in so long.

and then you see them.

her legs across his lap.

his hand on her thigh.

his mouth moving like it belongs to her now.

for a second, no one says anything.

his eyes lock with yours and widen, but he doesn’t move. doesn’t pull away.

you wait for a lie. a stumble. anything.

he gives you silence. that’s worse.

you nod.

don’t cry, don’t scream, just walk backwards like maybe if you rewind fast enough none of this will be real.

he says your name once—quiet, like a memory.

you don’t answer.

the door slams behind you. the sound feels final.

you stand outside in the rain with your keys still in your hand and no one left to come home to.

you don’t go far.

just down the stairs, towards the entrance of the building, your hands shaking, your breath fogging even though it’s not cold.

the air feels sharp, though.

like it knows what just happened.

like even the night’s trying not to look at you.

and then-

his footsteps.

soft. hesitant.

like maybe if he walks quietly enough, the world won’t hear him breaking you.

“hey…”

his voice is hoarse. you don’t look.

he stays a few feet away.

coward.

“i didn’t know you’d be back today.”

like that matters.

like if you’d just waited one more day, he could’ve finished destroying you without you seeing it.

you still don’t speak.

“it wasn’t—i mean, it just happened.”

liar.

you turn, finally, slowly. your eyes meet his and he flinches.

good.

he should.

chris inhales a sharp breath.

“i didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

you almost laugh.

not because it’s funny.

because what the fuck does that even mean?

“so it’s better if i never knew?”

he doesn’t answer.

“how long?”

the words come out dry. brittle. like they’d shatter if you weren’t already shattered.

he hesitates.

that’s your answer.

long enough.

the silence between you stretches.

fills the space where his excuses should’ve lived.

but he doesn’t have the strength to lie well anymore.

you step back.

he steps forward.

“wait, please—”

“no.”

it’s the first solid word you’ve said.

it cuts through whatever dream he thought he could sell you.

“i fucked up,” he whispers, like maybe making it small enough will make it forgivable.

you nod.

“yeah. you did.”

he looks like he wants to cry.

you don’t care.

his sadness isn’t yours to carry anymore.

you walk away, don’t run, and he doesn’t follow this time.

not really.

he just stands there, watching you disappear like he didn’t ask for this ending the second he let someone else take your place.

like he just now realized this was the end.

a/n: i’ve been busy with my new au but i’ve been working on this too i swearr

back to the general masterlist / writing marathon masterlist

SFW

he tells you by… always wanting physical attention and affection

he tells you by… using words of affirmation as his love language

he tells you by… not being ashamed of loving you loudly and in public

he tells you by… always wanting to be with you

he tells you by… letting you be clingy even though he swears he hates when people are too close or touchy

he tells you by… writing love letters and drawing things that remember him of you

he tells you by… always looking out for you

he tells you by… holding your hand and comforting you when he know you feel overwhelmed

he tells you by… not even looking at the price when he’s buying gifts of paying dates because he knows you’re worth more than any amount

he tells you by… memorizing your favorite songs just so he can sing them (badly) to make you laugh or (in rare cases) listen to them with you

he tells you by… bragging about you to literally everyone

he tells you by… getting flustered when you compliment him but never shutting up when it’s his turn to praise you

he tells you by… saving every little thing you give him, from silly notes to big gifts

he tells you by… staying up late just to hear about your day, even if he’s exhausted

NSFW

he tells you by… choosing to hold your hand even when the way he’s thrusting into you seems nothing like loving

he tells you by… worshipping you

he tells you by…taking his time with you (even though he’s not one to pass up a quickie)

he tells you by… not being embarrassed of being a switch when you want to top him

he tells you by… telling you how good you’re doing and how amazing you feel

he tells you by… making you look at yourself in the mirror while he’s behind you, praising you

he tells you by… making love to you, of course

he tells you by… kissing and touching every inch of you he can reach

he tells you by… looking into your eyes when he sinks into you

he tells you by… always preferring positions when he can see the most of you, especially your face

he tells you by… never skipping aftercare

he tells you by… stopping immediately if he sees even one little sign you’re not enjoying it

he tells you by… whispering sweet nothings into your ear

he tells you by… prioritizing your pleasure over his

“The person you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.”

voicemail 1 [1:58 AM]

“umh hey, it’s matt.” silence “everything okay? you always pick up when i’m calling.” he smiles even though you can’t see it “is it only me or you care about anyone like this?” beep.

voicemail 2 [2:02]

“you know i care about you too, right? like, a lot.” he sat down onto his bed and stretched out. “like i can’t seem to find anyone else i care about the way i care about you.”

he exhales “you kind of broke me.” beep.

voicemail 3 [2:13]

“so, what’s up with that guy from last night? jack—wait, jason? or jake? i’m terrible with names.” low sigh.

“the one who asked for your number at the bar. did he text you? did you reply? did he actually ask you to be his girlfriend or something?” beep.

voicemail 4 [2:14]

“am i wrong for hoping he didn’t?” another pause, like he’s reflecting “because honestly, i don’t know… i guess part of me wishes it was someone else asking—someone who actually means something, you know?”

“i’m not saying he doesn’t mean it, but he doesn’t know you enough to want something serious. he doesn’t know you like i do.”

another sigh

“but hey, maybe that’s just me being selfish. i don’t want to mess things up between us — it’s just… hard sometimes.” beep.

voicemail 5 [2:31]

he let out a quiet sigh. “maybe it sounds dumb, but sometimes i catch myself thinking about you. but i don’t know if it’s like a good friend way.”

silence

“i think i’m falling for you. like, really falling — the kind that hurts so much it might break me.” noise of sheets ruffling, like he’s turning over.

“but you wouldn’t, right? you’re so nice and pretty and funny and sweet and—you wouldn’t do me like that.”

“would you?” beep.

voicemail 6 [2:34]

“you know, you’re the kind of pretty that makes it really hard to pay attention when you talk. like, really hard. i get distracted every single time.” quiet laugh. “but i love your voice, and i really do try to listen.”

“i don’t say it enough, but it messes with me more than i probably should admit.” pause “makes me wonder what i did that made me deserve you.” beep.

voicemail 7 [2:36]

“it sucks that you can’t answer right now. i miss you, just want to hear your pretty voice.”

he lets out a noise that soundscapes way too similar to a sob.

“i hope i didn’t just mess up everything.”

“i love you.”

beep.

a/n: literally the cutest

back to the general masterlist / writing marathon masterlist

silence settled over the room as you sat on matt’s bed, knees drawn up to your chest, staring at the floor. your vision blurred as your emotions weighed down on you, and tears welled up in your eyes. all you could think about was matt. the thought of him being angry with you broke your heart. you hated this feeling; the feeling when the person you loved most was upset with you.

a few hours ago, you and matt had gotten into a heated argument. there had been shouting, crying, harsh words. it wasn’t just about the argument, it was about everything that had built up over the last few days. you hadn’t been there for him the way you should have, and the stress from everything else had finally flew out.

matt, who never raised his voice at you, had shouted and yelled. and though you knew the anger wasn’t really aimed at you, it still stung.

he had left you alone for now, sensing that you needed space, but the silence only made the guilt worse. you felt like you hadn’t shown him the love and care he deserved, and now you were just feeling the consequences on you.

a soft sob escaped you as your tears spilled down your cheeks. you wanted to fix it, to go back to how things were before the fight. you knew why he was angry, but it didn’t make it any easier. you just wanted to be better for him.

suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door. matt’s voice drifted through the wood.

“baby?”

you sniffled, quickly wiping at your eyes. “yeah?” you answered softly, your voice breaking.

“can i come in?”

you nodded and hummed, your voice barely audible. “mmh.”

the door creaked opened slowly, and matt stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. his eyes found you immediately, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at you. he didn’t want to be angry anymore. he just wanted to make it right.

“look at me,” he said, his voice quiet but insistent.

you hesitated before slowly meeting his gaze, and the sight of your tear-streaked face made his heart ache. “i’m so so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. “i shouldn’t have yelled at you. i never meant to hurt you.”

his words hit you harder than you expected. you shook your head, not wanting him to feel bad. “no, it’s not you, it’s not you. i’ve been terrible to you, matt. i haven’t been there for you. i haven’t been the girlfriend you deserve.”

matt shook his head firmly, his eyes searching yours. “you’re not terrible. you were just stressed. i should’ve understood. i should’ve talked to you instead of getting upset.”

he leaned forward and kissed you softly on the lips, a gentle reassurance that spoke louder than words. pulling you into his arms, he held you close, letting you rest your head against his chest.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice fragile but sincere.

“i love you too,” you murmur, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

“and i’m not angry anymore. you don’t need to apologize. you’ve been under so much pressure, and i haven’t been there for you like i should have. we’ll figure this out, okay?”

you nodded, your tears slowing as his words sank in. he always knew how to make you feel better, how to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

you sniffled into his shoulder, his hand gently rubbing your back. “let’s sleep on it, yeah? i’ll be here.”

flirtybsf!chris who… always makes sure you’re alright and takes care of you.

“are you cold?” chris asks, gently brushing his hand against your cheek. you’re shivering, but you don’t want him to worry or fuss over you. “i’m fine,” you lie, though it’s clear you’re not. he places his hand on your cheek again, then pulls off his hoodie and throws it across your lap. “you’re freezing. put this on,” he says, his voice a mix of care and insistence. he won’t let you stay cold, not for a moment.

flirtybsf!chris who… always gives you what you want.

“i’m hungry,” you text chris at 2am, but he doesn’t reply, so you assume he’s asleep. you get ready for bed, but then you hear a knock at the door. when you open it, chris is standing there with two large bags of food in either his hands. “your favorite food is here,” he says, a smile on his face, handing you the bags.

flirtybsf!chris who… loves to spoil you.

it was your birthday, and chris was guiding you somewhere with his hand over your eyes. he counted down, then gently removed his hand. your jaw dropped when you saw your bed covered in gifts: a huge bouquet of flowers, designer bags, plenty of jewelry, boxes with your favorite jewelry brand’s name on them and so much more. “oh my god, chris, are you crazy?” you say, rushing to hug him. “let me spoil you, at least for today, mh?” he murmured against your shoulder.

flirtybsf!chris who… flirts with you as a “joke”.

you were both at a wedding ceremony. you were in a long dark blue satin dress with a deep neckline and a slit that ran up your thigh, paired with high heels. “i wish you weren’t only my best friend in this outfit,” chris whispers to you, his hand squeezing your thigh. “chris!” you exclaim, shoving him. “sorry ma, just thinking out loud. that dress looks really good on you.” he says with a smirk.

flirtybsf!chris who… is always clingy with you.

you were lying on your bed when you heard the door to your room creak open. chris walked in, looking tired and a little upset. “hey, what happened?” you asked, turning to face him. “bad bad day. so tired,” he replied, collapsing onto the bed next to you. he wrapped his arms around you, rested his head on your chest, and guided your hands to his hair. such a big baby.

flirtybsf!chris who… always insists to hang out.

you text him late at night. “hey, how are you? i haven’t heard from you all day.” “not great. i’d be better if we were hanging out.” “chris, it’s 3am.” “too bad, i’m already on my way, late night ride in 10.”

flirtybsf!chris who… cancels all his plans for you.

your best friend madison has three triplet best friends: nick, matt, and chris. you’re all originally from boston, but during the summers you go to their vacation house.

at 3 A.M. on the first night you wake up, unable to sleep. you grab your two piece bikini and change, then a towel from the hallway, wrapping it around you from your chest to half your thighs as you tip toe down the stairs.

you open the back door, seeing chris sitting on the edge of the pool, with a blunt in between his fingers. why was he smoking? he never smoked.

at the sound of the glass door opening, he immediately turns your way. he only had a pair of black swimming trunks on, with the elastic band of his boxers popping out.

“why are you awake?” he slowly lifts his hand, hitting the blunt in it. you look at him while he does. so he was actually smoking?

“can’t sleep.” you answer, still standing just out the door. wondering if you wanted to go back in and still don’t get any sleep, or stay with him.

“same.” he realizes you’re unsure what to do, so he gently pats the edge of the pool beside him “come sit.” he gently says, waiting for you to do.

you finally decide to walk towards him, you grab the towel you had wrapped on you and open it beside him, then sitting on it, your legs half in the water, just like him. the water is cold, the night hair is still and silent.

“is this… a new thing?” you can’t help but ask, pointing at his hand. you watch him as he he blows out smoke, upwards in the air, still thinking a out the fact that the was actually smoking. him, the kind of guy that would stay sober just to check that the others were too.

“i guess you could say that.” he says, like he’s letting out something deep, something unspoken. “when i wake up in the middle of the night there’s nothing that helps me other than this thing.” he gestures with his hand, referring to the blunt he’s been smoking.

you stay silent, not knowing how to add onto that, knowing you never smoked, not even a cigarette, it just didn’t really attract you. the water of the pool lightly moves under you, caressing your legs, making the only noise other than the low crackling of the burning weed.

he glances at you before holding his blunt out in your way. “want some?” he says while blowing out just above your head the smoke he had previously inhaled.

your eyes move between his eyes and his hand. his expression and the way he’s offering make this seem less wrong. “how do you…?” you say, completely unexperienced but willing to try.

“you really don’t even know?” he looks at you in a slightly confused way. he knew you never did, but he didn’t expect you to not know anything about it, which it’s exactly what you did.

you look down, a little embarassed. “hey it’s okay.” he gently lifts you chin up to look at him “just open your mouth a little for me.”

you listen, slightly parting your lips. he positions the filter of the blunt just in between there “now close your lips and deep breath in.”

you do, and right after you inhale you start coughing. “you okay?” he says, softly patting your back, not really worried because he knew that this would happen. you cough one last time and then stop. “and you smoke all that?” you say, with a dramatically disgusted look on your face, pointing at his hand.

he chuckles lightly. “yes, i do. and you will either don’t try it ever again or get used to it.”

that’s the last thing you remember before waking up in his bed, with him spooning you, one hand playing with the lace of the bottom of your two piece bikini under the shirt he gave you the night before, his other hand tracing soothing patterns on your lower waist. “good morning baby” he says to you with a sleepy and calm voice, pulling you closer and placing sweet soft kisses on your collarbone.