ℳ ⊹˙ ₊ -

You had found Kurt late at night, he was walking down the side of the road during some heavy rain, completely soaked to the bone. The sight of somebody so dejected and completely alone tugged on your heartstrings so much that you ended up offering him a ride home.

He explained that his 'best friend' had pranked him by telling him that he knew a girl that would be interested in going on a date with him, to which nobody showed up, and Kurt was left sitting alone in the restaurant, trying not to cry when he realised what had happened.

He had been telling his Spree passengers all day that he had a date tonight, had bought himself a new outfit, hung it up ready for him when he got home, and lined all of his products up on the bathroom counter. All for nothing. A stupid prank.

Upon leaving the restaurant, he had learned that Bobby had gotten Kurt's car towed, and so not only did he have to pay $200 to get it back, he also had to walk home... In the rain.

You felt yourself holding back tears as he recounted the story, staring out of the window and refusing to make eye contact with you out of sheer embarrassment.

"You shouldn't give those people your time." Was the last thing that you said to him before you dropped him home, his number sitting snuggly in your phone.

It didn't take long for your kind gesture to bloom into the best thing in both your lives, that being your sweet relationship.

Kurt was truly your baby, you coddled him almost to a ridiculous level, but you honestly couldn't bear the thought of anyone sinking their poisonous claws into him again, and the only place he was truly safe was under your soft blankets, curled into your chest.

Like right now, you scratched his scalp, smelling the scent of the nice shampoo you had bought him. Kurt laid contently against your boobs, his eyes shut but not in an attempt to sleep. He was just in pure heaven.

He hadn't excepted to ever be in a position like this, let alone with a girl who was completely obsessed with him. He had known for a long time that he was unlovable, whether that be from the lack of attention his videos got, or the way that his closest 'friends' treated him. But you had so viciously ripped that version of thinking away from him.

"I love you." Your voice broke his thoughts, your lips against his temple. Kurt grinned, nestling his face deeper into you. "Sweet baby."

You looked at his perfect face, the way his eyelashes brushed his soft cheeks, as well as the perfect moles that you loved to kiss. You grinned automatically, never being able to withhold a smile when you looked at him. "You're so cute."

"No i'm not." He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled.

"Yes you are!" You pinched his cheek. You pulled the blankets slightly higher until they were tucked over his shoulders, which allowed him to nuzzle against you even more.

He genuinely didn't understand what you liked about him so much. He thought that he was a failed YouTuber with no prospects, no appeal, and no hope for his future. You thought that he was just the greatest thing ever, looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars.

Something about Kurt just made you want to cherish him in the most altruistic way possible. You greatly improved your cooking skills when you realised that Kurt only ate junk. You built him a hygiene routine when you knew that he struggled with taking care of himself. You just loved him so much, you'd do anything for him.

You kissed his head several times, until he was squirming underneath you, wrapping his arms around your waist so that he could feebly attempt to pull you closer. You grinned when you realised he was clinging to you, kissing his head one last time for good measure, then trailing your kisses down his face.

Across his cheeks, over his jaw, a couple on his lips which he desperately chased, but you didn't let yourself linger in one spot for too long, deciding he needed an equal spread of love. "Cutie baby." You whispered, smiling into one of the kisses.

You continued to spill small praises as his cheeks flushed pink, completely overwhelmed by the love that you continued to smother him with.

Kurt managed to angle his head up so that he could capture your lips in a quick kiss. "Aww." You cooed, brushing your fingers over his lips until he smiled again. He loved kissing you as much as you loved kissing him, but he was much shyer with it.

"I love you so much." You whispered, a wide grin on your lips. Your eyes were sparking as you looked at him, pupils completely blown from pure adoration.

You had always had such a big heart, and finally had a place to direct all of your love to. Kurt couldn't complain, for once in his life he felt taken care of, and you had squeezed away his touch-deprivation in the most delicate yet passionate way possible.

Kurt smiled, tightening his grip around you. "I- Yeah, I love you too." He stammered, his voice still flustered no matter how long you two had been together.

You grinned, squealing slightly when you heard his sweet words.

Your love presented itself in the way you touched and kissed Kurt, and while Kurt reciprocated as much as he could handle, which truthfully, wasn't a lot, he still had other ways of showing how much he loved you.

He learned how to do all of the household chores that he had never been taught just because he'd rather clean up so you can watch TV when you were tired after work than leave you to do it. It didn't matter whose mess it was.

He'd cut off Bobby and all of his terrible friends after you'd cried and begged him to stop talking to them, purely because you couldn't bear to watch him come home in silence while he was swallowed by a thick cloud of sadness, the weight of knowing it was wrong sitting heavy on his chest despite the fact he'd rather be stuck in that position than be alone again.

But he wasn't alone, he had you now, and that was all he needed.

If he ever began to feel alone, he knew that he could crawl into your arms and you'd hold him tightly until he forgot what he was sad about. It worked like a charm every time, and eventually his safe space became you.

After a bad day, the only thing on his mind was how good your arms were going to feel around him, how your lips on his face were going to fix anything that had gone wrong.

If a customer had berated him unfairly, he knew that your sweet words would wash away any pain from the encounter, filling his brain with beautiful thoughts. You never left him with any doubts about just how much you loved him.

He had never been somebody's favourite person before, but he liked it a lot, no matter if he felt a little out of his depth.

"You alright, honey?" You asked casually, your voice light and cheery. Gator stifled a nod, mumbling something incoherent. You weren't convinced, but decided not to press.

It took another minute before the thunder rumbled again, then being followed by a loud clap. You swear Gator jumped out of his skin, his eyes darting to the window. If it wasn't so unlike him, it would have amused you.

"Scared of the storm?" You asked, your voice only slightly teasing.

Gator didn't reply, he didn't even acknowledge that you had said something. Although, when you peered around to look at his face, he looked embarrassed. "It's okay if you are." You followed, sitting down next to him. You noticed how tight his shoulders were.

"'M not." He mumbled, although you weren't entirely convinced.

You didn't even have time to respond before another loud clap of thunder broke through the room, Gator once again physically jerking. "Fuck this." He mumbled, storming into the bedroom and slamming the door.

You rushed after him, knocking gently after a second of contemplation, careful not to disturb him. "Honey? What's going on? Come on, talk to me..."

The door opened quickly, and his hand enclosed around your wrist, roughly dragging you inside. He shut the door again, and wrapped his arms around your waist, his head in the crook of your neck, pinning you there.

Your hand came to the loose hairs at the nape of his neck, scratching through them gently. "It's okay if you don't like the storm..." You said gently.

You felt your neck get slightly wet, only then did you realise he was crying. You had never seen Gator cry. Sometimes, you weren't even sure if he could produce tears.

"I don't wanna go outside... Don't make me go outside..." His voice was shaky and quiet.

"What are you talking about?"

"Please... I wanna stay in here..." He begged.

You pulled his head out of your neck, looking into his big brown eyes. He looked genuinely distressed, like a scared little boy.

"You can stay in here." You smiled softly, but Gator didn't look convinced. He cowered back into you when the thunder rumbled again.

His entire body was shaking almost cartoonishly, his teeth chattering loudly. You were extremely confused about what was making him act like this. Your big, tough boyfriend reduced to a mess over... a storm?

When a strike of lightning illuminated the room, Gator jerked again. In a move that was even more unlike him, he fell to his knees, sobbing loudly, his face pressed against your stomach like you were his anchor. Your hand came to his head, coaxing him to look up at you. "Talk to me..."

"No..."

"Please?"

He stood up and sat on the bed, shuffling to the further corner, almost hugging the wall. You sat next to him and pulled the covers over him, and as he laid down, he allowed you to cocoon him.

"There we go, honey..." You whispered, your sweet voice filling his ears much more kindly than the storm was.

"My dad..." He started, his voice shaky and terrified.

𓆩♡𓆪

The door slammed shut violently, the rain hitting Gator's skin like shards of glass. He slammed on the wood until his hands were red, before he collapsed with exhaustion from the emotion coursing through him.

The rain soaked into his clothes, making them stick to his skin, his limbs feeling like heavy blocks of ice. His father throws him out during the storms to 'teach responsibility', and to make sure that Gator doesn't grow up as a 'coddled son of a bitch'.

Gator gave up trying to get back into the house, it was never any use, Roy obviously wasn't going to budge. He knew that, he just foolishly held out some hope that maybe this wasn't going to be the case today.

He ran through the fields, the wet crops slapping against his legs like knives, until he arrived at the abandoned wooden shack that was crumbling on the edge of the grounds.

The roof was leaking, the floor was filthy with puddles and thick pools of mud, the walls seconds away from caving. However, it was his only shelter for the night. He huddled up in the corner, draping his sopping wet jacket over him in a feeble attempt to keep warm, although the cold had long seeped into his bones.

Each clap of thunder made the wooden logs tremble, and each time he became more and more convinced that it was going to collapse.

Sleep didn't come that night as he sat alert in the corner, shaking like a leaf, his body doing anything it could to fight off the deadly cold.

The door slammed open, jolting Gator out of a weird exhausted daze, and Roy stood over him. "Pathetic..." He mumbled, taking in his purple lips and the way his jacket was used as a blanket.

He grabbed Gator by the collar of his shirt and forced him up, dragging him back to the house where he was then thrown into a wet heap on the floor, left to sort himself out.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your heart clenched in your chest as Gator finished his story, and he was pretty much hysterical by now. Above the deep shame that he felt for getting too emotional and not being able to stop it, he felt something else, a wild appreciation for you and the way you were just rubbing the soft blanket draped over his shoulders, allowing him to talk.

You didn't judge him, or call him stupid, or treat it as something he needed to get over.

His breathing was growing more erratic, and you knew instantly that you had to calm him down before he passed out, or something. "Hey," You urged, your hand gently brushing over his cheeks. "Do you know where you are right now?"

"In bed." He replied, tearful and confused.

"That's right." You smiled, planting a soft kiss on the tear that rolled down his cheek. "You're safe, aren't you?"

Gator nodded, his breathing slowly turning into unsteady hiccups.

"You're warm..." You continued, "The storm is outside, but you're... well, you're in here."

"''N i'm with ya." He added, his voice quiet.

"And you're with me." You smiled, and he wrapped his arms around you.

Gator nodded, his breaths evening out as the comforting scent of you filled his nose, and his body allowed itself to relax knowing that he was completely safe in your bed, and that his father couldn't hurt him.

His body still jolted when a large crack of thunder ripped through the clouds, however it was less violent, and he relaxed faster with your hand rubbing his back, your nails trailing over it.

For once, he felt like he was truly safe, nestled in your arms, like there was nowhere else that he could ever imagine being.

And there wasn't, there didn't need to be.

Maybe it had been a particularly bad day. Maybe Gator had been humiliated in front of his entire team one too many times. Maybe the lingering pain from the old bruises on his ribs had been keeping him agitated all day. It was just the perfect storm, unfortunately.

When he got home, you had cooked him his favourite dinner, rubbed his tense shoulders while he ate in silence with a cold beer, frowning a future wrinkle into the space between his brows.

The evening passed quietly, but now he seemed hell-bent on putting you through the mattress. You had taught Gator how to love you softly, how to create the most beautiful bubble of love through foreplay and the way he touched you. But that wasn't the case tonight.

You were okay with it, you knew Gator just needed to get his anger out, and as long as he absolutely didn't purposefully inflict pain on you, you could take it. You wanted to help him. That's what you told yourself when he got increasingly urgent while he was kissing you.

You let him in quickly, pretty much allowing him to do whatever he wanted. However, things took a turn when he flipped you over, his hands likely leaving bruises in the shape of his fingertips due to how hard he had grabbed you. That was the first thing that made you wonder if you needed to tell him to take a breath so that he could calm down.

But you swallowed your tongue, holding onto the fact he would never hurt you on purpose.

But he kept going, each thrust feeling less like he was making love to you and more like he was forgetting who was actually underneath him. Yet, you held on, knowing that at any moment he was surely going to realize what he was doing...

He put a hand on the back of your head, shoving your face into the pillow. You tried to turn your head to the side so that you could breathe, but he relented, not letting you move. The pain was gradually building with each thrust until it became unbearable, mixed with the fact you were being suffocated, you panicked.

Your arms thrashed around until you landed a few weak punches on Gator's waist. He stopped moving, letting go of your head, and you turned to the side, gasping for breath.

"Fuck ya doin'?" He asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Get off!" You snapped, managing to turn over fully and push him away when he let up for a second. He pulled out, and looked at you confusedly, seemingly not noticing the amount of pain you were in.

You sobbed, shuffling up the bed and away from him. He grabbed your wrist, "Where ya goin'?"

"Gator, stop!"

He suddenly realised what he had done, and it all came crashing over him in one big tidal wave. "Fuck, no..."

You leaned over the bed and pulled your panties back on, before hobbling to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door.

Gator stayed on the bed for a moment, guilt clouding his brain like a thick cloud of smoke. He didn't know whether or not to follow you, yet all he could think about was the look on your face, and the way he had treated your precious body.

He pulled his boxers back on, and slowly made his way to the bathroom, where he knocked gently. "Ya okay?"

He could only hear the sound of your weeping from behind the door. "Baby girl, talk ta me... Please..."

You opened the door, covering your bare chest with your arm. His heart clenched when he saw you, your tear-streaked face, the way you were shielding yourself from his eyes, and how you seemed to slightly pull away from him. The worst part was that he couldn't even blame you.

God, he felt like his father.

He followed your eyes down to between your legs, where your underwear was stained with a rather generous amount of blood. It only made him feel so much worse. "Please, baby... let me take care a'ya..." His voice sounded like a quiet beg. He would literally do anything to make things right. He could not lose you.

As mad and hurt as you were, you still trusted him. You knew he hadn't done it on purpose, and even though that didn't erase the fact that he had still done it, it made it slightly more bearable. You didn't know what you would have done if he set out to hurt you intentionally.

He gently reached out for you, his thumb brushing your upper arm. You melted into his touch, and right now, you needed him more than you hated him. You collapsed into his chest, your tears falling quietly down your face. "I fucked up so bad..." He whispered into your hair, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. You just nodded.

"I made ya bleed..." He continued, "I probably ruined everythin'." To his surprise, you shook your head.

"I still love you." You muttered into his chest, "It was an accident."

Gator nodded aggressively. "I swear on my fuckin' life it was an accident, baby. Jesus Christ."

His chest ached at the thought of ever doing something like that purposefully. He was not his father, he swore he would never be anything like that man.

It was quiet for a moment, Gator thinking really hard about his next steps, fully aware of how careful he had to be. He was on thin ice and couldn't risk doing anything to make you double think your decision to not stay mad at him.

"I can... make ya a bath?" He offered, his voice unusually soft. You nodded, still feeling the pain.

He pulled away from you slightly, holding you at an arm's length. He lead you to sit on the closed toilet lid, and drew the bath, making sure it was nice and hot, as he was sure that you were hurting. All because of him...

Once it was full, he turned back to you. He was so out of his element, used to being the one being taken care of, although he understood how monumental this moment was, and knew how gentle he was going to have to be, no matter how hard he'd find it.

You were still covering yourself up, so instead Gator knelt in front of you, peeling your blood stained panties down your legs, feeling sick at the sight of you being injured due to him. "Come on." He urged, holding out his hand.

You took it and allowed him to help you into the bath, the warm water soothing your aching muscles instantly. Gator sat like a rock on the edge of the bath, and continued to sit there in complete silence until you said you were ready to get out.

He then lead you back to the bedroom, rubbing your back underneath the fluffy towel. He helped you get dressed into some clean pyjamas, and bundled you into bed, pulling all of the blankets and covers over you until you felt safe and secure.

He stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, unsure if you wanted him to get in with you. However, you pulled back the covers on his side of the bed, a silent invitation.

He climbed in next to you, and thankfully wasted no time pulling you into him, cradling you against his chest.

"'M so sorry, baby." He whispered, and you know he truly meant it, because getting an apology from him was like pulling teeth.

"'S okay." You mumbled, wrapping your arms around him. "I love you."

"I love ya too. God, 'm never gonna forgive myself."

"In the future, can you please just talk to me instead of letting your anger out when we have sex? I just don't want to taint a beautiful thing..."

Gator nodded firmly, kissing the top of your head. "I swear, baby. I swear on my damn life. I ain't ever doin' that shit again."

"Then that's all I can ask."

"Feel like I can do more to make it up ta ya." He chuckled softly, which made you smile too.

"No. I just wanna stay like this."

"Then I can most definitely do that."

Eating like this had changed his body, too. He had noticed that his jeans had gotten harder to button, until one day he couldn't get them closed at all. All of his shirts felt tighter around his biceps and chest, and he could feel the small roll over his waistband when he sat down.

You absolutely loved it. Gator, not so much.

He was just finishing up the latest meal, creamy chicken alfredo with extra crispy chicken. You had been slowly learning the foods that he preferred to others, most notably that he loved chicken, especially fried or crispy chicken, and couldn't stomach pork.

"Good?" You asked, watching as Gator felt around the plate with his fork to see if there was any left, which there wasn't, much to his dismay.

"Amazin'." He smiled, reaching out for your hand. He was sat on a barstool, and so you stood in between his legs.

"I'm glad." You smiled, kissing his nose. You still couldn't believe he was your boyfriend. Once your grumpy neighbour. The way to a man's heart really was through his stomach, huh?

"So, what would you say has been your favourite? Have we finally found it?!" You exclaimed, grinning. Your hands were on Gator's shoulders, his arms wrapped around your waist as you stood between his legs.

"I don't 'ave a favourite." He mumbled, a fond smile on his face, his hands sneaking under the hem of your shirt to feel your soft skin.

You smiled too, kissing him softly. "I've given you enough food... You must have a favourite by now. Or at least a preference." You teased, running your finger down the bridge of his nose.

He kissed you again, before speaking with a feigned defeated voice, "Ya really wanna know?"

"Mhm." You nodded, pressing your forehead against his.

"Yer my favourite."

You giggled softly, "Gator, i'm not a food."

He ran his hands over the small of your back, "No, but when I kiss you? Tha's my favourite flavour."

You smiled, kissing him once again for good measure. "Well, in that case, I wasted a lot of time cooking for you."

"No. Because I got ta listen to ya talkin'." His voice sounded oddly vulnerable, and a couple of years ago, he wouldn't believe he was saying things like this. His father would kill him if he knew he had gone 'soft'.

"Flatterer." You mumbled, grinning.

"I love you." He whispered after a moment of quiet. He had never said that to a girl before, not having meant it, anyway.

You were taken aback for a second, and felt his arms tighten around you when you didn't immediately respond. Your grin fell to a soft, genuine smile.

"I love you too."

You kissed him softly, and he smiled into it. When you broke apart, you stroked your hand over his cheek. It had been three months of pure bliss.

A couple of hours passed, and you were watching TV with Gator, curled up on his lap, your hand against his soft stomach. You were staring at him, at his beautiful face, at the sunglasses he insisted on wearing. You'd still never seen his eyes before.

Gator refused to tell you how he went blind, and you understood, you'd never push him. Although, his glasses were always pushed flush against his face, so you couldn't even get a peek at what may be going on underneath.

"I feel ya starin'." Gator teased.

"Sorry." You smiled, looking down.

"Somethin' on my face, baby girl?"

You shook your head, replying "No." upon realising he couldn't see you doing that. It was a habit you hadn't quite broken yet. "I'm just... looking at you. At your face... Your eyes..."

He stiffened immediately, his brows furrowing. His hand instinctively pushed his sunglasses against his face. "Ain't nothin' to be lookin' at." He replied firmly.

"Sorry." You mumbled, again. "You're just... really never going to take them off?"

"You ain't gonna like what ya see." He replied simply, his voice sounding slightly grumpy. He wasn't annoyed at you, he never could be. He was annoyed at the fact that he couldn't show you his big, brown eyes. He couldn't gaze at you in the way he wanted to.

He knew what lay underneath wasn't a pretty sight, even if he had never seen them. He didn't want you to get grossed out.

You sighed, "I will... I love everything about you. I just want you to feel like you can trust me with it, is all. But I get it-"

"Fine." He interrupted. "I'll take 'em off, but you gotta swear on yer damn life ya2 ain't gonna pull away from me." He spoke gruffly, his arm tightening drastically around your waist.

"I promise!" You insisted, sitting up a little more.

His hand raised slowly to the bridge of his glasses, and he hesitated for a second, terrified that he was about to lose everything, because you were everything to him, and losing you would rank at the top of the worst things that had ever happened to him, yes, above losing his eyesight.

"Ya swear?" He spoke quietly, sounding like a scared little boy. You took his hand and squeezed it gently, a silent encouragement that you were here and most definitely not going anywhere.

"Mhm." You nodded, squeezing his hand again.

He took his sunglasses off slowly, revealing his eyes. They just looked like they were closed, his eyelids slightly concaving, and a visible scar along the slit where they must have been stitched together.

"Say somethin'." He snapped.

You planted a soft kiss on each of his eyes, leaving Gator quite taken aback. "I love you." You whispered. "They don't look bad."

"Ya kissed 'em." He said confusedly. He had genuinely excepted you to recoil and break up with him.

"I did."

"Fuck you, damnit." He grinned, kissing you roughly, making you squeal into it. He picked you up, slamming you down on the couch so that he could deepen the kiss. "Ya ain't gotta be so fuckin'... fuckin' sweet as sugar."

"Sweet as sugar?" You giggled. "That's stupid."

"Ain't no better way to describe ya." He brushed his thumbs up and down your waist. You noticed he hadn't put his glasses back on, and took the opportunity to push them underneath the couch so that he couldn't. You loved him like this, how he had trusted you with it.

He kissed your jaw and down your neck, breathing you in at the same time. "Love ya so damn much." He whispered in your ear.

It was going to be a long night, and you weren't complaining.

"So, are we going to figure out your favourite?" You asked cheerily, Gator just standing in the middle of your apartment, his hands awkwardly by his sides. He looked uncomfortable, like a fish out of water.

"I told ya, I don't have a favourite." He mumbled.

"Well, that's why we... figure it out." You trailed off slightly at the end, feeling just as awkward as he did. "I don't have to bake, I could cook you something?" You offered, your voice perking up slightly.

Gator just shrugged, his shoulders tense, almost like he was guarded. He was far too aware that he was stood in an apartment that he didn't know the layout of, he didn't know if he was going to trip over a rug or walk into a table, and he really didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.

"Are you hungry?" You asked, feeling at a loss.

"Course, ya told me ta knock if I was hungry."

"Okay," You started, feeling slightly exasperated now, "What's your favourite meal?"

"I don't 'ave a favourite."

"How do you not have a favourite?!"

"Food is for fuel, don't need ta be enjoyed." Gator snapped, feeling slightly irritated at your insistence. Truthfully, he had never been asked what he wanted, so he didn't know what to say.

"That is so wrong!" You laughed, and he felt slightly relieved that you seemed to be amused instead of annoyed. All of his emotions were very conflicting.

"Tha's how my-" He hesitated, almost talking about Roy and his childhood, but he opted out of it. "Tha's just how it is." He mumbled.

"I'll cook you something so good that you'll forget any of that, how does that sound?" You chuckled, but Gator only nodded. "Great!" You grinned, going to the kitchen.

Gator stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure where you had gone. "Lil' help here?" He mumbled, feeling pure humiliation wash over him at the thought of asking for help, let alone you.

You stared at him for a moment, confused. He had never actually told you he was blind, and even though you sort of figured it out, it had felt rude to assume. After all, maybe he just really liked wearing sunglasses indoors... and living in the dark...

"Oh, sorry. I-"

"'M blind." He mumbled as you walked over to him. "Case you hadn't figured tha' out."

You weren't sure what to say, so you just took his hand. Your hand was small within his, and incredibly soft. Gator had never felt softness. Hands were for hitting, working, or holding a gun, and he had never considered the possibility that someone's hand could be used for other things, gentler things.

It was so small, and so stupid, but it felt important to him.

Gator's hand was large and calloused, his skin rough from years of shooting guns and getting into fights. You lead him over to the kitchen, helping him sit on one of the barstools. "There." You smiled, your voice soft.

He suddenly felt very vulnerable, "Thanks." He mumbled, a rare occasion for him to use the word, that was how much you small actions had suddenly meant to him.

"No problem." You smiled. Gator appreciated how you didn't press him for details about how he had lost his sight, or what had happened, or if you could see his eyes. He hated when people stuck their nose in his business, and he'd be lying if he said if didn't make him slightly fonder of you. It allowed him to feel normal.

You began opening your cabinets and refrigerator, looking what you could possible make him. "Hm..." You pondered aloud, closing the cabinets with some force so that Gator knew what you were doing, "I know you said you don't have a favourite, but is there anything you like?"

"Not fussy."

"Any allergies?"

"No." He responded, his tone slightly suggesting he thought allergies were for a weaker man.

You sighed, he really wasn't giving you anything to work with. "How about... some chicken?"

"Sounds good." Gator replied, once again not caring about any personal preferences that he may have but won't admit to. He liked chicken after all, and he wasn't convinced you'd be able to change his mind about food being for fuel and nothing else.

"Great!" You began taking ingredients out of the refrigerator, "I have this amazing recipe from my mother, although I think it's technically from my grandmother—" You rambled, and Gator just listened.

He liked your voice, it was soft and sweet, and you didn't speak to him in a way that seemed like you were babying him, or that you thought he was otherwise less mature due to his disability. You treated him like another person, something which he, surprisingly, hadn't experienced that much.

He liked that he could probably prove himself to you... Not that he was thinking about you in any way other than just a chef right now. Definitely not.

He wasn't thinking about the way your perfume seemed to have made a permanent home in his nose, and he definitely wasn't still thinking about how your hand had felt in his.

You continued to talk while you cooked, Gator's replies being short, and he still sounded grumpy, but since he seemed content where he was, you just assumed that was his cadence. After all, you didn't want to think that he didn't like you, because you had really taken a liking to him.

Eventually, you served him the food, adding a side of homecooked noodles and some veggies, everything made with your own sauces and spices, something you knew that Gator would never have had before.

He took a bite, and you saw his eyebrows raise immediately. "Good?" You asked, smirking slightly. He just nodded, but that was all you needed.

You watched him eat, trying to take in every subtle facial expression. You noticed the way that he started to take smaller bites in an attempt to make the meal last longer, you noticed how his face fell when he realised that he had finished the chicken, and the same later with the noodles and veggies.

"How was it?" You asked, your voice slightly sly as you knew his true answer regardless of what he told you.

"Good... We might need ta be havin' dinner tagether more often."

"It was that good?!" You exclaimed, so happy to have broken the grumpy man inside of him. Enough to confess that he liked it, anyway. He liked it enough to want more, and you liked him enough to want his company.

"Don't get ahead a' yourself-"

You interrupted him, "No, no! I'm so glad you liked it! I have so many recipes and i'd love to cook them all for you!"

Gator cracked a small smile, he had never been doted on in such a way, and he genuinely couldn't believe that you wanted him to come back. He wasn't providing anything for you.

He stayed for the rest of the evening, and you just watched TV together, although Gator could only listen, and you were just staring at him.

"I can feel ya starin'." He said after a while of quiet.

"Really?" You asked, giggling slightly.

"Ya lose one sense, the rest get stronger."

"I suppose." You smile, "Sorry."

"Don't be. Wish I could... stare right back at ya." He confessed, his voice quiet. You shuffled closer to him, and Gator brought his arm down from the back of the couch to wrap around you tentatively. He had never given such gentleness.

His head turned to face you, and he spoke with such an uncharacteristically soft voice it actually surprised you for a second, "Thanks for invitin' me over."

"No problem." You smiled, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly. "I mean it, I want you back."

Gator smiled, chuckling slightly. It was quiet for another moment, before he brought his hand to your face, administering the softest touch he could muster. He brought his other hand up, and cradled you for a second, before they began to wander across your face, sweeping across your cheeks and nose, feeling every nook and cranny.

You let it happen, wanting to laugh or say something, but by the look on his face, you knew how incredibly vulnerable he must be feeling right now, and you didn't want to disturb him when he clearly felt safe.

He dropped his hands once he finished, his arm returning to it's place wrapped around you. "Yep, like I thought. Real pretty."

"Thank you." You blushed, looking down bashfully. "Could you tell what I looked like?"

"No clue." Gator chuckled, brushing down your arm until he could take your hand, silently hoping you'd deliver the same softness that you did earlier.

You laughed too, it was quiet in the calm evening. You laid your head down on his shoulder, and you felt his muscles relax for what you could imagine was the first time in a while.

"When can I come back?" He asked, still holding your hand. He sounded a little bit desperate.

"Oh, um... Whenever you want. I'll cook you something different every day until we find your favourite."

He chuckled again, "I don't have a favourite."

"You will." You smiled, bringing your head off of his shoulder so you could look at him. You noticed immediately how he seemed to stiffen up once you went away.

"Where ya goin'?" He asked, squeezing your hand tighter in case you left him for good.

"Just looking at you." You replied simply, your voice soft. You leaned back against his shoulder, his body relaxing like clockwork.

He breathed in the scent of your hair, your vanilla shampoo fighting for a place in his nose against your perfume. The moment went quiet again, comfortable, the only noise being the television, although neither of you were paying much attention to it anymore.

You felt his head turn to face you once again, and you looked up to meet where his gaze would be. Your lips met softly, gentle but not lacking any passion, and Gator's arm squeezed around you, pulling you into his chest.

When you broke apart, he smiled, but was terrified deep down, as he couldn't gauge your reaction.

When he heard your heaven-sent laugh, he exhaled with relief. You kissed him again, longer this time, and he grabbed your waist until you had straddled his lap, the kiss developing to a much more heated one.

Gator broke the kiss, your foreheads still touching. "Fuck," He groaned, "I wanna see you."

"I know." You whispered, stroking your hand across his cheek.

"I'm comin' back tomorrow. Lunch and dinner."

You smiled, "Perfect, I can't wait."

Kurt stared at you as you tried on your Halloween costume, looking at yourself in the mirror. It was moments like these that he was reminded how out of his league you were, and it made his gut swirl with insecurity.

You were dressing up as an angel this year, wearing a white lacy babydoll top, matching white lacy shorts, white knee high socks, and the wings to tie everything together. Kurt couldn't deny that you looked beautiful, you always did, his fingers were still itching to touch you, but he knew that he wasn't going to be the only man to perceive you this way.

You had somehow convinced him to come to a party with you, but he wasn't excited for it. He had only known Bobby's parties, and he was never welcome there, and was always left to watch everybody else having a good time while he sat alone, being ignored by everybody. Or, if he did try to strike up a conversation with some fellow influencers, he'd be completely ridiculed.

He had you now, he knew it was ridiculous to still be beating himself up over, but he hadn't been in therapy for long enough to really work through a lot of his deep-rooted issues, and he had a lot of them.

"How does it look?" You asked, smiling brightly as you twirled.

"Fine." Kurt mumbled, looking at the comforter.

You scoffed teasingly, walking over to where he was sat on the bed. "I'm going to need more than fine."

"You look good." Kurt replied, smiling, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Why are you pouting?" You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. Kurt just shrugged, shuffling away from you. "Where you going?" You asked, confused, grabbing his knee.

Kurt didn't reply, instead picking at a loose thread on his shirt. "Kurt." You said firmly, "Are you going to tell me? Or are you going to ignore me?"

"I said you look good, what's the problem?" Kurt replied snarkily, shrugging your hand off of his knee.

"The problem is your attitude." You snapped back. Kurt just sighed, slumping back into the pillows.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, reaching out and brushing your thigh slightly.

You sighed too, not wanting to fight, "Talk to me..." You urged, grabbing his hand and interlacing your fingers.

"People are going to be mean to me again... You know, if you wear that."

You straddled his lap, and his hands automatically hooked underneath your thighs, holding you tightly as he gazed upwards at you. "The people at the party aren't like that, baby. I promise. Indiana has never hurt you, remember?"

"What about your friend? You said she'd be there--"

You cut him off with a soft kiss. "We don't have to acknowledge her, honey."

"What if she says something?" Kurt asks, his voice sounding almost pleading, his hands brushing over the lace barely covering you.

"Then i'll kiss you really hard in front of her, how does that sound?" You chuckle, squeezing his cheeks. Kurt finally laughed too, nodding.

"Okay. I guess that's good." He smiled, his view of you on top of him being the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

The next day, Kurt sat at the edge of your bed, watching you do your makeup for the party. He had been to Halloween parties before, but he had never had much luck with them, always being the subject of Bobby's torment for some stupid prank for his stupid channel.

Kurt made you swear that nobody was playing any pranks, that the people here were normal and not trying to hurt him. It took a while to convince him that this was the case.

As you brushed on the last of your glittery eyeshadow, Kurt continued to stare. His gut was swarmed with nerves, but he felt bad always being awkward and keeping you practically locked away in the apartment because he needed you by his side.

"Ready?" You smiled, standing up. You looked so incredibly beautiful, Kurt couldn't speak for a moment, only nodding and making a whimpering noise.

You pinched his cheek again, "Awh, I missed that sound. You don't do it so much anymore." You cooed, leaving kisses all over his face.

Kurt shied away, but you pinned him down, although he didn't put up much of a fight, always loving to be the object of your affections. You kissed him a few more times, before standing up straight. "Come on, time to go."

He drove you to the party, the nerves still beating down on him in an almost sickening way, but having your intoxicating perfume fill the car made it tolerable.

The music filled his ears as he walked into the house, your hand squeezing his tightly like an anchor. You greeted your old friends, introducing Kurt as your boyfriend, something he hadn't expected you to do. After all, he'd understand if you wanted to pretend you didn't know him or something.

He let you mingle for a while without interruption, watching you consume increasing amounts of alcohol while he stayed sober. He liked a drink, but he wasn't about to crash the car driving home and risk injuring his girl! He loitered behind you awkwardly, like a shadow, and followed you around like a lost puppy.

You didn't mind, of course, you held his arm around your waist as you spoke to people, making sure he didn't go wandering. While you were talking to one of your girlfriends, a guy surprisingly struck up a conversation with him.

"So, you're a YouTuber?" He asked, not in a mean way like somebody from L.A would have done.

Kurt nodded rapidly, fumbling a little with his words, "Y- yeah, I am. Yeah. I make all kinds of quality content."

The guy smiled, slightly amused, but he wasn't making fun of Kurt in any way, which was a relief. "That's cool, you ought to get down to California, no? 'S where all the big stars go."

Kurt shook his head vehemently, "No, no way. I- I'm from California. Not going back."

"Oh. People no good?" He asked, genuinely interested. Kurt had never had this kind of interaction with another guy before and not had it end in his face being plastered on the thumbnail of a video that would surely get demonetized.

"Nope."

"Well, we're cool here, right? Y/N takes care of you, I hear." He nudged Kurt slightly with his elbow, playful.

Kurt smiled automatically at the sound of your name, even despite the fact you were literally stood right next to him. "Uh, yeah. She does." He replies fondly.

Another little while passed, and you were pretty drunk now, talking to Kurt, your eyes wide and glassy as you stared up at him with the most loving gaze anybody had ever seen.

Over your shoulder, Kurt spotted a familiar face. Your old best friend, Daisy, the one who questioned your relationship and called him weird. She seemed to spot him too, and she was giving him a look that he couldn't decipher. Slowly, she made her way over.

"Hey!" She grinned widely, her arm wrapping around you in a loose hug. You hugged back, but grimaced slightly. Even drunk, you hadn't forgot what she said about Kurt.

"Those guys were assholes." You said, struggling to hide your disapproval in the way that she spoke about your boyfriend.

"I know, but they weren't weird."

"Now you're calling him weird? He hasn't done anything." You turned to face her, disbelief painting your features.

"Exactly. He just sits there and stares at the table, is that not weird to you?"

"No, it isn't. He's not exactly an extrovert. Leave him alone."

"I just don't get what's in it for you."

"What's in it for me?" You asked incredulously.

"He's buying your drinks, right? What else is he paying for? That's gotta be it."

"That isn't our dynamic."

"Hey." You replied back, your voice cautious, your arm wrapping around Kurt's front protectively.

"Kurtie!" She cooed, her voice high-pitched, deliberately ignoring you. She hugged him tightly, elbowing you away. Kurt stood there awkwardly, his arms pinned to his sides, "Awh, honey! So, so good to see you!" She held his face.

Kurt cringed at the pet name, one he only allowed you to call him. Last he had heard, she didn't like him... So what was all of this about?

He shook his hands off of her, but she just clung to his forearms instead, her fingers occassionally travelling to his biceps, squeezing them firmly. You just watched, completely bewildered.

She had practically shoved you off of your own boyfriend, and was now feeling him up as though she owned him. "Um, what are you doing?" You asked, confused and annoyed.

Kurt had never had women fight over him before. He thought he'd be more excited about it, but he just felt repulsed. He never wanted anybody to touch him except for you, but unfortunately, he lacked the backbone to tell her to get off.

Her hands were rough on top of his skin, squeezing him far too tightly. Her touches weren't coated in genuine love and affection, instead feeling maliciously possessive.

"He's so cute!" She grinned, wrapping her arms around his torso. "You're, like, so lucky." She snarled, laying her head on his chest. Kurt continued to stand as rigid as a statue, you didn't even care, it was ridiculous.

"I know. Why are you rubbing all over him like a cat?"

Embarrassed, Daisy stiffened, her arms falling flat to her sides. Kurt took the opportunity to step behind you. "I'm just..." She started, although by the tone of her voice it was clear she didn't know what she wanted to say.

"Just what?"

"He's cute, like I said. Can't a girl just appreciate a good man when she sees one?!" She smiles, reaching out for Kurt again, but he steps away.

It all became very overwhelming for him very quickly. He hated her touch, he hated feeling anybody close to him that wasn't you. He was already on edge from such a big social situation, and now he was caught up in drama that he absolutely didn't want to be in.

"Right, yeah, totally." You rolled your eyes, feeling Kurt's breathing slowly become more uneven as he stood behind you, his hand coming to the small of your back, his fist bunching into your shirt.

She elbowed you in the side again, and wrapped Kurt's arms around her, which just hung stiffly as he made terrified eyes at you. She cupped his face, her hands entering his hair slightly. She spoke in a sultry tone, "I'm so sorry we didn't talk that much... that night at the bar..."

"Uh, uhm..." Kurt stammered, trying to push her off but her grip was tight.

"When you called him weird?" You butted in, your speech slightly slurred from alcohol, but your words still certain.

She hesitated for a moment, embarrassed again. "Weird... Is not... I didn't mean it... In like, a bad way."

"Yes you did." You replied.

Daisy dropped her arms, and turned to face you. In a second, Kurt darted through the party and outside. You knew he was fine and just needed some air, so you let him go for now while you finished the situation.

"You scared him off!" She whined, turning to where Kurt left. She faced you again, scowling. "Why are you always trying to ruin my life?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I finally find a guy I like and you totally stole him from me!"

You stood perplexed for a second, before replying confusedly, "And how exactly did I 'steal him' from you?"

She didn't seem to have an answer, instead she just huffed loudly, and stormed away. You quickly rushed out, finding Kurt sat on a bench, breathing deeply and erracticly.

You sat next to him, squeezing his hand. "Hey, honey..."

Kurt nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't speak, knowing that if he tried, he'd probably burst into tears.

"I don't know what the hell that was all about... But she seems to think I stole you from her," You chuckled, "I mean, how ridiculous is that?"

Your amusement was met by silence, and your smile faltered slightly, your voice softening as you scratched up and down his forearm gently. "Hey, look at me." You urged, and Kurt's head slowly turned to face you.

"I don't like how she touched me." He whispered, rubbing at his arms aggressively where she had grabbed him.

"I know, baby. I know. She won't do it again, I swear."

"Only you're supposed to touch me."

"I know. You didn't want it, honey, did you? Do you think i'm mad at you?"

Kurt stammered slightly before replying, nodding lightly, "I- I guess. I could've tried harder to get her off."

"No, baby. That doesn't matter. I'm not mad at you, I never could be, hm?" You caressed his cheek, your touch on his face a lot more welcome than Daisy's was, and Kurt leaned into it.

"I was actually having a nice time at the party, too." He mumbled, kicking a rock underneath his shoe. "Nobody was mean to me. I had an actual conversation with somebody I didn't know, and he didn't end it by trying to brutalize me."

You sighed softly, feeling terrible that she ruined his night, especially when he was making so much social progress. "I'm sorry."

"'S not your fault."

You sat in silence for a moment, just trying to gauge Kurt's emotions. "You know..." You started, until Kurt met your eye, "This is like how we met."

"What do you mean?" Kurt mumbled, his eyes flickering to the ground.

"On a bench, outside a party."

"Oh, yeah." Kurt agreed, still curled slightly into himself.

"I think that was probably the best day of my life." You stated, feeling the alcohol a lot less now, you basically felt sober. You meant every word you said. "Because I met you, you know?"

Kurt looked over at you, it was true, it had been the best day of his life, too. The light from the porch was illuminating your head like a halo, your angel costume feeling uncannily on theme.

You were an angel, a real life angel. You were his angel, his guardian angel.

You had saved him, swooped in when he needed you most, and pulled him out of the pit he threatened to fall into. Brought him into your home, taught him good habits, replaced his bad memories with ones so stuffed full of love and adoration that sometimes he had no clue where to put all of it.

"I love you." Kurt mumbled, his eyes tracing the delicate wings behind your back. "I really love you."

"I love you too." You smiled, shuffling closer to him now that you knew he was in a better mood than before.

"I'm sorry you have to put up with me so much, all my... baggage, I guess." Kurt mumbled, taking your hand and holding it firmly in his own.

"I don't think of it that way." You stated plainly, like it was pure fact. "I just think that you needed a bit of love, that's all."

"I definitely did. There was just so many things I wanted, it felt so large and consuming... But- I, I don't know. When I met you, it all kind of... shrunk. Now I feel like I can work through my-" He hesitated, cringing slightly, "Problems... The stuff that's- wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you-" You interrupted, your voice urgent. You hated when he spoke about himself like this.

"No, there is. I knew it when I said all that horrible stuff to you... I just- I never thought i'd get help, I wouldn't have even known where to start. I didn't know a lot of things."

He traced his thumb over your knuckles, trying desperately to not get upset. You smiled reassuringly, kissing his cheek softly, "I love you. I mean it."

Kurt smiled, leaning into your touch like he always did. "I wanna marry you so badly." He mumbled, tracing his thumb over your ring finger, it looked shockingly empty.

"Me too." You grinned, laying your head on his shoulder. You sighed, your eyes flickering to the front door, the faint music from the party still booming.

"You wanna go back in?" You asked tentatively. He was enjoying the bubble the two of you had created, "I don't think we should hide out here."

Kurt pulled away slightly, allowing you to move if you really wanted to. He looked back at the halo of light above your head, and shrugged. "I guess. Won't it be drama?"

You shrugged, "I don't think people are thinking about us that much."

For Kurt's entire life, he had been chasing unreachable levels of fame. To hear you say that people weren't thinking about him should have sent his heart into shock, and cold chills down his spine. Instead, something calm settled over him, and he agreed with you. He felt completely at peace with the fact that he didn't have to be the center of attention, and could just exist beside the woman he loved.

"Okay. We can go."

"Yeah?" You smiled, to which Kurt nodded.

You stood up and lead him inside, the music surrounding you. Just as you had predicted, nobody even glanced up at the two of you, the only looks being from the other guys who were leering at your costume.

Daisy scowled from the kitchen, her eyes zeroing in on your hand wrapped around Kurt's, but she didn't make another attempt to interrupt the two of you.

The party picked up again, and by the time Kurt was dragging your increasingly drunken self to his car, he had cheered up a lot.

"No..." You mumbled, scratching weakly at Kurt as he drove. "I have a boyfriend..." You slurred, having gone a bit too hard at the drinks table after you and Kurt went back inside.

He smiled slightly, never used you to calling him your boyfriend, even after all of this time. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," You hiccupped, "And he said he's gonna marry me... So you better be careful."

"Is he?"

"Mhm..." You drawled, your eyes fuzzy as you stared at him. When Kurt arrived at your apartment, he tried to get you out of the car, but your knees quickly buckled, and you faceplanted into his legs before he caught you. "Ow..." You muttered, trying and failing to stand on your heels.

Kurt lifted you bridal style, but you were too floppy, your body falling through his arms, and your arms flailing behind his head. He sighed, putting you back down, thinking about how the hell he was supposed to get you up the stairs and into bed.

He picked you up by the waist, surprisingly strong, and threw you over his shoulder, his arm hooked around the back of your thighs. "No..." You whined, kicking weakly, but he managed to keep you pinned there.

As he climbed the stairs, your hand came to his hair, brushing through it in a state of amazement. "Wow..." You muttered, making Kurt smile slightly, although he didn't respond.

He managed to unlock your door, and walked through your apartment, eventually putting you down on your bed. "There we go." He sighs.

He realised now that he had another opportunity to take care of you, to prove that he was worthy of you.

Kurt lifted you up until you were sitting, and took off your angel wings, sliding them down your arms. You sat and let him, too sleepy and warm to protest, your face buried in his chest, taking in the familiar scent that you only now recognised as your boyfriend.

He pulled you back, looking at your face and your glassy eyes, realising you'd be annoyed tomorrow if he let you sleep in your makeup. He dropped you back down so you were laid flat again, and walked to your vanity, investigating any products that could remove it.

Flicking through the drawers, he eventually found your makeup cleansing balm. You whined gently as he cleaned your makeup off, feeling simultaneously taken care of and like you were being hauled around, which you technically were.

Kurt cringed slightly as he peeled off your false lashes, terrified that your natural lashes were going to come off with them, or that he was hurting you. Your lack of a reaction encouraged him to do the other eye.

Eventually, he got you changed into one of his shirts and boxers, not wanting to fight the buttons on your cute sets that you usually wore to bed, especially considering the fact that he had to hold you tightly so you didn't flop around or try to roll away.

The last thing he did was take your heels off, which probably should have been the first thing that he did. He knelt down, unclipping the buckle and letting them fall to the floor. He kissed your ankles softly, working his way up your legs with soft pecks. You just watched him, eyes wide with adoration.

He stood up finally, pulling the covers over you. "Now you need water."

"No..." You whined, pulling his pillow into your chest.

"Yes."

"But 'm hungry..."

"Okay, what do you want?"

"I don't know." You pouted, your words still slurred. He hadn't done a very good job at sobering you up.

Kurt sighed, opting to just make you some toast and water, something to soak up the alcohol and rehydrate you, at least. He was being helpful, he told himself. A good boyfriend, somebody that was worthy of you.

When he brought the food to you, you ate quickly. " Thanks, Kurt."

"No problem." He smiled, satisfaction sitting heavy in his chest.

Eventually, he got you to lay back down, only after promising that he was going to be beside you all night, and yes, you could sleep in his arms. You dozed off quickly, but Kurt just stared at you, thankful for everything that you had done for him tonight.

You had patched up the situation with Daisy quickly, and fixed his emotions before things got completely out of hand. For once, he felt that maybe he did deserve you, so, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep at the thought of proposing to you, his rock sitting on your finger forever.

The idea made his gut swirl with a mixture of possessiveness and excitement for the future. His future with you.

Gator was walking back to his apartment one afternoon, when he noticed his usual path was blocked. Thirteen steps up, turn clockwise, three steps forward. He accidentally knocked into something that had obstructed his path, and it felt like cardboard under his hands. Great, he had a new neighbor. He hoped whoever it was would stay out of his business.

Gator navigated his way through the several boxes, and stood at his door, attempting to find the keyhole with his key, the only thing he continued to struggle with after all this time. He thought it was stupid, how could he not remember where the fucking key went-

"Oh, hi!" His thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice behind him. Gator turned in the direction of the noise, your perfume filling his nose immediately. You noticed he was looking over your shoulder. "I- I'm your new neighbor, I just got here this morning, I wanted to introduce myself-" You held out your hand, but he didn't shake it. How could he? He didn't know it was there.

Your hand stayed in front of you for a moment, before you awkwardly lowered it. Gator stayed quiet for a beat longer before finally speaking, "Nice ta meet ya." He mumbled, not sounding as enthralled as you did.

You quickly connected the dots that maybe he was blind or something, based on the way you had watched him fumble with the key, look over your shoulder, and ignore your attempt at a handshake. Also, the way his eyes were covered by a pair on sunglasses, even though he was indoors.

"Well, I'm um-" You started, unsure of what else to say. He wasn't exactly keeping up the conversation either, in fact, he looked bored. "If I make too much noise trying to move in, i'm sorry." You chuckled, but it fell flat when he didn't budge.

"That all?" He asked, his tone flat and almost cold sounding.

"Yeah, I-" You hesitated, "I just wanted... to introduce myself, I guess. I'm Y/N."

"Gator." He replied.

"Like alligator?" You asked, slightly amused.

"Yeah, like alligator." He responded, not cracking a smile, nor sounding the slightest bit entertained by your attempt at a joke, although you were sure he had heard it a hundred times.

After another awkward silence, you spoke again, "Okay, well... I'll see you around."

Gator turned back to his door instantly, continuing to mess with the key until he got it in, turning the lock and going inside without another word, all the while you watched him curiously.

Rude as hell, but he was kind of hot.

Meanwhile, Gator mumbled something incoherent in annoyance. He liked his old neighbor, it was an old man who he had never spoken to, and they didn't acknowledge eachother when Gator went to get mail. That was how he liked it.

However, old Gator would have been enthralled at the fact he was living next door to a potentially beautiful girl, one he could no doubt be hooking up with in a matter of days, but now, Gator just wanted peace and quiet, and for nobody to be sticking their nose in his business.

Unfortunately, you were determined to befriend him, much to Gator's dismay.

A couple weeks passed of you seeing Gator in the hallway and being too nervous to say anything. All the while he didn't even know you were there. At this point in time, you genuinely couldn't tell if his lack of acknowledgement for you was due to his coldness and rudeness, or he was actually blind. You had your theories, but it felt rude to think about too often.

One day, you were walking up the stairs, typing on your phone, when you collided with Gator who was coming down the stairs. "Sorry!" You exclaimed, taking a step backwards and putting your phone away.

Gator just stared over the top of your head, "Didn't see ya there." He mumbled, a poor attempt at a joke that only made sense to himself right now.

"Me... me either. How are you? I haven't seen you—" You started, your voice bubbly and sweet.

"I ain't got time for the chit-chat." Gator interrupted, and you shut up instantly. Rude.

He continued walking, and you hurriedly stepped out of the way before he walked straight into you. You stared at him for a moment as he descended the stairs, wondering what the hell his deal was.

You surprisingly saw him again that day, when he was returning from wherever he had gone earlier. You had just gone to get your mail when you heard the scratching of a key behind you, Gator fumbling with the lock.

"Goddamnit, damn thing—" He mumbled to himself, unable to find the keyhole. You watched him for a moment, he hadn't seemed to notice you were there.

"There we go." He muttered when he finally got the door open. When you saw the inside of his apartment, your heart panged with a sense of melancholy. It was pretty barren, just the basic furniture that was there when you moved in. From what you could see, he didn't seem to own any personal possessions except from a blanket on the couch and an old looking coat rack which he shrugged his leather jacket onto, blindly reaching out until he felt the hook.

The whole thing was shrouded in darkness, too, and you could see from where you were standing that he didn't even have a lightbulb screwed in. Did he live in darkness?

You slowly retreated back into your apartment, spending the rest of the evening with a pit in your gut. Why did he live in such a depressing home? You had just moved in and had way more stuff than him. Gator had really piqued your interests, and turned you into a very nosey person. You wanted to know why he lived like that, why he always wore those sunglasses, why he looked so hardened.

Where had he come from? What had he come from?

You absolutely shouldn't feel bad for him. He was a rude, grumpy man who just so happened to have the most beautiful face you'd ever seen. He had been nothing but unkind to you, and you just... shouldn't. But you did.

Your mother always used to tell you the best way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and you considered yourself a pretty good baker. A batch of your homemade cookies ought to do the trick, surely. Gooey in the middle, crunchy on the edges, extra chocolate chips... If it didn't get him to at least crack a smile, then you agreed with yourself that you'd give up and leave him alone.

The cookies only took around thirty minutes to make, before you plated them up and knocked on his door. Again, you heard a sort of scratching sound and some muffled curse words, before the door swung open.

Gator didn't speak, just stared. "Hi..." You started, your voice slightly apprehensive, "I made cookies... I was wondering if you... um- wanted one?"

"Thought it smelled like a damn bakery in here." Gator replied, his voice sharp but missing the coldness it usually carried. You held the plate out, but he didn't move.

"Is that a yes?" You asked after a moment of silence. Gator didn't move for another second, before he spoke again.

"Well... if yer offerin' to feed me. I don't see why not."

You were still holding the plate out, but he hadn't taken one. "Here you go..." You said, your voice slightly awkward.

He reached up, feeling around in the air for a second before his hands found a cookie. You watched, slightly confused, you hadn't really expected to be right about the whole blind thing. Nonetheless, Gator took a bite, his face lighting up ever so slightly, which made you smile.

"Good?" You asked, smiling. He nodded, taking another bite.

"You make these?" He asked after swallowing. You nodded, but quickly realised your mistake and clarified.

"I did! My... my mom taught me how to bake all kinds of stuff."

Gator just nodded along, finishing the cookie before he spoke again, "Cool... Well, yer a damn good baker, i'll give ya that." He cracked the smallest smile you had ever seen, but it counted. The way to a man's heart really was through his stomach.

"Thanks, i'll have to make you something else, if you'd like."

"That an invitation?"

"Maybe... What's your favourite?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"Don't have a favourite." Gator replied quickly. You didn't reply for a second, stunned but not willing to fight him when he had just began to warm up to you.

"Well, okay... Why don't you come knocking when you're hungry, and i'll see what I can bake for you? How does that sound?" You offered, maybe a bit too open but you thought he was beautiful and definitely had a little crush on him. You shouldn't, he was rude.

Gator considered the offer for a moment, wanting to take you up on it. You seemed nice, whatever, but he didn't want to mix you up in his past, or with any of his baggage. If anybody in this town found out the things that he had done, he knew that he'd be shunned, and a part of him didn't want you to face that, especially over him.

"I'll, uh- have to take ya up on that." He replied finally, an open answer. He knew when to recognize a good woman. He was just unsure, and confused, and slightly breathless from your kindness.

"Great, well, i'll see you!" You smiled, going back to your apartment.

This was going to be fun.